#{fic}

[trixterdark]

Bro just use your imagination YEESH

Put in all your favorite tropes. Make it happy. Make it sad. Defy all logic and make it ridiculous.

You can write literally anything and if you feel like you can't...commission it?

People will write whatever you want for money, and they'll include all the details you want

Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

[n0vazsq]

Doomsday blue | CS55 x Reader

pairing . . . carlos sainz x tifosi!reader

summary . . . You'd always been a Tifosi, supporting the prancing horse since you could comprehend words. However, when your boyfriend starts racing in blue, it's hard to adjust. And when you finally get to stay in the Williams garage, reality sets in

request . . . no!! (yes by eve so now SHUT UP and leave me alone smh (joke ilysm))

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . tingting lai!

alexavia yaps . . . smh finally churning out motorsport content after not doing anything for it in CENTURIES </3 anyway f175 pic creds go to @theonottsbxtch !! lily muni he smau coming out soon so watch out gangalang!! quite short and is PURE SHIT but i don't care </3

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, scuderiaferrari and 2.4M others

yourusername 11 grand prix done and 13 more to go!! austria, you were good to us! congrats to mi amor on the podium finish <3 and as always, FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE ❤ Tagged: carlossainz55

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username1 FORZA FERRARI SEMPREEE

username2 SHES SO GORGEOUSSSSS

username3 i wonder what y/n will do since lewis took carlos' seat

username4 she'll probably carve a third seat out of no where for him

username5 CONGRATS TO CARLOS

username6 always love a wag thats been a fan of the sport since childhood

username7 my GOD shes stunning

username8 madre mia

username9 i hope whatever team carlos signs with next gets a red livery for 2025 because WOAH she is so pretty in it (carlos too)

carlossainz55 thank you carino ❤

yourusername oi next win get a win alright?

carlossainz55 i'll try my best with this car

yourusername you better because my family has been sending me threats telling me to "tell your boyfriend to get good results, he's in a ferrari"

carlossainz55 i promise i'm trying 😔

yourusername this is why you don't date a hardcore tifosi fan 💔💔

username10 how does it feel to be a goddess y/n

username11 she is living the LIFE

username12 FRR like i too wish i was carlos sainz's tifosi gf

username13 screaming crying throwing up

username14 im giggling at them giggling and whispering to each other at the race

username15 i need more carlos content ASAP

username16 my jaw dropped

username17 im staring disrespctuffly

username18 man how can they be so good looking

username19 HES BOUNCING OFF MY BOOTY CHEEKS

username18 bruv

username20 manifesting another carlos win or podium so he can spray y/n with champagne then kiss her like he did today

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 3.6M others

yourusername WHAT

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username21 HELP????

username22 crying this is so random

username23 LMFAOOOOOO

username24 y/n why the shower pic

username25 yeah y/n why

yourusername i was about to shower when i get spam dmed this shit

username26 SOBBING

username27 i need to know what carlos thinks about this

username28 her (our) tifosi ass is crying

carlossainz55 i told you i'm signing with williams??

yourusername I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE???

carlossainz55 WHY WOULD I JOKE ABOUT THAT

yourusername BECAUSE ITS WILLIAMS???

williamsracing 😔

yourusername sorry...?

carlossainz55 so that's why you laughed and moved on when i told you

yourusername and that's why you looked confused

alexandrasaintmleux now you'll have to wear blue

yourusername NOOOO DON'T REMIND ME

carlossainz55 it's not THAT bad

yourusername yes it is i'm literally a tifosi

carlossainz55 would you rather that i become jobless or sign with williams

yourusername become jobless

carlossainz55 ...

yourusername can i at least stay in the ferrari garage?

carlossainz55 no

yourusername why

carlossainz55 i need my emotional support

yourusername eh you'll survive

carlossainz55 carino??

yourusername FINE ill stay in that garage but i'm still cheering for ferrari

williamsracing omg y/n will be in our garage

yourusername not for long

carlossainz55 ??

yourusername you didn't see that

username29 WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

username30 oh to be as pretty as her

alex_albon the hate on me was unnecessary

yourusername sigh

yourusername sorry i guess

alex_albon you should be 😔

yourusername btw i'm only being nice to you because of lily

yourusername because wlw = wags love wags

alex_albon alright...

lilymhe thank you n/n !!

yourusername no problem lils 🤍

carlossainz55 are we getting replaced alex_albon

alex_albon i hope not

username31 THE WHISPER HELP

username32 im crying about this and so is y/n

username33 okay so im not schizo and carlos DID sign with williams

username34 i wish i had carlos as my bf

username35 i wish i had Y/N as my gf

username36 i wish i was HER

username37 smash

username38 shes way calmer than i expected her to be about this

username39 honestly was expecting her family to light up the williams garage on fire

username40 carlos is actually a culer and not madridista bc ferrari is red. williams is blue. you know what else is red and blue? FC BARCELONA. its a sign. VISCA BARCA RAHHH

carlossainz55

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 11M others

carlossainz55 since the 2024 season is officially over, here's a memory to the last time we won in red ❤ Tagged: scuderiaferrari, yourusername, charles_leclerc

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username41 FATHERRRRR

username42 woah

username43 he ate. licked the plate clean. swallowed the table even

username44 can't wait for the next season omgggg

username45 imagine if he wins in a williams

username46 then y/n would probably pass away

username47 THE YNCARLOS HUG SUYGDTFVBSHNJSJDHG

username48 STUNNING.

username49 he ate up everyone frrrr

username50 THE PHOTOGRAPHY?? THE AESTHETIC?? THE RED?? I FEAR HE LICKED UP EVERYTHING

username51 ONGGGG

username52 FRRR

username53 THE REAL IT WAG AND IT DRIVER

username54 i cried at this

username55 WE NEED MORE Y/N IN THE PADDOCK FOR MORE CARLOS WINS 🔥🔥🗣

username56 carlos dont forget us when you become the world champion in williams

username57 THE SECOND PIC IS SO SYMBOLIC IM SHITTING MY PANTS

username58 id let him hit me with his car

username59 i'd let y/n hit me with his car

username60 mama y papa

username61 oh carlos i feel so bad for you

username62 alex in the likes???? stan carbon for life

username63 only carlos knows how to be so beautiful drenched in champagne

username64 and to look so godly while doing so??

username65 king behaviour

username66 the relationship is not a want its a NEED

username67 WAAAAAAAA PLS DONT GO TO WILLIAMS

username68 carlos sr AND jr ate up

username69 where is y/n i need her to be a depressed tifosi

username70 fr she puts what we cant put into words

yourusername meow

carlossainz55 mi amor what is this

yourusername can't appreciate my husband these days 😔

carlossainz55 hermosa we aren't married 😔

yourusername lets get married and run away forever then

carlossainz55 yes we should

yourusername i have the dress ready

username72 im so confused

username73 THEYRE GETTING MARRIED???

username74 THE GOAT

username75 please let williams become the fastest this year so carlos can win

username76 manifesting a podium for him and alex idk how but i'll build an engine from the ground and i'll harvest the car body from the earth

yourusername it's good that you're drinking up your last win since you won't have any after you start racing in williams

yourusername should've stayed in ferrari 🫶

carlossainz55 mi vida i literally didn't have a choice

yourusername i'm sorry i just want to see you in red more </3

carlossainz55 or do YOU want to be in red more

yourusername both 🤍

carlossainz55 if it helps the garages are close to each other...?

yourusername oh...😊 well you know where to find me

lilymhe who will stay with me then 😔

yourusername ME !!

carlossainz55 won't you be i the ferrari garage??

yourusername i'll stay in williams for lily 😊😊😊

carlossainz55 and not me? 😔

yourusername bros before hoes

carlossainz55 i see...

yourusername just kidding i still love you more than anything mi hermoso

carlossainz55 i love you too, mi reina

username77 im not crying you are

username78 im like 109% sure y/n is crying on the inside

username79 bro i'm gonna kms this is too beautiful to let go

username80 the look of lovee.....

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, lilymhe and 3.8M others

yourusername guess it's official. as much as it hurts to say this, see you in doomsday blue everyone 💙 (still attached to the red so i made sure to include it) Tagged: carlossainz55, williamsracing, alex_albon

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username81 HELP IM SOBBING

username82 how is she so calm about this wtf i'd be rolling on the ground sobbing

username83 thank the heavens carlos looks good in any colour

username84 doomsday blue is crazyyyy

username85 I WANT TO BE A WAG

username86 imagine being this handsome sigh

scuderiaferrari ❤ Liked by creator

username87 EH???????

username88 girl what

username89 FERRARI????

username90 i cannot tell if they are being petty or they js miss y/n

username91 HELP WHAT

username92 NOOOO IT'S OFFICIAL

username93 stop i feel so bad for her imagine your bf going from ferrari to williams </3

username94 guys maybe williams will have a redemption arc

username95 carlos wdc trust

username96 holy fuck hes beautiful

username97 where to buy a carlos asking for a friend

username98 proof that williams being blue ruins everyone's lives:

username99 im waiting for the edits

username100 y/n how are you functioning i'd kms

carlossainz55 see it's not that bad

yourusername carlos my beloved white isn't your colour

carlossainz55 WHAT

yourusername I'M SORRY IT HAD TO BE SAID

carlossainz55 you said it made me look like an angel

yourusername what was i doing when i said that

carlossainz55 laughing.....

yourusername exactly 🫶

carlossainz55 well still you look stunning in blue

yourusername now i feel bad 😔

carlossainz55 that's the plan 😈

yourusername fuck off

carlossainz55 also why isn't white my colour

yourusername i'm not elaborating

carlossainz55 shame

yourusername skill issue

carlossainz55 what

yourusername you wouldn't get it old man

carlossainz55 call me old one more time i'll show you what's old

yourusername oh!

carlossainz55 NOT THAT WAY

carlossainz55 actually yes that way

yourusername i'm scared

carlossainz55 you should be 😈

yourusername what the hell did they feed you in williams

carlossainz55 go there yourself to find out

yourusername over my DEAD BODY

carlossainz55 suit yourself

username101 president of the gpda btw

username102 i would've fainted he's like a renaissance painting

username103 dont know if i should be happy or sad

username104 both

username105 HER BEING THE SUPPORTIVE GIRLFRIEND MY HEARTTTTT

username106 NOOOO WE"RE LOSING THE RED FITS

username107 new y/n fans will never get to experience them

username108 if i never see her in red again i'll jump off a cliff

username109 me and y/n are in a parasocial relationship btw

username110 they are my parents. no argument.

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, lilymhe and 4.1M others

yourusername pre season testing done!! the doomsday blue IS starting to grow on me a tiny bit.... such a disgrace to my tifosi family 😔 Tagged: carlossainz55, williamsracing

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username111 PRETYYYY

username112 my oh my the blue is doing things to me

username113 y/n said carlos didn't look in white so he showed up in an all white fit to annoy her

username114 my husband

carlossainz55 was i fast in testing?

yourusername yes yes very fast

carlossainz55 am i still a disgrace for your family

yourusername we both are

carlossainz55 don't forget to tell them i got them signed charles merch

yourusername i will, worry

yourusername if i have to suffer so will you❤

carlossainz55 hermosa i will kill you 💙❤

yourusername BLUE AND RED??? VISCA BARCA

carlossainz55 NO. NOT BARCA. HALA MADRID FOREVER. THAT'S WILLIAMS AND FERRARI

yourusername yeah yeah whatever

carlossainz55 soooo how do you like williams so far

carlossainz55 and don't lie your smile was radiant the whole time

yourusername sigh

yourusername its FINE

carlossainz55 VAMOS

yourusername ???

carlossainz55 nothing

yourusername okay.....

carlossainz55 please wear blue more often i'm salivating

yourusername please wear black more often i'm drooling

carlossainz55 deal

yourusername also if i see you in white one more time i'll maul you

carlossainz55 such kind words to your loving boyfriend 🥹

yourusername i'll kill you

yourusername btw my lawyer will be contacting you shortly

carlossainz55 for what??

yourusername assault

carlossainz55 verbal or emotional

yourusername both

carlossainz55 that's not fair

yourusername too bad

carlossainz55 you violate human rights violations on me

yourusername you amaze me with your loving words 😐

carlossainz55 i'm glad 🤍

username115 love is in the air eh?

username116 the fit is so adorable omgg

username117 CARLOS CONTENT LETS GOOOOOOO

username118 y/n tell us everything that happened please

username119 Y/N WILLIAMS APPEARANCES LETS FUCKING GOOOO

username120 YES YES YES YES i dont understand why but yeah IM SO HAPPY

lilymhe i love you so much gorgeous i hope you had fun with me

yourusername i love you more my beloved princess 🫶 i had so much fun thank you for making it bearable

lilymhe anytime pretty 💙

yourusername we should meet up everyday

lilymhe done

alexandrasaintmleux i'm glad you're having fun in williams! i miss you already

yourusername miss you too alex ❤❤

alexandrasaintmleux 🫶

username121 STOPP MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS SHES SO PRETTYA ND CARLOS IM MALFUCNTIONING

username122 girl is a fake tifosi

username123 sigh

username124 waiting for y/n to drop posts like a wife waiting for her husband's letters from war in the 1900s

username125 HELP

username126 omg i died watching the testing bc we got y/n content RAHHHH

username127 SHES IN BLUE NOW?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

username128 rest in peace ferrari y/n, you will be missed

username129 LEGIT PASSED OUT HES SO GORGEOUS

username130 cuties omg

carlossainz55 the blue looks beautiful on you i fainted

yourusername omg stoppp i'm blushing

carlossainz55 even then everything looks beautiful on you

yourusername i'm so flattered

yourusername love youuu 🫶 🤍

carlossainz55 i love you more 🤍

fin.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[mediumgayitalian]

Kayla will never tell her older brother in a million billion years. Plus one extra.

But she knows more about Lee Fletcher than he does.

It is not something she did on purpose. Nor is it information she necessarily wants, she most certainly did not ask for it. Nor is it information she will offer.

She will not tell him that she knows the crumple of Lee’s face when he tells a lie. She will not tell him she knows the stark pain in his shoulders at the end of the day. She will not tell him she knows the grooved scars on the palms of his hands from bitten-sharp nails. She will not tell him she knows the sounds of his quiet, pillow-muffled sobs as well as or better than she knows the sound of her father’s voice.

Instead she will watch him. And she will meet Lee’s tired eyes. And she will nod to him, and he will nod back, and they will both look at Will, exhaling.

———

The first time she sees him she is hallucinating.

Genuinely. Medically diagnosed and everything.

“Kayla,” Will whispers, and there is a strain in his voice, as there always is when one of them is sick. “Kayla, dolly, the cloth needs to stay on your head.”

“Cold,” she sobs, “please, Will, I’m so cold.” Dolly. Dolly. He calls her dolly when she’s crying, when the tips of her fingers are bleeding and her knees are scraped raw and she screams if he gets too close to her. “‘M so —”

Her teeth clack hard together so hard her mouth glues shut. And the ice in her finger and toenails fires up her veins and pricks through all of her capillaries, turning her solid, and it burns, and it aches, and she bawls enough that acid burns up her throat and dribbles down her chin, down her shirt, in her bed. And over the heart pounding in her ears she hears her older brother exhale a soft little broken moan and choke it back just as fast and his always-warm hands brush over her cheeks, and she groans and squirms away from it and cries harder, and he whispers “Hold on, dolly, the fever’s almost broken, I can feel it,” and she opens her eyes and he is there, hair longer, hair neater, lab coat starched and collar covered in old Star Wars stickers, bulky glasses barely clinging to his face, tears soaking his long, angular face.

And Kayla squints, and the freezing ice recedes ever so slightly, sparking just under her skin, and she tilts her head, and she stares at him, at his freckle-free face, and whispers, “…Will?”

And he squeezes his eyes tighter and begs, “One more time, kiddo, I’m so sorry. One more time. I can’t help you if I can’t touch you. Pull back the light, baby, I can’t see, you have to control it just a little more. Just enough so it doesn’t burn. Please.”

And she squints again and Will-not-Will wavers, and the infirmary lights blink off his tears, off the lens of his glasses, and the. she squints again and the lights are dimmer, and the lab coat is gone, and his hair is frizzier.

“What,” she croaks, and Will pats her hair, and his hands are rough like she’s used to, and his round face is wet, and his scrubs are barf-stained, again, and he is smiling, tears dripping into his mouth, bright blue eyes clear, and he laughs and touches his forehead to hers.

“One-oh-one,” he whispers, shoulders shaking. “You’re safe, dolly. Your brain is out of the oven. Gods. Holy shit. Holy shit, Holy God, Holy Hera.” And he starts to pray.

She exhales hard, exhales, and forgets about it.

———

The next time her brain is not cooking hard enough her proteins are denaturing.

The next time she is sleep deprived, which does not help her determine reality.

She is lucid enough to notice the change, though.

She should not be awake. This much she knows. Will had sent her to bed hours ago, a half-hour after Austin and a full hour after the kids — as is her right; she is a full 13 years old — and she went, not without grumbling. And she meant to sleep. She usually does. But the moon was bright, and unusually warm. And the fairy lights twinkled with twice as much laughter than usual. And the audiobook her daddy sent her was just so enticing, just so flowery and beautiful, and as she listened to the gravel-low voice of the woman narrating and stared out the window she could see it playing out, plain as day, over the silver-washed hill of Thalia’s tree and the gentle giggling of the Atlantic waves.

She’s not supposed to be up late enough to watch Will creep in.

But she is, and that’s that. She hears the creak of the rickety screen door, slow like he’s trying to keep it quiet, and holds her breath, careful to make all her muscles react to keep her from being seen. The cabin is big but not that big and she sees him quickly, out of the corner of her half-closed eyes, tiptoe careful across the wooden floorboards, hopping over the noisiest ones, resting at the side of each of their beds and waiting, watching at the ends of them, shoulders dropping, eyes blackened and eyebags heavy. After a moment at each he reaches out his burned hands, resting gently on her siblings’ foreheads, and closes his eyes, exhaling, letting the fiery warmth from his palms spread slowly through their veins, wrapping strands of sunlight neatly around them like spider silk. As it recedes he sighs, in exhaustion or relief, and holds his hand, for a second, breathing in, breathing out, and moving on.

He comes to her last.

She has relaxed her breathing by then. She is thirteen years old and remembers every day of it; knows how to twitch her muscles and murmur in gentle sleepiness, knows how to breathe til her heart goes slow and flicker her eyelids so her face shows its dreaming. Daddy checks on her too, when she’s home, and she likes to stay up for him, likes to wait, likes to savour the feel of his string-callused fingertips and soft cool palms.

“I know you’re not sleeping, you little twerp.“

He flickers again — she sees it this time — and the heat of his hands fade a bit. His face gets a little longer, chin a little pointier, and the wild curls around his head mellow into something wavier, something gentler and more tamed. The glasses balancing on his wide nose are unbelievably thick, thicker than Julia’s whose prescription is a joke, and make his blue eyes look buggy, beetle-shaped. He’s got half as many freckles but that could be the moonlight. His smile is the same.

“I know what REM feels like, you know.”

She says nothing and keeps breathing. He sighs. He strokes a thumb against her forehead and it is familiar, and she knows, immediately then, that it is her brother who strokes her, who guards the foot of her bed.

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed. If you’re not asleep by then I’m gonna smother you, ya pain in the ass.”

He pulls away and she watches, follows the thwack of his falling-apart Converse, the rise of his gentle humming. He pulls tiny bathroom’s door shut and the humming swells along with the fireflies, echoing soft and melodic in the kind-of-big cabin, and she means to stay awake, really. She wants to watch him transform again, wants to watch his shoulders grow back and his spine stretch straighter. Wants to see the familiar roundness of his cheeks.

But his voice is so beautiful, and the scrape of his toothbrush is as rhythmic as ever, and the moon is so high in the sky. Her audiobook fades to silence as she slips away, warmed, into the cradle of her bed.

———

The third time she sees him there is no excuse.

It is the dead middle of summer and he is exhausted. The camp swells with the sum of them all, with the drum of running footsteps and crashing swords and crowing laughter. Her brother lives in the infirmary, practically; no matter how many times he is dragged out he keeps sneaking back, keeps slipping out of his friends’ sight and falling right back into his scrubs, hair pulled back.

“You are not supposed to be here,” Kayla says crossly. “Your shifts are done for the week.”

He smiles guiltily and the change is immediate. The slant of his shoulders is identical, the curve of his grin is unchanged, but the glossiness of his eyes fades away, and the strange ghost of her brother takes full shape. He is different, in the clear sunlight. A familiar stranger. He grins at her widely and turns on his heel, strolling to the mortal medicine cabinet.

“And who died and made you head honcho, Sunshine?” She blinks in surprise, glancing down at her hands. That is a new one. Sunshine.“It’s the busy season. I’m only keeping up with demand.”

“You’re gonna wear yourself right out,” she hears herself say. “Right out, and then what?”

“And then the sun will keep shining,” her brother says. “Besides, you’ll be taking over in no time. You’re already better than me, squirt.”

It’s an odd thing to say — she isn’t. By virtue of her parentage she can heal, and she can sing the hymns. But her strength is in her bow and her violin; her strings, not the stretch of bandages or shine of the suture. Will knows it. This brother, though, the one who stands in his place, is not speaking to her.

“I am?”

“‘Course. You know anyone else who can drag an errant soul right back into a body?”

Yes. She’s seen Will do it on more than one occasion, on more than one justification. She’s seen how it makes Chiron’s lips tighten and the atmosphere go dark. There is healing, and then there is blasphemy and challenge. Will walks the line like no one has since Zeus struck the challenger clean off the Earth.

This brother is not talking to her.

“Am I really going to take over, Lee?”

She says it carefully, because she isn’t sure. There are no pictures and Will tells no stories. But she hears whispers, sometimes, from the scattered few who knew them both, who watch Will corral the lot of them to breakfast or take the reigns of the chariot or calm hysterics with a touch, who whisper: “Sometimes I look at him and it’s like seeing a ghost.”

Her brother smiles a wide thing at her. It is as soft as she remembers. “Course, baby. No doubt in my mind.”

———

The fourth time she sees Lee Fletcher, she makes him come.

She waits very carefully. He comes when Will’s tired, she hypothizes. When his own strength won’t stand. So she waits, for the second wave of camp flu, for his lead on the climbing wall, for the rare nights when Gracie gets cranky and homesick and stomps around the cabin, throwing things and yelling. She waits for the look in his eyes, for the glassiness to smooth into something soft and reverent, something timeless.

It does not come when she expects.

The fourth time they are sitting together. Or, Will is sitting, legs tucked under him on the side bench, and Kayla stands, breathing careful, arms pulling elastic taut.

Her third missed shot, he is behind her.

“Relax you jaw,” he suggests. “Your tension is throwing you off. Let yourself hit the edge — it’s a new challenge, kid. No need for a bullseye.”

“I always get a bullseye,” she argues.

Lee smiles. His eyes are different, she realizes. They’re — constant. Blue. Like hydrangeas.

Will’s change with the sky.

“Bullseyes are a process.” He puts a steady hand on her elbow, tilting it slightly. “You gotta aim for the bigger picture before you focus on the details. The bullseye will come. Start with hitting the target.”

She huffs, scowling, but he’s right, and on her fourth shot the arrow lodges, just on the edge of the compacted wood.

Lee cheers. That, she sees clear as day, is identical, from the strain of his arms to the crow of his whooping laughter. He even does the same clumsy, dorky dance that sends him sprawling.

Kayla smiles past the lump in her throat.

———

The fifth, sixth, and seventh times pass without her counting, as does everyone one beyond. They happen in stretches and in the blink of an eye — the shapes of his mouth when he yawns, the drawl of his fed-up sarcasm. The weight of his elbow on the top of her head, grinning as she shoves him off, the shake of his deep, bone-rooted sigh when he thinks she’s asleep and his entire body strains, curled up under his favourite quilt. The weight of his ‘v’ in I love you.

She almost stops looking.

“What did he look like?” she blurts, one evening when he takes them to the beach. The rest of them are up ahead, Austin chasing the younger ones up the muddy sand.

Will freezes, just barely, then walks on with a forced lightness, swinging his loose arms between them.

“Who?” he asks, voice light.

Kayla gnaws the inside of her cheek.

“Your older brother.”

“I had four, at one point.”

He says it quiet like he does at the campfire, when it’s only the older kids left but she’s managed to stick around, holding her breath so they won’t notice and send her away. When Will lies back on a log and matches his breathing to the flames, eyes unseeing, and Annabeth watches him carefully and whispers, “Play us something, Will.” And he picks up the guitar he keeps dusty under his bed and sings something soft like there’s no hardness left inside him. No bowstring.

“When he laughed, you could hear it across camp,” he says quietly.

Kayla had not specified which brother but he knows anyway, had been waiting for her ask, and she strains to hear, now, leans in over the turn of the waves and shifts of the sands and strives for every note, every chord of his voice. “He invented a full name for me so he could holler it when I got in trouble. William Andrew.”

“I didn’t know he made that up.”

A ghost of a smile turns Will’s lips. “Yeah, it stuck real good. Even Chiron forgets I wasn’t born with it, actually. He yells it, too.”

He tilts his heart to the sky and stares at the clouds, exhaling, hands still by his sides.

“I was his favourite,” he says finally. “He wasn’t supposed to have anybody, but he loved me. He watched me real careful. He was —” he swallows — “I loved my brother, you know. To the sun and beyond it.”

He stops, turning to the waves. She lets him and watches his back, watches the shape of his scapulae under his camp shirt.

“I wish I still had him.”

The air shifts beside him, then. She sees Lee next to him, this time, not in place of him, with a broad hand on his shaking shoulder, a tanned forehead pressed to his temple. He turns to her, when Will breathes normally again, and winks, blinking back away as the clouds move from the sun.

“I think he’d be real proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

Kayla hesitates. “I mean — yeah. You’re like him, you know? You stand like he does.”

Will is smiling, softly, eyes red.

“I’ll have to show you a picture of him, sometime.”

“Yeah.” Kayla smiles, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, I’d like to see him.”

[nartothelar]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50172763/chapters/126729883#workskin

After a long wait the next chapter is up! Thanks for your patience! :D

[squad51goals]

Oh heck yeah

Collating all the domestic ship memes together into one post, send me a ship and I’ll tell you:

Who’s more dominant:

Who’s the cuddler:

Who’s the big spoon/little spoon:

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity:

Who uses all the hot water:

Most trivial thing they fight over: 

Who does most of the cleaning: 

What has a season pass on their dvr/Who controls the netflix queue: 

Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working:  

Who leaves their stuff around:

Who remembers to buy the milk: 

Who remembers anniversaries:  

Who cooks normally: 

How often do they fight:

What do they do when they’re away from each other: 

Nicknames for each other: 

Who is more likely to pay for dinner: 

Who steals the covers at night: 

What would they get each other for gifts:

Who kissed who first:

Who made the first move:

Who remembers things: 

Who started the relationship:

Who cusses more: 

What would they do if the other one was hurt: 

Who is the dirty talker:

A head canon:

[emilys-bangs]

this love is glowing in the dark | e.p

Tags: established relationship, sleepy tired emily, reader taking care of her, just fluff, lots of kisses, brief non sexual nudity (reader helps her undress), no use of yn

Summary: Emily comes home wrapped up in drowsiness. You help her into bed.

Word count: 1.1k

It took work to get here. 

To get Emily to accept your help. To get her to lay her guard down, to coax her fingers loose from the iron-tight grip she had on her independence and make her realize, bit by bit, that she doesn’t have to shoulder the weight of anything on her own. That you’re there to split the load and carry it with her. It shows, in small moments like these; in the warm glow of your bedroom light that doesn’t hide the wear and tear the day has left on her.

“Reid and Morgan were being a pain,” she murmurs, her voice low with the kind of quiet better suited for the deeper hours of the night, when indigo starts to blur into something deeper and eventually lighter. It’s steeped in exhaustion, her words thick and starting to slur, sticking together like honey.

Contrary to her expression, she doesn’t sound annoyed. You smile as you deftly undo her shirt buttons, taking a second to press a kiss to the soft, wilting line of her mouth.

“Another prank war?” 

Two, three, four buttons up until you reach the generous gap she’d already left open to expose the skin of her throat. Her shirt wilts apart; she shrugs it down her shoulders.

Emily’s brows pinch. “Something like that.” She says, undoing her belt with less finesse than she usually does. Her fingers fumble, heavy. “I don’t get how they have the energy for that. You’d mistake them for kids sometimes.” The buckle clinks; she pulls the belt through and tosses it on the bed. You grab her a pair of shorts while she kicks her slacks off, soft and forgiving cotton to soothe some of her roughed up edges.

Emily takes them with a rumpled smile. She pauses for a second, slow limbs coming to a brief stop as her eyes clear to focus on you, and leans in for a kiss that’s too generous for your small contribution. Her lips are warm, and you immediately reciprocate. You wrap your arms around her waist, fingertips finding the pearls of her spine and gently tracing them. She leans her weight against you, trusting; you grow breathless with something far more exhilarating than the press of her lips against yours.

You let her take what she needs. Softer, smaller pecks and her hands getting a feel for an outline long since memorized.

“Thanks. Wanted to shower, though,” she murmurs, words smothered against your mouth. You taste them, like the lingering tack of her lipstick.

“Tomorrow,” you gently rub her side. “You’re tired.”

The downturned tilt of her lashes does nothing to prove you wrong. Emily hums, straightening and pulling the shorts on. “When’s the weekend?” Her brow ticks upward, tone dry.

“Few days,” you smile sympathetically, gesturing to her bra. “Off?”

“Hmm,” she hums thickly. You reach behind her and snap it off, your lips automatically finding her jaw when you get this close. It’s just a brush, lost in the graceless tangle of limbs and flying clothes as you discard the bra and grab the tank top you’d already laid out for her. 

Emily doesn’t try to take it from you. She ducks her head into the neckline when you stretch it out, arms slipping through the straps and curling around your neck as you tug the material down her torso. Her grip is just loose enough; when you’re done her muscles lock for a second, pressing you into her chest.

The exhale she breathes out reverberates through both your bodies. Emily sags, boneless, her grip losing strength that you make up for as you squeeze her back. The warmth of her cheek bleeds into yours, her face half tucked into your neck, lashes wispy and ticklish when they beat against your skin. 

You hadn’t been particularly tense, but you relax completely with her in your arms like this. It’s hard not to. Her even breaths warm your neck, fingers dipping past the waistband of your sweatpants and staying there.

“And how was your day?” She asks after a while, the velvet of her voice worn down to something gritty.

You rub a path down her back. “Mind numbingly average.”

“That sounds nice.”

“What about food, does that sound nice?”

Emily shakes her head. “Tired,” she says.

“We can bring it to bed.”

She doesn’t answer. You suspect she’s close to falling asleep, but she just frees herself from your arms, yawning as she takes off her watch and places it on the dresser. You glimpse glimmering gold where the chain of her necklace parts her hair around it. She always takes them off, too—usually all jewelry except for her earrings. Sure enough, as you’re gathering her hair over one shoulder, her arms belatedly come up, reaching for her neck.

“I got it,” you whisper. 

Emily’s hands fall, shoulder blades shifting under her shirt as you undo the clasp of her necklace and take it off. It’s a pretty thing, a small flower encrusted with glinting gemstones that she always comes back to. You kiss the warm nape of her neck where it laid and nudge her into bed, carefully storing the necklace before grabbing her pack of makeup wipes.

She’s yawning again as you settle in next to her and gently grab her chin, starting to wipe her makeup off. The wipe turns pink with her leftover blush, darkening when you use it to clean off her lipstick.

“I can do it,” Emily mumbles, an idle hand falling to your waist.

“I know you can.” You kiss the tip of her nose. Her lashes flutter shut. “I don’t want you to.”

Her fingers squeeze. The surface of her chest caves beneath an exhaled breath, quiet and shuddering. “You’re spoiling me.” She says softly.

You shake your head, gently rubbing the mascara from her eyes. “I love you.”

Emily’s throat bobs with a swallow.

The wipe turns muddy. You replace it to make sure Emily’s face is clean, then toss both in the trash and get under the sheets with her, even though a glance at the clock tells you it’s barely six thirty.

She immediately pillows her head on your chest. Your arm curls around her waist, rubbing the same wide circles above her shirt.

“Food?” You ask.

“Sleep.” Emily rasps. “Just for a little bit, I’m tired.”

You mouth a kiss to her hairline. “Okay. Does an hour sound good?”

She hums, slotting a leg between yours. You idly rake your fingers through her hair. Sometimes it helps her sink faster into sleep, the drag of your nails against her scalp lulling her into cushiony darkness.

“Love you,” Emily whispers.

She’s asleep before you hum back your response.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights@professorsapphic

[wingedblessing]

an (poor) attempt at baking. jason todd x gn!reader summary: you n jason try to have a cute baking date with each other. cw: established relationship, fluff, short fic, ooc!jason(?), no pronouns used, no little to no editing - we raw dog this fic together, too much banter with too little baking at all. words: 878 words a/n: i wrote this in the middle of class, it's safe to say;; i am NOT locking in whatsoever but that's okay - more fanfics to write, woohoo! . anw, enjoy!

"You are a complete dumbass."

Jason let out a grumble in frustration from his spouse somehow mixing sugar up with salt. Shaking his head in disapproval as his eyes narrowed at you innocently standing beside him, acting clueless and innocent.

He crossed his arms together in front of his chest, the fabric of his red shirt desperately holding on right now.

You thought it would be nice and fun to bake something with him, something easy like a simple cake.

That, he can do.

It took days for him and you to set up a time together for this activity alone, despite you living together.

Red Hood or Jason as you know him can't do from noon to night since he wants to get some rest before patrol.

And he stayed up late at night with him returning to the apartment in the dead of night.

With you having to work from exactly morning to noon due to your job having a weird schedule for some reason. But whatever, anything to get by and have some money in your pockets.

So naturally, only a Sunday worked for the both of you two.

First things, it started okay with you forgetting to buy some necessary ingredients for the cake, but luckily Jason ran to the nearest corner shop with the checklist in his phone that looked like it had seen better days.

It was going good, you think.

Sure you might have mixed up a few ingredients but it'll probably taste better that way.

Right?

Yeah, you're right. Well, hopefully.

"I'm not, you told me to grab the white stuff!"

You'd rolled your eyes at your boyfriend previously just straight up telling you to grab the white stuff while he was doing the mixing, so normally - you thought he meant salt.

"You didn't specify what type of white stuff you wanted to put in the bowl, so I'd just immediately thought that it was salt."

Quickly you crossed your arms together in front of your chest whilst glancing at him in somewhat amusement.

Great. Now both of you were just crossing your arms together in front of your chests.

The bowl sat still on the kitchen counter, a few traces of flour still visible alongside both of you being covered in batter.

As you two continue to have a mini staring contest silently, Jason quietly dips his hands into the half-mixed cake batter before launching it on your cheek.

"Oops."

His lips curled into a smirk as your eyes narrowed at his antic.

"You little shit-"

Before Jason could fully comprehend your words at him, you dipped your own hands into the batter before accidentally throwing way too much on your boyfriend's shirt.

His favorite shirt to be exact.

Silence filled the air for a few minutes with you awkwardly blinking in surprise.

Just as you were about to mutter an apology, the man's eyes narrowed with his smirk growing wider.

"Oh, it is on."

A chuckle was let out of Jason's lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he quickly dipped his hand and threw some batter on you again.

Your lips quirked into a smirk whilst dodging the batter, watching it fall onto the kitchen counter behind you before quickly scoping a handful of batter into your hands.

Some of the batter spilled by the gaps of your hand with you just naturally accepting it as you threw it onto Jason who dodged that easily without any effort.

Well, major efforts to be exact.

"Nice shot, aim better next time."

"Oh, I'll show you what a nice shot is!"

This continued for almost an hour, with you two throwing batter at each other and cake batter flying everywhere in the once-tidy kitchen.

With some on the counter, some on him, and some on you too.

As Jason's hands dipped into the bowl to aim at you, his hands suddenly felt light and not somewhat heavy.

Like there's barely anything in his hands.

He paused for a moment as he looked down at the bowl, to see it nearly empty with only a few teaspoons of cake batter remaining on the sides of the bowl.

Huh.

"What's the matter? Hesitating to attack at the war you started?"

A chuckle escaped through your lips at the sight.

Jason shook his head - before nodding his head in the direction of the bowl, curious yet cautious - you followed his gaze and leaned closer towards the bowl to take a better look.

Nothing.

There was almost nothing remaining of the cake batter left in the bowl.

You blinked not once, not twice, but three times at the sight.

Oops.

"You're cleaning everything up."

Quickly you muttered out the words of your mouth immediately getting a side look from Jason beside you as he smacked the back of your head in protest and somewhat amusement from the two of you antics earlier.

"You're the one that threw the first cake batter at me, you should be the one to clean this place up!"

Safe to say, both of you ended up with no cake and ended up ordering take-outs with both of you two cleaning the kitchen and leaving kisses on each other while still being covered in cake batter from each other.

[©]:; don't copy, alter, or repost any of my works on all platforms, including tumblr too .

[spinfins]

For @sofiemystique

Taash is very good at sharing, you guys.

When they were a little kid, they weren’t exactly so little. Tama was careful to teach them how to control their strength, and treat others gently. Mostly with a board book called ‘Pat the Nug.’

Sharing was a part of this. Also, Tama was just a really generous person, and Taash likes to think they carry on that legacy.

But that doesn’t mean Taash will let someone walk all over them. Or their friends.

The day someone almost steps on Harding in a Minrathous market, Taash almost loses it.

“Hey, she’s walking here!”

The mage snorts and barely looks at Harding, who is rubbing her shin.

“Perhaps she should carry a sign.”

It's all okay in the end. Turns out that mage owed most of the merchants in the area a lot of money, so no one complains when they dump him at the nearest Templar outpost and run.

The day Lucanis is snubbed for service at a cafe for being an “abomination” Taash leans very carefully on the thin wooden counter and eyes the various kettles boiling on the back burners.

“Looks pretty hot,” they say, with a look at a very pretty, delicate, teapot. They meet the eyes of the barista. They let just a trickle of smoke leak out of the corner of their mouth.

“Would you like it a little hotter?”

Lucanis’s coffee is free.

Then comes a rare day of beauty in Hossberg. The wardens are in good spirits, enjoying the warm sun, and the endless blue sky.

Emmrich is showing some magic tricks to Manfred and a huddle of little kids. This particular one is a favorite: dancing skeletons made from mice, birds, and squirrels.

It's cute, even if it rubs Taash the wrong way.

So they notice when a warden they haven’t seen before strides in and backhands Emmrich across the face.

“Death mage! Corrupting our children!” he screams, spittle flying from his red face as the mage sprawls backwards in the mud and snow.

A dozen people react immediately, but they are too slow.

The warden’s shoulder cracks as a large hand squeezes it. He smells fire, and brimstone as a voice hisses in his ear.

“My death mage,” Taash tells him, “your mistake.”

[scarletwinterxx]

chase the cut - jeon wonwoo imagine

hello~ i've been wanting to write a med au for so long, i tried my best here so i hope you like it!🤍

alsooo i opened an acc on x. you can follow me there, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You bolt out of the room like your life depends on it.

Behind you, heavy footsteps follow, growing louder with each second. "Come back here!" Wonwoo’s usually calm voice has a sharp edge, but you don’t dare slow down

"It’s just a scratch!" you yell over your shoulder

"A scratch?!" Wonwoo sounds offended. "You’re a surgeon, and you’re bleeding! Do you hear yourself?"

Mingyu and Seokmin barely react as you sprint past them. Mingyu, sipping his coffee, raises a brow. "What did she do now?"

"She got a cut," Wonwoo answers, still in pursuit

Seokmin blinks. "A cut? We’re literally surrounded by scalpels and needles every day—why is he freaking out?"

You duck behind a chair, panting. "Because he’s a pediatric surgeon," you whisper dramatically. "He deals with tiny humans, not full-grown surgeons with minor injuries!"

Wonwoo rounds the corner, eyes locked on you. "You. Sit. Down."

Mingyu, ever the agent of chaos, casually blocks your escape route. "Just let him patch you up. Or keep running—I’m entertained either way."

Seokmin grins. "I say we take bets. Five bucks says he tackles her."

You glare at them. "Some friends you are."

Wonwoo takes a step forward, and you take a step back. It’s a ridiculous standoff in the middle of the hospital lounge.

"Do not make me chase you around the hospital," he warns.

You make a break for it. Seokmin and Mingyu laugh as Wonwoo groans and sprints after you. He catches you in less than five seconds. He’s faster than he looks, and before you can dodge, an arm wraps around your waist, effectively trapping you.

"Gotcha," he mutters, his breath warm against your ear

You squirm uselessly. "This is unfair! You have long legs!"

"You have terrible decision-making skills," he counters, steering you toward the nearest chair with ease. Seokmin and Mingyu watch like it’s their favorite reality show, Mingyu even grabbing a snack.

Wonwoo lets go just long enough to grab the antiseptic wipes, and that’s when the real panic sets in.

"Wait, wait, wait—just let me mentally prepare—"

"You had plenty of time to do that while you were running," he deadpans

The moment the antiseptic-soaked wipe touches your skin, you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted. "Ow, ow, OW—"

Wonwoo sighs. "You literally cut people open for a living, and you’re whining over this?"

Seokmin snickers. "Zero pain tolerance. It’s honestly embarrassing."

Mingyu nods sagely. "Every time she gets a paper cut, she acts like she’s been stabbed."

You glare at them through watery eyes. "This hurts—"

"It stings," Wonwoo corrects, holding your wrist firmly as you try to pull away. "Stay still before you actually make it worse."

You groan dramatically, but Wonwoo, ever patient, finishes patching you up despite your flinching and whining. When he’s done, he presses the bandage down with a little more force than necessary, just to be petty.

"There. All better," he says, finally letting go.

You cradle your injured hand and pout. "You’re mean."

Wonwoo exhales, exasperated. Then, softer, "You should be more careful." 

For a second, something unreadable passes between you. Then Seokmin ruins it. "So, who owes me five bucks? I said he’d tackle her, but technically, it was more of a grab—"

"Pay up, Seokmin," Mingyu smirks. "A catch is a catch."

You groan, while Wonwoo just shakes his head, rubbing his temples like he regrets ever being friends with you three.

As soon as Wonwoo walks out, probably to regain some of his sanity before starting his rounds, you finally relax. Big mistake because the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you feel it—the shift in atmosphere. You don’t even have to look up to know that Mingyu and Seokmin are staring at you with that look. The one that spells trouble.

Seokmin grins. "Sooo…"

Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. "Are you two dating, or is Wonwoo just your personal on-call nurse?"

You groan. "Oh my god, not this again."

"Look, I’m just saying," Seokmin continues, leaning back like he has all the time in the world, "Wonwoo doesn’t act like that with anyone else."

"Yeah, I mean, I literally saw him step over a crying intern last week," Mingyu adds. "But the second you get a tiny little cut—"

"A painful cut," you interject

"—he’s running after you like you just lost a limb," Mingyu finishes, ignoring you

You roll your eyes. "He’s just like that."

Seokmin scoffs. "No, he’s not."

Mingyu hums. "Do you ever see him chase me down when I get hurt?"

"You get hurt on purpose for attention," you deadpan.

"Fair," Mingyu concedes. "But still. Wonwoo’s different with you."

You shake your head, standing up. "Whatever. I have patients to see."

As you reach for the door, Seokmin calls out, "Hey, don’t run too fast—wouldn’t want to scrape your knee. Wonwoo might carry you to the ER next time." Mingyu cackles as you slam the door on your way out.

It’s way past midnight—closer to 3 AM, when Wonwoo finally walks into the on-call room. His hair is slightly disheveled, white coat draped over his arm, and dark circles under his eyes deeper than before. It’s been a brutal shift.

Seokmin, who’s sitting at one of the desks, barely acknowledges his entrance, too focused on some patient charts. But Wonwoo doesn’t need to say anything. He just walks over to the bunk beds, takes one look at Mingyu—who’s sprawled out, snoring on the bottom bunk—and wordlessly yanks him off. With a loud thud, Mingyu hits the floor.

"Huh—?!" Mingyu startles awake, flailing like a fish out of water. "What the—?!"

"Get up," Wonwoo says flatly.

Mingyu groans dramatically, rubbing his eyes. "Dude, what is your problem—"

Wonwoo ignores him, already turning toward you. You’re curled up awkwardly on the couch, using a rolled-up hoodie as a pillow, arms folded in a way that guarantees you’ll wake up with at least three different cramps.

Wonwoo sighs. Then, in a tone much softer than the one he used on Mingyu, he murmurs, "Get in the bed."

You don’t stir at first, still half-asleep, but then you mumble, "‘M fine here…"

Wonwoo doesn’t buy it. "You’ll complain about back pain tomorrow, and we both know it."

Seokmin finally looks up, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Mingyu, still half on the floor, blinks at Wonwoo, then at you. Slowly, a knowing smirk creeps onto his face.

"Ohhh," Mingyu hums. "This is why you pulled me off the bed."

Wonwoo doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he reaches down and lightly taps your arm. "Come on, just sleep on the bed."

You grumble but finally crack your eyes open, too exhausted to argue. Wonwoo steps back as you groggily push yourself up, stretching. You shuffle toward the now-empty bottom bunk, collapsing onto it with a sigh.

"See? Much better," Wonwoo murmurs, pulling the blanket over you without a second thought.

Mingyu and Seokmin share a look.

"Dude," Mingyu says once Wonwoo turns around. "You could’ve told me to move instead of dragging me off like a sack of potatoes."

"You wouldn’t have moved fast enough," Wonwoo replies.

Seokmin smirks. "So, she gets the ‘gentle tuck-in’ treatment while Mingyu gets yeeted off the bed? Interesting."

Mingyu nods, still rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, Wonwoo. Interesting."

Wonwoo gives them both an unimpressed look before muttering, "I’m going to sleep," and heading toward the other bunk.

Even with his back turned, he can feel their teasing grins.

You’re pretty sure you’ve ascended to another plane of existence. Or maybe you’ve died and are currently haunting the hospital as a sleep-deprived ghost. Either way, you’ve been awake for way too long over 32 hours, to be exact and your body is done.

Mingyu isn’t faring much better. He’s slumped over the shared office desk, forehead pressed against an open patient chart, lightly snoring. You’re half-sitting, half-melting into the couch, cradling a lukewarm coffee that does nothing to fight the exhaustion clawing at your soul.

And then because life isn’t unfair enough already, Seokmin walks in. Bright-eyed. Energized. Well-rested. The worst kind of person.

"Good morning, besties!" Seokmin chirps, stretching like he didn’t just take a whole day off.

You don’t even look at him. "I will kill you."

"I second that," Mingyu mumbles into his chart.

Seokmin gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Why the hostility? I thought you’d be happy to see me!"

"We hate you," Mingyu groans.

"You’re dead to us," you add.

Seokmin grins. "Wow, so much love in this room." He walks over and purposefully ruffles Mingyu’s hair, making him whine in protest. Then he turns to you, poking your cheek. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," you mumble. "Exactly what I needed to hear."

Seokmin flops onto one of the chairs, grinning. "You know what I did yesterday? Slept a full eight hours. Went out for brunch. Touched grass."

Mingyu lifts his head just to glare. "Leave. Now."

Before Seokmin can keep being insufferable, the door opens again. Wonwoo walks in.

And unlike Seokmin who is obnoxiously loud about being well-rested Wonwoo looks just as exhausted as you and Mingyu. His coat is slightly wrinkled, his tie is loosened, and there’s an untouched coffee in his hand that he’s clearly forgotten about. He glances at Seokmin who looks too refreshed to be tolerable then at Mingyu, who is back to pretending to be dead.

Then his gaze lands on you.

You blink at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Hey."

"Hey," Wonwoo murmurs. He steps closer, eyes scanning over you in that way he always does when he’s subtly checking if you’re okay.

"Did you sleep?" he asks.

You let out a weak, humorless laugh. "Did you?"

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets his coffee down and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Seokmin—who has been watching the whole thing like a spectator at a soap opera—leans back with a smirk. "Wow, this is so interesting."

Mingyu groans, flopping back onto the desk. "Not now, Seokmin. I’m too tired for this."

Wonwoo ignores them both. He looks at you again, eyes softer now. "Eat something and get some rest."

"You too," you mumble, already sinking further into the couch.

Wonwoo exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

Seokmin wiggles his eyebrows. "Ohhh, this is fun."

"You know what else is fun?" You finally turn your head to glare at Seokmin. "Murder."

Wonwoo just sighs again and walks over to the bunk beds, mumbling something about how all of you are hopeless. Mingyu groans like he’s been personally attacked when his pager starts beeping. He doesn’t even look at it just slams his forehead against the desk.

"No. No, no, no. I reject this," he mumbles against the wood.

You barely have the energy to process the noise until of course yours goes off too. You and Mingyu make eye contact, equally dead inside.

Seokmin, the only one without a pager going off, grins. "Wow. Couldn’t be me."

"I will end you," you mutter, already reaching for your coat.

Wonwoo watches silently as Mingyu sluggishly gets up, flipping his pager over to check the message. He sighs. "ER’s a mess. Multiple traumas incoming."

You check yours, blinking slowly as the words process in your sleep-deprived brain. "OR needs backup. Guess I’m heading there."

Mingyu looks at you, eyes drooping. "Want to switch? I don’t want to talk to families."

"Absolutely not."

Mingyu pouts but doesn’t argue. He drags himself to his feet, rubbing his face aggressively like that’ll give him the will to live.

Seokmin claps his hands together, looking way too cheerful. "Well, have fun, kids! I’ll be here. Rested. Thriving."

Mingyu flips him off on the way out.

You barely register Wonwoo standing beside you until he tugs at your sleeve. When you look up, he’s frowning slightly.

"You sure you’re okay?" he asks, voice quieter now.

You exhale. "No, but I don’t have a choice."

Wonwoo’s frown deepens like he wants to say something else, but before he can, a voice crackles over the intercom calling for additional surgeons.

You sigh, giving him a tired half-smile. "See you later."

Wonwoo watches as you head out, his jaw tightening.

Seokmin hums as the door closes behind you. "You know," he says, stretching out on the chair, "for someone who refuses to admit his feelings, you really don’t do a good job of hiding them."

Wonwoo shoots him a glare, but Seokmin just grins.

A few more hours later, Wonwoo rubs at his eyes as he shrugs on his coat, his shift finally over. He grabs his bag from the office, shoulders aching from exhaustion. Just as he’s about to leave, the door swings open, and Mingyu stumbles in, looking like he’s barely holding himself together.

"ER was hell," Mingyu groans, dropping onto the couch with a loud thud. "I think I aged five years."

"You already look thirty," Wonwoo says, deadpan.

Mingyu glares at him, too tired to argue. Instead, he waves a lazy hand. 

Then Wonwoo asks "Where’s she? OR still has her hostage?"

The other doctor nods "She hasn’t come back yet. She’s probably running on caffeine and spite at this point."

Wonwoo hesitates for a second before speaking. "Make sure she eats and gets some rest when she’s done."

Mingyu cracks one eye open, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "You like her."

Wonwoo stares at him blankly. "Make sure she eats, Mingyu."

"You like her," Mingyu repeats, grinning now. Wonwoo doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Mingyu calls after him.

"Home," Wonwoo mutters.

"Liar!" Mingyu shouts, but Wonwoo is already gone.

What feels like hours to Mingyu before you entered the room. You trudge into the on-call room, every bone in your body protesting. Your scrub top is slightly wrinkled, your hair is a mess, and you’re running on nothing but sheer willpower at this point.

Mingyu is already knocked out on the bottom bunk, snoring lightly. You barely spare him a glance before collapsing onto the couch.

That’s when you notice it.

On the small coffee table, there’s a neatly packed meal. Your favorite.

You blink, staring at it like it’s a mirage. There’s even a bottle of water next to it, condensation still fresh, like someone just left it there.

Curious, you reach out and poke at the food, half-expecting it to disappear. When it doesn’t, you frown.

"Who…?" you murmur to yourself.

Mingyu shifts on the bed, groaning. "Shut up and eat."

You glance at him. "Did you get this?"

He grunts, eyes still closed. "Nope."

You pause. "Then who—?"

Mingyu cracks one eye open, smirking lazily. "Who do you think?"

That stops you. Your brain, sluggish from exhaustion, takes a moment to process.

Then it clicks.

Wonwoo.

You stare at the food, heart doing something weird in your chest.

Mingyu snickers before rolling over. "Just eat, dumbass."

You don’t argue. But as you take the first bite, you can’t help but think about a certain pediatric surgeon who definitely isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is.

You exhale, shaking your head to yourself. Subtle, Jeon.

Mingyu shifts on the bed again, cracking one eye open. "You’re thinking too hard about this," he mutters, voice thick with sleep.

You stab at your food with your chopsticks. "No, I’m not."

"Yeah, you are."

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. "Go back to sleep."

Mingyu hums lazily, but then he adds, "He does this all the time, you know."

You pause mid-bite. "What?"

Mingyu smirks, barely awake but still committed to being a menace. "Making sure you eat. Checking if you’re okay. Wonwoo’s always been like that… but only with you."

Your stomach does something stupid at that. "That’s not true."

Mingyu chuckles, shifting onto his side. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

You open your mouth to argue, but Mingyu’s already passed out again, snoring softly. You sigh, leaning back on the couch. The food is warm, comforting, and frustratingly thoughtful.

You try not to think about it too much. You fail.

It’s another long shift for you.

After parting ways with Seokmin, you make your way to the nurses’ station, hoping to check on some charts before heading back to the on-call room. You’re running on fumes at this point, but the habit of making sure everything is in order before you crash is too strong to ignore.

As you approach, you hear a group of nurses talking in hushed but excited tones. You don’t think much of it until you catch a familiar name.

“Dr. Jeon is so amazing,” one of them gushes, practically sighing. “Did you see him with that little boy’s parents? He was so gentle and reassuring.”

“I know! And he’s always so calm, no matter how bad things get.”

“Not to mention how good he looks in scrubs,” another nurse adds, and they all giggle.

You freeze mid-step, blinking.

Are they seriously—?

“I swear, if he wasn’t so intimidating, I’d totally ask him out.”

“Right? But he’s always so serious. Like, have you ever seen him smile?”

“Only sometimes. But guess what?” The first nurse leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I did see him smile today.”

“No way. When?”

“When he was talking to Dr. Y/N.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, wait, you’re right! He actually looked... softer?”

“And she’s the only one he ever seems to talk to outside of work stuff.”

Another nurse sighs dramatically. “That’s so unfair. Do you think they’re, like, a thing?”

Your brain short-circuits. You have got to get out of here. Clearing your throat loudly, you step into their line of sight, making them jump. “Hey, uh… I just need to check some charts.”

The group scrambles, trying to look busy, but you can feel their eyes on you, filled with curiosity and knowing looks. Great. Just great.

As you grab the nearest patient file, you swear you hear one of them whisper, “Oh my god, she totally heard us.”

You pretend you didn’t.

You nearly drop the patient file when a rolling chair suddenly appears beside you.

“So,” Seokmin drawls, arms crossed as he lazily spins in the chair, “how do I break it to them that Wonwoo is a total softie for you?”

You glare at him, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”

Seokmin grins, completely ignoring your complaint. “Seriously, though. They think he’s this untouchable, brooding genius, but we both know he turns into a golden retriever when it comes to you.”

Your eye twitches. “He does not—”

Seokmin cuts you off with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god, you’re in denial.”

You slap his arm with the patient file. “I am not.”

He just laughs, rubbing his arm. “Y/N, I literally watched him rip Mingyu off the bottom bunk just so you could sleep comfortably.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Okay, fine. That was suspiciously caring behavior.

Seokmin smirks, clearly enjoying your inner struggle. “And let’s not forget how he tells Mingyu to make sure you eat and sleep. Or how he leaves food for you. Or how he only ever gets flustered when it involves you.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you.”

He pats your back like a supportive older brother. “No, you hate that I’m right.”

Before you can argue, one of the nurses clears her throat loudly, and you glance up to see them all very obviously pretending not to listen.

Seokmin leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “They’re totally listening.”

“I know, Seokmin.”

“Wanna give them a show? Maybe dramatically sigh Wonwoo’s name?”

You grab the patient file again and smack him with it. That’s when another doctor—Dr. Lee from orthopedics—walks up beside you.

"Dr. Y/N," he greets smoothly, offering a smile. "Haven’t seen you around much. Busy saving lives?"

You glance up, slightly caught off guard by the sudden conversation. "Uh, yeah. Something like that."

Dr. Lee leans casually against the counter, watching you with interest. "You should take a break sometime. Maybe grab a coffee?"

Oh. Oh.

Is he… flirting?

You don’t get the chance to react before you hear a loud, exaggerated cough from nearby. Seokmin is sitting just a few feet away, blatantly eavesdropping with zero shame. He’s pretending to look at a chart, but his expression is screaming Oh? What’s this?

You try to ignore him, forcing a polite smile at Dr. Lee. "That’s nice of you, but I’m actually running on negative sleep right now."

Dr. Lee chuckles. "All the more reason to step away for a bit. It’s just coffee, no pressure."

Seokmin lets out another obnoxious cough. "Thirsty, huh?"

You whip your head toward him, glaring. "Do you need medical attention, Seokmin?"

He grins. "Nah, I’m just—" he gestures vaguely between you and Dr. Lee "—observing."

Dr. Lee, bless him, is oblivious to the absolute menace that is Seokmin. "No worries. If you change your mind, let me know," he says with an easy smile before walking off.

The moment he’s gone, Seokmin wheels his chair over at full speed, stopping right beside you.

"So," he drawls. "Are you gonna tell Wonwoo, or should I?"

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Seokmin, I swear to god—"

Of course it didn’t take long. Mingyu and Wonwoo are lounging in the on-call room when the door slams open. Seokmin bursts in, cackling like a maniac, running full speed across the room.

And right behind him. You.

"LEE SEOKMIN, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Before he can reach the safety of the bunk beds, you launch yourself at him, nearly tackling him to the ground. Seokmin barely stays on his feet, wheezing through his laughter.

Mingyu, sitting up from the bottom bunk, blinks in confusion. "…Do we want to know?"

Wonwoo, sitting at the small desk, doesn’t even look up. "No."

Seokmin, still trying to escape your grip, gasps between laughs. "I—I was just helping!"

"You were eavesdropping and causing problems on purpose!" you yell, tightening your hold around his waist as he tries to wriggle free.

Mingyu perks up at that. "Ooh, what happened? Spill."

Seokmin dramatically falls onto the couch, bringing you down with him. "Our dear Y/N here was getting flirted with."

Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

Seokmin grins, panting slightly. "Dr. Lee. Ortho. Real smooth. Asked her to coffee."

Mingyu gasps like this is the most dramatic thing he’s ever heard. "And you tackled him over this?!"

"No, I tackled him because he ran in here to tell you two like a gossiping old lady!" you snap, still half on top of Seokmin, who is not helping by laughing even harder.

Mingyu turns to Wonwoo, who has yet to react. "Wonwoo. Thoughts?"

Wonwoo, still not looking up, simply flips a page in his book.  Seokmin wheezes. You groan, letting your head drop onto the couch.

Mingyu clutches his chest, looking between you and Wonwoo with pure delight. "Oh, this is better than a telenovela."

You push yourself up from where you were half-crushing Seokmin, brushing off your scrubs as you glare at him. Before you can properly scold him for being the absolute worst, Wonwoo finally speaks—completely nonchalant, like this whole thing isn’t ridiculous.

"He asked if you wanted coffee?"

You pause. Seokmin and Mingyu do not. Seokmin looks thrilled. Mingyu straight-up leans forward, eyes sparkling with interest.

You narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. "Why do you sound like that?"

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his book. "Like what?"

Mingyu grins. "Yeah, like what, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo flips a page. "Just asking."

You scoff. "*You buy me coffee all the time"

Wonwoo hums. "Exactly."

Your brain short-circuits. "…Wait. What does that mean?*"

Wonwoo, still infuriatingly casual, finally glances up. "Nothing. Just seems unnecessary to get coffee with someone else when you already get it from me.*"

Seokmin and Mingyu explode.

"OH, THAT'S RICH—"

"DID HE JUST—"

You groan into your hands as they lose their minds. Wonwoo, unbothered, closes his book and stands. "I’m going to get coffee. You want one or not?"

Mingyu is on the floor laughing. Seokmin is gasping for air. And you—you are never going to hear the end of this.

Wonwoo, as unbothered as ever, grabs his ID badge and heads for the door.

Mingyu and Seokmin are still wheezing from his last comment, but you’re too busy processing to move.

He’s almost out when he pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Not coming?"

You cross your arms, still suspicious. "I think I’ll stay here and recover from whatever that was."

Wonwoo shrugs. "Suit yourself."

He steps out. You don’t follow but right before the door swings shut, you shout after him

"Caramel macchiato, extra shot, not too sweet!"

Seokmin and Mingyu stare at you. You stare back.

Then Mingyu loses it, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bunk. "OH, SO YOU’RE NOT GONNA FOLLOW HIM, BUT YOU’RE STILL MAKING HIM GET YOU COFFEE?"

Seokmin clutches his chest, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Unbelievable. Absolutely shameless."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "I hate you both."

Mingyu wipes fake tears. "No, you hate that you’re in too deep and we’re just here to witness it."

It’s your well-deserved day off, which means the hospital is not your problem for once. But unfortunately for Wonwoo, it means he is the problem of the two very nosy individuals stuck with him today.

Mingyu and Seokmin have been relentless since morning, waiting for the perfect opportunity to grill him—and the second they’re all in the on-call room, Seokmin strikes.

"So... you and Y/N."

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his tablet. "What about her?"

Mingyu flops onto the couch dramatically. "You know exactly what about her."

Seokmin leans forward, grinning. "You act different around her."

"I don’t."

"Oh, you absolutely do," Mingyu says, propping his chin on his hand. "You let her get away with things you’d never tolerate from us."

Seokmin nods enthusiastically. "Like running away when she has a cut?"

"Or demanding coffee like she’s a queen and you’re her personal barista?" Mingyu adds.

Wonwoo finally glances up. "She doesn’t demand. I offer."

Silence.

Mingyu and Seokmin gasp.

"HE ADMITS IT!" Seokmin nearly topples over. "HE VOLUNTARILY GETS HER COFFEE!"

Wonwoo sighs. "You two have too much free time."

"And you have too much denial," Mingyu shoots back. "Be honest, if she asked for your left kidney, you’d at least consider it."

Seokmin laughs. "He’d have it prepped and ready before she even finished asking."

Wonwoo rubs his temples. "You’re both insufferable."

"And you’re in love," Mingyu sing-songs.

"I am not," Wonwoo deadpans.

Seokmin smirks. "Would you say no if she asked you out?"

Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately, making the two guys exchange another look.

"Oh my God," Mingyu whispers. "You wouldn’t say no."

"Pack it up, folks, we got him," Seokmin grins. "That’s a wrap."

Meanwhile it’s your day off, technically you were supposed to be having a relaxing day off. No pagers, no surgeries, no Mingyu whining for coffee or Seokmin launching into dramatic gossip. Just a simple grocery run—bread, eggs, maybe even some overpriced snacks if you were feeling indulgent.

But fate, as usual, had other plans.

The sound of screeching tires and the crash of metal on metal jolts you from your thoughts as you step out of the store. A small crowd is already forming near an intersection, the sight of two badly dented cars making your stomach drop.

Then you hear it—panicked voices.

"She’s pregnant!"

Your body moves before your brain fully catches up. Pushing past stunned bystanders, you rush toward the most damaged car, where a man is frantically trying to pry open the passenger door. Inside, a woman—clearly pregnant—clutches her stomach, her face contorted in pain.

"Ma’am, can you hear me?" you ask, voice sharp with urgency.

She gasps, nodding weakly. "M-My baby—"

You glance around. The fire department isn’t here yet, neither are the paramedics. The door is crushed in, and she’s stuck.

Your pulse pounds, but you push the panic aside. Focus.

You turn to the man still struggling with the door. "We need to get her out, but carefully. Do you have something I can use to break the glass?"

He nods shakily, rushing to his car. Meanwhile, you crouch by the woman, speaking in a soothing tone even as your mind races through possible complications.

"You're doing great. Just keep breathing, okay? Help is coming."

She nods again, but her grip on her belly tightens.

You don’t have your scrubs, your hospital badge, or even your gloves. But right now, none of that matters because doctor or not—you have to help her.

You refuse to leave her side. Even as sirens wail in the distance and bystanders are urged to step back, you stay crouched next to the woman, monitoring her breathing, checking for signs of distress.

"You're okay. Just hold on," you murmur, your hand steady on her wrist, feeling the rapid pulse beneath your fingers. The first responders finally arrive, moving quickly to assess the scene. 

A firefighter rushes toward you. "Ma’am, we need to extract her now. You should move back."

"Not until she’s safe," you insist.

They're working on prying the door open when it happens—

An explosion.

A sudden BOOM rocks the area as flames burst from the wreckage. The force knocks you backward, and before you can react, shards of glass and debris fly straight toward you and the pregnant woman.

Your first instinct is to shield her. You duck, arms raised, making sure not a single piece touches her. She screams, but the paramedics quickly cover her with a thick emergency blanket.

You barely notice the sharp stings as glass embeds itself into your arm, your shoulder, a few grazing your cheek. The pain is secondary.

"She’s stable!" one of the EMTs shouts, carefully moving the woman onto a stretcher. "Let’s transport her now!" You exhale in relief, watching as they wheel her toward the ambulance. You step back, feeling a slight dizziness, but shake it off.

"Doctor?" One of the firefighters eyes you carefully.

"I’m fine," you say automatically.

The ambulance ride is a blur of flashing lights and hushed urgency. The paramedics work efficiently, monitoring the pregnant woman’s vitals as you sit beside her, keeping her calm. You press a gauze pad against one of the deeper cuts on your arm, but otherwise, you don’t acknowledge your injuries.

When the ambulance finally arrives at the hospital, the woman is rushed into the ER. You climb out right after them, rolling your stiff shoulders, determined to go check on her—

Only to run straight into Mingyu.

"Hey, we got a—" His usual laid-back tone vanishes the moment his eyes land on you. His brows shoot up. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I’m fine," you say immediately, waving him off. Big mistake.

The moment you move, dizziness washes over you. You stumble slightly, catching yourself against the wall.

Mingyu lunges forward. "Yeah, okay, fine people totally do that."

His eyes sweep over you. Your torn sleeve, the cuts littering your arm, the faint streak of blood on your cheek. "Are you serious right now?"

You sigh. "It’s not that bad—"

"Not that bad?" He gestures wildly at you. "You were supposed to be on your day off, not playing action hero in the middle of the street!"

Mingyu groans, already reaching for his pager. "Seokmin and Wonwoo are going to kill me."

Mingyu barely has time to react before your knees buckle.

"Oh, for—okay, nope, you’re done," he mutters, catching you before you hit the ground. His hands grip your shoulders, guiding you onto a nearby gurney despite your weak protests.

"I—I'm fine," you mumble, though the dizziness makes your head swim. The pain you’ve been stubbornly ignoring is very much making itself known now, sharp and stinging from every cut.

"Uh-huh, tell that to your blood loss," Mingyu huffs as he quickly assesses the wounds. "How are you this dumb?"

You try to glare at him, but it’s half-hearted at best. He just sighs, guiding you to the nearest vacant bed then grabbing antiseptics and bandages from a nearby tray.

"This is gonna sting," he warns, dabbing at the gash on your arm.

The burn makes you flinch. "Mingyu—"

But before you can complain, the door to the ER slams open.

"Where is she?"

Your stomach drops.

Wonwoo stands at the entrance, still in his scrubs, his chest rising and falling like he ran all the way here. His usual composed demeanor is nowhere to be seen.

The moment his eyes land on you—bruised, bloodied, and definitely not fine—his expression shifts into something dark.

"You have got to be kidding me," he mutters, storming over

Mingyu looks up but barely gets a word in before Wonwoo cuts in, voice tight. "What the hell happened?"

You open your mouth, but Mingyu beats you to it. "She was out running errands and decided to become a damn superhero. Got caught in a car explosion or something—"

"It wasn’t an explosion—" you try, but Wonwoo turns his glare on you so fast you shut up.

"You refused to tell anyone you were hurt?" Wonwoo’s voice is low, laced with barely contained frustration. "Do you even know how reckless that is?"

You blink at him, a little caught off guard. Wonwoo gets annoyed, sure—but this? This anger? This fear simmering under his words?

Mingyu shifts awkwardly. "Uh, so, I’ll just—keep cleaning these wounds?"

Wonwoo ignores him.

"You should’ve been treated immediately," he snaps. "You could’ve gone into shock, Y/N. You could’ve—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

You swallow, voice quieter now. "I had to make sure she was okay."

Wonwoo stares at you for a long moment. His jaw clenches. Then, without another word, he grabs the antiseptic from Mingyu’s hand and kneels down beside you.

"Hey, I was—" Mingyu starts

"You’re taking too long," Wonwoo says flatly, inspecting your arm.

Mingyu throws his hands up. "Oh, I’m the problem? Sure, yeah, okay."

But you don’t pay attention to Mingyu anymore—because Wonwoo is suddenly so close, his fingers gentle as he carefully tends to your wounds. The frustration is still in his eyes, but his touch is steady, precise.

You wince when he presses the gauze against a deeper cut, and his grip instinctively tightens around your wrist. His voice softens, just a fraction.

"I don’t care how capable you are," he mutters. "Don’t ever do that again."

You bite down hard on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. But the antiseptic burns, and the way Wonwoo presses down on your wounds with such precision makes it impossible to ignore the sharp sting.

Your eyes start to prickle. You will not cry. You refuse.

Mingyu, ever the observant one, notices immediately. He leans in slightly and mumbles, “Hey, man, she’s already injured. You’re making her cry.”

Wonwoo freezes.

Your head snaps up. “I am not crying.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You kinda look like you’re about to.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his temple. “Mingyu, stop talking.”

Mingyu just shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, maybe be a little gentler? You know, since you care so much.”

Wonwoo pointedly ignores him, but his grip on your arm loosens just slightly, his movements becoming even more careful. He still looks pissed, but his touch is softer now, like he’s trying to make up for it.

You try to focus on anything other than the fact that your face feels ridiculously warm.

Mingyu stands, stretching with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, I’m gonna check on the woman since someone needs to be useful around here.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “I’m useful.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell that to your blood loss.” He waves you off, throwing Wonwoo a quick glance before walking out, leaving the two of you alone.

The silence that follows is heavy. Wonwoo is still focused on cleaning your wounds, but his jaw is tight, and his movements though gentler now are still a little too precise.

You watch him for a second before speaking. “You’re really mad, huh?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “No.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

His grip tightens just slightly before he lets out a quiet, frustrated sigh. “…Yes.”

You shift a little, suddenly feeling weird under his gaze. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Wonwoo finally looks up at you, and the way his eyes darken makes you shut up real quick.

“Not that bad?” he repeats, voice low. “You were in an accident, Y/N. You got caught in a literal explosion.”

You try to brush it off. “It wasn’t that big—”

"You were bleeding and didn't even think to get yourself treated first."

You falter. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, like he’s trying really hard to rein himself in.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen people come in, thinking they were fine, only to collapse later?” His voice is quieter now, but it’s laced with something heavier. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

Wonwoo’s gaze softens—just barely—before he looks back down, carefully placing the last bandage over your arm. His hands linger for a second, his fingers warm against your skin.

“…Just don’t do that again.” His voice is quieter now, almost pleading. “Please.”

You sniffle, trying to hold it in, but a few tears betray you, slipping down your cheek before you can stop them. Wonwoo notices immediately. His hands, still hovering near your arm, tense.

“Hey—”

You quickly wipe at your face, sniffling again. “I’m fine.” Your voice wobbles, completely betraying you.

Wonwoo exhales through his nose, and before you can react, he’s reaching for the tissue box nearby, wordlessly handing you one.

You take it, mumbling, “Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in a small voice, you ask, “Is the woman okay?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches you carefully before finally saying, “She’s stable. Mingyu’s checking on her now.”

You nod, squeezing the tissue in your hand. “That’s good.”

Wonwoo still doesn’t look away. His lips press together like he wants to say something else, but in the end, all he does is let out a quiet sigh.

“You should rest,” he says softly. “You lost some of blood, you might feel light headed”

You huff, forcing a weak smile. “You sound like me when I tell my patients that.”

He doesn’t smile back. Instead, he reaches out, hesitates, then gently presses his hand against your head, smoothing down a stray strand of hair. The touch is so light, so careful, that it nearly makes you tear up all over again.

“Then take your own advice for once.”

Before you can even process the warmth of Wonwoo’s touch, the door bursts open.

“OH MY GOD—YOU’RE ALIVE!”

Seokmin practically lunges toward you, arms wide like he’s about to hug-tackle you, but Wonwoo smoothly steps in his way, stopping him with a single hand to his chest.

“Seokmin.” Wonwoo’s voice is flat. “She’s injured.”

Seokmin blinks, then gasps like he’s just realized something. “YOU’RE INJURED?!”

You stare at him, deadpan. “Did you think I was just here for fun?”

Seokmin dramatically grips his chest. “I—I just thought maybe you were being dramatic again! But you actually got hurt?!”

Wonwoo sighs, stepping aside because, at this point, there’s no stopping Seokmin. Sure enough, he leans down, carefully inspecting your bandages like a concerned mother.

“How bad is it? Are you dizzy? Do you need water? Do you need me to spoon-feed you soup?”

You groan, pushing his face away. “I’m fine.”

Seokmin ignores you and turns to Wonwoo. “Doctor, will she survive?”

Wonwoo looks unimpressed. “She lost blood but nothing major. She just needs to rest.”

Seokmin gasps again, gripping your hand. “BE STRONG, MY FRIEND.”

You shove him. “You’re the worst.”

Seokmin sniffs dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear. “If you do die, can I have your favorite pen?”

Wonwoo pinches the bridge of his nose while you grab a pillow and throw it at Seokmin’s face.

After everything that happened, of course Wonwoo refused to let you out of his sight or atleast have someone watching over you while the three guys finish their shift.

After work, the four of you go to a barbeque place you're a regular at.

You’re all starving by the time you reach the restaurant, exhaustion from the day momentarily forgotten at the sight of sizzling meat and bubbling stews.

Mingyu and Seokmin are loud, bickering over who gets to grill first, while you just lean back in your seat, still pretending to sulk.

Wonwoo, sitting beside you, wordlessly places some meat on your plate before you can even lift your chopsticks. Then, as if it’s second nature, he reaches over and rolls up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, neatly tucking it to make sure it doesn’t dip into the sauces.

Mingyu pauses mid-bite, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Seokmin, in the middle of arguing over dipping sauces, suddenly stops and squints.

The most shocking part?

You don’t even react. You just pick up your chopsticks, casually eating the food Wonwoo put on your plate like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Mingyu slowly puts his chopsticks down. “Okay, hold on.”

Seokmin leans in. “Have you always been like this?”

You blink. “Like what?”

Mingyu gestures vaguely at you and Wonwoo. “That.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, sipping his water. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Seokmin waves his chopsticks between you two. “You’re basically a married couple and she doesn’t even blink when you baby her.”

You scoff, but before you can argue, Wonwoo speaks first. “She’d spill sauce on herself if I didn’t.”

Mingyu stares. “So you admit you’re babying her.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “She doesn’t complain.”

You shove a piece of meat in your mouth to avoid answering, but your reddening ears don’t go unnoticed. Seokmin and Mingyu exchange knowing looks before grinning at each other.

Oh, they’re never letting this go.

The two of you are crammed into the back of a small van, bumping along a dirt road on the way to the rural clinic. It’s too early, you’re running on barely any sleep, and Mingyu has already decided now is the perfect time to interrogate you.

“So.” He leans back against his seat, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. “You and Wonwoo.”

You groan immediately. “Absolutely not. We’re not doing this.”

Mingyu grins. “Oh, we’re definitely doing this. We have, like, four more hours to go.”

You glare at him, but he just continues. “I mean, come on. He feeds you. He rolls up your sleeves. He practically tracks your movements in the hospital without even trying. And you don’t even react anymore.”

“Maybe I’m just used to it.” You shrug.

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying! You’re used to it. As in, it’s been happening for so long that you don’t even notice.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just how we are.”

Mingyu scoffs. “Please. If Seokmin tried to do that for you, you’d stab him with your chopsticks.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, Seokmin deserves it.”

Mingyu ignores that. “Just admit it. You like him.”

You pause. Then, after a beat, you say, “Of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

Mingyu groans dramatically, flopping onto your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

You shove him off. “And you’re annoying.”

He smirks. “I know. But I’m also right.”

You refuse to answer, choosing instead to look out the window. But you can’t shake the way your stomach flips at Mingyu’s words.

Mingyu stretches out his legs, looking way too comfortable for someone who’s supposed to be working. “Alright then, since you’re so sure it’s nothing—explain this to me.”

You sigh. “What now?”

He smirks. “Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone since med school?”

You blink. “What?”

Mingyu tilts his head, looking far too smug. “I mean, Seokmin and I have dated around. You’ve had, like, two almost-relationships. But Wonwoo? Not a single girlfriend. No dates. No flings. No nothing.” He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that weird?”

You scoff. “Maybe he’s just not interested.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Nah. I asked him once, and you know what he said?”

You hesitate. “…What?”

Mingyu grins. “‘I don’t have time for that.’” He leans in, lowering his voice dramatically. “But I think the real reason is that he’s been too busy looking after you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

Because now that you think about it… Mingyu’s kind of right.

Wonwoo has never once shown interest in dating. Even during med school, when everyone else was either in relationships or at least going on dates, he never did. He was always around, always steady, always—

You shake your head. No. No way.

Mingyu watches you, eyes glinting. “Oh my god, you’re actually thinking about it.”

You shove him. “Shut up.”

He cackles. “I love being right.”

You groan, turning to the window to ignore him. But your heart is beating just a little too fast, and your mind keeps replaying Mingyu’s words.

Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone?

And more importantly, why does the answer make your chest feel tight?

Once you’re done with the medical mission, you go back to the hospital. You push open the door to the on-call room, utterly drained from the long day. Mingyu had peeled off somewhere to check on the ER, but you went straight here, hoping to collapse onto the couch for at least a few minutes.

The room is dimly lit, quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. At first, you think it's empty—until your eyes land on Wonwoo. He’s at his desk, head slightly tilted down, eyes closed.

You pause, debating whether you should leave him be. But before you can take a step back, his voice—low and a little rough from exhaustion—breaks the silence.

"You're back."

You blink. "I thought you were asleep."

He opens his eyes, looking at you with that unreadable expression of his. "Just resting my eyes."

You scoff lightly, stepping further inside. "You say that like it’s any better."

Wonwoo watches you as you drop your bag onto the desk, stretching your arms over your head with a tired groan. You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers, just for a second, before he leans back in his chair.

"Long day?" he asks.

You sigh, rolling out your shoulders. "Very. Mingyu was extra annoying, as usual."

Wonwoo hums, amused. "What did he do now?"

You hesitate, suddenly remembering the entire conversation about him. About how Mingyu basically implied that Wonwoo hasn’t dated anyone because of you.

You glance at Wonwoo, who’s waiting for your answer with a neutral expression. And for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to bring it up.

“Just the usual nonsense,” you say instead.

Wonwoo doesn’t press, just nods before looking back at his desk. There’s a brief silence—comfortable, familiar. The kind you only get with someone you’ve known for years.

Then, softly, he says, “You should eat before you sleep.”

You glance at him, arching a brow. "Did you just give me my own advice?"

A small smirk tugs at his lips. "You never follow it yourself."

You shake your head, but there’s something warm in your chest that wasn’t there before.

Damn Mingyu. Now you can’t stop noticing things.

You drop onto the couch, exhausted but still watching Wonwoo out of the corner of your eye. He hasn't moved from his desk, but now you notice the way he's rubbing his temples, his brows slightly furrowed.

His glasses aren’t on, which is rare. Wonwoo without glasses usually means one of two things—either he’s about to sleep, or he has a headache.

Judging by the way he keeps pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s definitely the latter.

"You okay?" you ask.

"Mhm." He doesn’t look up, still rubbing slow circles into his temples.

You frown. "Did you even rest today?"

"I did," he says, but you don’t believe him for a second.

With a sigh, you push yourself up and walk over to him. He barely reacts when you place a hand on his shoulder, but he finally opens his eyes when you gently pull his hand away from his forehead.

"You have a migraine, don’t you?" you ask, squinting at him.

Wonwoo blinks at you, then exhales through his nose—something between amusement and surrender. "Just a small one."

You roll your eyes. "Right. Small enough that you’re sitting here rubbing your head like an old man."

He gives you a flat look. "Thanks."

Ignoring his sarcasm, you reach for his desk, rummaging through one of the drawers. You know he keeps medicine in here somewhere—he’s always prepared for everyone else’s headaches, just never his own.

After a few seconds, you find what you’re looking for and shake two pills into your palm before grabbing his forgotten water bottle. You hold both out to him expectantly.

"Take these."

He doesn’t move at first, just stares at you with that unreadable look again.

"Wonwoo," you say, more firmly. Finally, he sighs and takes the pills from your hand, swallowing them with a sip of water.

You nod, satisfied. "Good. Now go lie down before you pass out at your desk."

He exhales slowly, then mutters, "You’re bossy."

You smirk. "And yet you listen to me."

He doesn’t argue. Just shakes his head with the smallest hint of a smile before standing up. And for some reason, as he moves toward the bunk beds, you feel that warmth in your chest again.

You leave the room after turning the lights off to let him rest. You find Mingyu, maybe grab some late night snacks. As you and Mingyu walk through the hospital corridors, making casual conversation, a familiar figure approaches.

It’s him—Doctor Lee, the one who had flirted with you before.

Mingyu notices the way your shoulders tense and immediately perks up, eyes darting between you and Doctor Lee with barely concealed interest. "Oh, this should be fun," he mutters under his breath.

You shoot him a look. "Shut up."

Before Mingyu can tease you further, Doctor Lee reaches you, flashing that same confident smile.

"Hey, fancy seeing you again." His tone is smooth, casual, but there’s something pointed in the way he looks at you.

"It’s a hospital," you reply dryly. "You’ll probably see me a lot."

Mingyu barely hides his laugh behind a cough.

Doctor Lee, unfazed, chuckles. "Right. Still, I was hoping I’d run into you. Thought maybe this time I could convince you to grab a coffee with me?"

Mingyu freezes beside you, his head snapping toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. He is way too interested in this.

You open your mouth to respond—politely decline, of course—but before you can, a voice cuts in.

"She already has a coffee supplier."

You turn your head just in time to see Wonwoo standing a few steps away, arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed. His tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something just sharp enough that it makes both you and Doctor Lee pause.

Mingyu, of course, is thriving.

"Oh, do you now?" Doctor Lee glances between you and Wonwoo, one eyebrow raised.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Wonwoo, don’t—"

"She never has to ask. Her coffee order just appears," Wonwoo continues smoothly, ignoring you. "Sometimes with snacks too."

Mingyu wheezes.

Doctor Lee blinks, clearly trying to figure out if there’s something more to Wonwoo’s words. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what he’s doing, but before the other man can press further, you exhale and take a step back.

"Anyway, I have rounds to finish," you say quickly. "See you around."

Before Doctor Lee can respond, you grab Mingyu’s sleeve and yank him along with you, leaving the poor guy standing there confused.

Mingyu is absolutely dying.

"Wonwoo totally just alpha-blocked that guy," he laughs, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. "Like, not even subtle. That was lowkey territorial."

You groan. "Don’t start."

"Oh, I’ve already started." Mingyu grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "So… your coffee supplier, huh?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you walk even faster, pretending you don’t hear Mingyu’s continued teasing all the way down the hall.

As you speed-walk down the hall, Mingyu still snickering beside you, you hear the sound of familiar footsteps following behind. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

You sigh dramatically, slowing your steps just enough to glance over your shoulder. "Weren't you suffering from a migraine?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, walking at a completely casual pace as if he didn’t just interrupt an entire conversation to assert his place in your life, simply shrugs. "It went away."

Mingyu claps a hand over his mouth, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. He fails.

"Ohhh, interesting," Mingyu chokes out between laughs. "So you had a migraine, but the moment Doctor Lee showed up, you were suddenly fine? Wow. Almost like it wasn’t that serious to begin with."

Wonwoo shoots him a blank look. "Or maybe I just recovered."

"Right, right," Mingyu nods, "or maybe you just didn’t like what you were seeing."

You groan, rubbing your forehead. "Mingyu, please—"

"No, because listen," Mingyu continues, fully ignoring you now, "if I had a migraine, I would not be up and walking this fast just to make sure my ‘friend’—" he even throws up air quotes, "—wasn’t having coffee with someone else."

"I wasn’t walking fast," Wonwoo deadpans.

"Okay, but you were there," Mingyu counters. "Like, right there. That’s suspicious, man."

You throw up your hands. "Oh my God, both of you, stop."

Wonwoo just blinks, completely unbothered. "Do you still want coffee?" he asks, as if the last five minutes of chaos didn’t just happen. Mingyu wheezes again.

You groan even louder. "You are so annoying."

Later Wonwo drove you and Mingyu home. The car ride is quiet after Mingyu gets dropped off, leaving just you and Wonwoo. The city lights blur past the window, and you drum your fingers lightly on your thigh before finally speaking

"Hey."

"Hm?" Wonwoo doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but you know he’s listening.

"That thing Mingyu said … about you not dating anyone since med school—"

Wonwoo glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. "What about it?"

"Is it true?" you ask, shifting slightly to face him. "You really haven’t dated anyone all these years?"

He doesn’t answer right away, but you notice the way his fingers tighten slightly around the wheel. "I was busy," he finally says, voice even.

"We were all busy," you counter. "Mingyu dated. Seokmin dated."

Wonwoo exhales softly through his nose. "And you?"

You blink, caught off guard. "What about me?"

"Did you date?" He doesn’t look at you, but there’s something in his voice, something careful, deliberate.

You hesitate, then shrug. "Not really."

That makes Wonwoo glance at you, just for a second. "Why?"

You huff a quiet laugh. "Why are you answering my question with another question?"

"Because you’re deflecting," he replies easily.

You frown, arms crossing. "Maybe I just didn’t feel like it."

Wonwoo hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "Then I guess we’re the same."

That makes you pause. He’s right, in a way. You never thought much about dating, always too caught up in the chaos of work, of life. But hearing that he was the same—that he never even tried—makes something uneasy stir in your chest.

"So…" you start carefully, "was there really no one? Not even someone you liked?"

The streetlights cast long shadows over his face, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then, softly—so softly you almost don’t hear it—he says,

"I wouldn’t say that."

Your breath catches, but before you can press further, the car slows. You realize, belatedly, that you’ve already arrived at your place.

Wonwoo shifts into park and finally, finally looks at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, something deep and quiet and there.

You swallow. "Wonwoo—"

"Go inside," he says gently, cutting you off.

You hesitate. The air feels heavy, thick with something unspoken.

But in the end, you don’t push.

"Okay," you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Drive safe."

He nods, watching as you step out and close the door behind you.

As you walk up to your building, you don’t turn back snd inside his car, Wonwoo stays parked for a long time, staring at where you were.

You’re never like this.

You’ve known Wonwoo for years, been friends with him for so long that his presence has always felt natural, something you never had to think about. But now? Now, after what Mingyu said, after what Wonwoo didn’t say, you’re noticing everything.

The way he automatically sets a coffee cup in front of you in the morning, the way he subtly reaches out like he’s ready to catch you when you take a sharp turn in the hallway, the way his eyes linger when you’re talking—like he’s listening to every word, even the useless ones.

It’s worse in the on-call room.

Wonwoo’s at his desk, writing notes, glasses perched on his nose. It’s a normal sight, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. But for some reason, today, you can’t stop looking. The way his brows furrow slightly in focus. The way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the desk. The way he reaches up to push his hair back, exposing his forehead just a little more.

Seokmin, lying on the bottom bunk, suddenly snickers. "You good over there?"

You snap your head toward him. "What?"

He grins, flipping through his phone lazily. "You’re staring."

"No, I’m not."

"Uh-huh."

Wonwoo, completely unaware, flips to the next page in his notes. You glare at Seokmin before quickly grabbing your own chart, pretending to focus. But even then, you’re way too aware of the fact that Wonwoo is right there.

And maybe you have been staring.

The moment you walk out, Seokmin doesn’t even wait.

He turns to Wonwoo with a slow grin, tossing his phone onto his chest. "So…"

Wonwoo doesn’t look up. "So?"

"She was staring at you."

That gets Wonwoo’s attention. He finally lifts his eyes from his notes, blinking at Seokmin. "What?"

"She. Was. Staring." Seokmin emphasizes each word like Wonwoo is dense. Which, honestly, he kind of is. "Like, full-on eyes stuck on you. If I wasn’t here, she probably would've burned a hole through your head."

Wonwoo frowns, shifting slightly in his seat. "You’re exaggerating."

"Am I?" Seokmin smirks. "I don’t think I am."

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything to that. He just exhales through his nose and turns back to his notes. But Seokmin knows him too well—sees the way his ears go just the slightest bit red.

Seokmin grins. "Dude, I’m telling you, she’s noticing things. That’s a good sign."

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, flipping a page in his notes. "Go to sleep, Seokmin."

"Oh, I will. But just so you know…" Seokmin stifles a laugh. "I think you’re in trouble, man."

The rest of the day is… annoying. Not because of any difficult surgeries or unbearable patients, but because you are now painfully hyper-aware of Wonwoo. It’s stupid.  Like when he rolls up his sleeves before scrubbing in for surgery, and you catch yourself staring at his forearms for half a second too long.

Or the absolute worst—when you’re eating lunch with the others, and Wonwoo absentmindedly pushes the side dishes you like closer to you. It’s such a small, automatic thing, and normally you wouldn’t even blink at it. 

But today? Today, you almost drop your chopsticks.

"You good?" Seokmin asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Fine!" you say way too quickly, shoving food in your mouth to avoid talking.

Mingyu, the menace that he is, narrows his eyes at you. "Are you sure? You’ve been kinda weird today—"

"She’s fine," Wonwoo interjects smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee.

And just like that, you’re spiraling again. Because now you’re overthinking that. He just said you were fine. That’s normal, right? That’s just Wonwoo being Wonwoo. But now it sounds like he knows something, like he can see how much you’re overthinking him—

You hate this.

By the time your shift ends, you’re exhausted—not just physically, but mentally from all the overthinking. So when Wonwoo casually says, "Let’s go," and gestures toward the exit, you don’t even question it.

It’s routine, anyway. You don’t drive, and if Mingyu isn’t around to make you suffer through his questionable playlist, it’s usually Wonwoo who gives you a ride home.

The car ride is quiet at first, just the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing some late-night ballad. You try to focus on anything else, but of course, you’re hyper-aware of every small thing he does. 

"You were weird today," he says suddenly.

You stiffen. "No, I wasn’t."

He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe you. "If you say so."

You scowl, slumping in your seat. "You’re annoying."

"And you’re terrible at hiding things."

You whip your head toward him. "Excuse me?"

Wonwoo glances at you with the tiniest smirk before turning his attention back to the road. "You keep staring at me."

You nearly choke. "I— that’s not—you—"* You shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself even more.

"Don’t overthink it," he says, like he can hear your brain short-circuiting.

You glare at him, crossing your arms. "I’m not."

"Sure."

He pulls up to your place, and before you can even reach for the door handle, he beats you to it, leaning over to unlock it from the inside. You freeze for half a second because he’s too close, and you swear he hesitates too before leaning back.

"Get some rest," he says simply.

You step out, and just as you close the door, he rolls down the window. "And stop staring so much. It’s obvious."

"I WAS NOT—!"

But he’s already driving away, leaving you standing there, burning with embarrassment.

Wonwoo didn’t mean to say it.

But the way you froze, the way your eyes widened in sheer panic before you tried to deny it—yeah, that reaction was worth it.

He’s not stupid. He noticed the shift in you over the past few days. The way you’ve been watching him more, like you suddenly started paying attention. Like you were seeing things for the first time that have always been there. It would’ve been amusing if it wasn’t also kind of frustrating.

Because he’s been looking at you like that for years.

He doesn’t usually let things slip. He’s careful, measured. But with you? It’s always been a little different.

As he drives away, he catches a glimpse of you in the rearview mirror—still standing there, fuming, probably cursing him under your breath. He exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a chuckle he allows himself.

"Took you long enough."

He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches his own reflection in the mirror. And he definitely doesn’t realize that his fingers tap against the steering wheel the entire way home, like he’s buzzing with something he refuses to name.

After that you try to avoid him. Not in an obvious way, just enough to make sure you don’t end up alone with him again. It’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Unfortunately, Mingyu and Seokmin have noticed.

“You’re acting weird,” Mingyu says while stuffing his face with food.

Seokmin leans in. “Super weird. Suspiciously weird.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not acting weird.”

“You literally just turned around when you saw Wonwoo walking this way,” Seokmin points out.

Mingyu snickers. “Yeah, and you ran in the opposite direction.”

“Okay, first of all, I had places to be.”

“You went to a supply closet.”

“…Shut up.”

Mingyu and Seokmin exchange a look before turning back to you, both wearing the same smug expression.

“You’re doomed,” Mingyu says with a grin. Seokmin agrees.

Before you can threaten them, someone clears their throat behind you. You turn around—and there’s Wonwoo.

His eyes flick between the three of you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out, grabbing your tray and bolting.

From behind you, you hear Mingyu snicker, “Yup. Doomed.”

Later after another very long shift, you all but crawl out. There you see him. Wonwoo is standing outside the hospital entrance, hands in his coat pockets, glasses perched on his nose, looking completely unbothered by the cold night air. His eyes flick up the moment you step outside, and your heart does a stupid little flip.

“I thought you went home,” you say, stopping in front of him.

He raises a brow. “You were gonna chase the bus, weren’t you?”

You cross your arms. “Maybe.”

He huffs out a small laugh, then tilts his head toward his car. “Let’s go.”

You hesitate for half a second before following him. Because, well—this is Wonwoo. And he’s always been there, hasn’t he? Even when you didn’t notice.

You freeze halfway to the car. Wonwoo stops too, turning to face you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight furrow in his brows, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets.

"Why are you avoiding me?" His voice is steady, calm—but you know him well enough to hear the shift in his tone.

"I’m not," you lie, immediately looking away.

"You are," he counters easily. "You barely look at me during rounds, you leave the on-call room the second I walk in, and you suddenly act like you're allergic to coffee when I offer."

Okay, maybe you were being a little obvious. You shuffle your feet, gripping the strap of your bag. "I—it's nothing."

Wonwoo doesn’t budge. He just stares, waiting, and you swear the silence between you feels louder than anything right now.

Then, quieter, he says, "Did I do something?"

That makes you look at him. His expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something in his eyes—something careful, hesitant. You shake your head quickly. "No! You didn’t—You never—" You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. "It’s just… I don’t know."

That’s a lie. You do know. It’s because of everything—Mingyu’s words, Seokmin’s teasing, the way you suddenly can’t stop noticing every little thing Wonwoo does. And the way it’s making your heart act in ways it shouldn’t.

But how the hell are you supposed to say that?

Wonwoo studies you for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head. "Get in the car," he says, walking ahead. "We’re not doing this while you're sleep-deprived."

You stare after him, a little dumbfounded, before scrambling to follow. Because, well. This is Wonwoo. And he's always been there, hasn’t he?

The car ride is quiet. Not the usual comfortable silence, but something heavier. You glance at Wonwoo from the passenger seat—his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead, his expression unreadable. He looks deep in thought.

And so are you.

Something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, hazy but persistent.

It was years ago, after a long semester. You remember celebrating—too many drinks, too many laughs. And then… nothing. Just the aftermath. A raging headache, and the strange shift in Wonwoo’s behavior.

The day after that night, he started avoiding you. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but it became obvious—he wouldn’t meet your eyes, he stopped sitting next to you in class, and any conversation felt painfully awkward.

It lasted for weeks.

You never knew why.

Now, sitting next to him again, the memory presses into your chest. You glance at him once more, debating whether to ask.

But before you can, the car slows to a stop in front of your place.

"We’re here," Wonwoo says, voice even. He finally looks at you, and for a split second, there’s something in his gaze—something almost hesitant.

You swallow the words sitting on your tongue.

"Thanks for the ride," you mumble instead, pushing the door open.

But even as you step out, the question lingers.

It’s been bugging you for days. You try to brush it off, but the memory keeps surfacing at the most random moments—during surgeries, in the on-call room, even when you’re just grabbing coffee.

So, on a completely random day, when it’s just you and Wonwoo in the break room, you finally blurt it out.

"Why did you avoid me back in med school?"

Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, freezes for a second. He lowers his cup slowly, eyes flickering to yours. "What?"

"You know," you insist, leaning against the counter. "After that one night out. The next day, you just—" You wave a hand, frustrated at how much this has been bothering you. "You barely talked to me for weeks. I thought I did something wrong, but I never knew what."

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off or change the subject. But instead, he exhales and places his cup down.

"You don’t remember anything from that night?" he asks carefully.

Your brows furrow. "Not really. Just that I drank too much, and I felt like death the next morning."

Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. Now you’re nervous.

"What did I do?" you ask cautiously.

He hesitates, then sighs. "You… said something."

Your stomach drops. "What did I say?"

"You were drunk. I didn’t think you meant it, but—" He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "You told me you liked me."

Your brain short-circuits You what?

Wonwoo keeps going, voice softer now. "I didn’t know how to react. I thought maybe you’d forget, or that you didn’t mean it. So I just… avoided you." He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It was stupid. I know that now."

You stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You think your brain might actually shut down.

Wonwoo looks down at his coffee cup, almost like he's debating whether to continue. Then, with a small sigh, he says it—

"And you kissed me."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You blink at him, trying to process what he just said. You kissed him?

Wonwoo glances up at you, his expression unreadable, but you can tell he’s waiting for your reaction.

"I—" You swallow, scrambling for any memory of that night. But all you can remember is drinking too much, maybe laughing too loud, and then waking up with the worst hangover of your life. "I what?"

"You kissed me," he repeats, slower this time. "Just once. It wasn’t… it wasn’t a big thing. But you looked at me like—" He stops himself, shakes his head. "I don’t know. I didn’t think you meant it, so I thought it was better if I just avoided you until things went back to normal."

Your heart is hammering now. You kissed him. You kissed Wonwoo. And he never said a word about it.

"Why didn’t you ever bring it up?" you ask, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo lets out a short, humorless laugh. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, do you remember kissing me that night?' You never brought it up either."

You stare at him, still trying to wrap your head around this. It’s not just the fact that you kissed him—it’s the fact that he’s looking at you now like this matters. Like maybe it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to him.

And the worst part? You’re starting to think that it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to you either. You hesitate for a moment before asking, "Is that why you weren’t dating?"

Wonwoo blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. His fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup before he exhales and leans back against the chair.

"I don’t know," he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. "Maybe. Part of it, yeah."

You feel something twist in your chest.

"What does that mean?" you press, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo looks at you then, really looks at you. Like he’s debating whether or not to say what he actually wants to say.

"It means," he finally murmurs, "that maybe I was waiting."

Your breath catches. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to. You can read between the lines. And suddenly, everything—the way he always looked out for you, the way he always made sure you ate, how he was always there—feels different. Feels heavier.

Like maybe you were supposed to notice a long time ago.

"I told you I liked you," you say, your voice sharper than you expected. "And you never told me."

Wonwoo doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you, unreadable, his grip tightening around his coffee cup.

"You were drunk," he finally says.

You let out a frustrated scoff. "And? That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true."

He exhales slowly, looking away. "I thought you wouldn’t remember. Or that maybe you’d regret it."

Your jaw clenches. "So you just decided that for me?"

Wonwoo rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn’t want to risk losing you."

You let out a breath, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. You’re mad—at him, at yourself, at the way this conversation is only happening now.

"That’s so stupid," you say, shaking your head. "That’s so—you’re so—"

You stop, because you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You just know it makes you angry.

Wonwoo gives you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Maybe."

You push past Wonwoo, your head spinning with frustration, and storm out of the room. You make your way to the surgery ward, still replaying the conversation in your head. Your steps are heavy, your thoughts even heavier.

Seokmin is at the nurses’ station, casually flipping through a patient chart when he sees you approaching. He immediately notices your expression and sighs. “Alright, what did Mingyu do this time?”

You shake your head, dragging a chair and plopping down beside him. “Not Mingyu.”

Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you look like you just found out your whole life was a lie?”

You groan, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the desk. “I did find out something. From med school.”

Seokmin hums in interest. “Go on.”

You lift your head slightly, hesitating before mumbling, “Apparently, I told Wonwoo I liked him back then.”

Seokmin freezes. Blinks. Then leans forward dramatically. “You did what?”

“I don’t remember, okay?” you hiss, slapping his arm. “I was drunk. But he remembered. And guess what? He never said anything.”

Seokmin lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s tough.”

You slump back in your chair. “I don’t even know why I’m mad. Am I mad at him? At myself? At the universe?”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. “I’d say all of the above.”

You glare at him.

He chuckles before getting serious. “Look, you’re mad because it meant something. Even if you don’t remember confessing, the fact that he never responded—never even acknowledged it—hurts.”

You bite your lip, looking away. “Yeah.”

Seokmin nudges you. “So, what are you gonna do?”

You exhale sharply. “I have no idea.”

Seokmin grins. “Well, this is gonna be fun to watch.”

And so, you do what any reasonable person would do. You avoid Wonwoo.

You’re not dramatic about it—at least, you tell yourself that. You’re just busy. Too busy to sit in the on-call room when he’s there. Too busy to grab coffee at the same time. Too busy to share a ride home.

Mingyu and Seokmin notice immediately.

Seokmin corners you first, casually blocking your way to the scrub room with a patient chart. “So, avoiding your not-boyfriend now?”

You groan. “I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head. “Then why did you suddenly start doing your post-op notes in this hallway instead of the lounge?”

You cross your arms. “I like the lighting here.”

Seokmin snorts. “Right. Because overhead fluorescent lights are so flattering.”

Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother being subtle. He slaps a tray of food down at your table during a late dinner break. “So, what’s the plan?”

You blink at him. “For what?”

“For whatever mess you and Wonwoo have gotten yourselves into.” He waves his chopsticks. “It’s been days. Wonwoo looks like he’s about to lose his mind, and you look like you’re trying to ascend into another plane of existence just to avoid eye contact.”

You scowl. “I just need time to think.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Everything? The fact that I apparently confessed years ago and he never told me? The fact that he’s acting like it doesn’t matter? The fact that maybe it does matter, but I don’t know what to do with that?”

Mingyu chews thoughtfully, then points his chopsticks at you. “Sounds like you’re not over him.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table.

He pats your shoulder. “Just talk to him. Before one of you explodes.”

The moment the hospital alert blared through the speakers, it’s like everything was put on hold. A mass casualty incident. Multiple vehicles. A bus, a few cars.

The ER instantly became chaos—stretchers being wheeled in, nurses and doctors shouting orders, the smell of antiseptic and blood thick in the air. Wonwoo moved on instinct, running toward the commotion just as Mingyu turned to him, face pale.

“She took the bus today,” Mingyu said.

Wonwoo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even need to ask who she was. His feet were moving before his brain caught up. He barely heard Mingyu yelling for him as he shoved past people, making his way to the hospital entrance. Paramedics were still unloading patients. Some were conscious. Some weren’t moving at all.

He turned, gripping the arm of a paramedic. “The bus—where is it? Was everyone taken out?”

“There are still people at the site,” the paramedic said. “Some are trapped. First responders are working on it.”

Wonwoo didn’t wait to hear the rest. He ran.

The crash site was a scene of wreckage—twisted metal, shattered glass, the air heavy with smoke and the sharp scent of gasoline. Emergency lights flashed red and blue against the darkening sky, casting eerie shadows over the scene.

Wonwoo barely registered the shouts of firefighters and paramedics as they worked to extract victims from the wreckage. His mind had narrowed to one thing—you.

He scanned the scene frantically, his pulse hammering in his ears. People were being pulled from the bus, some dazed, some unconscious. His breath hitched when he saw a familiar figure slumped against the pavement, a paramedic crouched beside you.

"Y/N!"

His voice was hoarse, nearly breaking as he sprinted toward you. Your head turned sluggishly at the sound of his voice. Blood streaked down your forehead, a cut splitting just above your eyebrow. Your white coat was smudged with dirt, torn at the sleeve, and you had one hand pressed to your side, wincing.

“Wonwoo?” you murmured, blinking up at him, disoriented.

He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering over your face, your arms, as if afraid you’d shatter at his touch. “What the hell—why—why are you still here? You should’ve been in the hospital already—”

“Dr. Jeon?” The paramedic beside you spoke up, recognizing him. “She’s stable for now, but we need to move her. There might be internal injuries.”

Wonwoo clenched his jaw. He knew that but it was different when it was you, when he was staring at your bloodied form and realizing how close he’d come to—

No. He refused to think about it.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice tight, as he helped lift you onto the stretcher.

Your fingers curled around his wrist, gripping weakly. “Wonwoo,” you murmured.

His heart stuttered. “What?”

“Don’t look so sad.” Your smile was faint, barely there. “I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply, gripping your hand. “You better be.”

Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, the pain dulling into exhaustion. The sounds around you—sirens, shouts, the rustle of movement—were starting to blur together.

“Hey, hey—no.” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic. His grip on your hand tightened. “Stay with me.”

You hummed, barely nodding. “Just… tired.”

“I don’t care. You’re not sleeping right now.” His other hand cupped your cheek, the warmth grounding you. “Look at me.” You tried. Really, you did. But the weight behind your eyes was unbearable. Your head lolled slightly, and that’s when his voice broke—

“Y/N, please.”

Something in his tone made you fight harder to stay conscious. Your blurry vision focused just enough to see his face—his usual calm was gone, replaced with pure, raw worry.

“You’re always… so bossy,” you mumbled, forcing a weak smirk.

“And you never listen,” he shot back, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “So listen now—stay awake.”

The paramedics lifted your stretcher, and Wonwoo moved with them, never letting go of your hand. “We’re almost at the hospital,” he told you, voice softer now. “You’ll be fine.”

You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the pain, or the way he was looking at you, but for a moment, you believed him. Wonwoo’s heart nearly stopped when your body went limp. He swallowed hard, his mind racing even as his training kicked in. You’d lost blood. Too much. Your skin was too pale, your breathing too shallow.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

As soon as they reached the ambulance, he climbed in with you, pressing two fingers to your wrist again just to reassure himself that your pulse was still there.

"Stay with me," he murmured, more to himself than to you snd when the ambulance doors shut, sirens wailing as they sped toward the hospital, he didn’t take his eyes off you for even a second.

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and the doors flew open. Wonwoo barely waited for the paramedics before he moved, helping guide the stretcher out.

“Female, late twenties, sustained injuries from the crash site,” one of the paramedics called out. “Multiple lacerations, possible concussion, and significant blood loss—she lost consciousness on the way.” Mingyu was already there, his eyes widening the moment he saw you. 

“Shit—Get her inside. Now! Bay 7!”

Mingyu paled but immediately snapped into action, helping the nurses prep you for assessment. Seokmin rushed in a second later, his expression shifting from relief to worry in an instant.

“Her BP’s low,” a nurse reported. “We need fluids started now.”

Wonwoo knew he should step back, let the trauma team handle it. But his feet refused to move. His pulse was racing, hands clenched at his sides.

“You need to get checked, too,” Mingyu said, glancing at the blood on Wonwoo’s scrubs—not his own, but yours.

“I’m fine.” Wonwoo’s voice was tight. “She—” His words caught in his throat. “Just take care of her.”

Mingyu exchanged a glance with Seokmin, who rushed down the ER the moment he heard about the accident, before nodding.

“Wonwoo,” Seokmin said carefully, “let them work. She’s in good hands.” he pulls Wonwoo out the hallway to let Mingyu and his team do their work.

Wonwoo’s jaw locked. He knew that. He did. But watching you, lying there so still, covered in bruises and blood—he’d never felt this helpless before. His mind was a mess. He should have driven you home. He should have made sure you weren’t avoiding him. He should have—

The doors burst open. A nurse rushed past him. Then, through the small window of the ER, he saw Mingyu and the rest of the team working frantically around you. Something was wrong.

He stepped forward, but Seokmin was suddenly there, blocking his way. “They’re doing everything they can,” Seokmin said, his voice firm but laced with worry. Wonwoo barely heard him. His eyes were locked on the room, on Mingyu pressing down on your chest.

You had coded.

A sharp breath left him as he staggered back, hitting the wall. Seokmin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. Wonwoo’s hands were shaking. He curled them into fists. He’d never been this scared before. Not once in his life.

Wonwoo tried to push past Seokmin, but Seokmin held him back, gripping his arm tightly.

"Wonwoo, stop," Seokmin said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in his face.

"I need to be in there," Wonwoo snapped, his breathing uneven. "I need to—"

Seokmin shook his head. "Mingyu’s got this. Do you think he’d let anything happen to her?"

Wonwoo clenched his jaw, his entire body tense, but he didn’t push forward again. He knew Seokmin was right but knowing didn’t make it easier. All he could do was stand there, watching through the window as Mingyu fought to bring you back.

Mingyu gritted his teeth, his hands steady even as the tension in the room thickened. The sound of the flatline rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.

"Charge to 200," he ordered, his voice sharp and controlled.

The nurse complied, handing him the paddles. Mingyu placed them on your chest, his heart hammering. "Clear!"

Your body jerked slightly as the shock coursed through you.

He checked the monitor. Still flat.

"Again! 300!"

Another shock.

Nothing.

Mingyu refused to let panic settle in. His friend was on this table. No, not just a friend. You were family.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, sweat forming at his brow. "You're not done yet."

He pressed his hands to your chest, beginning compressions. "Give me one milligram of epi!"

Time blurred. His arms burned from the force of CPR, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t.

Then A blip. Another. A weak, slow rhythm appeared on the monitor.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "We've got a pulse," he announced, his voice hoarse but firm. The tension in the room eased slightly, but Mingyu knew it wasn’t over yet. He looked at you, unconscious but breathing, and exhaled sharply.

"You scared the hell out of us," he muttered under his breath. Then, he turned to the nurse. "Get her to the ICU. I'll update the others."

As the team moved into action, Mingyu pulled off his gloves, exhausted but relieved. Now, he just had to face Wonwoo.

Mingyu stepped out of the ER, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. The hallway felt suffocating with tension, and the moment he looked up, his gaze met Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo was still pacing, his fists clenched at his sides, eyes dark with worry. Seokmin stood nearby, watching carefully in case he had to physically restrain him again.

The second Wonwoo saw Mingyu, he froze. "How is she?"

Mingyu sighed, pulling off his surgical cap. "She coded."

Wonwoo’s face drained of color.

"But we got her back."

The relief was visible—Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped for just a second before he straightened, jaw tight. "Where is she now?"

"ICU. We stabilized her, but she’s not awake yet."

Wonwoo didn’t wait for another word. He turned on his heel, heading straight for the ICU.

Seokmin let out a breath. "I’m going after him before he scares the nurses."

Mingyu didn’t stop him. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, exhaustion hitting him full force.

"You better wake up soon," he mumbled to himself. "Or he’s gonna lose it."

Wonwoo barely made it past the ICU doors before the nurses blocked his way.

"You can’t see her yet, Dr. Jeon," one of them said firmly. "She’s still unconscious, and we need to monitor her closely."

His jaw tightened. "I just need to see her—"

"Wonwoo."

Seokmin grabbed his arm before he could push past them. "Stop."

Wonwoo turned sharply, eyes flashing. "She almost died, Seokmin. I—" He clenched his fists, unable to finish.

Seokmin’s grip didn’t loosen. "I know. But you barging in there isn’t going to change anything. Let them do their job."

Wonwoo’s breathing was heavy, his body tense as if he was holding himself together by a thread. His gaze flickered toward the door, frustration clear on his face.

Seokmin sighed. "Come on, man. Let’s sit for a second. You’re no good to her if you pass out from exhaustion."

Wonwoo didn’t move for a long moment, but finally, he exhaled sharply and let Seokmin pull him back toward the waiting area.

Still, he kept his eyes locked on the door, like sheer willpower alone could wake you up.

Hours passed, dragging on painfully. Wonwoo sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together so tightly they were turning white. Mingyu and Seokmin were on either side of him, equally exhausted but keeping watch.

No one spoke much. The weight of everything that had happened hung heavily in the air.

Then, finally, a nurse stepped out of the ICU.

"You can see her now."

Wonwoo was on his feet instantly, not even waiting for the others as he rushed through the doors. His heart pounded as he stepped into your room, his breath catching at the sight of you.

You were stil unconcious, but you were breathing. There were bandages wrapped around your head and arms, an IV hooked up beside you. But your chest rose and fell steadily. 

"You’re an idiot," he muttered, voice hoarse. But even as he said it, his hand hovered over yours, hesitant, before finally resting gently over your fingers.

Hours passed before you finally regained consciousness. The first thing you notice is the hand holding yours. The weight of everything sinking in. 

You gently squeeze his hand making Wonwoo sit up and look at you, “Hey you” you mumble at him. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking at you. Making sure he isn’t dreaming, he takes your warm hand pressing it against his cheek

“You scared me” he whispered

“Sorry”

He shakes his head. He stands up, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. His lips lingering there for a while like he’s savoring every second. When he pulled back, his gaze met yours, filled with something unspoken.

“You should rest,” he murmured, voice still rough with emotion.

You gave him a small, tired smile. “Only if you do too.”

“I’m not leaving.” You already knew that. Even if he didn’t say it, you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t going anywhere.

The door swung open, and Seokmin practically burst in, arms spread wide. “She LIVES!” he announced dramatically, as if you had risen from the dead.

You gave him a tired glare. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, plopping down in the chair beside you. “Do you know how much stress you caused us?”

Mingyu walked in behind him, arms crossed. “You had me working overtime,” he said, half-joking, half-serious. “And I don’t even get paid extra for that.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth in your smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll schedule my near-death experience at a more convenient time.”

Mingyu clicked his tongue. “That’s all I ask.”

Seokmin gasped. “Excuse me? That is not all we ask! How about you don’t get into life-threatening accidents at all?”

You sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Noted.”

Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, just exhaled, shaking his head. “They’re never gonna let this go, you know.”

“Obviously,” you muttered, but your chest felt lighter. Because as much as they nagged, you knew it just meant they cared.

Your recovery days were… frustrating, to say the least. As a surgeon, you were used to being the one treating patients, not being the patient. And the worst part? Your own friends were your caretakers, which meant zero chances of slipping out of bed unnoticed.

Seokmin was the worst about it. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked one afternoon when you tried to stand up.

“For a walk,” you said.

He pushed you back down with one finger to your forehead. “You’re on bed rest, doctor.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “You coded! You died for a minute, and now you want to go for a walk?”

Mingyu walked in just in time to hear that. “Wait, she tried to get up? I knew we should’ve strapped her down.”

You scowled at both of them. “I’m not a psych patient—”

“Then stop acting like one,” Mingyu shot back.

But it wasn’t just them. The nurses were in on it, too. They absolutely loved watching the usually stubborn and independent surgeon get bossed around. Every time Wonwoo came to check on you, you swore you saw them watching from the nurses’ station, whispering to each other.

And speaking of Wonwoo…

He was quiet but relentless. While the others nagged, he just watched you, making sure you ate, making sure you took your meds, making sure you rested. He didn’t have to say anything—his mere presence was enough to keep you in place.

But one evening, when the others had left, you finally had enough. “Wonwoo, I swear if you tell me to ‘take it easy’ one more time—”

“I won’t,” he said simply, sitting beside your bed.

You blinked. “Oh.”

He looked at you for a moment, then exhaled. “I just… I was really scared.”

Your throat tightened. “Wonwoo—”

“I almost lost you,” he murmured.

You stared at him, heart pounding. “…Okay.”

He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Good.”

“But that’s unfair, you can’t use that on me everytime”

Wonwoo’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smirk. “Use what?”

“You being all—” you waved your free hand vaguely, “—soft and serious. Making me feel bad for worrying you. That’s not fair.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “It’s not fair that you keep scaring me either.”

You groaned, sinking further into your pillows. “Fine. Truce?”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider it. “…Only if you promise to stop being reckless.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Define reckless.”

He sighed. “I hate you.”

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t,” he admitted, his voice softer this time.

You stretched your arms as you walked into the hospital, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief. Being back at work after weeks of recovery felt oddly normal, except for the way your friends hovered around you like you were made of glass.

You sat across from Wonwoo at a quiet restaurant near the hospital, picking at your food while he watched you like a hawk. He had already subtly pushed a side dish closer to you twice, and when you slowed down again, he raised an eyebrow.

"Eat," he said simply, taking a bite of his own food.

You sighed, shoving a spoonful into your mouth to appease him. “Happy?”

He hummed in approval before sipping his drink. The meal went on in comfortable silence, but your mind kept drifting back to the last real conversation you had before the accident. 

“Wonwoo.”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated for a second, then pushed forward. “Before the accident, when we were talking… You said I kissed you.”

His grip on his drink tightened slightly. “Yeah.”

“And you never told me,” you continued, voice steady but firm. “I told you I liked you, and you never said anything. Is that… is that why you never dated anyone?”

Wonwoo let out a slow breath, placing his drink down carefully. “I thought you were drunk.”

“I was drunk,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I didn’t know that.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “So what, you avoided me for weeks, pretended like nothing happened, and then just… never dated anyone because of it?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. He stared at you for a long moment, like he was deciding something. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I thought if I told you, it’d change everything. And I didn’t—I couldn’t—” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. “And what about now?”

He met your gaze, something softer in his expression now. “Now, I think I almost did anyway.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and for the first time in weeks, maybe years, you felt like you were finally getting somewhere.

You stared at him, processing everything he’d just said. The years of friendship, the silent moments, the things left unsaid—all of it led to this.

“So,” you started carefully, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, “you spent all these years… what? Waiting?”

Wonwoo let out a short, breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s not like I planned to. I just—no one else ever felt right.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Wonwoo.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. “Do you regret it?”

You blinked. “Regret what?”

“Telling me you liked me back then.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“I don’t regret it. What I regret is not remembering anything”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You really don’t?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted. “If I had, we probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

“And now?”

You held his gaze. “I don’t want to waste any more.”

For the first time in weeks, Wonwoo smiled—not the small, fleeting ones he’d been giving you, but a real one, the kind that reached his eyes.

“Then let’s not.”

The moment stretched between you two, something unspoken settling into place. Wonwoo didn’t say anything else instead he reached for your hand across the table, his fingers brushing yours before curling around them. It was such a simple gesture, but your heart still stuttered at the warmth of his palm against yours.

“You’re really doing this, huh?” you murmured, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Wonwoo’s thumb traced lazy circles over your skin. “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

You squeezed his hand, rolling your eyes playfully. “You should’ve.”

After your shift of course he waited for you to drive you home, the drive was quiet. Like how it usually is. But this this there's a sense of peace, something more comforting. Wonwoo made a thoughtful hum before, to your surprise, he reached over at a red light, fingers brushing against your hand. Then, in the most unexpected act of affection, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“What—”

“I like holding your hand,” he admitted casually, as if this wasn’t the first time he was doing something like this outside of a life-or-death situation. “It’s warm.”

You blinked at him. This man. “Wonwoo,” you deadpanned, but your grip on his hand tightened, betraying you.

“Do you have any idea how confusing you are?” you muttered, squeezing his hand.

Wonwoo chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I think I’m making it pretty obvious now.”

Your face heated up. You turned to look out the window, trying to hide the giddy feeling bubbling up in your chest. And just like that, the rest of the ride home was spent with your fingers still laced together, neither of you letting go.

You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. Wonwoo's hand was still in yours, warm and steady

“If I’m reading this wrong,” he said, voice softer than before, “we can stop. I don’t want to force anything on you.”

You turned to him, watching how he kept his eyes on the road, his usual unreadable expression now laced with something else—something hesitant, something careful.

Your chest tightened.

“You think you’re reading it wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo sighed through his nose, thumb unconsciously brushing against your knuckles. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to assume anything. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to go along with me just because…” He trailed off, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter with his other hand.

Just because he’s Wonwoo? Just because he’s been there always, in ways you never fully understood until now?

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You weren’t used to this—him being the one doubting things when it was usually you who overthought.

The car slowed as he pulled up in front of your place, but he didn’t make a move to let go of your hand. His fingers curled around yours loosely, like he was giving you the chance to let go first.

You didn’t.

Instead, you took a breath and turned to face him fully. “You’re not reading it wrong,” you said, firm but not unkind.

Wonwoo finally looked at you, the flickering streetlight outside casting shadows on his face.

“You’re not forcing anything,” you added, squeezing his hand. “I like this, okay? I like… us.”

Wonwoo just smirked, giving your hand a squeeze. “This is years in the making,” he murmured, like it was the simplest fact in the world. “Let me hold my girl’s hand for a minute more.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head, but your heart was doing something completely different—stumbling over itself at the way he said my girl.

You swallowed, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. Years in the making. You’d never thought about it like that, but now that he said it, you realized—he was right.

All those late-night study sessions, the quiet moments in the on-call room, the way he always made sure you ate, the way he was just… there. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t new. It was just something that had always been there, waiting for the two of you to finally stop dancing around it.

“…Fine,” you muttered, fighting the smile but failing miserably. “One minute.”

Wonwoo chuckled, and instead of arguing, he just laced his fingers through yours, holding on like he never planned on letting go.

[kirain]

Part ten of my appreciation project.

@zecarnevilcat A fic based on their wonderful art piece here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

The Fade closed in, a haze of twisting shadows and distant whispers. Varric was gone, and Lenore stood in the gloom, friendless and adrift. The air smelled of old magic, thick and cloying, the only light straight ahead—a soft, flickering glow that pulsed like a dying star.

Through the silence, she heard it.

"Lenore!"

A voice—rough, desperate—cut through the abyss like a blade. Her breath caught.

"Emmrich?"

There, beyond the shifting mists, a figure emerged, silhouetted against the light, reaching for her.

"Here! I'm right here!" The voice came again, urgent, distressed.

Despair curled around her, nipping at her heels like a pack of ravenous wolves. Even after Varric's reassurance, it was inescapable—a curse inherent to that awful place. Panic surged through her every muscle, every nerve as the rift began to close, the edges fraying like torn cloth. If she hesitated now, she would be lost forever.

Arm outstretched, she hurled herself forward.

Closer.

Almost.

Then—fingers locked painfully around her wrist, and the world cracked apart.

With a lurch, she was ripped from the Fade, her body slamming into the earth. The sudden change in pressure made her feel weak, nauseous, but warmth enveloped her—slender hands gripping her tightly.

An anchor in the chaos.

As she gasped, the air heavy but familiar in her lungs, a pair of arms wrapped around her, tormented and shaking.

"Darling..."

Her eyes widened. She could feel a man's breath in her hair, his chest rising and falling with dry, shuddering sobs. He was clinging to her as though she might vanish again, as though sheer will alone could keep her bound to reality.

Though dizzy and disoriented, she managed to lift her head, glancing up at him.

"...Emmrich?"

She barely recognised him—his shirt wrinkled, face dirty, somehow older.

"Are you—?" Her throat clenched. "Are you real?”

He inhaled sharply, and for a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression caught between agony and relief. Then, his grip on her tightened, his lips parting around a trembling breath.

"Yes, darling. It's me."

The emotion in his voice nearly undid her, but before she could say another word, darkness clouded her vision, her mind reeling.

And then—nothing.

-----

Weeks earlier, Emmrich's study lay in ruins. Parchments littered the desk, torn and crumpled in frustration. Broken daggers lined the floor, their runes inert or ineffective. The air reeked of burnt ink and scorched metal—remnants of his failed attempts at replication. No matter the method, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he begged, the result was the same.

Worthless.

He sat hunched at his desk, head hanging, fingers knotted in his hair. His shoulders throbbed from relentless work, and his breath came slow and shallow, as if even that required too much effort.

"Professor?"

The door creaked open. Bellara shuffled inside, the rich aroma of spiced tea trailing behind her. She entered with a smile, but she barely took two steps before her eyes swept over the shambles of his study, her legs numbing at the sight. She had never seen it, or him, in such disarray. It was unbearably worrisome, but when she spoke, her inflection was sweet, attempting to pull him from his sorrow.

"Where's Manfred?" she asked, his absence palpable.

Eventually, Emmrich whispered, "With Myrna."

Bellara's eyes drifted to Johanna's perch. Empty.

"And Hezenkoss?"

"I couldn't stomach her snide remarks," he rasped, his eyes shut tight. "Vorgoth is watching her for now."

Bellara frowned, hurrying to his side.

"Emmrich, listen." Her tone was soft, careful. "We'll get her back."

She placed the tea by his elbow, but he didn't drink it. He didn't move at all. Not a twitch. Not a breath deeper than the last.

"Emmrich..."

Her hand found his back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. She could feel the tension beneath his shirt, the grief woven into his stillness.

"Don't give up. If anyone can crack Solas' prison, it's you."

He didn't respond, on the verge of collapse. He needed rest, food, company—he didn't deserve to suffer like this—but she didn't want to push him.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay? I'll come running," she giggled. "We all will. We're here for you."

She then turned away, respecting his space.

"I told her to do it."

Bellara froze.

"What?"

Emmrich's fingers curled against his scalp, his voice faint. "Lenore... I told her to break the knife's contact with Ghilan'nain."

Bellara blinked, too stunned to speak. Then, the words tumbled from her lips, eager to sever his guilt.

"Emmrich, no. Don't do that to yourself. If the process hadn't been interrupted, that whole region would've been swarmed by spirits and blight. You made the right call."

"It should've been me..."

She stepped closer, her brows drawn. "Emmrich, you can't blame yourself for—"

His head snapped up, the movement sudden, rigid.

"And we argued! I argued. Before the attack. I was so stubborn and cruel, disregarding everything she said. And now—!" His breath hitched, fingers clawing at his silver strands. "I may never get a chance to apologise. How do I—?"

His composure shattered.

"How the fuck do I save her?!"

Bellara winced. She reached out to comfort him, but he barely seemed aware of her presence as he shot to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor. His hands braced against the desk, his eyes scanning the useless notes, the barren runes, the impure lyrium—all pathetic imitations of power he had no hope of rivalling.

Fury erupted.

He snatched a blade from the pile, carving tool in his other hand, and dragged the tip across the lyrium. Magic flared in a reckless surge—an obvious warning—but his grip tightened, his hews frenzied, erratic, desperate to force enchantment where none could take root.

The rune on the handle sparked, then sizzled with an angry hiss.

"Emmrich!" Bellara stumbled back. "Emmrich, don't—!"

The blade split.

A violent explosion of arcane energy burst outward, flinging the desk and all of its contents across the room. The loud crash echoed off the walls, reverberating down the hall, betoning his folly.

As smoke filled the air, Bellara covered her mouth, her heart aching.

"Emmrich?" she coughed.

He stood amidst the wreckage, his head bowed, hands battered. His ears rang from the blast, but the only sound he heard was the one that had lingered for weeks—Lenore's scream.

"F-forgive me..."

His vision blurred, though whether from the smoke or his tears, he couldn't say.

-----

Lenore woke with a start.

Air flooded her lungs as if she'd surfaced from drowning, her chest heaving. The world around her was bleary, bright—but before she could panic, strong arms pulled her against a solid chest, so tight that it hurt.

"You're safe," a voice hushed, quiet and restless. "You're home."

Her eyes fluttered, the weight of exhaustion pressing on her lids, but she forced them open—to see who held her in such a protective embrace.

"Emmrich?" she whispered, his name a soothing caress.

He sat beside her on the bed, his grip fierce, afraid she might slip through his fingers if he so much as flinched. When he drew back, it was only enough to cup her face, his palms unusually coarse, the skin scabby and yellowed.

"It's me," he promised.

The moment their eyes met, his breath seized. Lilac. His favourite colour.

Maker, how he'd missed it.

Seeing her again—uninjured and alive—sent a pang through his heart, his fingers brushing over her cheeks, her neck, her lips. The touch was delicate, reverent, as though he feared she might break if he pressed too hard.

"Emmrich? Are you—?"

She stilled, letting him trace her features as disbelief flickered in his gaze. He looked terrible—his normally neat hair disheveled, dark circles bruising the hollows of his eyes, a wispy scruff marring his jaw. This wasn't the wear of hours, but days—days he hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't stopped.

"How long?" she choked.

Emmrich paled, wishing he could spare her the truth. "Three and a half weeks."

Her gasp was guttural, the revelation hitting her like a blow. She hadn't known, she couldn't have known, but she swallowed it down. Her time in the Fade had been an endless, confusing blur of despair, the loss of Varric fresh, but seeing Emmrich's anguish made her own pain seem trivial.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"What?"

Her brow furrowed, her nails digging into his sleeves. "You must've been so scared. You must've been—" She bit down, ruing all the ways he'd clearly tortured himself. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"No." He shook his head insistently. "No, no, no, darling. None of this is your fault."

"But—"

He hugged her again, his fingers threading through her long, fragranced hair. "I have you back. That's all that matters."

He kissed her temple, drinking her in. Few escaped the Fade unscathed—mind or body—and he couldn't begin to fathom what horrors she had endured.

"Are you all right, my dear?"

The question struck harder than he intended, splintering her resolve. A shudder racked her very soul, and before she could stop them, the words spilled free.

"I... I saw them," she stuttered, her voice cracking.

"Who?" Emmrich asked.

"Varric, Neve... Harding."

"Oh, Lenore. My darling, it wasn't—"

"I saw all of them. Everything. My regrets. Every life I shouldn't have taken. Every contract that felt wrong. It was all there, Emmrich... taunting me."

Her eyes stung. She tried to hold back, but the memories—the nightmare—haunted her.

"Emmrich," she wept, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Have we helped anyone?" She gestured weakly between them. "Is this even real... or am I still trapped?"

"What?" he wheezed, startled by the suggestion.

"I still feel like I'm falling," she admitted. "Like at any moment this room will crumble, and I'll wake up in some past hell I'd give anything to forget."

"Lenore..."

"I'm sorry. I just can't tell. I can't—"

Before she could spiral further, Emmrich leaned in, pressing his lips into hers.

The kiss was overwhelming, confident, erasing her doubts in an instant. As he held her close, pouring every ounce of certainty into her, his hands slid up her shirt, stroking her back, shredding the hints of despair that dared to dwell in his presence.

He wouldn't allow it.

As he deepened the kiss, his tongue skimmed the outline of her lips before slipping inside, seeking hers with a slow, passionate rhythm.

"Mmph..." Lenore moaned, melting into it.

The heat of his mouth, the command, the way he trembled against her—it was real. He was real.

This was real.

And she let herself enjoy it, as he desired.

When he pulled away, they were both panting, flushed and lustful.

"You didn't give in," he praised, gently grinding his forehead into hers. "That's how I found you. You never stopped fighting." His hands moved to her face, thumbs wiping her tears. "Don't stop now, Lenore. You're strong. You're a good person. And I love you."

"I love you, too," she sniffed.

For a while, they sat in each other's arms, eyes closed, listening, tasting. He kissed her again, ashamed of his slovenly state, but wanting her—needing her—to believe him. She wasn't alone, and she never would be again.

"And I'm the one who should be apologising. Not you."

Lenore tilted her head. "What for?"

"For the argument. I was a fool. I should've—"

She smiled. It was small at first, hesitant. But it grew, beautiful and sure, a spark reigniting behind her tired eyes. She forgave him without a single word, and it nearly broke him.

"Thank you," he whimpered. He cradled her face a moment longer before rising to his feet. "Rest now. You need to recover."

But Lenore shook her head, swinging her legs over the bed. As she struggled to stand, Emmrich rushed to her aid, his hands grasping hers.

"What are you doing?" he asked, concern laced through every syllable.

She met his gaze, her lilac eyes shining with renewed purpose.

"Gather the team," she grinned. "We're going after Elgar'nan."

[boomotherfucker]

final chapter is up

[pagerunner-j]

Reblogging again to boost a couple tags, because the questions asked here are exactly it:

"Write for yourself"

Brother, I literally have more than 2 million words sitting in my drafts folder instead of posted on AO3.

I write for myself. I post for community interaction.

[writingsfromhome]

That’s so True II

A/N: pure angst; egos are still up, feelings are still confused, guards are up and down and even though it seems like I hate them as the writer I do root for them but navigating one-sided vulnerability is a rideee. Mentions of alcohol and drugs—thanks for reading xx

Word Count: 18k+

Part 1 / 2

———————————————————

I made it out alive but I think I lost it.

When Harry approached me after school when I was working on yearbook, I was surprised. He came just as himself and even though he tried to act like a dick, that personality was chucked out as soon as I told him I wasn’t putting up with it.

And he listened. And he looked surprised, but most surprising for me was when he apologized back. It obviously surprised him too because that’s also when his mask came back down; I saw it happening—backtracking so he could put a leash on his vulnerability.

There was no denying though as he was apologizing, the look in his eyes and the way his gaze lingered on my face…I knew he was holding back. That night and our time together left just as much of an imprint on him than it did me.

The thing is I wanted to punish him, make him hurt, because how dare he do that to me. If he wanted to deny what really happened between us and move on, continue being the jock everyone knew him to be, I’d let it sting.

I know he expected me to be upset, maybe even argue. But as soon as I realized what he was doing I put my own mask on; I was good at it these days. And there was a satisfaction with how shocked he looked as he walked out without the upper hand.

That’s his price, I had thought.

But now here I was on the other side of my Harry Experience and my heart still kicked a little extra when I caught sight of him. When I pass him in the halls, in the lunchroom, in the parking lot, and I could feel his eyes on me.

I could just get a boyfriend if it was a physical need. But it wasn’t that simple.

Sometimes before I fall asleep I think of that night, of the pain he felt on my behalf. And it hits deeper.

Past:

Harry had caught up to me as I was leaving the school building today. He had asked if I was busy tonight and my heart had sputtered like a dying car because we had been hooking up for a couple weeks and every time we did I expected it to be the last time yet he always found ways to be at the same place I was or catch me wherever I was.

He had been a distraction for me from everything at home and I never expected us to have longevity.

He told me he would pick me up around 7 for a surprise. I’d gone home in a cloud of rainbows and butterflies but home itself was an antidote to daydreaming.

Mum was home early from work so I head to my bedroom. I didn’t care for forced conversation. All she wanted to talk about these days was my future.

By the time I come down the sun is starting to set and I can hear her on the phone with Nan. She’s telling Nan she doesn’t know if she can help her clean out the house and that my dad didn’t want anything to do with it.

Nan was actually my paternal grandma and her and Grandpa had raised me while my dad lived in a new city every few months for work and mum followed. They’d be sure to be in town for Christmas most years and during off-seasons but when I thought of the people who raised me it wasn’t mum and dad.

Dad always had a complicated relationship with his own father so even though they happily took me in and it looked okay from the outside, every family reunion or dinner was tense and passive.

When grandpa passed a few weeks ago it was Nan and I who held each other up. Mum had tried to be there but she never knew what to say to me. Dad had gotten stony and silent. So now I just walked the few streets over to visit Nan every time I missed him too much.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to mum as she continues on the phone. Were they cleaning grandpa’s stuff out already? It hadn’t been long.

Suddenly I start to worry about all of his valuables, everything he held dear all in the bin. Of Nan trying to sort it all by herself and being overwhelmed—I could help.

Mum waves me off, “Well we’ll see. We can always hire someone. I’m sure Phil will pay for it.”

“I called asking for help with this not to have money I don’t need thrown my way.” Her voice is distant on the receiver but mum’s volume is always so loud I can make it out. Nan only ever took dad’s money if it had to do with me. “I need to do this myself not hire somebody. I-this is making me upset. I’m hanging up now.”

She hangs up without a goodbye and mum rolls her eyes.

“Somehow I’m always between the two of them.”

I watch her move back to her cutting board and stare as she chops. If there was any humour here I would laugh but it always got to me when she’d say things like that. Because it was always me between the two—my actual family and my family that raised me. My loyalty to my grandparents for all the love and time they raised me with and my loyalty to my parents because…well, they were my parents.

“What did she want?” I ask eventually.

“Someone to help her pack up the house. And she’s asking us to hold some of her things as storage I mean-“ she throws her hands up.

“Why?” Nan had plenty of space at home, why did she need ours?

“Well whoever rents that place probably doesn’t want all her rubbish everywhere.”

Rents.

“Who’s renting? What do you mean?”

Mum looks up sharply and sighs when she sees my face. “Oh dear. Did Nan or your dad not tell you yet?”

“Tell me what!?” I demand, my heart racing and my knees feeling like they were made of straw.

“Sit down-“ she points to a stool. I do so grudgingly. “Your Nan…she’s going to be moving-“

“No. She can’t be she would have said-“

“Well she just made the final decision the other day-“

I’m snatching my jacket and racing out the front door, down the street, pumping my arms until I’m in front of the familiar door. The place that my memories went to when I thought of home.

My breath is having a hard time coming out and my hands shake so I knock until Nan opens the door. One look at me and the sadness pools in her eyes.

“Oh my love I’m sorry.”

“No Nan,” I burst into tears. “Tell me it’s not true! Mum’s lying!”

“C’mon,” she mumbles as she urges me into the house. My feet shuffle to the cozy wooden kitchen and I collapse in the closest chair because her non-answer was already an answer. I knew it in my bones.

“Why?” I ask when I see her again.

She sits beside me, her eyes full of tears. “I didn’t want you finding out like this. I-I’m making your favourite, we were going to have dinner and I was going to-“

Her breath catches and suddenly I feel awful for making her feel bad.

“Nan,” I hold her hand and she clasps it with her other.

“I’m sorry my love. It’s…this house is filled with his ghost. I don’t know how to…”

I find I’m crying too. But what about me, I want to ask. But even I know that’s selfish.

“Before he…when he was in hospital he made a plan for me. He talked to my sister—you’ve met her a few times I think. She lives alone, been a widow for…6 years now? He made all these plans so I can live with her. And she’s made it happen. For as long as I need, she tells me.”

“So you’re just-“ I use my other hand to wipe my tears. “So you’re just going to pick up your life and move? So far away? I-“

What about me?

“I can’t live here-“

“Move in with us!” I urge. Why didn’t grandpa make plans for her to move a few streets over. Why did he do this.

“YN, my dear…” she pats my hand. I know she couldn’t. I knew.

“I’ll never see you again?” I cry.

“Don’t be silly,” she stands and tugs me to her. I wrap my arms around her aging torso, my head on her chest, and it’s so overwhelmingly home that I begin to cry. And with the patience she’s had her whole life she rubs my back and soothes me with promises.

“You’re moving for uni this year—everything’s going to be different. And Phil’s already bought tickets for you to come visit me in the summer. We’ll always be in each other’s lives.”

But not physically. And suddenly I’m angry—what was dad’s issue that he couldn’t stand his parents. That his own mother couldn’t move in with us at a time like this. Why would Nan do this to me.

I let go of Nan and stand up.

“Where are you going?” She calls out as I head for the door. “YN where-“

“I have to go.” I sniffle.

“But I’m making dinner-“

“I have plans.” I say and it hurts just to say it and hurts more to see her face fall.

“Oh…well maybe tomorrow. Come by tomorrow and we can talk okay?”

I shrug and this time I don’t look at her face; a coward who couldn’t see what it does to her. “Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says as I near the door. “No matter what.”

I mumble something in response and leave. But I don’t want to go home. Luckily my phone pings then. Harry.

Outside yours, are you ready?

Crap. I’d forgotten.

At my Nan’s few streets away gimme 2 mins

I feel like my feet are made of steel as I walk over. I try to wipe my face and take deep breaths, anything to prevent him from seeing the mess tonight has made me.

“Aren’t you cold?” Is the first thing he asks me when I knock on his passenger door.

I forgot I was only wearing a jumper.

“A bit. M I must have forgotten my coat at Nan’s.” I sit inside where it is considerably warmer.

“You didn’t have to rush,” he watches me tuck myself in. “I texted you that.”

“Oh,” I check my phone. He had said that, I just missed it. “That’s alright. Where to?”

His eyes light up, now distracted from what he was just worried about. “You’ll have to see.”

“Patience is not my virtue,” I warn him and that earns a grin. His whole face was quite animated when he smiled like that and my stomach flips. Tonight still heavy on my mind, could be eclipsed by a smile like that. A smile for me.

He turns off my street and even though I was curious I’m not watching where we’re going. Instead I’m watching him.

I really was surprised he kept turning up. That he hadn’t grown tired of me.

That first night I approached him in desperate need of a distraction—of a boy and some booze, I could tell he was surprised but he’d risen to the occasion and made himself a perfect distraction.

And then a few nights later we’d made out in his car after school in the parking lot. We did that a few times actually. And the weekend after he’d been at a party I was at and we’d found an empty room. He was obviously more experienced and it made it both new and fun.

He catches me watching him and responds by sliding his hand over my thigh. I was wearing tights but the warmth of his delicious hands go straight through the fabric. His thumb strokes absentmindedly as he drives and I feel like more than a hook-up and he feels like more than a distraction but I discard the thoughts from my mind.

I didn’t want to make things messy. Messier than what my life already was.

“So you’re really giving me no clues?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“I’m surprised you’ve actually planned something. I thought you wouldn’t be a planner.”

He squeezes my thigh and laughs. “I like it when people think they figured me out and then they’re surprised.”

“Yeah?” I ask. I wondered if that happened often with him being the stereotype of a player.

“Yeah. It’s fun. Seeing people surprised. Like when our biology teacher last year congratulated me for getting the highest grade in one of the exams—I’d studied for a week straight so I earned that shit, but the looks on everyone’s faces was crazy.”

I laugh. It’s cute hearing him explain this. Ironically it was also surprising.

“Okay look,” he turns into a lot and I suddenly know where we were. But I’m confused.

“A beach?” I ask. “Harry you know it’s still February and it’s cold as bollocks.”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah? But I’ve got blankets and some wine I stole from my parents and we can keep each other warm.”

He brushes my cheek with his thumb as he says so. It’s gentle and inviting—I never thought someone like him would have these sides to him. I assumed wrongfully that players like him just seduce but Harry’s seducing had a finer art.

Suddenly I remember, “I forgot my coat.”

“Yeah you can wear mine!”

“No then you’ll be cold.”

He tried to reassure me it would be fine but in that moment all the feelings that had just been distracted come forth. If I had just gotten my coat I wouldn’t have to borrow his. Now all this Harry planned for us would go to shit.

“Here,” he starts stripping his coat off when I don’t respond and drapes it around me. “I’ve got a hoodie on and a couple blankets back there it can work.”

“I…” the coat is big and warm, trapped with the smell of him and it makes me lose my train of thought for a moment. I want to grow smaller and just live in this coat and forget all my problems like my thoughts.

“Let’s just see how bad it is out there.” He says with his easygoing smile.

“Okay,” I didn’t want to be a spoil sport. “Let’s see if you brought me out here to freeze to death or not.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says as we exit the car. “We’re going to keep each other warm.”

“Harry this is quite romantic,” I tease as he walks around to get to me. “Honestly didn’t know you had this side to you.”

He leans me into the car, his cold hands curling around my neck. “Stop underestimating me YN. Plus I could say the same about you.”

Before I can ask what he means he leans down to kiss me with his soft lips and stubbly chin. It tickles and I pull away.

When I rub my hand over it he laughs, a low and dangerous thing that makes my stomach churn like the waves. “Sorry. I didn’t get time…”

“It just tickles.” I smile. Then remember, “What did you mean just now? About me?”

He ignores me again, ducking into the backseat for a literal basket. I wonder how many girls had seen the same basket before, been on this very same date. It wasn’t my right to feel this grip of possessiveness and I try to shake it off.

“C’mon,” he holds his hand out and when I take it he shoves both into the pocket of his hoodie. He was cold.

“Are you sure-“

“When I-“

We both stop, laugh.

“You first,” I say.

“Uh, I was just saying I’ve known you for years and you’re always the smart no-nonsense one. Never thought you’d spare me a second glance unless it was to judge me-“

“Hey I’m not judgy“

“You’ve never judged me?” He raises a brow.

“Well maybe once or twice. Usually because you were being very obnoxious-“

“Exactly,” he laughs. “I didn’t expect you to come up to me and be interested.”

“Well…” I try to come up with something to say but that wave of emotions threatens to overtake me again. Push, push it away.

“Well?”

We pause some feet away from the waves. At this point even I’m starting to feel a chill and I worry Harry’s freezing.

“Well I was intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” he repeats with humour. “Wanted to know what the fuss was about?”

“I wanted to know,” I turn to him and extract my hand from his so I can wrap them behind him. “If the rumours were true. And I can say they made you out to be more of a fuckboy than you are.”

“What?” His body stiffens slightly.

“Yeah you’re kinda sweet.”

He shakes his head, “YN I thought you were smart!”

“What!” I laugh. “I can’t help but point out what I see-“

“Ah but,” he lays a finger on my lips to shush me and they’re frozen. I try to say something about how cold he must be but he stops me. “Ah ah. No. What you observe is an act YN. I thought you would see I’m just trying to get into your-“

“But,” I shush him this time by putting my finger to his lips and an excuse to draw closer to him to lend my warmth.

“No I-“

“Ah ah!” I pinch his lips closed with my hand accidentally giving him duck lips and it takes him by surprise; he jerks back and neatly topples over. Which of course gets me laughing.

“Jesus YN!” He laughs on the floor.

“Why did you fall over!” I try to pull him up but he yanks me down as I expected. “Shit it’s chilly. Aren’t you cold?!”

“Not anymore,” he wraps a hand around my waist and I can’t deny laying on top of him like this makes me forget the cold.

“See,” I tsk. “I see right through you.”

That sobers his smile and mine fades with it. Did I say something wrong.

“It really is chilly though,” I quickly change the subject. It’s not graceful but I manage to stand up on my own and so does Harry, a shiver going through him. “See!”

“No that’s just,” he wraps his arms around himself. “Being around you.”

I groan. “Cheesy. I’m sorry here-“ I try to take the jacket off to hand him but he refuses, picking up the basket that he’d dropped to the ground.

“Keep it on. Let’s have a car picnic.”

“Yes!” The guilt lessens a bit. “Okay! Let’s do that.”

He smiles at me and extends a hand, I grip it and try to heat it up by shoving it up his larger sleeves.

“That works,” he laughs.

He opens the backseat so I slide in without a second thought. When it’s a bit cramped he moves the driver and passenger seats forward and it gives us a comfortable amount of space.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I wish I brought my jacket this really was all very nice-“

“Stop,” he says. He begins pulling out wine and perfectly wrapped sandwiches. It’s adorable but I say nothing lest it bruise his masculinity again. “It was lame I knew how cold it was.”

“Are we drinking from the bottle?” I point out.

“Ah damn,” he swears. “I forgot glasses.”

“That’s alright!” I take it from his hand and begin opening it. “Free wine I’ll take it! My parents are really anal so I could never steal liquor and have them not notice.”

“So that’s where you get it from,” he teases.

“Get what?!”

“The,” he waves his hand around me. I take a swig now that I’ve gotten it open and raise my brows. “Y’know! You’re very particular. I imagine you’d be like that as a parent.”

My heart does a weird stuttering thing hearing his opinion of me as a parent.

“Nevermind,” he takes my silence as offence and accepts the bottle. He makes a face once he takes a swig. “This is disgusting. I can’t drink this.”

“Not more disgusting than that beer you drank at last weekend’s party.”

“It was the best thing there.”

“It was the only thing,” I say. “But you should be careful since you’re driving. Wine gets you drunk a lot faster.”

“See,” he hands the bottle back to me. “This sort of thing.”

“Being responsible?”

I feel a small leak of self-consciousness drip in. And with it the leak expands with other emotions I’d shoved down tonight. I blink it back with another swig—the plan would be to get drunk and forget the evening happened.

“Kinda. Like just being sharp.”

It soothes a little. Sharp was better than being called responsible at age 17. Jeez.

I take another swig before we split sandwiches and talk about school. We talk music and movies, about graduation. I try not to look surprised at his grad plans while he’a not surprised at all by mine.

But talking about it all plus the wine, it sinks me deeper into my feelings. How the home I would leave would be something I could never come back to. Nan would never be a few streets away ever again.

“Is it just me or is it getting cold in here now too?” He asks. By now I’d given him his jacket back and I was wrapped in a blanket with half a bottle of wine in me. But even that didn’t hold the cold at bay.

“Yeah, I was trying to ignore it.”

“Soo you can stay here with me?”

“I-“ I go to flirt back. But staying here meant I wouldn’t have to go back home and remembering home reminds me of the reality of my life.

“YN?” He asks with a scrunch to his brows.

“Hm?” I don’t look at him. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“Uh I was just saying…” he deposits the half empty bottle that I’d basically drunk alone into the front console. This whole time we’d gotten closer to the other, his hand resting on my thigh as we talked. But now with nothing between us he inches to close the gap. “We could keep each other warm.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear and I smile into his face. It’s an open book telling his desires for tonight. I cup his cheek, he was sweet.

He kisses me and the gnawing feelings in my chest snaps. In seconds I’m climbing over him, straddling his lap as he responds, his fingers dig into my thighs and the sounds coming from his throat only urges me to get closer.

“Woah,” he chuckles when we break for air. And a part of me flushes but I’m too drunk to care.

I lean in again, my lips on his neck. His breath hitches and I smile against his skin.

His hands travel everywhere. My thighs, hips, and stomach. They slide up the front of my shirt and I gasp at the cold.

“We really need to warm those up,” I whisper.

He looks like he wants to make a joke but I press our lips together before he can. His fingers continue inching up, brushing under the band of my bra. I want him to go faster, I want him to lay me bare and make me forget. Get this fucking noise out of my head and these feelings out of my body.

I can tell he’s turned on but he’s not moving fast enough for me. I roll my hips into him and just like I needed him to he reacts, a short gasp and his eyes shut as he swears.

I do it again and he leans forward, pulling the neckline of my sweater over my head. His lips find the crook of my neck and shoulder, doing the thing that always unravels me.

He worships whatever part of me his lips can reach with one hand firmly on my neck keeping me close.

“You’re insane,” he mumbles against me. “Sometimes I-“

He shakes himself out of his monologue because his hands are trying to unbuckle his jeans. And in the split moment we’re apart the chill in the car settles against my bare shoulders and it’s like reality settles with it. Like a blanket I kept trying to shed.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. When he pulls me back to him to lay me down I push against his shoulders, dismounting.

“YN?” I don’t look at him but I know he��s got his brows scrunched together in confusion. I myself was confused. Claustrophobic and confused.

The only option is to rush outside trying to escape the feeling. It was fucking crazy—me in a bra and jeans but I have to get away from him before he sees me unravel. Before everything I’ve been pushing down surfaces.

“YN!” He shouts as I leave his car. Then a third time. I can hear the panic creep into his voice.

My head swims, the world spins around me. I want to lay here and let the cold creep in, let the waves lap over me until they’ve drowned me. Or maybe the waves inside of me make me feel like I’m drowning.

The first sob breaks through. Oh god, what was I doing.

I press my hands into my face and cry with a force so strong it feels like my chest has cracked in half. I cry for my Nan leaving, for grandpa and everything he suffered, for those he left behind, for my father and the relationship he’s never kept. I cry for me. I want to give it all to the water but it keeps coming out of me.

“Fucking hell YN!” Harry’s finally caught up to me. “What-what’s going on? Are you-“

As soon as his hand touches my shoulder I crash into his chest, maybe too hard, but he holds me up as he stays upright. And suddenly I’m cold as shit and I can’t stop shivering and crying and I feel fucking ridiculous.

Way to go, couldn’t have had a sexier moment.

He doesn’t say a word but wraps the jacket he brought with him around my shoulders. It’s heavy and smells like him, and surrounded in it again my system seems to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his chest.

“No I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out-“

“Wasn’t you.” I say but I can’t even look up at him. This was way too embarrassing. I know I looked a mess.

“Let’s just get back into the…”

I follow him. He tucks me back into the backseat and crawls in behind me.

“Talk to me,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Did I do something?”

“No.” I wipe my face. He somehow finds a kleenex and hands it to me. I wipe myself down before speaking again but he’s patient. “Sorry. I just have a lot going on at home and it all just…”

When I don’t finish he shifts closer. I look up at him and I’m surprised at what I see. His mouth is turned down and there’s a crease between his brows, but his eyes watch me like I was a fragile puzzle he wanted to figure out. I was expecting him to look at me with fear or disgust but there’s none of it.

Oh god, it hits me in the wrong place. I pitch forward and he catches me against his chest as I cry some more. Somehow there were always more tears.

He rubs my back. “Hey talk to me, I know we’re not…you can talk to me.”

I shake my head. “It-it’s too much. I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?”

I sigh, lean back, try to discreetly wipe my nose but there’s nothing discreet in this intimate space Harry’s created. More intimate than when we were making out. His eyes are burning into me waiting for me to give him the key to help him unlock all of this.

But how do I tell him I didn’t have the key myself. That I was just sad and I didn’t know what to do with all of it.

“My family…there’s just a lot going on. My Nan’s moving away and just…a lot of changes. I can’t talk about it-“

“Then how do I make you feel better?”

I’ve got to stop being so surprised but I genuinely never thought those kinds of words would ever come out of Harry’s mouth. We were hooking up and yet he wanted to help me—he wanted me to talk.

“You can’t.”

“I believe I can,” he insists.

“I’m just…you don’t have to.”

“I know,” he lifts my chin and wipes the tears away. “Just tell me what you need. I’m here.”

“I just need…” I look at him. Study the soft curls sitting atop the angular cheeks and the steady curious eyes. His wonderful face on his intoxicating throat on his beautiful body. “You.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Please?” I reach for him with tears in my eyes but he’s already there. This time he lays me down gently and even though it’s an awkward fit by the time he’s peeling layer after layer off of us the place doesn’t matter. Just that he’s here, he sees me hurting, and he’s doing whatever this was to help me feel better.

I close my eyes and make myself be present in my body, feel his taut arms and his shoulders, the softness of his lips and how it feels when he moves against me. When he caresses me and holds me like a flame against a draft, careful but cherishing.

And later, we maneuver ourselves so that we lay together. My body is mostly draped over his and the blanket he brought lays over both of us. And normally I would think of how many other girls this blanket has seen but I feel too serene. I feel tucked in and protected in his arms.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. He kisses the top of my head. “And you never back down from a challenge. I’ve seen you be the smartest at our school, work your arse off every year. You’re gonna have such an amazing life after you head off to uni. You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.”

His words take mine away. I don’t know who this sensitive and sweet boy is who’s holding me together. As a few tears escape my eyes and down my cheeks he kisses them away.

“Salty,” he laughs.

“Probably good for all the sweetness right here,” I tap at his chest. He swallows and the look in his eyes tell me a story that scares me.

“My parents must have done something right—this is just being decent YN.”

“Mmm,” I kiss him. “You tell yourself that.”

“Is that a smile?” He asks. And it is, I’m smiling at him. “It’s a smile! Look at that. My car won’t even need the headlights on the drive home.”

“Stop,” I cover my mouth.

“No you stop,” he tugs my hand away and kisses my smile which ends in a clash of teeth but I don’t care.

And then suddenly I do. Because I feel something. Something endless and scary and exhilarating; the feeling of falling.

Don’t do this, I urge my heart. He’s not the kind of guy you fall for. That was the first rule in hooking up with him. This was just fun.

But I can’t deny this stopped being fun the moment he led me back to the car. The moment he tried to fix me.

“Maybe we should get home,” I say casually. “I sort of left everyone high and dry. I don’t want them to worry where I’m at.”

“Oh yeah I-shit! It’s already 10?”

“What!?” I look at his watch. I was surprised my parents hadn’t called wondering where I was. I’d missed dinner. Both dinners.

“Okay wait here.” He pulls on his clothes and leaves me some privacy as he begins adjusting the seats upfront from outside. The cold air gives me goosebumps but in that moment the only thing that was scaring me was this smile that wouldn’t leave my face and the inevitable heartbreak of falling for Harry.

But it felt so real. He felt so real.

But he’s not. He’s not even your boyfriend. He just felt bad and he was decent enough not to drive you straight home.

Suddenly my heart and my head clash and despite his reassuring hand on my thigh and his lingering kiss goodnight I walk to my door with a whole new problem on my plate. A problem that scares me more than I realized.

Present:

I guess Harry’s capacity for kindness also equalled in his cruelness because he had made sure his actions hurt me in the last few weeks. Until I took it into my own hands.

I can’t help but think though, whether either of us even won?

“Well have you thought how that arrangement’s gonna go?” Rhia asks.

Rhia was my bestest friend and we’d known each other since we were kids. She was there at my highest highs and lowest lows and today we sit at lunch and discuss uni. Now that her acceptance letter’s come in for her dream uni, for the first time in our lives we’d be so far apart it wouldn’t be a bike ride over. It would be a couple trains at least.

“Obviously we see each other during the holidays,” I count off on my hand. “And then we have to make summer plans-“

“Who’s making summer plans.” Our other friend Juni joins us. “I miss summer. I miss spring. I miss the sun.”

“It’s right around the corner.” I reassure her. It had been a particularly gloomy winter—especially for me.

“Well I’m mad about it now. Look, I even dressed in florals to feel something.”

“Florals? For spring?” Rhi and I say in unison. By the time we finish the quote from one of our favourite movies Juni’s joined in.

“Woah,” someone calls from the table beside us. “Are you lot auditioning for something?”

My friends roll their eyes. I look amused but the fact that it’s Harry asking trying to be friendly makes my stomach curdle.

“Jeez babe you’re actually gonna put a curse on him if you keep staring like that.” Juni lays a hand on me. “I thought things were civil.”

“They are,” I huff. “We had a civil talk. Nobody’s mad at each other.”

“Lie,” Juni says and I can feel her make eyes at Rhia.

“Shut up I’m not mad. I’m just…I dunno. Confused. Annoyed at myself?”

“I thought you set him straight. Played the player,” Juni whispers. Rhia kisses her teeth. “Sorry!”

“I did. It felt good. And now it doesn’t.”

“Was he that good…y’know?” Juni eyes Harry at the table beside us.

“Shut up!” I shove Juni. “He was just surprisingly nice. I thought he’d be a fuckboy about everything but aside from his past I didn’t get those vibes at all. And then he kept…” I sigh. I wasn’t going to get caught in this vicious cycle.

“From what I heard,” Rhia whispers. “He usually is like that though. Sleeps with a rotation of girls and never more than twice in a row. And he never hangs out with them inside school and he never makes things official and…”

She trails off as Juni and I stare at her. She flushes.

“Someone’s been keeping an ear for the goss,” Juni teases.

“What!?” She glares. “After YN I just tried to gather intel. To help. He broke his pattern with her. I was surprised myself every time he found her at a party and she ditched us-“

“Hey I thought you were cool with that.” I say.

“I am!” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m glad you got your distraction. But now it just feels like he was more than he was worth.

“Like now you need a distraction from your distraction.” Juni nods.

“Tell me about it.” I grumble. I pop another carrot stick in my mouth and as I chew Harry turns his head and we catch eyes. He does a head nod and I flash a quick smile before moving my attention away.

I wonder if his heart races as much as mine. Probably not.

“Guys I think I do need a new distraction.” I announce.

“Ooh,” Rhia and Juni leans in.

“Someone who doesn’t go to this school though. I really want to keep it apart from my day to day life. And it’ll be a one-time thing. Like a cleanse.”

“Like a cleanse.” They echo.

“Well I can check with you-know-who for all the eligible guys at that other stinky school.” Juni says enthusiastically. She had a crush/situationship that went there. We called him YKW because she didn’t want anyone to hear about how often she talked about him despite talking to him 2.5 times.

“More like if he thinks you’re asking for yourself he might get jealous enough to ask you out.” Rhia laughs.

“Ooh.” I join in.

“Shush.” She blushes. “Maybe. It’s all in the tone. Sound innocent but aloof like you don’t know how the question might affect them. And you really are innocent because you’re seriously asking for a friend.”

I laugh loud at Juni. No wonder I managed to pull off my con with Harry in the computer room when I had friends like Juni feeding me these bits of advice.

I feel Harry’s eyes on me, my laughter likely ringing too loud.

“But who wants to be in a relationship at this point?” Rhia asks. “It’s like 3 months to grad and then we get to meet uni folks.”

“Yeah,” I risk a glance toward’s Harry’s table. He’s not looking. “Exactly.”

Harry POV:

Another Saturday night, another house party.

My mum had made a fuss about me never being home weekends so I’d been forced to have dinner with the family and make small talk while my sister smirked knowing I was itching to get out, and my parents barrelled me with question after question about unis and my future.

I feel like my head’s finally above water and I’m taking my first gulp of fresh air when I pull up to the party. I was late of course but that just meant everyone would be a little drunk.

My eyes scan the crowds as I walk through, greeting some friends. The person throwing it was our coach’s nephew who was a year younger than us but somehow cool enough to be in the fold. It also helped that getting along with him gave us more insight on coach during football season.

“You’re late,” Dana who I’ve known since preschool spots me first. “This is a first isn’t it?”

“Yeah yeah my parents were making a big deal about missing dinner.”

“My parents are in Manchester for drugs,” Akil grins. He was coach’s nephew and his parents both worked pharmaceuticals. They were away often enough on work trips so a lot of parties took place here.

“When aren’t they?” Someone asks.

“Surprised you’re not here with a pair of long lashes and boobs,” Dana smarts. Since we’d known each other so long she was just like Gemma always on my case about the way I “used” girls.

“Now c’mon Dana,” I give her my attention. “This shirt didn’t fit the boobs and I was running late for the lashes.”

She rolls her eyes, “Hardy har.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Anyone you’re seeing.”

“I wish,” she crosses her arms. “I feel like half the girls I could be seeing are still closeted.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know!” She says. “Like how do you know when a girl’s straight for you.”

“Touche.” I agree. “And the other half?”

She clears her throat but before she could say something Ray jumps in.

“The other half can’t stand her.”

“Piss off.” She flips him off. The rest of us laugh, used to seeing the two cousins insult each other most of our lives. “More like the other half’s already slept with Harry.”

“I’m getting a drink,” I call out as the accusations go flying.

I leave my friends and sniff out the drinks in its usual spot in the dining room. The house was nice, nicer than most of the homes we had parties at, and yet it wasn’t one of those places that were cold. It was lived-in despite the weird decor along the walls from all of the residents’ travels.

I’m filling up my cup from the keg someone procured when I notice who exactly is in the corner of the room. The seconds stretch as I hone in on her and the friend she’s always with. My blood pumps extra hard just to keep me upright and functioning.

I’d seen her a ton of times since that conversation. We’d even passed a few hellos when forced but I haven’t been the same since.

I had told myself it was one of those things that needed to fully leave my system. Like bad weed or a shitty flu. And I’d waited weeks but everything between, everything I felt, stuck stubbornly.

And now my body betrayed me every time I saw her. I wanted her to look at me and see her expression change. I wanted to ask her how things were, I was fucking curious. Curious. It was awful.

Her friend is using her hands to explain something to YN and I can’t see her face entirely but she looks unconvinced. I nudge a little closer.

“-says so. And! He’s 5’11.”

“So he couldn’t even make it to 6 feet?” YN asks. I hold back a smile.

“YN!” Her friend whines.

“I’m joking!” YN says. “That was a joke jeez I don’t body shame as long as they’re above 5’6.”

Her friend—I think her name was June rolls her eyes. “Ok that was funny but I don’t know why you have cold feet. Just go up to him! You don’t have to date him. Rhi made small talk with him for recon he thought you were cute! And plus…”

I stop listening when the pieces click together. I don’t know why I thought YN and I hooking up would get whatever it was out of her system. Maybe because she never hooked up. Yet here she was being set up with someone else?

YN begins to turn and I move fast, like I was on the field, to get out of there.

“Were you brewing your own beer?” Akil asks.

“Are you timing how long it takes for me to get a drink?” I snap. “Jeez.”

“Easy,” Akil eyes me.

“Someone needs something stronger.”

I ignore them and take a slow breath. That was unwarranted. I don’t know why I was being so irritable with my friends.

In a few seconds my watered down cup is empty and I’m following the crowd to another part of the house.

“Oh Harry!” A pretty voice calls as we settle in. “I didn’t see you tonight—thought you weren’t showing.”

“He was just late don’t worry,” Dana says sweetly as…I think her name was Britney, sashays into the room.

“Yeah I was late,” I glare back at Dana. She didn’t have to talk for me. Then I watch her give Brit the once over and I realize she could be jealous.

“Yeah well we haven’t talked since that night and I just wanted to say,” she stretches up to my ear. “It was really fun. You always know exactly what I need.”

She stands on her toes and sets herself back down, bouncing a few times before cocking her head. Meanwhile I’m trying to place her.

I had kept pretty to myself the last few weeks. I try to remember the last time I had slept with someone and then it comes to me: the night YN and I had that talk after school.

“I had fun myself,” I hold my hand out and she steps inside of it, her arms going around my waist immediately.

“I thought you forgot,” she laughs.

“How could I forget?” I murmur, waiting for that rush of endorphins but my heart’s just not in it. I don’t want to be here chatting her up. I didn’t want to have to listen to her most of the night while my mates hung out. I didn’t want to find a room with her or drop her home. Fuck…I didn’t want to be with her.

That’s never happened before. My body feels foreign, like it’s going into shutdown as the realization slithers through me.

“Have you met Dana before?” I change the subject. I wanted her off of me. Asap. I didn’t care to be around her.

“Dana?” She looks over at Dana, confused. “Uhm no?”

“She’s great.” I say as Dana shoots lasers at me. “I’ve known her since preschool. But she has a bite so be careful what you say around her.”

“Oh,” Britney puts some distance between us as she looks between Dana and I. Good. “Okay? Hi?”

“Hi. Don’t mind him. I think he got drunk off one drink.” Dana glares.

“Unless you’re into biting,” I continue. But I get cut off when Akil calls Brit’s name.

She whips her head at the sound of her name. Akil’s waving. “Does your brother still do those custom decals Brit?”

“Uh yeah?” Poor Brit, she’s confused as shit.

“Yeah? Uh come over here so we can talk. Don’t wanna yell…” Brit abandons us happily and walks over to Akil. I mouth thank you to him and he flashes me a grin that’s up to no good.

“You dick!” Dana swings her hand into my ribs and I fold. “Why would you do that?”

“Ouch! What!?” I rub the sore spot. “Is she not part of half those girls you were talking about?”

“No! Why would you—oh my god.”

I shrug, “I thought she was. I was trying to introduce you two.”

“Do me a favour?” She asks. “Never ever ever play cupid for me. Ever. Don’t pull that shit again.”

I hold my hands up and settle back. Brit was gone at least but the low thrum of anxiety is not. I needed to step away.

“Maybe I need another drink. You want something?” I ask her.

“Really? Didn’t you drive here?” I raise a brow at her. I knew my limits. She shrugs. “Fine I’ll just have whatever you get for yourself.”

I ruffle her hair just to annoy her more as I leave. In all this uncertainty and change at least I still had my friends to banter with. But even then, I was being a dick earlier.

I use the toilet and then grab drinks. On my way out I spot YN and it must be the bloke June was talking about because he looks 5’11 and interested in YN. He looks familiar from the back but before I can focus on who he is I catch her smiling up at him saying something. I feel a twinge in my chest, I made her laugh when we were together. Was it me or did she just laugh at any joke? Maybe what we had wasn’t as unique as I thought.

“Harry.” Someone materializes beside me. It startles me out of my trance and I nearly spill my drinks. “Sorry!”

“You’re light on your feet,” I try to regain composure. And much shorter too. “Hi…June.”

“Eee.”

“Huh?” I stare at YN’s friend. Was she okay?

“You said June.”

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Juni?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Oh shit sorry. I…sorry.”

“That’s alright,” she shrugs and her cutting look is gone. “Why are you staring at my best friend so hard?”

I stare at her. It made sense suddenly, that this was YN’s best friend. She looks over my shoulder and her face brightens and suddenly somebody else joins our circle.

“Hey what’s going on?” Another one of YN’s friends.

“Just talking to Harry. About why he’s staring lasers at YN behind her back.”

My mouth opens in surprise; I feel cornered.

“Strange from a guy who plays girls like guitar and then moves on like a one-hit-wonder.” Her other friend says.

“Nice one.” Juni nods. “Spot on.”

“I don’t know what you two are on about,” I take a step away from them. It felt like an ambush. “I was just looking in that direction-“

“I’m not an idiot.” Juni rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you watch her in Chem. I sit in front of YN and every time I turn to talk to her i just see you like a freak in the back.”

“Is it a crime to look jeez.”

“Obviously not but listen, we all know you’re a fuckboy. And you…fuck around. We don’t know if it’s cuz you’re not used to rejection or what? But leave her be. She’s going through enough-“

“I know.” My defences rise. I knew now after some digging what she was going through. I haven’t approached her or bothered her as much as I’ve wanted for the last few weeks. I’ve wanted to do more than just look at her like it was a demanding need and I had kept it to myself.

I had been selfish and I know she was going through stuff. Grief and all that. I had no plans to fuck with her.

“Do you?” Her other friend asks.

“Yeah. Her grandpa and stuff. I get it. I’m not trying to…fuck around. You guys are like her bodyguards or something?”

“No just friends,” Juni crosses her arms. “We care about her.”

So do I, I almost say with my defences so triggered. Luckily I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut. Or maybe not. I’ve finally placed the guy she’s talking to and I can’t help but play the upper hand.

“If you cared about her you wouldn’t be hooking her up with a pothead that’s slept with a teacher and been arrested at least once for carrying.

Juni’s mouth drops and her other friend is staring at her.

“You’re lying!” She says.

I turn to look at YN who looks like she’s relaxed and having fun. My stomach turns. “I’m not. But don’t interrupt her now—she looks like she’s having fun.”

“But—how—what!” Juni looks at her friend. “Did you know?”

“Well I know he smokes sometimes but I-“

“Oh my god.” Juni looks mortified.

“I should go.” I should be leaving with satisfaction but all I can think about is YN maybe sleeping with this guy and I just feel sick.

“No you can’t!” Juni says. “Tell me what you know!”

“I did.” I raise my glasses. “My friends are waiting though. Nice talking June.”

Her mouth drops open again as I turn to leave to her shouting, “Juni you prick!”

I can’t deny that that didn’t bring me a bit of satisfaction.

Your POV:

He was incredibly attractive and I might have even blushed when he smiled at me with his full attention but other than that…I’m a bit bored. The thing is he hasn’t detached from his group of friends for one minute and even though he includes me in the conversations—and they are a very lighthearted and funny group, a lot of their inside jokes go over my head and it’s not because of the shots I’d done to get over my nerves tonight. And I’m pretty sure a couple of them are already high.

“And then he blackflips off the pole and-“ the friend telling the story starts laughing too much to finish and I smile along as Drevan shakes his head at me.

“They like to tell this story to pretty girls so they all know I’ve had concussions.”

“Concussions?!” I ask. “Like, multiple?”

Drevan shrugs but his friend hears me.

“Yes! He lands in the bin on his head and knocks himself out-“

“It was actually scary at first,” someone else pipes in.

“I would be shit scared.” These were clearly the type of guys who thought edging death was hilarious. Doubts creep in about whether Drevan was even hook-up material. How did Juni find this guy appropriate?

“I would be too if I was conscious.” Drevan says and everyone laughs.

As they talk about something else, Drevan snakes his hand around my shoulder and I smile at him. He winks and goes back to listening. At least he smelled nice.

My eyes wander the room spotting classmates and familiar faces. Rhia’s in the far end of the room and she gives me a thumbs up, I throw a grimace back. Her brows tighten and I shake my head subtly to tell her not to worry.

I hadn’t seen Harry yet, as hard as I was trying not to look for him. I knew he was probably in some dark corner with a new girl and I shouldn’t care because I was here with someone else.

“Hey YN how come we don’t see you around a lot?” One of his friends ask. All the names were thrown at me so long ago I can’t remember any of them.

“Oh I uhm,” I hate being put in the spotlight like this. “I’m just not a regular at these things.”

“I heard you’re smart as shit,” one of them says.

“Yeah I heard that too,” Drevan nods, impressed.

“I guess yeah,” I shrug. “I work hard to get good grades.”

“Good for you,” Drevan says. “So do you…do any…extracurriculars?”

I just know his definition of extracurriculars is not mine.

“Like do parkour onto the unstable bins at the back of school?” I ask.

“Nah,” he grins. “That’s funny though. I mean do you smoke or…”

Once. Rhia, Juni, and I had begged Rhia’s brother to let us have some of his stash last summer. We’d worn him down with our whining and he agreed to it if we stayed inside until we were sober. And we did, it was one of the highlights of last summer us giggling at everything and watching our favourite romcom while ordering takeaway and eating like we were 13. It was one of those days my life’s worries were able to slide away and I could just enjoy being a teen with my friends.

“I’ve dabbled,” I stay vague. “But it’s been a while.”

His eyes light up. “Want to join?”

I look around the group and the idea of swapping something between their lips to me—I’m sure they were fine but I didn’t know them and it makes my stomach squirm.

“Ehh I’m not big on swapping with everyone—no offence I just-“

“Yeah yeah no worries—I’ve got an uncle who’s like a germaphobe.” Suddenly he’s reaching into his pockets and comes up with a contraption. There’s weed and papers and some other stuff and it makes me laugh. “What?”

“It’s like a lab in your pocket,” I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“There’s enough to go around.” He grins. “So this one’s really concentrated but maybe that’s a bit much ehm…usually my line is I’ve got one for lovers and one for dreamers.”

Like I’ve summoned the devil, Harry appears in the doorway. I glance back at the group quickly so he doesn’t notice me watching him. Shite.

“I’ll take the lovers,” I shrug. Whatever that meant I figured the one for dreamers would get me more stoned which I’d rather not do here. Not that the one drag I plan on doing could affect me much.

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I smile. He starts to roll it up for me and it’s tighter than a Victorian woman in a corset. I’m sort of mesmerized at how adept his hands are at that. I fear I might have been led on by an actual stoner.

“What’s going on here?” Harry lazily makes his way beside me, hovering over where we sit just as Drevan holds it up to me.

“Heyy Styles c’mon over here!” They do a bro hug and I’m instantly irritated. Of course they know each other. “I was just letting her inspect my work before she takes it-“

“YN?” Harry looks at me and his eyes pierce me to the spot. “YN’s gonna smoke?”

“Yeah!” Drevan puts his arm around me again and unlike before I want him to take it back. “She chose the lovers special man—she’s into it!”

“Really?” Harry smiles. “YN I didn’t know you were into this stuff. I’ve really underestimated you.”

I give him a sarcastic smile. “I heard you’re good at that. I’m not into it but I do it occasionally…”

“Occasionally?” Harry raises a brow. Ugh I hated him.

Meanwhile Drevan’s lit it up and passes it to me. “First?”

I take it and just to prove a point I put it to my lips with my eyes on Harry and inhale exactly how Rhia’s brother taught us. It comes surprisingly easy.

“I’ll take a hit too.” Harry’s eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked in a challenge.

“Go ahead,” I hand it to him and a small thrill passes through me when his hand brushes mine, when I think about his lips being where mine had just been. I was so screwed.

“I love this guy,” Drevan says beside me, oblivious. “On the field Style’s a legend—he’s somehow made the most goals as a defence. I mean who does that!”

I raise my brows as Harry releases, “Styles not where he’s supposed to be? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Drevan laughs and Harry’s mouth quirks. Drevan takes the spliff from Harry’s outstretched hand but not before being Harry’s number one fan.

“He’s actually a speed demon. Everytime I’m on the field with him I know my legs are done in.”

“That’s because you’re stoned at every game,” Harry says.

“True! I pass every piss test they make me do though don’t I?”

“I don’t want to know,” I put my hand up. “How that’s possible.”

“Yeah sorry sorry,” Drevan smiles. Unfortunately he’s really handsome but the more the picture of him comes together and the more he goes on about Harry the more I know I wore my best matching set for nothing. “Lady present. Did you want another before I pass it?”

“Yeah do you?” Harry eyes me and only because he said it and because I’m feeling nothing so far (my eventual downfall), I take another. I try not to inhale too much but I don’t know how to do a short puff. I hope I don’t regret it. The smell coming off was already a lot.

“Mate?” Drevan asks Harry. He shakes his head. What a snake!

Drevan passes it on and of course Harry decides to stay standing and talking with the group. Apparently a few of them are in a band and they’re trying to convince Harry to help them out. Pretty soon I’m zoning out and my stomach feels funny.

“I don’t know if I feel so great,” I tell Drevan quietly. So what if it looks like I’m whispering sweet nothings in his ear if someone like Harry was watching.

“Oh shit,” Drevan turns into me. “You should get some water. Lay down? D’you want me to help you find-“

“No,” I did not want to hang out with Drevan anymore. He was nice but a pothead. “I got it. It might just be cramps.”

He nods like he understand, “I’ve got two younger sisters. I get that. If you feel better or want some more just come back here okay?”

“Thanks,” I try to convey my appreciation with a smile but I might just look like I’m high.

I ignore Harry as I leave the small group but a hand on my arm stops me as I round the couch.

“Find me later if it gets weird.” He says in my ear.

I lean back so I can see his face but he’s entirely serious. His eyes search mine as I stare at him blankly.

“The weed. Find me later if you need anything.”

He lets go of me. What the fuck? What would I need from him? He wants me to find him later when he’ll have a girl draped all over him just so I can seem needy and he can feel needed. Ugh.

“Girly!” I hear Juni’s voice and nearly collapse into her arms when I crash into her right outside the room.

“Juni oh my god. I’m so glad you’re here where’s Rhia?”

“I dunno? She found some old friend she knew when she was like 6 or something and she’s disappeared to catchup or whatever.”

“Oooh,” I wiggle my brows.

“No it’s legit an old friend. She moved when they were kids or something.”

“Aw,” I sigh. “That was the weirdest-“

“I’m so sorry,” she holds my arms and takes me onto the steps. “I’m gonna kill that guy I swear to god.”

“What? Drevan? No! He was really sweet!”

“No! My guy. YKW. I was trying to make him jealous while he was taking the piss because he totally recommended the class stoner and I pushed you onto him without doing any research! I feel awful!”

“It’s alright! He was really respectful actually. Maybe my type if he wasn’t a pothead?”

“No. No YN do not go there. Apparently he slept with a teacher!”

“No!” I gasp. “Do you think he was their dealer?”

“Obviously! And they probably couldn’t pay so he set up a barter system.”

“How much do you think one round covers?”

We pause to think before cackling at the story we’d just created.

“We’re idiots. Class idiots.” Juni says as we wipe our tears.

“I love us.” I say and realize how true it is. “I love you Juni. Honestly I don’t know where’d I’d be without you. And Rhia. You guys have kept me so together this past year.”

“Aww,” Juni hugs me sideways. “What are forever friends for babe.”

“Like I feel like I’ve just been going through a shitstorm and everything is still changing so much! And I can’t figure anything out! And you and Rhia are like standing on either side of me just keeping me up. I seriously-“

“Jeez don’t cry!” Juni wipes my lashline. “I don’t want to cry if I’m going to tear YKW a new one.”

“You haven’t already?”

“No! I was busy being a creep in the corner watching you to make sure Sir Pothead didn’t do any funny business. I saw you smoke his weed though. You alright?”

“Yeah. Maybe I just need the toilet I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”

“Okay. Just call me if you need me alright?”

“I love you,” I tell her. I want to squish her against me but I start to feel really poorly. “I’m gonna go though.”

“Go!” She waves me off. “I’ve got some yelling to do.”

The walk to the toilet is a fog and I run the tap to splash my face. It feels extra cold so I dial it down but it gets too hot. Suddenly I want to cry.

“Breathe,” I tell myself. “Breathe breathe breathe breathe. Oh my god. Okay. Let’s go with cold water.”

I splash the tundra water on my neck and along my throat. It feels better-ish.

I realize I hadn’t turned on the light when I can’t even see my reflection.

“Stupid,” I laugh. I turn it on and immediately stop laughing. My face…it’s drooping. Am I having a stroke?

I pull my cheeks up with my palms and squish it into my face but every time I let go I look like I’ve lived another 30 years and gravity has taken’s it’s toll on my face.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself. I whisper it again because it sounds nice. It feels good to swear. I say it again, a little louder and I laugh because I have no idea what’s going on.

I squeeze my eyes closed, shake my face, and look back. I look somewhat normal. My neck looks splotchy though. I rummage through a drawer but other than a blowdryer there’s nothing to help me.

“You’re an attractive girl and you’re just feeling a little fucked.” I tell myself in the mirror. “You-“

“Hurry!” Bang. “Up!” Bang.

I jump out of my skin and turn to stare at the door. Did I imagine that?

“Hello!” Bang.

Another succession of banging and shouting to get me out of the bathroom. How dare they?

I fling the door open and the guy on the other side startles.

I lean in and poke his chest. “Rude. Fucking rude!”

“I need the toilet!”

“I am a lady using it that’s rude! You don’t bang on the door like a fuckass while I’m in there!”

“Okay!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry! I had to use it and you were in there for hours!”

“It was not hours!” I say but even I can’t tell. “You’re a liar too!”

“I can’t do this I’ve got to go, here look I’m sorry-“ he shoves something into my hand and scrambles away, locking the door behind him.

It’s a glass bottle and it feels deliciously cold.

I inspect the bottle but it looks like beer. A few swigs and I finally feel less flushed. Less agitated. This was nice. This was perfect. Maybe he was an angel in a miserable disguise.

“Mmmm,” I laugh. Maybe I needed to dance. I felt like dancing.

I pass a few crowds, some rooms; when I see dancing I slide in. I don’t know what’s playing but it feels like it’s coming from my heart and it’s spilling out from me. Like I was the speaker. I spin around a few times so everyone can hear it, so the whole room could have just as much fun as me.

“Oh fuck,” I swear as the spinning catches up to me. “Not a good idea.”

I crouch into a corner and try to be patient. Wait for it to pass. But every second feels like a fucking decade and I don’t have the time.

“Hey are you alright?” A nice girl with cartoon-like eyes asks me. I know her. I just can’t remember where.

“Are you?” I ask. “I’m grand.”

“You don’t look it,” she smiles awkwardly. “Can I help you up.”

“I can get up,” I say but my legs feel tangled and she helps me up without asking eventually.

“Can I take you somewhere? Your friends or?”

“No no relax, you’re so nice!” I pat her shoulder. “And you have amazing bangs. I wish I looked good in bangs. My Nan cut my bangs when I was 12, microbangs!? And I wished I was never born! My face looked like a fucking square like a piece of toast! Oh god I could use toast right now. With beans. Uhhhhhh-“

“Hey,” the nice girl leans me against the wall. “How about you stay here and I get you water?”

Suddenly I remember Drevan telling me to drink water. I’m sure I had water but I nod. Water wouldn’t kill me. Unless I was drowning. Which is funny because I used to swim competitively. Like if I was in a thriller my parents would know I was murdered because I would have died drowning. I smile to myself just as a water bottle is held out to me.

“You know plastic’s killing the earth,” I take the bottle. “Isn’t it funny we bottle water in plastic when it’s free flowing out there? Hey do you know how to swim? You look like you could-“

“Drink!” She urges but she blushes. “You really should drink the water. You might be drunk…or high. You’re too wordy for a drunk.”

“I don’t know what I am.” I say after drinking half the bottle. “Actually I’m alive.”

She smiles at me and she’s really really nice to look at. “You are alive.”

“Yeah! I love being alive. Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t dance,” she shakes her head. “Plus I have to get back…Um. It was nice talking to you.”

“Nooo!” I clutch her hand. Her hands feel incredibly soft.

“Ow!” She pulls her hand away laughing. “You’re really squishing my hand.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry. You should call someone if you’re here. And you don’t feel good.”

“No I’m great!” I show her a dance move. “See? I can call my friend Juni. She’s great. You should find her you two could be friends! But I’ll call her first.”

“Okay,” she smiles again. “See ya around YN!”

I didn’t know her name. Oh no! I look for her but she’s disappeared into thin air.

I go back to dancing until my legs hurt and I’m thirsty all over again.

I wander to the front of the house in search of drink but I’m distracted by the chandelier that looks like it’s made of stars. I wonder how that’s possible. I stand at the foot of the staircase staring at it, the light was reflecting off of one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

“What are we looking at?”

Harry. His head is level with mine and he’s staring at the ceiling.

“That? Duh.” I point to the stars. “It’s bloody beautiful.”

“It is,” he chuckles and the sound feels like it vibrates through me. Like those steel pans you hit with a mallet and it reverberates. “I can see you’re in the full throes of your high.”

“You’re high.” I retort as he stands back to full height. He really was high.

“Not really. But you,” he laughs, “you really inhaled that thing.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Barely. If I’m getting high I don’t like so much thc. Fucks with my head a little.”

“So then why’d you do it Styles?” I mock Drevan. I don’t know why. I just remember it had grated on me a little and it feels good to say. Like swearing. But staring up at him starts to make me feel dizzy as he sways around.

“Harry.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Harry.”

Weirdo. “Okay. Harry. Why’d you do it?”

“Because you were doing it.” He says with a flash of his dimple.

“So you’re a copycat? A follower?” I taunt. “Monkey see monkey do?”

“As long as we’re the pair of monkeys.” He leans in and the smell of him envelops me. “Then yeah. I am.”

His words, his smell, his presence. Whatever it is I lean away from the much-ness of it. I don’t know what to say to him.

“Well I dunno who you’re cal—woah.” I lean too far back and underestimate how far away the stair behind me is. I land on my bum with a thump.

“Hey,” Harry grabs my arm a second too late.

“Bad reflexes,” I point to his arm but it’s too late. My stomach dips and twirls like a fucking roller coaster and his hand on my arm feels more inappropriate than it is. But his touch. God, it’s warm and strong and stable. I needed that. Craved it.

A small voice screams at me in my head and I tell it to shut up. What did it know?

“That’s my bad,” he lets me go. I want to shout at him to bring it back.

“Your bad what?” I stare at his hand that’s no longer on my arm. I want it back.

“My bad reflexes.”

“I just said that.”

“I know! I’m saying you’re right.”

“Of course I’m fucking right!”

I finally drag my eyes up to his face. Goddamn. He looks just like I did in the mirror; his face slowly drooping like he’s aged 50. Still got a full head of hair though. It’s kind of nice.

Not you being attracted to a 50 year old.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Harry asks but I can’t stop staring. How can he look good with a sagging face? And he’s got no wrinkles. I knew time was feeling really slow but had we aged that much tonight?

“YN?” His face disappears from view and then I feel it again—his hand on me. Oh god. His hand’s on my face to lower it until I’m looking at him. Eye-level.

He’s crouched down in front of me and his eyes are pools I want to drown in. Which would take a lot of effort because I am a really good swimmer. Maybe I could fake drown. I zip through the possibilities in a few seconds. There were so many of them.

He says my name again but it sounds far away. Slow. Like he’s pronouncing every letter. His brows further—there! A wrinkle! I laugh but his eyes just fill with something…something that reminds me of the night I cried in front of him. When he just looked at me like…

“Your face,” I slap my hands down on both his cheeks and he balances himself on the bannister, nearly falling back. “It’s drooping.”

“It’s what?” He laughs.

I smush his cheeks up and try to fix it, not that it needed to be fixed. He was stupidly attractive always.

“Drooping! Sagging! I just need to push it up! I’ve done it before don’t worry.”

“YN,” his fingers circle my wrist and I stop what I’m doing immediately. Surely he feels how erratic my pulse is. Like a machine gun releasing into his finger.

Don’t look into his eyes don’t look into his eyes don’t-

Damnit.

Green and never-ending, a question I’m afraid to answer, an emotion that I felt myself but denied, the beginning of something I could not step into. I could not step into. I could not step into this.

With a gentle tug he’s removed my hands off his face and now, even worse, they lay on top of his.

Maybe…I could step into this.

“Talk to me, what’s happening?” He asks but again it sounds like a Tiktok video I’ve put into 0.75.

I can’t talk. My hands are in his but it feels like my heart’s there instead and like my mouth has travelled to the back of my head. He wants me to talk. Like I did that night. He looks at me like he cares. Like that night. He’s not supposed to care.

Why didn’t I take the high road that afternoon—my brain scrambles as the joke writes itself: I was taking the high road today whether I liked it or not. But I chose to be petty when we talked. Why would I want to hurt him? He cared. He wasn’t supposed to though.

“I thought weed was s’posed to calm you down.” I finally manage to get it out.

“You chose the wrong one for calming down.” He laughs. The sound washes over me.

“Huh? I’m not calm. My mind is a factory for thoughts. The production is endless I feel like I’m going to explode and everyone’s going to know everything in here.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He squeezes my hands. I squeeze my legs. “Might be nice for top class YN YLN to join us mortals and share some regular thoughts.”

“Oh these are not regular. Fuck. Drevan should’ve given me a warning.”

He smiles fondly and I hate it and I love it. “He did.”

“What!?” I’m so confused right now. “Stop! I don’t like how I’m feeling!”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Yeah! Th-that miserable angel gave me…I dunno. He just gave it to me after being an asshat what was I s’posed to do!”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” he mutters and I feel the words through my hands. That are still touching mine.

“Why are you still holding my hands?”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No.”

He slips them away. But that wasn’t what I meant.

“No I want you to touch me,” I say. His eyebrows which looks one inch tall shoot up. I reach out to flatten them and they return to normal.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Y-you do?”

I reach out to touch his face again because it just feels like it fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand. It’s warm and alive and a little prickly. But it feels so nice. He feels nice. I want him to touch me too. I nod.

“How?” He turns his face in my palm and it’s like bristles against my soft skin but then his lips press against my palm. I find it harder to breathe like all the air’s gone to my head.

He looks back at me and I want what his gaze has. I want every single thing they’re communicating. I felt like I could read his mind; we both took a hit of the same thing, maybe I can.

“Like that,” I whisper.

“Like this?” His fingers circle my wrist and he kisses it, exactly where my pulse continues on its kill streak. I don’t think I needed weed or anything because his kisses alone make me feel high. The kind of high I did with my friends. The fun high.

I can’t speak. I simply nod.

“Y’sure?” He kneels on the step below me and I unsqueeze my legs. His hands cage me against the step I’m on and he’s all around me, and even though he hasn’t touched me yet it’s like his essence vibrates out to touch mine. Like maybe they meet in the middle and create something delicate and bewitching.

“I’m sure,” I manage to say.

I feel perfectly overwhelmed as he leans into me and presses a kiss to my throat. But it’s too slow.

“You’re killing me,” I tell him when he kisses me again by my ear.

“That was your job,” he comes back to face me.

“It’ll be my job if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry’s swear catches me off guard.

“What?”

“You say those types of things in my dreams. I never thought I’d hear them out of those lips of yours again.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind literally quiets. Finally. It feels sobering.

“I can’t give you what you want out here.”

Then he’s standing. He’s fucking standing and further away from me than before. How dare he! How-

Oh.

He extends a hand and I take it, I let him pull me up and with a hand to my back that feels like a pulse he leads me upstairs. And then up another flight. He walks like he knows the place and everything blurs until he closes a door behind him. My heart beats like an elephant stampede until he comes back to me and cups my face, looks at me in that exact Harry way, and kisses me.

I’m falling but I’m unafraid. There’s his strong and steady arms to catch me at the end.

We make our way to the bed and I feel it. That’s everything. I just feel the sounds and colours and emotions and touch, the air and the bedpost and the way he says my name against me. I feel it. I feel it grounding me.

“Wait,” when he pulls away I nearly launch myself at him but I feel too relaxed to even be mad. He’s perched on the bed with me between his legs. I keep my hands around his neck because I couldn’t bare to have them by my side. “Should we be doing this? You’re not really with it and-“

“I’m not bloody unconscious.”

“I know but you’re not in the right mindset.”

“I’m practically begging you to touch me Harry. You’re really slow for someone who’s meant to be a womanizer.”

“Hold on,” he puts his hands back on my waist and I relax marginally. “It’s a consent thing. I know my way around women perfectly.”

I knew.

“I consent. ‘Kay?”

“But you’re high and probably drunk? I don’t-“

“You’ve never slept with someone high?”

“Yeah! But you’re….you’re you!”

“What’s that mean?” I frown. I unclasp my hands and take a step back.

He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “Not like that. Come back. I mean you don’t normally do this sort of thing. It’s obviously the first time you’ve taken a hit from something this strong and…” all the words taper off as I cross my arms. “Okay! Nevermind! You’re alright with all this?”

“Yes. Yes a hundred bajillion million times. Do you want me to walk in a straight line with my finger on my nose?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No I’m sorry.”

It’s nice, him apologizing. It thaws me a little. When I’m close enough he tugs me back by the jeans and unbuttons them slowly. Everything was too slow.

“What were you saying about begging?” He grins up at me. I liked when he was looking up at me.

“I said practically.”

His hands roam freely up under my tee and I feel like I’m melting. Like a literal scoop of ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

He fingers my bra and his brows suddenly come together. It’s very animated I almost laugh.

“Take this off,” he removed his hands from my body and tugs at the tee. I do what he tells me to, just wanting his hands on me again. When it’s a pile on the ground he leans back, cocking his head to the side.

“What?” I throw my hands up. “You’re gonna ask me just t’stare?”

“No this,” he leans forward again and uses the band of my exposed knickers to pull me forward. When I’m close enough he eyes my bra. “This was for him?”

A flush erupts under my skin and it feels volcanic. Some of it pools in my belly and the rest creeps up my neck.

The this is my one and only 2 piece set I’d kept for special occasions. Well a singular one before my ex broke up with me last year. It had seen the light of day once in between and tonight I had worn it for luck. It’s lacy and black and makes me feel confident. In front of Harry it makes me feel powerful.

He was jealous. Of course the one guy that sleeps with whoever he wants would be the jealous type.

“Maybe,” I egg it. Even though I am desperate for this night to move on I can’t deny the thrill of having him be jealous. It affirms the needy part of me that wanted to believe we had something different—the part rational me wouldn’t ever pay attention to.

“So you planned it all out?” He removes his fingers from my waistband and leans back again. “You were going to come here, in that, and sleep with…him?”

“Why not him?” I bite my smile but I barely feel what my face is doing. “If it’s too much for your ego I wore this for someone el-“

“No.”

He says it as a complete sentence. I am gagged but I try my best not to show it.

“I just don’t like the idea of it.”

“Well,” I step in between his legs. His eyes are so dark I have to think just to remember the colour they usually were. “This isn’t the first time so better get used to the idea.”

“But you’re here with me tonight.”

“I am…lucky you.” I can’t help the chesire grin from creeping in. I climb atop the bed, one knee on either side of him. This was taking too long. I needed him all over me.

He leans all the way back into the bed with a noisy sigh.

I lean in, “jealous aren’t you?”

“Do you like that?”

I lean further until I could smell his pulse. “D’you want me to like that?”

“Yeah,” he gulps. “W-would you ever be? Jealous?”

I kiss his throat. I want to bite it. Like a vampire. I resist.

“You’re not mine to be jealous.”

“Do you want me to be?” He asks so earnestly I lean back to see his face.

“Mine?” I ask. He nods. I did. I didn’t. I did. But I didn’t. “Mmmm don’t think you’re ready for that.”

“Ouch,” he says softly. His hands settle on my hips.

“Don’t ouch me. You’ve never had a long-term relationship and you run.”

“You’re different. You make me feel different.”

Same. But instead I ask, “And in three months time when we’re…gone and in different cities?”

“I’ll never stop wanting you.”

We fix each other with a stare equal parts frustrated, curious, and cautious. It was getting too serious—I didn’t want to ruin my chances of getting my needs met tonight. I clear my head and ease the tension.

“You’re jus’ saying this to get into my pants aren’t you?”

He plays along, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. Now be a good boy and help me out of them.”

His mouth opens a little, honestly I don’t know where that even came from. I blame it on the drugs. He helps me out and when I’m only in the 2 piece he stops me.

“I’m never forgetting this night. Ever.”

“Shut up and get over here.” I roll my eyes. He was full of it.

His lips on me are like no drug anybody could ever hand me. They’re confident and unafraid, exploring every inch of me like a pirate looking for lost treasure. They make me gasp and beg and feel the entire universe and every single thing ever creates.

It leaves me untethered but he wraps me in his arms and I’m safe. I’m here with him. And for tonight, we’re together. With every move we build a universe just us.

H’s POV:

For the first time in my life I pray for red lights.

Every time my car stops I get to look at her in my passenger seat and I want to pinch myself. I can’t believe tonight was real. That she’s real. That even after everything, we got to have tonight together.

She’s got lowered inhibitions you just got lucky, a part of me says. And I know that. I know tonight was a one-off. She was never going to be this YN with me again.

Where I used to be afraid of this, of committing to her. I want it. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. When she said I wasn’t ready she was right but I didn’t want her to be. Maybe I had to change.

“Hey you’re home,” I say after being parked outside her house for a few minutes and just soaking in the last moments. It was warm in the car and quiet except for the low hum of the radio because YN had said it was making her sleepy. When she first sat in the car she had looked up at me through her long lashes for so long I had forgotten to turn the ignition on. When we realized she had laughed and leaned over to kiss me. Sweetly on the cheek. Like a girlfriend might.

I’d never wanted a girlfriend before.

It hurt knowing she might not even remember tonight. Or if she would it would be overshadowed by her other feelings. The feelings that came with baggage.

It was different seeing her so carefree tonight. I wonder if that’s how she was before all the stuff with her grandparents. And suddenly I’m mad at myself for not paying attention sooner. At her ex for hogging her for all that time. I imagine I met her earlier and could help her through the storms of last year.

God, I was becoming a simp. I look at her again, I didn’t care. Not if it was for her.

I open my door and go around into the street to open hers. As afraid as I was that her parents would find me outside with their basically passed-out daughter I just knew she couldn’t make it to the front door alone.

“Hey sleepy monkey, we gotta get you inside.”

“Huh?” She squints, blinks a few times. It was adorable and it makes something squirm in my chest. “Whatimeist?”

“Uhhh,” I look at my phone and notice the texts from a few people. “Half past 2 or so.”

“Oh god,” YN groans and covers her face with her jacket.

While she orients herself I check my messages. Akil had asked where I disappeared, Gemma’s asking me if I’ll be home for breakfast, and Dana asking me if YN was alright.

I owed it to Dana, she had found YN in a right state as she told me and that had pushed me to go looking for her where I’d found her in a daze staring at the ceiling lights. Thank god I had.

YN removes her legs from the car with a thump and then slumps over. I catch her this time and pull her up, closing the door behind her.

“You’ll have to help me a little,” I grunt.

“Mmk,” she mumbles. She wraps her arm around me and tucks into me and I take her to her front door.

“Keys.”

She paws at her jacket and eventually finds a pair.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I whisper. “So I’m going to unlock the door and give you back your keys.”

“Why are you whispering?” She whispers back. “Huh?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble!” I shout-whisper.

“Silly boy,” her eyes crinkle with a laugh. “My parents aren’t home.”

“Oh.” Suddenly the night stretches ahead.

“They’re travlingain.” She yawns. “You can sleepover?”

“No.” I couldn’t I realize with a wash of shame. Because waking up to her I don’t know what that meant. As much as I denied her claim about me not being ready deep down she was right.

She pouts and I busy myself with opening her door. She’s like a leech on me as I try to get her through and I end up inside with the door closing behind me.

“Drop me to bed?”

“You want to be tucked in?” I tease. She nods with a tired smile.

Who was I to deny such a cute face.

She leads me to her room, most of the house is too dark to see so I rely on her. Once in her room she turns on a lamp and sets about getting pjs.

“I’m gonna hate myself if I don’t,” she points to her face. “Ughhhh.”

“Glad I don’t relate.” I say but already I’m looking around her room. Every surface has something; I didn’t take YN as a collector but there’s piles of things everywhere. Seashells on her bookshelf, postcards on her wall, plushes on her bed, jewellery on her dresser next to miniature fruit figurines. I pick up a tiny pomegranate the size of my nail.

“I’m making them into earrings.” She says behind me. “My Nan likes that sort of thing.”

I didn’t expect her so fast. I turn and she sounds more sober and looks it too. Her face is freshly washed and she’s in an oversized shirt but only her legs peek out underneath. I recall the strength of them as they locked around my body just an hour ago, the sound of her and the feel of her—it was tattooed into a part of my brain.

But the YN presented before me is a lot like the one I see at school, and for a moment I get ready for her to kick me out. Accuse me of something. Go cold on me.

But she shuffles over and wraps her arms around me, lays her head on my chest. I slowly wrap my arms around her. The moment feels soft.

“Thanks for dropping me,” she says quietly. “I feel so fucked.”

“I know,” I chuckle. “You’ll be brand new in the morning. I made you drink a couple bottles of water before we left.”

“I don’t remember,” she mumbles tiredly.

“Let’s get you tucked into bed.” I say. She follows, and giggles the whole time I exaggeratedly tuck in every side of her. I love every second of it and I can’t believe it. If you told Harry of a month ago I would be doing this and having more fun than I’ve had with any girl I’d tell you to you were fucking with me.

“Stay? ‘Til I sleep?” She asks as soon as I finish.

I hesitate. I was so afraid a switch would go off any second, she would regret everything from tonight. I don’t realize how tense I am about it until a hand sneaks out from under the duvet and grips mine.

“Hey I just tucked you in!”

“Sorry!” She slips it back in with a shy smile.

“Fine,” I grumble and climb atop the blankets. At least this way I wouldn’t get too comfortable.

She turns to face me and we just watch each other in the warm glow of her lamp until her eyes flutter close. I wait until her breathing goes even and then I gently climb over her, kiss her goodnight, and leave. My heart chips further as I step over the threshold of her house. A little more as I drive away.

***YN:

I’m trying to remember which club I had tonight as I grab the textbooks I need from my locker for morning classes. My second period was so far away I just liked to get everything in at once.

The face that greets me as I close my locker door has my heart racing.

I wait for the familiar edginess but when I look at him I just feel confused. And a bit sad. Or that could be because he’s looking at me like I have the last Easter egg and I might share it with him for a prize.

“Harry,” I greet him.

“YN.” He says equally serious before cracking a smile.

He’s different. Friendlier? Or lighter?

“What?” I look around me. He raises his brows so I raise mine back. It feels silly.

The last time I saw him was at the party smoking weed laced with god knows what—I barely remembered the party after that which was entirely unlike me. All I could find was a text from Rhia asking if I’d made it home and when asked Juni had said she had left me looking fine and she couldn’t find me afterwards but she heard I might have been sick.

“Did you make it in alright?” He finally asks. “You got surprisingly fucked up Saturday night.”

I know he was there at the beginning. And I remember talking to him about something later, maybe the stars? It’s such a haze. But the way Harry’s looking at me makes my stomach turn; there was a possibility something could have happened.

It was weird waking up safely in my room with only a vague notion of how I got there. I remember someone waking me up and being in my room but I woke to an empty bed. An empty house.

Usually I slept at Nan’s when mum and dad travelled but I was still not talking to her much. The house felt emptier. My room felt different. My clothes from the night before had smelled like weed. It was not cute.

“Uh yeah I did?” Why was he talking to me so casually? I match his vibe in hopes of understanding the weekend better. “I didn’t have a hangover luckily. But I don’t think weed normally does that? I was incredibly hungry though. Like…I made a breakfast for five at least.”

Oh god and now I was blabbering. I was nervous! I don’t know if he had anything to do with Saturday night and I didn’t know how to act around him being so nice!

“Yeah well I think you had fun Saturday.”

I freeze. “What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing. I only remember bits.”

“Uh,” he falters. “Uh well I…I heard. That um, you were dancing and having the time of your life so.”

“Kill me,” I groan.

“That’s not my job.” He jokes but I don’t get it. His smile falls, his brows pinching together. It’s so unlike him.

“I don’t get it.”

“Nothing. Bad joke.”

“Right.” As the time ticks closer to first bell the hall we’re in crowds more with tired teens. “Is that why you stopped by? To ask about making it home?”

“Erm, not really. I guess…was just gonna ask if you were coming to football?”

“Today?”

“Yeah the game after school.”

“Isn’t it early in the season?”

“It is but we’re doing a scrimmage against our ‘favourite frenemies’. It’ll be good. You should come. Your dealer might even be there.”

I ignore the dealer comment. “Are you short a cheerleader Styles?”

The banter pauses as he stares at me and I nearly ask him if he’d hit his head over the weekend when he clears his throat, “Harry.”

“Huh?”

Another pause where he looks like he’s doing quantum physics in his head. “Nevermind.”

What the hell? My skin prickles as heat creeps in.

“So you’re in need of a cheerleader?” I say lamely, just to dial down the intensity. Something had to have happened right? Last thing I remember I had “walked away” with pride but a chipped heart and we’d been polite to each other in school. Suddenly he’s here being boyish and friendly, and I’m here like I skipped a chapter and I’ve got a pop quiz again.

“Are you volunteering?” He asks.

“I forgot my outfit at home. I’ll have to pass altogether.”

I sidestep him and start walking away.

“Wait,” he runs ahead to stop me and gets dirty looks as he intercepts the path of a few students heading to class. “What if I said….I’d like for you to come.”

I stare. Like perhaps he’s grown a second head. Because he sort of has. It was just as pretty but much nicer and it’s sort of terrifying.

Did I cry to him some more? Was he pitying me?

“Why would you say that?” I ask genuinely.

“Well uh, you heard about my playing, I’d like for you to see it.”

“So you need cheerleaders.” I echo.

He searches my face but he must not find what he’s looking for. Something slides across his features that I don’t catch fast enough but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless. This casual conversation felt precarious. I needed it to end until I had more context.

I raise my brows and it prompts him to actually respond.

“Nevermind uh that’s alright. I’m sure you’ve got books to read and clubs to conquer right?”

A speck of guilt lodges itself in my throat. “Something like that.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I had to ask! I’ll just have to find someone who brought their pom poms to school today.”

“Good luck!” I call after him, kind of wishing he wasn’t walking away. But he was. And that’s when I realize why he was lighter. He’d been standing in front of me talking without that ego of his. And openly in front of anyone walking by and he didn’t care. Then I’d rejected him.

Ugh. Maybe I’d have to turn up to that game if I could. But before then I had to try as hard as possible to figure out what the hell happened the other night.

***

“You guys need to tell me what happened Saturday night. As much as you can remember. After that conversation Juni you and me. And I remember going to the loo. And then I remember talking to Harry maybe? Please tell me.”

“Shite.” Both my friends eye each other. “What’s led this on?”

“Harry! He was bring incredibly nice to me today. In public! I feel like something happened but I can’t bloody remember!”

“Well he did drop you home,” Rhia says so casually. I whip towards her and at the same time both Juni and I shout “What!?”

“What!” Rhia says defensively. “I didn’t realize you didn’t remember that part! You seemed pretty sober by then.”

“You totally missed telling that detail that night! How dare you let her go anywhere with that pig! Sober or not!” Juni breathes fire. I’m surprised because on Friday she didn’t hate him this much. What the hell happened Saturday?

“Well she seemed fine. I double checked—YN I doubled checked with you you were okay with that. You told me it was fine. He was just dropping you home and he wasn’t drunk!”

“Wait wait back up. Tell me everything.”

So Rhia tells me how I’d texted her I was leaving with Harry and he was dropping me. How she’d rushed to the front of the house to catch me—and she had. I was alone trying to get my arms through my jacket and failing. She had asked me if everything was okay, I’d told her I was still coming down from the high and Harry was taking me home. How I wanted him to.

Then apparently Harry had shown up with water for me. And Rhia thought that was helpful. She watched, shocked, as he helped me into my jacket one sleeve at a time like I was in preschool. Then she’d got up in his face and had him swear he’d take me right home. Even took down his number in case I stopped responding.

“So was I with him the whole night?” I ask.

Rhia and Juni shrug.

Juni contributes: “Well that girl that hangs out with them—bangs, really big brown eyes? She came up to me when I was alone and asked if I was Juni and she told me you were dancing in this room and you looked a bit sick.”

I groan. Harry had said something about dancing.

“I tried to find you but you disappeared. I was worried and tried to find Rhia but she disappeared!” Juni looks at her with an accusation.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to desert!”

“Yeah well then I got distracted and by the time I went looking for you again this one here told me you’d gone home. She failed to mention who with.”

Rhia rolls her eyes.

I hold my head in my hands. “Guys this is a nightmare. I am having massive regrets. Can regrets give you a hangover? I feel hungover!”

My friends try to reassure me as much as I can but it’s no use. I feel like my life is spinning out again.

As far as the pieces I could put together: after the loo I’d danced and Harry’s friend found me—I think I knew her from when I did swim, maybe her name started with an M? Now that I thought about it I do vaguely remember her asking me a question. Maybe that’s how Harry found me. Because of her. And then he took me home? I hope?

No that was the story I had to go with. Otherwise I would spiral. I repeat it to my friends and they confirm it sounded right-ish.

“But that was sweet of him right? To drop me off home and leave the party early?” I ask my friends.

“Yeah-“ Rhia starts to say but Juni holds her hand out.

“Don’t bloody go there. I forbid that.”

Me and Rhia look at each other. She shrugs and I tell Juni I wouldn’t.

I mull over everything the entire afternoon. Even during the club meeting after school, not really participating and getting asked if I was okay. Obviously I was not.

I do make it to the last half of the game and hope Juni doesn’t find out. It’s just something I feel like I had to do because he had asked so genuinely and I did owe him for taking care of me Saturday.

I find a spot somewhere where I can see and try to spot Harry. It’s not hard when he’s got the ball, legs pumping, headband pushing his curls back and a look of pure determination as he gets to the net and kicks directly….into the goalie’s mitts. The crowd groans.

“Isn’t he defence?” I ask someone beside me.

“It’s a scrimmage game,” they reply. “They play the opposite position for fun. He’s really good though he should be front all the time.”

He is. And it’s kind of…attractive? I understood Dreven’s fangirling. And why Harry was such a big name amongst the girls. I kind of got it now.

Speaking of Dreven I spot him on the sidelines. I shuffle behind someone so he doesn’t spot me.

As the minutes tick by Harry and his team score a few more goals that makes it even. With just a couple minutes left on the clock it’s a tie and everybody shuffles to the side of the field where our team get’s a penalty kick.

I stay with the stragglers on this side, bouncing up and down with adrenaline. I can’t believe I’ve never gone to one of these. I always had some test or club to be busy with. But this is clearly what brought the schools together.

Right before the final whistle Harry makes a perfect shot on goal and the crowd goes absolutely mad. People are shouting and jumping for joy, clutching each other and chanting his name.

Harry runs half the field and pumps his arms, clashing with a few of his teammates who jump around him. It’s funny and cute.

As his team huddles around him and they walk to the chants of our school to the sidelines a couple girls slide out of the edges. A couple go to some of the other boys, one in particular wraps herself around Harry and kisses him with quite the show. The crowd only gets rowdier while the ref blows her whistle.

I, on the other hand, feel emptied.

I watch his arm snake around her waist. Press her to him. Her hands clutching his face. It feels like it goes on for eons. Eons and a day.

When the horrid thing finally ends he lifts his hands to the crowd and they cheer him. Not just for being a winner but for being a womanizer too.

I was an idiot. He had been nice to me, sweetened me up this morning about coming here. That didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean he actually cared that I was here.

And then the worst part of all. He shouts into the air and turns to his team but his eyes clash with mine as he does. He does a double take, and we stare at each other halfway across the fields. He looks like he’s broken into his mum’s makeup and made makeup soup and his mum’s just come home. I imagine I look like someone’s just turned all my makeup into makeup soup.

I had to get out of here.

Why did I come? Why didn’t i just stay after the meeting and finished up work. I could have gone my entire secondary school existence without ever coming to one of these stupid games.

I feel lower than I have in a long time. I feel homesick suddenly and I decide then it was time to go. Home. And maybe home wasn’t the empty house I was stubbornly staying in. Maybe I had to chuck my hurt and my ego out the window and go crawling back to Nan. She would help me sort this heart of mine out. This wretched thing that kept on going even after it took a beating.

H’s POV:

One moment I’m on top of the world; first game of the year and I’ve scored the winning goal. The next I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.

I want to tear away from the boys. I want to go to her explain it away but I’m surrounded and I only catch a glimpse of her looking away and then leaving. Gone.

“Hey man where are you going!?” One of the guys asks as I break away. “We’re all going to eat!”

“I’ll meet you guys there! I forgot to do something!”

“Aw cmon!” They hurl words at me trying to get me to stay but I jog away. She’s disappeared.

I jog back to the building and my head swivels every hall I go down as I head towards her locker. I find her slamming it shut and hoisting her bag onto her back.

“Hey!” I finally reach her. “YN hey! I wasn’t expecting you at the game.”

Her mouth opens like she has something to say. I wait for the usual fieryness but she deflates.

“Yeah. Congrats. That was a great final goal. Very dramatic. And you found your cheerleader too. I can see why everyone loves you out there.”

Fuck. She was going back to the other YN, the one who acted like she didn’t care, the one who had stayed out of my league all throughout school.

I wanted the YN in the quiet moments in the dark. The one tucked into my arms with the look of curiosity as she looked into my eyes and right to my soul. Even the confused one from this morning who was hesitant but there was still a possibility I could win her over.

This YN had slammed the door shut.

“It was just for show.” I try to explain.

“The goal?” She squints.

“No. No the-I didn’t need a cheerleader. She wasn’t…it was just for show. After scoring the winning goal it didn’t mean anything-“

“It’s whatever.” She cuts me off. “God you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I feel like I do, I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t invite you just to-“

“Oh my god!” She cuts me off again. “It’s fine! I’m…it’s whatever. It’s not like you’re mine or something. We hooked up like weeks ago, we already talked about all of this. You’re off the hook remember? No messy feelings to complicate our lives, especially mine?”

Yet her eyes water as she says it and she blinks until it’s gone. My heart feels like it’s drowning in those unshed tears. Her words are also the final confirmation; she didn’t remember the weekend. I would just be cursed to remember what we could have been by myself. I probably deserved it.

“I know.” I want to say more. But she shrugs and looks like she’s going to leave. “Look…”

She waits instead. It gives me enough time to rush through every single thing I wanted to say to her. Every promise I wish I could make her.

“I’m sorry.” I say instead. Sorry for kissing that girl, and for inviting her to see that. Sorry for not being able to tell her what I really want to say. Sorry that she was so true about what she said the other night: I don’t think you’re ready for that.

Her lips tighten. Without another words she turns to head out the door. This time I don’t try again. I just watch her and die a little inside.

***

It’s hard to find your flow again when you feel so irrevocably changed. The final 3 months of our final year fly by but as cheesy as it sounds sometimes it felt like one of those 2000s music videos where you’re standing still and everyone is rushing past you.

I still see YN around, and as weeks go by we go back to being in our own worlds. They no longer overlap like a venn diagram. She stops coming to parties and I try not to drive by her house any time I’m in her neighbourhood.

I hear she got asked to the school dance by someone. I carry forward my own stereotype of not committing and ask nobody.

On the outside my grades are still good and I continue to be a force on the field. I’m home more often for dinner and my family stops pestering me as much. When I go to parties I spend more time just hanging out with my mates than I do finding girls that lit a spark. It used to be that any girl could hold a candle to the last ones but now it felt like faking it when a girl whose name I barely remembered tried to seduce me into an empty room.

It’s like now that I’ve felt a true connection I couldn’t go back to just anything. Some days I hated it.

A part of me feels ridiculous because when I Google my symptoms most people just say it’s heartbreak. But how could I feel something like this when I never gave my heart away at all. When I’d kept it selfishly caged and insisted that I couldn’t part with it. Our English teacher had asked when teaching Romeo and Juliet is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

I think I would rather have never loved at all.

***

TAG: @peachedfruit @eversincehs1 @loverofhsandallthings1d (taglist still open lmk)

[j-plash]

Happy 10-versary! Look at me attempting to use tumblr. I randomly saw this gorgeous bit of art by @tiny-vermin (whom I do not know, their art is just very inspiring) at 4am this morning and my brain cracked open like an egg and a very tiny ficlet fell out. Maybe I’ll write an Aeor getting together fic some time? (vampires is eating me for now, up to 55K and growing)  Who knows. The wizards are wonderful.

*

“Oh. You’re so warm.”

It's an exhalation as much as a statement, quiet. Essek sounds surprised (Essek is the most brilliant man Caleb has ever known, but he is also sometimes an idiot. They have this in common).

Instead of saying this, Caleb holds very still. Essek has been shivering violently for hours, since a nasty run-in with some very large teeth and the upper part of a digestive tract several difficult blocks over. There is no magic for even the dome tonight, let alone the Tower: only the small (great) mercy of a cleared room with uncrumbled walls and ancient, undamaged locks; a hearty campfire; the two of them.

Essek is…difficult to coax into physical contact, even through the heavy layers of their winter-wear. Not like a cat, that will come when it needs warmth or attention or touch and spurn you otherwise; rather like an alien cat that has militantly forgotten it has needs and might just die of cold before admitting it.

Now, he bows sideways toward the heat of Caleb’s body like a column of resin listing under influence of flame: hips and knees already carefully set a bare inch away (sitting close, for warmth, as firmly bidden, though he settled into it with all the ease of a spooked hedgehog), shoulders now finally, finally leaning into the side of Caleb’s arm, head tilting inexorably in the same direction. This impossible man will perhaps learn to cuddle—or at least huddle—by simple force of gravity, if Caleb doesn’t startle him.

And then... “Oh. You’re so warm.” On a tiny huff of breath out, like a benediction.

Caleb stays very still. Slowly, the weight of Essek’s head lands on his shoulder.

Gravity holds.

They are warmer, a little, together.

*

(Essek, from this moment on: you're very warm, it's freezing, that's all, here, we'd better sit very close together, it's only pragmatic that I cling to you like I might otherwise die, possibly forever)

[mercuryport]

me adora

projeto de músicas brasileiras se tornando capas de VHS: 8/13 (1º , 2º , 3º, 4º, 5º, 6º, 7º)

essa capa foi inspirada na música Me Adora da Pitty. escolher a Winter do aespa foi uma sugestão de uma ask, mas coincidentemente a pessoa também "meio" que adivinhou que eu tinha planos para uma capa com alguma música da Pitty e olha só...