#'oh hey here's my 10 minute warmup from earlier!!!'

[boymeetsweevil]

in your court

Grouping: Reader x B-ball player!Jaehyun (feat. BFF!Hyuck)

Word Count: ~10.8k

Warnings/Themes: Two idiots in love, oc is scary when mad, hyuck is crafty always, jae is a bit intense but he’s just trying his best, gratuitous descriptions of dimples, a kiss!!! sfw!

Prompt: “awkward!oc with his basketball teammate jaehyun. Honestly anything with bff!haechan.”

“Make sure you don’t make it look shaky.”

Donghyuck puts the phone camera close to his face so he can better see your handiwork through the video call. He looks a bit like a fish, but you can’t see him because you’re focused on the mirror in front of you.

“Remind me why I’m being forced to do this?”

“Because I’m your best friend and I deserve a sign just as much as Jisung and Johnny.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes so you don’t mess up the number 14 you’re drawing carefully onto your cheek in eyeliner. Although you hate to see good makeup go to waste, you’re trying to be a better friend while also trying not to accidentally write the number backwards. It’s Donghyuck’s new number this season and he begged you to show some team spirit despite the fact that you normally mix with sports the same way oil mixes with water. The last time you showed up at practice was the first day of the season and you fell from the third courtside bleacher after Donghyuck called you over to introduce you to a cute new walk-on team member. If anything, just being around sports is dangerous for you.

A minute later, you sneeze while holding the pencil and draw a huge line straight through all your hard work. Donghyuck literally screams and you hang up the call to focus. When you finally finish redrawing on the side of your face, there’s half an hour left before the first home game of the spring season starts. You grab the matching construction paper sign you made earlier, complete with a huge gold glitter 14, and head out the door.  Taeyong is supposed to pick you up so you can make it to the gym on time. He’s the only other friend you have who is remotely associated with sports and that’s only because he’s dating one of the players, Doyoung.

The ticket Donghyuck gave you days ago places you near the court’s side with a near-perfect view. You settle in and wait for the game to begin. The team is already out on half of the court, doing some light warmup tosses and making the occasional mean eye at the visiting team practicing on the other half. You catch your best friend’s eye and he lights up when he sees the sign and eyeliner drawing.

“Check me out, Hyuck!” 

You turn to give him a full view of your profile, subtly proud of your skills.

“Look at you,” he drawls as he jogs over to you, “You know, I think this is the best your eyeliner has ever looked.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” 

You try your best to cast an elbow at him without disturbing the still slightly wet glitter on the sign. When you nearly take out the old man sitting directly in front of you, you settle for flipping him off.

“Wait,” Taeyong peers at the sign, “Aren’t you—”

“I think Doyoung said he was looking for you. Something about wanting a good luck kiss.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes but still stands up to go look for said boyfriend. Doyoung’s not the nervous type, but he’s also not the type to say no to some pre-game affection. You watch Taeyong disappear towards the locker room while Donghyuck steps over some of the fans already seated and takes the now open spot next to you.

“Hey,” he says with no trace of humor in his voice any longer. “Promise you’ll still be my friend after this game?”

You place the sign on your lap and turn to look at your friend. Lately the coach has been pushing him harder and you suppose it’s starting to wear down his usual confidence. With the hand that’s not covered in little golden glitter flecks, you reach down to rub his shoulder.

“Of course I will, Hyuck. And even if you guys don’t win tonight, I’m still taking you to get food after. My treat.”

It was supposed to be a rare moment of sincere friendliness. But this seems to distress him further because he looks down at your hand on his arm and then groans before covering his face in his hands. You’re confused but you don’t have any time to ask him what’s up. A few of his teammates walk over then.

“Sorry to break up the love fest, but Coach wants us to do some stretches before the whistle,” team captain Johnny says, gesturing to the other side of the gym where some other players are already contorting themselves. 

Behind Johnny stands that new walk-on. The one you fell on your face in front of. He takes in your temporary face tattoo and overly detailed sign and smirks, allowing a dimple to wink at you. You can only hope to every deity in the universe that he doesn’t remember the way you first met.

“Hey,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Glad to see you made it here in one piece.” 

“Thank you,” you say with way too much sincerity.

It’s enough to knock Donghyuck out of his bad mood and make him snort loudly beside you. The new guy smiles a bit wider, revealing a twin dimple. You look away.

“Don’t get too friendly, Jung,” Donghyuck says with fake menace in his voice. “There’s only room for one Dream Team member in her life, and that’s me.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were—”

“We’re just friends,” you blurt out before looking down at the fascinating liver spots on the old man’s head in front of you.

“Yeah, she wishes.”

“I definitely don’t,” you snap.

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Well, I’m glad you don’t.” 

“Guys, come on!” Johnny calls a moment before the coach’s whistle blows to give a final warning.

As they walk over to the side of the gym you curse yourself for acting so weird in front of that Jung kid. If he didn’t think you were a dope when you tripped over nothing the first time you met, you’re certain he thinks you have the charms of a 13 year-old boy by now. The only thing that snaps you out of it is the fact that Donghyuck is in a time of distress and clearly needs his friend. 

With squared shoulders and a new sense of duty, you try your hardest to be the world’s best cheerleader. You’re not really sure how sports work, basketball included. The game itself turns out to be really fun. Even though you’re not quite sure what’s happening. Taeyong sends you a text with a picture of your own mildly confused face contorted into a pout as you raise your handmade sign a moment too late, after everyone has already sat back down. But eventually you figure it out after enough times of standing when people around you wearing school colors stand up first. You know enough to cheer every time Donghyuck takes the ball to the basket and boo loudly every time he gets knocked down or his shot misses. In fact, you get so into it that you catch yourself cheering for other players. You even make the mistake of cheering once for new kid Jung but immediately stop when he catches a glimpse of you in the stands and shoots you a beaming smile. 

They win by a small margin, thanks to a 3 pointer Johnny shot in the first half of the game. By the time that happens, you feel like you have a good feel for the game. You don’t have to wait for the other fans from your school to stand up when the last buzzer rings, and you instinctively run out onto the court with the rest of them as the final score settles. There’s adrenaline and joy pushing you into Donghyuck’s arms. He’s genuinely surprised but welcomes the greeting, spinning you lightly while he laughs.

“Congrats on the first win of the season,” you shout when you finally pull back. He lets you squish his cheeks in excitement. Doyoung ambles over then, looking for Taeyong. You offer him congratulations as well.

“Thanks,” he smirks a bit as he takes in your large sign and the slightly smudged 14 on your cheek. “Shouldn’t Jaehyun be the first to hear it, though?”

You raise a confused brow.

“Shouldn’t I be the first to hear what?”

You can’t help the way you stumble back against Donghyuck at the deep sound of Jung—no— Jaehyun’s voice. He looks pleased. Probably with the outcome of their first game.

“I was just saying you should get the first ‘congrats’,” Doyoung explains, nodding in your direction. Jaehyun blinks, but takes it in stride.

“I’d be glad to receive it,” he says with a grin. His dimples pop out even more than usual under the sheen of sweat and the glow from the fluorescents. “So, what’d you think? How’d I do?”

You have no idea why but your heart is beating like it’ll fly out of your chest. It takes everything in you to muster up a cool and natural response.

“You throw good.”

Donghyuck, the traitor that he is, gets sent into a cackling fit. If you listen carefully, between the gasps for air and the hyena-pitched giggles you can hear him calling you a dork. You’d turn to yell at him, but he’s right. Doyoung barely covers up his own laughter while leaning on Donghyuck’s shoulder to try to disguise the sound as a series of coughs. But Jaehyun merely smiles down at his shoes as if he’s somehow moved by your clunky words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I feel like I did well today thanks to your little sign.”

“The sign? Oh. Actually, this is for—” 

In that moment you realize two things. The first is that Jaehyun’s jersey has a big 14 emblazoned on the front of it. Just like the one you spent 10 whole minutes drawing onto your right cheek. And the one you spent 2 hours glittering the night before. The second is that you aren’t nearly as observant as you thought you were. Then you realize a third thing: Donghyuck is slowly creeping away from you as it all clicks together in your head.

When you turn to face your friend, the color has already drained out of his neck. He can see the wheels turning in your head and he raises his hands in a placating gesture, but you cut him off before he can even start. Grabbing at his jersey you make him turn around until you can see the white number 6 emblazoned on the fabric. It’s the same number he had last season, and the season before that.

“Just to clarify,” you begin with an unsettlingly calm voice, “When you asked me earlier if I would still be your friend after the game, you were talking about this, right?”

Donghyuck’s eyes go wide and dart around anywhere but your face. “You know what? I think you’re thinking of my brother, Hyongduck. We look a lot alike, so it’s an honest mistake.”

The coach calling him over in that moment is the only thing that keeps you from eviscerating him on the court with so many witnesses. You let him go, but not without him having to un-pry your fingers from his jersey. Jaehyun watches on with amusement in his eyes and you remember that he saw you nearly Hulk out on your friend.

“So, you actually didn’t know my number was 14?”

You shake your head, “I thought it was Hyuck’s.”

“I see.”

He tilts his head again, with eyes narrowed he looks you over before looking past you to where Donghyuck has finally made it to locker room safety.

“Well,” he fiddles with the chain around his neck, “I’m kind of sad the sign isn’t actually mine.”

“Oh. I mean, you can keep it if you want.”

Jaehyun’s head ducks down a second time, shaking his head at the ground like he heard something funny that you couldn’t hear. He does take the sign out of your hands though. With slow hands, he wraps the construction paper up until all the remaining glitter is safely tucked away.

“What about that one?”

“What do you mean?”

He points at his own cheek to mirror yours. You had forgotten all about the 14 you drew on your face to go with the sign.

“I don’t—I don’t know if you can wrap this one up, you know” you laugh stiltedly.

“Yeah. But I could always take a bit for the road. May I?”

All you can do is let out an eloquent ‘huh’ before he’s reaching out then and swiping away at some of the eyeliner that had moved around during the game. The drag of the pad of his thumb across your cheek should be completely harmless. Donghyuck has been infinitely rougher with his handling of you; one of the privileges of close friendship. And yet it’s this soft touch that has your breath leaving you like he punched it out of you. You swear the corner of his mouth raises, but it could be a trick of the light.

“What are you doing after—”

“I gotta go, sorry. Good game,” you toss over your shoulder before pulling your phone up to your ear like you’re taking a sudden phone call. 

No one has to know that you spend the next few minutes dunking your head under one of the running faucets in an empty locker room to cool your heated face.

---

Nearly 20 minutes later, Donghyuck is tiptoeing out of the men’s locker room. He doesn’t notice the shadow waiting for him. When he deems the coast all clear, he opens up his messaging app and shoots you a text asking for your whereabouts.

“I’m right here.”

He jumps nearly 3 feet in the air before letting the scream that built in his throat turn into a whine. You’re just barely visible in the dark corner of the gym. If he squints you look a bit like his sleep paralysis demon.

“You scared me,” he says as he takes a step back only to hit a wall.

“Funny how that happens.”

You pull out your phone, stilling standing in the dark, and let the light from your phone cast eerie shadows across your face. Donghyuck gulps audibly as he watches you type slowly in response to his text. The sound of his phone notification moments later sounds deafening in the otherwise silent space.

You (21:39) - Run.

“Look, let’s talk this out like adults.” His hands come up, palms exposed like you’re a feral animal.

“I knew you weren’t number 14,” your voice is steady and devoid of emotion as you take a step towards him.

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen for it—shit. Wait!”

He trips in his haste to get away from you and falls. You foot lands dangerously close to his face as you come to stand in over him and he grimaces.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do anything.”

“Why did you tell me your number was Jaehyun’s number? Make it good and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I just felt like it.”

“What the hell!”

“I’m serious.”

“Wrong answer, Hyuck.”

With that, you wriggle a foot free from one of your sneakers and shove your socked foot over his nose. You’ve been wearing the shoes all day and, because you forgot to do laundry the night before, the socks are recycled. The sound of Donghyuck’s cries for help make you slightly better and you smile softly to yourself.

You would think that Donghyuck would have learned his lesson about not causing chaos in your life after a face-full of foot. But you should know that it’s practically his job description after knowing him for as long as you have. Sometimes you love that about him and sometimes you kind of hate him for it. This time, you hate him for it. 

Donghyuck prefaces the outing as a way of apologizing for tricking you. Normally you would have been slightly more critical. The first thing to tip you off should have been the fact the “apology" in question was coming almost two and a half weeks after the fateful jersey swap accident. The second thing should have been that the “apology” was coming in the form of a trip to a very specific tea house you don’t frequent because you’re not a tea person. And Donghyuck knows this. Because he knows everything else about you. Like which sweatpants you wear when you’re feeling bloated or when you just need a hug. But mainly you should have known something was up because it was Donghyuck. When he feels like he should do something, there’s no stopping him.

“What do you want to order,” he asks while holding the front door open for you to pass through. 

“A smoothie.”

“It’s a damn tea house, order something normal.”

“A smoothie is normal.”

“Do you order hot dogs at seafood restaurants too,” he pins you with a tired glare. You mirror the glare and add crossed arms.

“If they don’t have a smoothie, then I don’t want anything.”

You take a look around at the interior of the shop. It’s the polar opposite of the shops you usually frequent, which are all trendy with their mixes of dark, unfinished woodwork and sleek minimalist furniture. This place is almost cottage-like in the ornateness of the older architecture and the collection of kitschy antique pieces. You’re not surprised to see that a good deal of the patrons are older, some verging on elderly. There’s only a handful of people who look like they could be your peers. One of them looks oddly familiar. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something familiar about the way he stands and the delicate gold links laying across the back of his neck.

“Jaehyun,” Donghyuck calls a bit too excitedly, “Hey, man is that you? What are you doing here”

“You told me to meet you—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a dramatic gasp and a glance at his bare wrist.

“Aw, would you look at the time. I actually have somewhere to be right now, so I can’t stick around.”

“But you drove us here,” you whip your head around to look at him, but he coughs suddenly and looks away.

“Yeah, sorry. No time to drop you back off at your place, so I guess you have to figure that out yourself. Jae drives though. Maybe you can figure something out.”

Neither of you really know what to say. You watch silently with your mouth open in disbelief as Donghyuck turns on his heel and struts out of the tea shop exit, whistling contentedly. You suppose that if you’re the god of chaos reincarnated, all of this would feel like a good day’s work. You berate yourself for recently washing your socks.

“Good to see you again,” Jaehyun says after a beat. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Thought I had scared you off after...yeah.”

“Oh, right. That.”

The air feels both too thick and too thin at the same time. You want to leave, every fiber of your being is screaming at you to leave before you do something weird in front of him again. But you can’t move. So you stand there, 3 feet away and not saying anything as Jaehyun looks over the large chalkboard menu hanging above the head of the older woman who is manning the front counter.

“What are you getting?”

“Me? Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really a tea person.”

“Well, what kind of person are you?”

Given the context, it’s a harmless question. But there’s a sing-songy lilt to the way he asks the question. It’s so blatant that curiosity gets the best of you and you stop purposefully avoiding looking at him. One of his dimples is out and he’s very nearly poking the tip of his tongue out at you, like he knows you’re suffering and he thinks it's funny. Almost like he’s flirting. Almost.

“I’m a smoothie person,” you finally say. “But there’s no smoothies on the menu.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“But doesn’t it say ‘no customizations’?” 

There’s a sign on the edge of the counter that says just that. Despite the fact that it’s written in beautiful, looping cursive, there’s an ominous tone to the message. Like the little old lady behind the counter might actually make you into tea if you asked for a frappe or something. You’re a little worried for Jaehyun’s safety. He must sense some sort of hesitance because he brushes it off and gestures toward the rest of the shop.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it, you can go grab us a table.”

The way he says ‘us’ so casually has you tripping slightly over nothing. He’s somehow there in the nick of time to grab at your elbow in a gentlemanly fashion to help steady you. Perhaps you yank yourself out of his proximity a little too quickly. But it’s only because you really want to find a good table and you can’t do that if Jaehyun is distracting you by grabbing at your limbs. 

In actuality, though, the tea shop is fairly vacant. There are a variety of tables with pressed white tablecloths and dainty tiered tea trays housing pastries. You pick one at random and sit down. Part of you really does wish you’d left when Donghyuck did. But the other part is curious to see what Jaehyun’s like when he’s away from his team and truly outside the context you usually find him in. So you compromise and watch as subtly as you can.

He seems fairly similar—all charming smiles and pretty hair while approaching the counter to talk with the lady you assume is the owner of the shop. She looks stern as she polishes some dainty bone china, but brightens when he comes to the counter. You watch in quiet awe as she reaches a hand up to pat fondly at the side of his face, most likely pinching a cheek from the angle you’re sitting at. You see him run a hand over the back of his neck which grows red after he says something to her that she must not like. Her brow grows heavy and her lips purse but he says something else then that has her directing her sharp gaze at you. You gulp and pretend you were merely admiring the tea sandwich tray on the table as opposed to spying. A wave of sudden embarrassment comes over you and you open up your phone to text Donghyuck

You (15:38) - this is a shit apology just so u know

You (15:38) - come get me plz

Hyuck (15:40) - sorry suddenly cant read dont know what that says :)

You place your phone face down onto the table and cross your arms with a huff. While trying to plan an escape that makes you look the least asshole-y possible, Jaehyun returns with the drinks. More specifically, he returns with a tall water glass in one hand that’s filled with a pale tea with fruit chunks and mint leaves sprinkled throughout. The other hand is encased in a floral appliqué oven mitt that holds the prettiest squat little teapot you’ve ever seen. It’s blue, so it doesn’t match the pastel green teacups organized on the tablecloth, but it’s still a lovely sight.

“What’s this,” you stir at the fruit in the glass with an elegant teaspoon.

“It’s a chilled fruit tea,” he explains while casually pouring himself a steaming cup of black tea. “I tried my hardest with Mrs. Li, but there was no way I was gonna get you a smoothie. This is the closest thing I could get.”

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I would have been fine with just a water. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the owner.”

“Don’t worry. I think my reputation is fine for now.”

It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him fix up his tea. As a member of a basketball team, you would have never thought he’d be a tea drinker. Let alone a tea drinker who takes heaping spoonfuls of sugar to go with a tiny splash of milk in his tea. He hums a little to himself as he stirs it all with a silver spoon that’s been crafted to look like roses are growing up the stem. When he looks up a moment later, he catches you staring at him. His eyes crinkle and they look like they did when he looked at you after shooting a 3 at the latest home game, full of quiet joy. Both then and now you’re not sure what the smile means or why it seems to be for you. You look down and realize his lips are moving.

“What?”

He chuckles at how far away you sound. “I said ‘how’s the tea?’”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know yet. I got distracted. I was...thinking.”

“Mhm.” There’s smugness practically oozing out of his thoughtful hum.

You take a sip to appease him and frantically search for something to say that won’t make it obvious that you aren’t a fan of tea, but then you stop yourself. It’s no smoothie, but it really is the next best thing. The tea is cold like a smoothie, providing the same reprieve from the sticky heat of Spring. The tea with all its macerated berries and mint leaves is sweet and thick much like a smoothie.

“This is amazing,” you peer down at the cup like you’re not sure where half the glass went.

A light weight lands on your shoulder then. “That’s very kind of you, dear. High praise coming from a non-tea-drinker.”

It takes a lot of effort not to scream and even then your eyes open comically wide and you jump in your seat. Jaehyun has to disguise his laughter at your reaction by turning away in his seat as you turn in yours to face the old lady who was at the counter.

“I’m sorry for any trouble you went to so you could make this, Mrs. Li, Ma’am. I told Jaehyun that I wanted a smoothie and he was just trying to make me feel comfortable.”

“Oh, I know. Jaehyun’s been coming to the shop since I opened it, so he should know all about my ban on requests.” Mrs. Li eyes Jaehyun as he takes an innocent sip of his tea. “He’s always been courteous about it, so I thought he must have a darn good reason for breaking my rule this time.”

Jaehyun’s hand slips while pouring a second cup, but he doesn’t say anything as Mrs. Li continues to expose him. 

“Now, that reminds me. Jaehyun, my boy, I’m sorry to tell you that Kevin won’t be coming to his sessions this week. He has a dentist appointment and it can’t be helped,” she sighs and waves her hands.

“That’s alright. As long as he practices a little every day he should be in good shape and we can pick up right where we stopped.”

She nods and for a moment the serious expression on her face morphs into something softer. Patting the back of his chair, she looks over the table and then at you.

“Alright. I hope everything is to your liking, but if something does come up do feel free to tell Jaehyun. He’s a very capable young man and he knows the shop like the back of his hand. I’d better get back to work now. The silver won’t polish itself.”

You wait a few beats to be respectful, but as soon as Mrs. Li returns to her post behind the counter you gulp down the rest of your tea and lean in. 

“Who’s Kevin?”

“Her 9 year old grandson. I teach him and his younger brother piano on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s nice,” you nod coolly. At least, you hope it appears cool. Internally you’re scrambling.

Of course your best friend’s basketball teammate teaches piano to young kids. Of course he helps the elderly tea shop lady with her store. Of course he drinks sweet tea out of blue floral teacups. Of course.

He’s finally ready to go after a third cup. You’re not sure where he’s putting it all, but it seems to be a regular occurrence for him. He takes your glass from you before you can argue about your own ability to do it and walks back over to the counter. Now more than ever you wish you could read lips. He goes around the counter to wash the glass in the farmer’s sink in the back and then stops briefly to say something to Mrs. Li. She says something back with a smile that has his cheeks flaming. He leaves a bill on the counter and comes back mumbling about his tea being too hot when you stare at his face. You’re not sure how true that is given how fast he downed those cups.

When you emerge from the tea shop, the sun is shining from a different angle and the temperature has mellowed out.

“My car is a few blocks that way,” he points in the direction of the parking lot nearby. 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Even with his soft tone, his voice is firm and you don’t try to fight him on it.

But it’s strange walking with Jaehyun silently. It feels entirely too companionable despite the fact that you don’t even know him. 

“Do you...want to play 20 questions?”

He stops in his tracks, clearly not expecting you to talk without him coaxing you out of your shell. But after the initial shock fades, he nods.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“White,” he says immediately. “What’s your major?”

“Studio art. Do you play other sports?”

“Nah. Is Donghyuck your best friend?”

“Yeah, Hyuck’s my best friend.”

“Is he...protective?”

“Protective? Of what?”

“You, I guess.”

“Hyuck?” You let out a snort because the thought is just hilarious. “On the right day I’m pretty sure he’d sell me to Satan for a fresh order of sweet potato fries.”

“I see,” he purses his lips like he’s in deep thought before returning back to the present moments later. “You get two since I asked two.”

“Do you like it here, now that it’s been a while since you transferred?”

“Yeah,” he looks you in the eyes. “I like it here.”

You swallow a bit too audibly but power through and keep asking questions. It takes nearly half an hour to walk the two and a half blocks leading to the parking lot. Even after that, Jaehyun takes a scenic route back to the main campus. When he pulls up outside your dorm, you’re not sure what to say, but it feels like something should be said. The sun is near setting and he’s haloed by the dying rays as he leans on the steering wheel to make sure you make it inside.

After giving a little awkward nod, you drag yourself out of the cabin of his car. There’s only a few steps left until you reach the door when he calls out. You turn.

“So,” he trails off, drumming his hands on the steering wheel before adjusting the mirror even though he’s in park and no one is coming. “Donghyuck has, like, a million fans.”

“What?”

“I just mean that he’s been on the team for years, he has a fan base. But I’m just a transfer student, so I don’t have that. And, you know, it’s really nice to have someone to cheer for you.” He tests the waters and looks at you hesitantly before continuing. “I still have your poster.”

All you can do is blink as you realize what’s going on. Or, you think you know what’s going on. And it makes zero sense to you, but you have a habit of overthinking things anyway. You kick at a pebble near the toe of your shoe, taking some time to muster up the courage to be presumptuous in a way you’re not used to.

“I can...I can make you another sign. If you want. Or like wear your number.” He grins and in that moment it seems to outshine the fading sun. “So you don’t feel left out.”

“I’d like that.” He starts the car up then, still grinning as he looks down to shift gears and adjust all his mirrors yet again. “Tell Hyuck he doesn’t need to set aside tickets anymore.”

“Okay,” is your witty reply before turning once more with a too warm face.

He waves at your retreating back before putting the car into drive.

Everyone on the team knows that every once in a while Donghyuck likes to come to practice a lot earlier than is probably normal. It’s not strange to come in when there’s 30, 40, even 50 minutes before practice starts and find him practicing footwork or doing layups on the court alone. 

Jaehyun hedges a guess that he’ll find Donghyuck in the gym a good hour before practice starts one day and is pleased to find that his intuition was correct. There’s music blasting from a portable speaker and Donghyuck is doing some of the drills the coach likes to run, but done with his non-dominant hand.

When the ball rolls to a stop and Donghyuck moves to get some water, Jaehyun announces himself.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

“You quitting already?”

“Not yet,” Donghyuck takes in the serious set of Jaehyun’s jaw and shoulders. “We can do a 1-on-1. If you’re up for it.”

Jaehyun nods and sheds his outer layers on the sidelines. Donghyck wonders if he’s angry about something, perhaps that about practice a few days ago where he went a little too hard on Jaehyun and bashed his cheek with an elbow during a scrimmage. He braces himself for some incoming aggression, knowing he may deserve it a little.

They settle for leaving the ball on the ground in the paint since the equipment cabinet is still locked until the coach arrives. Both of them sprint from the freethrow line, with Jaehyun grabbing the ball first. Donghyuck moves into defense easily, having been in game mode for who knows how long. Jaehyun isn’t nearly as tough in his offense as Donghyck expected. In fact, he’s playing surprisingly light.

“What’s up with you,” Donghyuck says after the first basket.

Jaehyun catches the ball after it falls from the basket, jogging it back to the starting position. Donghyuck waits for him back at the freethrow line, brows raised but otherwise silent.

“Nothing’s up. Nothing big, I mean.”

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

The words catch Jaehyun by surprise and he stumbles a bit coming off the line. Donghyuck uses the momentary shock to his advantage and steals the ball. The point comes easy as he basically runs a circle around his competitor.

“Since I won that point, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bother going back to the freethrow line and instead goes back to dribbling practice. His rhythm is slow with his off hand, but steady. Better than Jaehyun’s with his off hand.

“Do you believe in bro code?”

Donghyuck snorts. “I guess. You’re not gonna ask me for my mom’s phone number, are you?”

“No. Not your mom’s,” Jaehyun trails off.

Instantly Donghyuck knows what this is about. Or who. Your face flashes in his mind and he has to bite his own cheek to keep from laughing. Being your best friend gives him exclusive access to just how awkward you can be. But the fact that Jaehyun resorted to all this buildup is kind of hilarious.

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

“What?” Jaehyun’s cheeks grow pink. “Why is this cute?” 

“Look, you don’t need to ask me first or do whatever this is. I’m not her keeper. And I’m not gonna sabotage you, either.” Jaehyun’s shoulders lose some of their squared off edge.

“Okay,” he nods. “Thanks, man.”

“I could use a favor, though.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“I have a meeting with Coach after practice today. But I also really need to pick something up at the stationery store before tomorrow. Can you go pick it up for me?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details later.”

---

Jaehyun arrives at the stationery store with his phone in hand. The note from Donghyuck mentions some special set of paints with a foreign-sounding name. As he walks through the aisles of the little store, Jaehyun wonders who the paints are for. The note also mentioned that they were a gift for someone, but it doesn’t say who the someone is.

It takes a few laps around the store, and by the time he spots the little nook for the brand, the store owner's voice had already sounded through the overhead speakers to say that the shop would be closing soon. He grabs the last box left and quietly rejoices. Donghyuck had bartered your number for the price of running the errand. If Jaehyun could get the paints, then he could get the number. The odd part was that Donghyuck had mentioned something about Jaehyun possibly not even needing to ask him for the number if he played his cards right. Originally he had shrugged the comment off, but it did raise the hairs on the back of his neck a bit. There’s something about Donghyuck that feels akin to a cartoon villain, but Jaehyun can’t put his finger on it.

“Checking out?”

“Yeah,” he hands the shop attendant the container of paints.

The attendant tries to scan the barcode, but a strange sound comes from the machine.

“I think something’s wrong with the barcode. If you can wait right here, I’ll go get another one to scan and give you that one instead.”

“Oh. That was actually the last one left.”

“I see.” The attendant presses some keys on the computer before nodding. “I think we should have a reference code in that backroom. I can go get that and punch it in manually if that’s okay.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”

The attendant assures him it’ll only be a moment before leaving the counter and disappearing into the back of the store. Jaehyun waits patiently while leaning on the counter when the bell to the front door of the shop rings. Another customer has come in right before closing, and the sound of their labored breathing makes it clear that they know they’re cutting it close. The footsteps fade out and then grow louder once more after a few minutes. He takes a glance over his shoulder to see you standing a little bit behind him.

“Oh. Hi. H-hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jaehyun turns completely and sets his phone on the counter. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some paint. I ran out a few days ago and I have some big projects coming up.”

“That’s funny. I’m doing the same thing.”

“Do you paint,” your eyes grow a little bigger with the prospect. At the sight of your small smile, Jaehyun wishes he could paint for the first time ever.

“No, but I’d like to learn.” And it’s never been true before, but he means it in that moment.

“Well, I could—”

“Sorry for the delay,” the shop attendant comes jogging back from the backroom. “Another employee had the reference book, so I had to spend some time to hunt it down. But you should be all set now.”

Jaehyun sends an apologetic smile your way before turning back to finish checking out. Once he’s done, even though he’s on a tight schedule with this favor, he hangs back.

“—I’m sorry but we sold out of the Neo Color Technology paints. If you’d like, we can give you a call when the next shipment comes in, but there’s a two-week wait.”

“Ah, really? Okay.” 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you think about what you’ll do now. The idea of continuing some of your projects with a new set of paints that could have a completely different set of hues makes you nervous. You just perfected the shade of green you needed at the base for your huge forest study. Now you’d have to start from scratch.

Jaehyun is trying his hardest not to eavesdrop, but the odd paint name catches his attention. It’s the same one he just bought, per Donghyuck’s request.

“You can have mine,” he blurts out. “I’m the one who bought the last ones. But I obviously don’t need them like you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, take them.”

Jaehyun hands you the bag. The smile you offer him in return is brilliant.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“God, no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then, let me buy you a tea or something at least.” You hand him your phone. “Here, put your number in and you can pick a day. I’ll pay.”

So Jaehyun takes your phone and inputs his number. A moment later he gets a text from you, clarifying that it’s you. He feels victorious for a moment and then confused. Here he is, getting your number without having to ask, just like Donghyuck himself had mentioned. He’s getting this number because he gave you, Donghyuck’s friend, some paints. Paints that Donghyuck asked him to buy, as a gift to a mysterious friend. 

Maybe Donghyuck is less like a villain and more like a twisted fairy godmother.  

This little dance you keep doing with Jaehyun is strange, to say the least. 

It felt odd to copy the number 14 onto your cheek for the first time knowing who it would really be for. And it felt weird to get so used to doing it that you can now copy the stencil in with practiced ease using the face paint you bought specifically for the occasion, no longer worrying about accidentally writing it backwards. All the while, you can barely make eye contact with him after a game, although you can practically feel the weight of his gaze when you make a beeline for Donghyuck after the last buzzer rings. And you can see the way his hand tugs at the gold chain around his neck as he approaches you cautiously. And you can hear the disappointment in his tone when he asks if you’re going to the house parties thrown by one of the players that typically follow the games only to hear you say no each time.

Another few weeks later finds you trying to make it through midterms. Donghyuck being a literature major means his midterms schedule is always different from yours. This time his midterms end much earlier, a few days earlier to be exact. You’re left to suffer through late night crunches to finish up paintings for one of your crits. Photoshopping some pieces for your digital art class leaves you so busy you don’t even register what’s going on around you.

“It’s my turn to host the post-game party,” he says after letting himself into your apartment one day. He drops the spare keyring reserved for him in the dish near the front door.

“Mhm.”

“But I feel like it would be a nice change to have it here.” When he makes a big show of dropping the takeout he brought you, you don’t even flinch at the sound of it hitting the table you’ve taken over.

“Sounds good,” is all you say as you try to find the one layer out of the 25 you had that you were looking for.

“Great, so I’ll probably stop by on Friday with stuff before the game to set up and then the team can just come through afterwards.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t hate me,” he places a kiss on the top of your head before wrinkling his nose when he smells your unwashed hair. “And don’t work yourself too hard, either.”

“Yeah...definitely.”

Friday comes by and you’re still working, so you have to skip the actual game itself. In the brief window of free time you had that morning, you wonder if you should text Jaehyun again so you can tell him you won’t be coming or bringing your little hand stenciled 14. But you decide against it. It’s a big game and he doesn’t need to be bogged down by unnecessary texts.

You’re actually away at your first crit when Donghyuck stops by again, this time with party supplies. When you come back, you barely register the mountain of beers and cheap wines sitting in your kitchen. All you want to do is sleep like the dead for a few hours. As you zombie walk to your room, you swear you hear him call to you to ask if he can store his balloons in the sink. With your last two brain cells you figure he must have said something else and you were just too tired to actually comprehend it.

Hours later, bass blaring through the thin walls of your place wakes you from your slumber. The details of your conversation with Donghyuck a few days prior come flooding back just as you pick up your pepper spray to drive out what you thought were home intruders. You leave your weapon behind and open your door just slightly. The music washes over you, louder now that the seal to your bedroom has been broken. 

There’s plenty of voices coming outside that accompany the music. Even a few errant screams make it inside and to your ears. Courtesy of Chenle, no doubt. A few more brave steps outside your room and a glance out of the hallway window lets you know that you didn’t mishear Donghyuck. You see several of the guys chucking water balloons at one another on the grass outside. The pile of little teardrop-shaped balloons is admirably large and it becomes clear that they’ll be doing this for a while.

You’re not in the mood to get soaked or get mosquito bites just so you can seem friendly. After all, the party is being hosted in your apartment complex. That’s friendly enough, you reason. Once you’ve done a quick sweep through the rest of the apartment to make sure nothing is stolen, stained, or broken, you return to your room to get ready for bed properly. It takes a while because you have to wash your hair on top of everything else after receiving a very strongly worded text from Donghyuck.

While in your bathroom, brushing your teeth and watching a video Taeyong sent you, there’s jumbled knocking on your door. Barely any time passes between the last knock and the creak of someone leaning on your door as they open it. You curse to yourself before spitting in the sink.

“Hey, the bathroom for guests is actually—”

Jaehyun stands in the middle of your room, squinting at the tapestry you have hanging over your bed. The sound of his teeth chattering despite it being the peak of Spring is actually alarming enough to stop you from being mad that Donghuck didn’t think to put a clear sign towards the bathroom for the general public.

“I always thought your room would have candles in it,” Jaehyun drawls. He looks around once more like he’s hoping a candle will jump out of a hiding spot. All his movements are slow and sleepy.

“Are you drunk?”

He grins with eyes that droop closed. “Yep.” 

“Great,” you mumble. When you take a step closer you realize the dark red sleeveless tank he’s wearing is actually dark from being saturated with water. “Why are you wet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. We played water balloon tag. I lost the last round.”

Jaehyun places a clumsy finger to his lips and stage-whispers a loud “shh”. For some reason you mirror that back to him. He nods, satisfied with your reaction.

“Don’t tell the others, but I...” he hiccups “I got cold, so I came inside.”

“What’s wrong with telling them you’re cold.” He hangs his head in shame then. Clearly you’re missing something important.

“Hyuck says bad bitches never get cold.”

With his shoulders slumped forward in such a pitiful fashion, you actually feel bad for wanting to laugh. It’s surprising. Super surprising actually, considering Jaehyun’s presence in your room means Donghyuck forgot to do the one thing you ask of him when he hosts parties at your place—put clear signs for drunk people to follow to the guest bathroom. You usually don’t want to deal with drunk student athletes, but something about Jaehyun makes him exempt from that.

“You can warm up here.”

As soon as you say the words, you cringe. It sounds like the awful beginnings of a bad porno, but your intentions really are pure. There’s something too sad about watching him nearly doze off while standing up like a newborn colt. So you go and find the best hoodie that you have in your clean laundry and you risk going to the kitchen and getting hit with a runaway water balloon so you can put water on for tea. Hopefully it will warm him up while also sobering him up a little.

“Is this Hyuck’s shirt,” he asks as soon as you return with a steaming mug.

“Uh, I think so.” You take a moment to appraise the hoodie. “Yeah, it’s his. It’s from one of his basketball camps from when we were younger, I think.”

He purses his lips but gratefully takes the mug with swaying hands. After taking a large sip, he hums and lets his head loll back with a smile.

“This is Mrs. Li’s blend.”

“Yeah.” 

It doesn’t seem right to tell him that you’ve been back there a couple times now and have started trying to get into tea. You take the time to put some distance between him and you. You walk to your bed and fluff a pillow that doesn’t need fluffing. The thing is that Jaehyun being in your room feels...weird. He looks all too content and comfortable in the space. That’s not to say he doesn’t suit the environment well. Somehow he looks like he belongs in your room with his soaked tank top and damp hair. You fluff the pillow harder.

“You must be tired,” he says after a long silence. He’s finished his tea but his eyes are still glassy.

“What?”

“Donghyuck told me ‘bout all your projects. Told me you had to draw him for one.”

“Oh, yeah I did. People actually loved that piece the most. But it took me the shortest amount of time.”

“Next time,” he begins ambling across the room, coming to place the empty mug on your bedside table. “Next time, you can ask me to model. If you want.”

“I mean, I only asked Hyuck since he was watching TV and he was there. Plus I know his face so well that it doesn’t even matter if he talks while I paint. The company is kind of nice.”

“Well, you can do it with me next.”

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t realize how strange what he’s saying is. And yet, your face still heats up. The sound of his teeth chattering lightly again reminds you how he got to be in your room in the first place. Jaehyun hugs himself as he continues to check out your room with a small smile on his face. He looks content.

“Do you want to get in,” you offer before your brain can process what your mouth has just done. His eyes go wide.

“Excuse me?” 

“Not—I mean, you just...look really cold and tired. Plus I heard you guys lost the game tonight, so the coach had you hauling ass after.” At the sight of his mildly amused face, tongue nudged between his teeth you add, “I don’t mean you should stay the night. It could just be for a bit and then you could, like, get up and call a cab home. But I get it if you’d rather not. Actually, I can just go see if Hyuck is around. I think he brought his—”

“No, no, stay,” he replies quickly to keep you from jumping out of bed. “I could use the rest.”

He turns around to shrug off the wet tank and pull on the hoodie, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to get your sheets wet’. Internally you wonder if you’re being laughed at by the gods while staring politely at nothing in the other corner of the room. You scoot over from your position in the middle of the bed to the side opposite him. He rewards your kindness with a flash of a bright smile before moving to pull back the covers.

His face lands directly in one of your pillows and you panic when you realize your sheets aren’t fresh out the washer. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind and lets out a sigh before shivering a little. With the hood over his hair, you can barely make out his eyes but you can tell they’re trained on you.

“You sure this is okay,” he whispers. 

“Yeah.”

The bed shifts minutely as he turns a little to get more comfortable. It feels hot in the bed all of the sudden. Despite the fact that you have on weather appropriate pajamas and your most lightweight Spring bedding on. Despite the fact that you’re not laying close enough to him to be able to feel any body heat. Maybe it’s warmer outside than you thought. That’s probably it.

---

When you wake up several hours later, it’s to the sound of clanking in your living room. The other side of the bed is empty and you try not to read into it. It wasn’t supposed to be a full night over, after all. You swing your feet over the edge of the bed only to squeal when your foot hits something cold in the little rug you keep there.

“What is it!” Donghyuck crashes into the room while holding the trash bag he was collecting loose beer cans with. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—oh.”

You look down at the rug and see something shiny and metallic as opposed to something wet and slimy. With your index finger and thumb, you pick up a medium length golden chain. It shines even in the low lighting of your bedroom. You both squint at the jewelry, trying to place it.

Donghyuck’s eye grow wide and he looks around the room in disgust suddenly.

“Was he in here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you grumble as you rub your eyes.

“What for?”

When Donghyuck raises an inquisitive eyebrow, your mouth drops open.

“We just slept—”

“You slept together?”

“Hyuck, not like that! What’s your problem?”

“Still, why is he sleeping in here? You never have guys sleep in here.”

“You sleep in here all the time,” you point a finger at him.

“True,” he cedes immediately, pointing a finger back. “Well, you better return that. I think it’s his lucky charm or something.”

“Can’t you do it?” He laughs before returning to the living room. 

“He didn’t leave it in my bed.” 

“I–fine. I don’t need your help anyway.” 

At that, he snorts.

“You do, but I’ll let you keep thinking that you don’t, because I’m a good friend.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.”

You pull on a sweater before coming out of your room with your phone in hand. There’s a companionable silence that falls over you two as you attempt to draft a text to Jaehyun about his chain while Donghyuck picks up the remaining trash from the party.

“How’d everything go,” you ask once the message is sent.

“It was fine. Jae was so gone that we thought he had flushed himself down the toilet for a while. But I guess that’s not what happened.”

Your face heats up at the teasing tone he uses.

“Hyuck, I have something to tell you.”

“God, what? Are you pregnant?”

“No! What the hell? Are you?” You try to swipe at his butt from the back of the couch.

“No! But...can you just say what you’re gonna say? You’re making me nervous.”

He even goes so far as to put the trash down and come around to sit with you on the sofa. You take a deep breath.

“I have a crush on Jaehyun. I just thought you should know.”

He stares at you, not blinking for a few seconds. He opens his mouth and then shakes his head to himself and closes it again.

“I see,” he finally says.

“It’s been going on a while, and I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope! I don’t mind being in the shadows. I do some of my best work there.”

“Do you think it could go anywhere?”

“What do you mean,” he throws another can into his bag.

“Like, do you think I have a chance with him?”

Donghyuck turns to stare at you, deadpan. “Do I think you have a chance with Jung Jaehyun? The man who slept in your bed a few hours ago?”

“Yeah.” Your face is completely open and imploring.

He sighs, “I think you might have a shot, sure.”

“Why, though?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

The next game of the season is a big one. The team coming in to play is an old school rival, so it draws a crowd that contains even the less sport-inclined students. You manage to get a ticket set away, but it’s still tough trying to find a spot to sit. It’s first come first serve with seats since the gym isn’t big enough to have labeled arena seating. 

Initially you had planned to use the extra time you had before the start to return Jaehyun’s chain, but it took you so long to make it from the parking lot to the gym and then to an open seat that there wasn’t any time left. Somewhere in between, you nearly get knocked over by the heavy current of fans from both teams flooding the space. The chain, once clutched in your hand, ends up around your neck out of fear that you lose it permanently.

You end up in the nosebleeds for the rest of the time. The players look like ants and if it weren’t for the large printed numbers on their jerseys, you might not be able to tell all of them apart. You text Donghyuck your location, and you see him looking towards the back rows at the beginning of the game, but he has to stay focused. You try your hardest to focus as well. At this point, you’re just about fluent in the sport that is basketball. But tonight’s game is hard to follow despite this. Jaehyun grabs your attention instead. He plays especially rough tonight, you note. He pushes hard across the court, even gets a couple warnings for defending like he’s on offense. There’s a fair amount of goals with his name on them as well. It’s exciting and you just wish your cheers could reach him.

More annoyance comes when the game finally ends. It’s a last minute shot by one of the other players who walked on this season that tips the game in your school’s favor. The crowd is deafening, even the ending buzzer is muted by their shouts. The bleachers shake under you with the force of fans running to meet their favorite players and generally gloat in front of the other team on the court. The shaking underneath you is terrifying enough to keep you seated until things have died down. There’s still probably a minimum of hundred people gathered on the floor, but you can at least step over empty concession bags as opposed to being stepped on by the supportive members of the hockey team.

It takes forever to find a single person you know. Of course it’s Donghyuck, who is in the middle of talking with some friends from off the team.

“Hyuck,” you begin to run over. When he sees you, you give him a big smile.

“No,” he responds simply as you get closer.

You slow down and let confusion wrinkle your brow. He offers no further verbal explanation but does give you a swift head nod in another direction. You follow the gesture and find Jaehyun at the end of the path. He looks a bit lost despite being with Doyoung and Johnny.

The fact that the others are there makes you freeze up at first, but the feeling of the chain laying delicately on your clavicle reminds you of what you need to do. Luckily, he sees you before the others do and he steps aside under the guise of getting a fresh towel. He waits for you to catch up once he’s out of their line of sight.

His voice is low, like he’s worried being too loud will make you change your mind about talking with him. But there’s an undercurrent of sincere happiness.

“There you are.”

“I was at the top row. I got here too late to sit where I normally do.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you couldn’t make it.”

“There’s no way I would be able to miss this one. Hyuck threatened to shave my head if I did.”

“That...sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. The nerves are getting to you a bit. You’ve never confessed your feelings to anyone before, and you’re not sure if Donghyuck was right about you having a shot.

“So, what are you doing—”

“I’ve been meaning to tell—”

You both start talking at once and then immediately clam up when you interrupt each other. 

He gives the floor to you. “You go first.”

“Okay.” 

You reach for the back of your neck and watch as his gaze follows the movement of your hands only for his eyes to light up in recognition.

“I wondered where that thing went.”

“You left it at my place. I put it on because I was scared I’d lose it for real. Sorry.”

He reaches out casually to thumb at the chain around your neck. “Don’t be. It looks good on you.”

“It looks better on you.”

The chain slides off cool against your skin and your fingers shake as you carry the chain over to him. Wordlessly, you reach up and loop your arms around his neck to reunite the chain with its rightful owner. Sweaty palms make it difficult to redo the clasp without being able to see it. It puts you right in his personal space for an awkwardly long time.

“I’m really sweaty,” he whispers.

“Uh, that’s nice?”

He laughs and it puffs off your temple.

“I don’t want to get you dirty, but I really want to kiss you right now.” The clasp finally snaps into place

“Oh.”

The way he leans in, the way his arms come to cage around your waist, the drip of the sweat from his temple down the hinge of his jaw. All of it is slow. As if to give you the space to withdraw if you wanted. But you surge forward into him. And for once it’s not awkward. You don’t know how long you stand there necking like hormonal high schoolers in a sea of people on the gym floor at a school dance, but—just like at the school dance—someone is bursting the gossamer thin ambiance just when Jaehyun’s fingers graze the back pocket of your jeans.

“If you look to your left, boys and girls, you can see two local horndogs engaged in a seasonal ritual” He karate chops a hand down the space between your faces, cutting the kiss off abruptly and nearly bruising Jaehyun’s nose. Meanwhile Taeyong snickers loudly from behind Doyoung.

“Do you have a death wish,” you turn to him with fire in your eyes. He backs up slightly, but attempts to stand his ground.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been working to set you two up?”

“What are you talking about?”

You turn to Jaehyun, who looks just as confused. The gears turning in your heads are practically visible as you and he put 2 and 2 together slowly. The random lies, the weird errands, the sudden party. The blank stares from Donghyuck every time the two of you were in the same room but refused to talk. It all adds up.

“You owe me sweet potato fries for the rest of your life. Maybe longer, I’m not sure yet.”

Donghyuck puts his arms around you and Jaehyun, pulling you with him as he heads out of the gym and towards the exit that leads toward the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you...puppet-mastered us,” Jaehyun’s voice is airy with disbelief.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t realize what was going on,” Taeyong snickers on the walk over. Doyoung snorts while lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, the whole team was in on it.”

“You guys are one to talk.” Donghyuck turns back to give the two boys a humbling once over. “Don’t get me started on how hard it was to get you two losers together.”

Doyoung stops in his tracks, nearly tripping Taeyong in the process. 

“What?”

[toplinetommy]

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part One) - Tyson Jost

gif by @pavszacha​

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Word Count: 3.5k

series playlist

January 2017 – University of North Dakota

It was your senior year at NoDak, and you couldn’t believe that you had somehow made it through nearly four years of school already. You of course had the help from your roommates who doubled as your best friends, and the hockey team to keep you sane from everything that comes with being a student studying purchasing management. If you were told freshman year you would be buddy-buddy with any D1 sports team, you would’ve laughed.

That’s kind of how you ended up where you were today: a student-athlete tutor. You were a marketing major, loving it so much and needing some extra money, you had decided to tutor the first level econ and marketing classes when you were a second-semester sophomore.

You were in the middle of tutoring a few of the guys that were all enrolled in Intro to Economics when a guy you had never seen came barreling in the room.

“Hey, Boes, do you know when the bus leaves tomorrow? I didn’t write it down and no one sent it in the group chat.” The curly headed brunette spoke. You figured he was on the team with what he said combined with the green UND hockey shirt he wore.

“Uhh 10:30, and don’t be late you saw what happened to Cam last week.” The blonde in front of you chirped. The brunette scoffed as he rolled his eyes, exiting the room just as quickly as he entered.

“Who was that?” you ask the guys surrounding you, bringing your Yeti to your lips for a sip of water.

“Why, you think he’s cute?” Brock smirked, causing both Tucker and Andrew to laugh. He was one of the guys you had been tutoring since freshman year, so you had a closer bond to him then some of the other guys on the team.

His chirp had you choking on the last bit of water in your mouth, “What! I can’t just ask who a guy I’ve never seen before is?”

“Name’s Tyson, he’s a freshman from Canada.” You nodded, noticing the slight accent he had when he spoke earlier. “I think he’s only here for the year though, he was a top 10 pick in the  draft.”

At that, the boys all went back to taking their notes and working on their case studies as the new boy’s face stuck in your mind for a few more minutes.

“By the way, are you coming to our next home game? It’s next Friday.” Tucker said as he put his laptop into his backpack. “I’ll even let you wear my alternate jersey.”

You laughed at this, the boys always making jokes on who’s jersey you got to wear whenever you went to games. “Only if you finish your econ stuff before then.” He agrees, and you and the boys all make your way out of the common room.

-

A knock on your front door startles you as you eat your sandwich, and before you can get up to go see who it is, Tucker is walking into your apartment, green sweater in hand.

“Okay, so I might not have washed my jerseys still, so here’s a different one.” He admits, tossing the sweater in your general direction. You unfold the jersey seeing the number 17 stitched onto the sleeves and the name Jost on the back.

“Tuck, I literally have no idea who’s jersey this is?”

“Oh! It’s Josty’s, the freshman. We’re also playing a prank on all the new guys tonight so we stole all of their green jerseys so they think they're missing.” The brunette in front of you laughs to himself. You agree to wear it, only because you don’t really have anything else to wear and you’d thought entertaining this so-called prank would do no harm.

It’s a few hours later and the mystery-man’s jersey looks like it was made to fit you with how it drapes over your shoulders. You’re sitting with two of your roommates that you had to drag along as well as one of their boyfriend’s. One of the many perks about going to a school like North Dakota was that there was one sport everyone bonded over: ice hockey.

Warmups had just started and you finally spot #17 on the ice and that’s when it hits you. Jost. Tyson Jost. Number 17. The freshman, the guy that you had met for the first time just a few days prior. The guy that you thought was kind of cute. No scratch that, not kind of, but definitely cute.

“Dude, Allison,” You nudge your roommates shoulder. “I don’t think the team is playing a prank on the freshies, I think Tuck is playing a prank on me.”

Allison quirks her eyebrows in confusion, urging you to keep talking. “If they were gonna steal their jerseys why would they hand them out to people and not just hide them?” You groan, and Allison doesn’t think too much of it, not knowing the ins and outs of the team like you do.

The game ends with a win, the arena shaking with excitement. You knew the boys would be excited with the win, especially coming after a tough loss earlier in the week.

You and your friends make your way back home and you text the group chat you’re in with the guys you tutor letting them know they played great.

Dumb Jocks + 1 Y/N: great game guys 🤩 *Brock loved the message* Andrew: thanks y/n! Andrew: also party at the house 10pm Y/N: might drag the roomies and make an appearance. and tuck, im ripping you a new one when i see you Tucky: just for that i decided its going to be a jersey party 😈 *Brock laughed at the message*

It’s two hours later when you walk through the front door of the NoDak hockey house. You were probably one of the handful of people there that actually spend time there both sober and when the sun is shining. This gives you much more confidence navigating your way through to the back of the living room, finding the small group of guys you actually know on the team.

The group consisting of Tucker, Andrew, Brock, and Johnny, cheers as you approach them. You walk straight up to Tucker, giving him a hard clap on the shoulder to say hi to him. “Hey, Tucky, you gotta real nice jersey on you there.” You chirp, gesturing to his Drew Doughty jersey. “It’s almost like you play hockey or something.”

Tucker shakes your hand that’s still resting on his shoulder off and points it back towards you. “I think the real story here, bud, is the jersey you’re rocking tonight.” You hadn’t bothered changing out of the green sweater between the game and now, opting to show school spirit. Besides, how often did you get to wear a player’s jersey, right?

You roll your eyes as the other boys look to see the commotion between you and Tucker. The boys snicker at the sight of you two upon seeing the green #17 sweater still adorning your body.

“Tucky, I didn’t know you actually got her to wear it!” Brock emphasized, going into to dap up his teammate. Your head snapped towards the blonde, shooting him, as well as the other boys all a glare.

“Anyways, I’m here to get drunk and win some flip cup, not be patronized by a bunch of dumb jocks.” You joke, looking over your shoulder to see where your other friends went. You say your goodbyes, letting them know you’ll see them around throughout the night.

You’re standing near the staircase with your friends, about halfway done with your third drink when the freshman brunette walks up to your group.

“So that’s where my alternate jersey went, eh?”

You scoffed into your cup, your friends laughing at the confrontation. “Yeah, I guess so.”

An awkward silence falls over your small group, the unintended snarkiness of your tone being felt by everyone. Your few friends leave the two of you, mentioning that they needed refills.

“Sorry about the jersey. I can wash it tomorrow and bring it the next time I tutor the guys.”

Tyson leans against the wall across from you, “It’s no problem. I don’t think we wear them again until next month anyways.”

Silence falls between the two of you again, the one common denominator between the two of you being the jersey hanging over your shoulders.

“So, uh, what do you tutor the guys in?” Tyson pipes up, hiding his expression behind the Bud Light in his hand, bringing it to his lips for a swig.

“Mainly econ, but I help some of the guys in specific classes depending on their major. Like, Johnny and Tucker, for example. They’re both in finance and econ, and I’ve taken a lot of those classes.”

“You’re an econ major then?”

“Oh, no,” you laugh. “My minor is econ, but I’m a marketing major. What about you? Have you decided on a major yet?”

The question pulls a laugh out of Tyson, confusing you. “Yeah, I’m pre-athletic training, but I don’t see myself finishing that out.”

You swallow the rest of your drink and decide to chirp him a bit, “What? Too big of some hockey hot-shot to get a degree?”

That comment elicits another laugh from the Canadian in front of you, and that’s when you decide you could definitely get used to hearing that sound.

He gets ready to answer when Tucker yells at the both of you from the kitchen, “Josty! y/n! We’re about to start flip cup, let’s go!”

Tyson chugs the rest of his beer before setting it on a nearby table and grabbing another one from the case in the fridge. He takes a spot across from you on the other side of the table as you guys jump into the game.

As the games continue, your level of sobriety starts to deteriorate and a light dizziness falls over your body. The current game of flip cup being played is elimination style and your team had lost, the other team electing to have you kicked off your team.

You move to the side, leaning against the kitchen counter to continue watching the game unfold in front of you. You pulled out your phone, trying to figure out where some of your group had disappeared to, seeing that one of them had already left to go hookup with one of her usual hookups.

You start to type back to her, letting her know that you’ll text her when you’re home when you feel a presence next to you. Turning your head to the side you see Tyson reappearing next to you.

He notices the mix of drunkness and tiredness on your face, asking if you were all good. You nod your head, going to scratch the discomfort you feel at the back of your left elbow. “I think I’m getting ready to go home soon, just trying to make sure my friends and I all leave at the same time.”

Tyson nods, tight-lipped, and offers to help you find them. As you walk around the house gathering your friends, the discomfort on your elbow only grows.

April 2017 – University of North Dakota

You’re standing in your apartment, waiting around on Tucker and Brock to come pick you up before the banquet, staring yourself down in the mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You get dressed up often, but never quite this dressed up and your nerves are getting the best of you. You don’t think anything can prepare yourself for the dinner you’re about to go to: the North Dakota men’s hockey senior banquet.

As you put your earrings in, you hear a knock on the front door and the boys shouting that they were here. You yell back that you were coming, heading to the kitchen to grab your flask and purse.

“You excited for your first hockey banquet?” Tucker yelled into the kitchen. You had known him for the past two years, regularly tutoring him, and over the course of those years he had somehow become one of your best friends.

Walking out into the living room, where the two boys were sitting, you let them know that you were excited and ready to go.

“Damn, y/n, didn’t know you were such a rocket.” Brock whistles. You roll your eyes at them, but specifically him, and gesture towards the door.

You sit with Tucker and some of the other guys you know from tutoring, and get through dinner barely speaking a word due to all of the speeches being made. The dinner was good, it was a nice break from your cooking and the fast-food you were used to eating on a regular basis.

You got more involved in the conversations as the seniors got to make speeches, asking Tucker what some of the inside jokes and chirps were all about. Lots of laughter and snuck-in alcohol later, the boys and their dates were ready for their bar crawl.

Your large group walks into to the first bar, the boys going straight up to the bar to get drinks as no-one really pregamed. The group ends up all back together for the first bit, taking over one of the front corners of the balcony that overlooks the rest of the bar. You guys were clearly over dressed for the dive bar located right off of campus with all the guys in suits and ties and the girls in dresses and heels, whereas everyone else was dressed for the cold April weather.

Tucker finally makes his way back to you, two drinks in his hand, as he hands one over to you. You thank him loudly and quickly jump into conversation.

“You sad I’m leaving you guys soon?” You yell, with a wide smile on your face. Tucker, Andrew, Brock and Johnny all laugh at you. You were the oldest of the group, as everyone else was either a junior or younger.

“I’ll be sad not being here, but I won’t be sad that I’m finally done with school.” Brock admits, to which he earns a few eye rolls from the other guys. Both Andrew and Johnny weren’t really on a clear cut path to the NHL, instead just playing for the fun of it at this level.

The conversations start to slow down in the group as the music gets louder and more drinks are consumed. Tucker and Brock get pulled away by some of the other guys for a little bit, leaving you alone with some of the girls as well as Andrew and Johnny.

You’re in the middle of a story being told when you hear Brock and Tucker’s booming laughter not too far away from you. When you turn to look at them, they’re standing with Tyson, who looks as if he’s speaking into both of their ears so they can hear him properly. Tucker is grasping his chest as he spots you looking at him, causing him to only laugh harder.

A light flush falls on your cheeks, confused as to why the sight of you makes him laugh more. You put your straw in your mouth, biting down on it as a nervous habit, and look down at your dress making sure nothing was spilled on you.

When you look up again, Tucker is no longer where he was standing and his voice startles you as he appears next to you. “You will never believe what just happened,” he starts, a hint of laughter still laced in his tone. “Tyson just asked me if we were together.”

The accusation makes you laugh, too, the both of you starting to lose your breath at the crazy thought. The both of you had become such good friends over the past 18 months that he was more like a brother than anything else.

The laughter dies down, and a realization hits you. “Why the fuck did he want to know if we’re dating?”

“I think the kid thinks you’re cute.” Tucker smirks, raising his eyebrows before downing the rest of his drink.

Your face flushes again, and as you finally go to respond to the statement you see the culprit of the previous conversation heading your way. Turning to your friend for an escape, you see that he has made himself seemingly disappear into the crowd. By the time you spot the tall brunette he’s out on the dancefloor talking to some girl.

You turn back around, trying to find someone new to start a conversation with when there’s a tap on your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder, you see that Tyson finally made his way over to you.

In light of the new information Tucker has given you, you sheepishly greet the freshman in front of you. His just as shy response gives you a little boost of confidence and you decide to mess with him a little. “Aren’t you a little too young to get into American bars?”

“Perks of my status, I guess.” He shrugs with a hint of cockiness in his tone, a new found confidence showing on his face.

“Oh, the big-shot Canadian hockey player status?”

He laughs pointedly “that’s the one.”

You were trying to figure out how to articulate your words about what he was laughing about with Tucker earlier in the night, when a wet substance pours down your back. Your jaw drops open, shoulders shrugging in both shock and discomfort. The back of your light blue dress is completely and noticeably soaking wet.

Tyson watches everything unfold in front of him. He watches your bright eyes and smiling cheeks do a complete 180 into a scowl. You whip around to whoever spilled their drink on you, ready to give them a piece of your mind. As you open your mouth, getting ready to tell the guy off that he hadn't noticed what he had just done, a large hand wraps around your stomach pulling you back.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. He’s probably plastered and didn’t mean to spill.” Tyson assures lowly into your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand straight up. The hand not holding your drink goes to hold where Tyson’s hand is placed on your stomach, using his warmth to bring you back down to earth.

You take a deep breath and try to swallow your embarrassment before turning back towards him. You rest wrap your hands around his biceps as he continues to rest his free hand on the small of your back. Looking back up at him only makes you feel embarrassed again, realizing he’s touching the gross substance that was dumped all over you.

“I want to leave.” You let out in a whisper.

“You sure? We can find the other guys and stay if you want and try to have a good rest of the night. I don’t think anyone will care.” Tyson says, caution laced in his soft tone.

Shutting your eyes and tightening your grip on him, you continue, “I care and I just want to go home and shower.” You turn out of his grip for a moment to try and spot either Tucker or Brock in the crowd. You find them rather quickly, both with girls, causing you to sign heavily. “I’m going to call an Uber.”

You start to walk away towards the door but Tyson catches up to you quickly. Grabbing your hand he pulls you back into him slightly. “I had two beers, y/n, I can drive you back.”

You nod your head and thank him for the offer, leading him out of the bar and towards the parking lot. You follow him to his car and as you get to your door, he opens it for you. You thank him and he runs over to the driver’s side, jumps into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and turns the radio down.

His car finally pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and you lift your head from the car window to turn to him. “Thank you for driving me, I really appreciate it. Sorry you had to miss out on the senior bar crawl for this.”

“It’s no problem, at all. I would’ve wanted to leave under those circumstances, too.” He admits. You give him an awkward tight lipped smile to say goodbye as you hop out of the car. As you open your front door you turn back to wave at him, yelling another thank you.

When you’re in the shower a little while later, you can’t seem to shake the comfort you felt when he pulled you away from the guy that had spilled his drink on you. Smiling to yourself, you turn the water off, dry off and put lotion on your elbows noticing how dry and itchy they both were towards the end of the night.

[hellfirenacht]

The Convention Fic Chapter 2

Note: I’m so humbled and overwhelmed by the amount of love that the first chapter got. Thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs! 

First Chapter

((Gamer Beej picture by @edgy-drama-queen​))

Months Earlier 

You laid in your bed, huddled under a hundred covers. Beside you, a mountain of used tissue and a few discarded empty bottle of assorted flavors of Gatorade. Your brain felt muddled and your nose wouldn’t stop running, every part of your seemed to ache as you scrolled through Twitch, trying to find anything that would keep your attention. You were sure that once you did settle on something, you’d be able to comfortable space out, but while you still had the strength to be picky. 

The small cold that you had woken up with had steadily gotten stronger through the day. It was now in full swing, and completely kicking your ass. It was two in the morning, and after sleeping on and off all day you were awake (for better or worse). You wanted something easy to watch, or at least entertaining enough to keep your mind from thinking about how everything ached, or how your nose was chapped from blowing it all day. 

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE (LIVE)

The thumbnail was simple, and it looked like it had just started. There wasn’t much of a description but you found yourself clicking anyway. Once loaded, you were mildly surprised at what you saw; a man looking to be in his early thirties, with green-ish hair (possibly copying Jack...?), scruffy face, and way too close to the camera. 

“Is this- can you guys see me? Say my name three times if you can’t see me!” the man said messing with the camera. You set your laptop to the side and laid down so that you could type with one hand and watch at the same time. You mumbled his name three times as requested, even though you could see him. 

“It’s showtime, gamers!” he said. “I don’t have anything planned for tonight so let’s just boot up steam and play what seems like fun!”

You watched for the next ten minutes as he scrolled through his steam library and picked out a clicker game. 

“Apparently all you do in this game is click your mouse over and over to kill monsters.” he said. “Doesn’t sound too exciting but I’m more in the mood to talk to all of you!”

You glanced at the viewer count in the corner, there were barely 10 people, wait, 9 people in the chat. However, the way that he talked it was as though he was talking to thousands of people. 

As he played his clicker game he asked questions to the chat, he seemed to have a gimmick where he acted like he was dead or a demon or something; you honestly couldn’t tell which in your half-dead state yourself. The few times you participated in the chat, you just responded with simple yes or no answers to his questions.

As the night went on and you continued to doze in and out of sleep, Beej continued to talk. He talked about his friends Barb and Adam (“They turn me on!”), and someone named Lydia (“She’s my best friend!”). At one point you think you caught sight of a blond woman and managed to type out “hi Barb.” which surprisingly got caught his eye. 

“Wow, two words from BlankFace!” He laughed. “That’s a new record! HEY BARB MY FRIEND SAYS HI!” 

Friend? Sure, why not. You couldn’t help but smile as he continued rambling about the time that he tried to teach them how to be scary. It was a silly story, but it made you fall back asleep for a bit more. 

It was nearly six in the morning when you cracked your eyes open again, surprised to see that the stream was still going. Though by this point, you were the only one left in the stream. He wasn’t talking anymore, having switched over to Minecraft and was running around with TNT blowing stuff up. 

“Hi” you managed to type, and a few seconds later he smiled. 

“Heya there BlankFace!” he said. “Thought you died there for a few hours!” 

“almost” then “sick” was your response. 

“Wait, if you’re sick, shouldn’t you be asleep or in bed?” he asked, frowning into the camera. 

You thought for a second, on how to respond to this man who you barely knew, and yet already knew way too much about. (Though at this point, you weren’t quite sure what part of the stream was real and what part was a fever dream). Why had you stuck around for this long on the stream? You knew the answer, and decided to be honest. 

“Lonely” 

He stopped playing for a moment, looking at the word that had appeared on his screen. If your face hadn’t already felt too warm from the fever, you would probably feel embarrassed by your honesty. 

“You want me to keep talking or just keep playing?” he asked, the energy in his voice softened slightly. 

“Yes.” was the last thing you typed out before falling asleep again. 

Friday (Morning)

“It’s showtime, gamers!” Beetlejuice yelled into the camera that he had shoved in your hands. “It’s day 1 of the con and I’m down here with everyone’s favorite BeetleMod! Hey babes say hi to everyone!” just as quickly as he had given you the camera, it was now being snatched out of your hands and pointed at you.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to be on camera at the moment, being so exhausted already but you knew it’d be easier to go along with it for right now. “Hey guys! I made it to the con!” you said. 

“Alright, enough of the eye-candy.” Beej said, handing you back the camera. “It’s 2 in the morning-”

“Three.” you corrected. 

“Time means nothing when you’re dead.” he replied. “It’s really fucking late and we’re down here in the arcade with a bunch of imported games that aren’t on the computer so we’re gonna play some and our favorite mod here is gonna help me out.”

“I’ll kick your ass at DDR.” you said. 

“Oh, is that a challenge?” he asked, smirking at the camera. “We’ll see about that.”

“Bring it on, bug boy.” you replied. 

The two of you made your way to the DDR machine, and spent the next 20 minutes waiting in line to play. Even in the middle of the night and so early in the convention, it was surprisingly crowded in the arcade. The basement lights were off, save for a few flood lights along the walls and the glow of the many different arcade machines. There was something surreal about standing next to Beej under the neon lights. His green hair seemed to glow even more, and you wondered if there was some glow-in-the-dark hair gel that he used. He often used a multicolored ring light  to convey emotion, but as you waited and talked to him, for a moment, you could believe that his hair could change colors so easily. 

“How do you get your hair to do that?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“Do what, babes?”

“The color change thing. It looks like your hair is almost glowing.” at your words, you could have sworn it glowed brighter. Though that could also just be because of the games flashing around you. 

“I’m a demon, that’s how we work!” he replied, faking offence. “I thought my best mod would have known that by now.” 

“You know, the camera’s off.” you said. “You don’t have to keep putting on a show for my sake.”

He looked at you for a moment, his fake offence shifting to an emotion you tried to grasp; embarrassment maybe? Surprise? Maybe a mixture? He shook it off quickly though and wrapped his arm around your shoulders again. 

“No show here, doll.” he said with a smirk, and your heart jumped in your chest at the new nickname. “I am 100% demon.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I thought you were ‘the ghost with the most.’” 

“I am!” he pouted. 

“So are you dead or are you a demon?” you questioned. “You’ve never been fully clear on that.”

“I’m dead on the inside.”

“Oh, same.” 

The two of you laughed and his arm stayed around your shoulders until the two of you were up next. From what you knew about him, he was a very physically affectionate man. On stream, he wasn’t one to hesitate hugging and smooching whoever happened to be on camera with him. Beej had no problem hugging Lydia or kissing Adam on the lips. It led to a lot of questions about his sexuality and relationship status. When asked, he said his sexuality was “yes” and that he was happily dating the Maitlands, which Adam and Barbara denied every time. 

Anyone who dared make any inappropriate comment about him and Lydia would be banned on site; a job that you had to do more times than you wanted to admit. Disgusting. 

Still, even though you were sure that the physical contact was only as a friend as you watched the last pair of dancers do their three rounds of DDR you allowed your mind to wander a bit. You imagined for a moment what it would be like if this weekend was one long date between the two of you. Would he use more nicknames? Would he introduce you to people as his partner? What if the two of you were sharing a room and there was only one bed-

“Looks like we’re up, got the camera ready?” He asked, hopping onto the small stage. You made quick work of getting the camera back on and setting it on the slightly busted tri-pod that Beej had produced from his bag. After making sure the angle was right, you hopped on next to him, taking the right pad. 

Before the two of you had made your way to the front of the line you had agreed to a few rules for this game. It was best 2 out of 3, and you would both be playing on normal mode.

“You pick the first song.” he said.

You scrolled through the easy songs first, needing a warmup. When was the last time you had played this game properly? It seemed like so long ago that you had a chance to play. 

The first song was an easy song that you remembered from your younger nerd days. It took you a second to get into the rhythm of it but halfway through you had found your groove to a degree. 

You won the first round, and the two of you smiled at each other before he picked the next song, a little harder this time but you felt more or less confidant. 

The beat of the song rattled your insides as you pounded onto the metal stage with your sneakers. You focused as hard as you could on the screen, trying to keep your feet where they needed to be when it was time to stomp. This round was a little harder, and more taxing on you. Though you won the second round, you were nearly doubled over panting. 

“Looks like you win, doll.” Beej said, looking at the screen. 

“Yeah but we still got one more round. Go ahead, I’ll let you pick.” you offered, being a gracious winner. 

He immediately stomped on the hardest song of the game. 

“Oh geeze, are we really doing this?” you asked with breathless laughter, standing up again. 

He looked around, almost as if to make sure that no one was paying attention. “I think it’d just be a fun challenge.” he shrugged. 

The fast music started up again, and you found it near impossible to have your eyes focus on the arrows that were flying across your screen. Though the first two songs had provided enough of a challenge, this one was near impossible to keep up with. You lost track of your feet and within thirty seconds you were hit with that game over screen. 

You glanced over at Beej, surprised that he was still going. He wasn’t perfect by any means but he was still somehow not losing. Your eyes glanced down as his legs, blurry with the speed he was dancing at and you rubbed your eyes, feeling like something was wrong. You really must be way more tired than you thought, because for a few seconds you would have sworn that Beej had three legs. 

Still, even if he did have three legs that didn’t help him win the final round. Though he lasted a good minute in the level, it wasn’t enough to win. The game over screen flashed and he was booed off the stage by the imaginary crowd. 

“That... was really impressive.” you said, grabbing the camera again as the two of you moved out of the way for the next set of dancers. “How did you move your legs that fast?!”

He winked at you. “Trade secret, doll.” he replied. “Once you’re a true DDR master, then you’ll know.”

“Dude, I kicked your ass though.” you replied, following him towards the next row of games. “Shit, did you let me win?!” you demanded. 

“Hey watch your language!” he teased. “You’re a mod you gotta set a good example for the kids!”

“What kids, most of your streams are marked 18+.” 

“18+? In my-”

“Good Christian Discord server?!” you both finished at the same time, laughing at the dumb inside joke. 

That’s how the next few hours went with you and Beej. You walked around the arcade, playing games, roasting each other, and giving your opinions on the games. When you weren’t filming him, you were filming the general area getting some good b roll footage of the night. You were constantly swapping between looking at him through the lense and looking at him in front of you. It seemed so unreal that he was actually there and talking to you and touching you in person. 

You secretly hoped this weekend would never end. 

The battery in the camera died around 6 in the morning, and you let out a long yawn as you helped pack it back up. 

“I’m exhausted.” you said, feeling yourself hit a wall. “I’m gonna head back to bed soon and crash. What time is the... thingy?”

“The what?” Beej asked, amused. 

“The thingy you wanted to do tonight. The Friday surprise... thingy.” Oh yeah, your brain no longer existed. 

“Don’t worry about it, you just go get some res- hey, woah!” he jumped slightly and held you upright as you wobbled against him. “Are you okay?”

“...Sleepy...” you mumbled into the hoodie. 

“Okay, what’s your room number, I’m taking you back. I don’t need my favorite mod passing out on the escalators and getting shredded to pieces.” he said, holding you tight against his side. 

“4130.” you mumbled, too tired to disagree and say you could make it yourself. 

You held onto him as he led you through the small crowd of people that were just waking up or also headed to bed. He felt both warm and cool at the same time with your head against his shoulder. The cloudiness of your brain reminded you of the first time you had watched his streams months and months ago. 

“HOPE UR FEELING BETTR!” the message in your inbox said the next day. You almost forgot that you had attempted to watch a stream last night and had confessed that you were sick and lonely. 

“I am, thanks!” you replied. You still mostly felt like crap, but you were conscious enough to at least reply to the message the streamer left. 

“IF UR STILL LONLEY U SHULD JOIN MY GROUP CHAT!!!!” 

You managed to open the door to the hotel room and immediately dropped your badge, your bag, and your pants in that order. 

“Nice undies, doll.” Beej snickered, not even hiding the fact that he was looking you over, and that’s when you realized what you had done. “And here I thought I was gonna have to buy you dinner first.” 

You attempted to hide your embarrassment as you went to your bag and dug out a pair of sleep shorts. “Shhhhhhh....” you whispered, pulling them on. “You didn’t see anything.” 

“Right, I totally didn’t see you lead me up to your hotel room, invite me in, and drop your pants.” he replied, still smirking at you. “If that’s the reward I get just for walking your home, I can’t wait to see what happens after our date tonight!” 

“...Date?” you suddenly felt a little more alert as your head jerked towards him. “Tonight is a date?” you asked again and you saw Beej’s face suddenly turn to panick as well. 

“Hey, you’re really tired I’m gonna let you go now get some rest and text me when you wake up. Later, doll!” he said very fast and quickly left. You wanted to run after him, and demand an explanation for what was going on, but you were still too tired. You had barely slept in the last two days out of excitement and nerves. 

‘This is a problem for Afternoon Me.’ you decided, crawling into bed and rearranging the pillows the way you liked. The blackout curtains blocked the rising of the sun and you felt a mild twinge of mourning for the breakfast pass for the hotel that would go unused today. Sleep came easily and quickly as the last thoughts that passed through your brain were of Beej’s arms holding you close. 

“Looks like we’re getting more people in the group chat lately.” you said over voice chat. 

“Do you wanna be a mod?” he asked you to your surprise. “You could help make rules and stuff and make sure no one says anything inappropriate about Lydia. Or Adam. Only I’m allowed to say inappropriate stuff about Adam.” 

“I’d love to!” 

Next Chapter

[rhombifer-blog]

i’ve decided the answer to my consistent digital inking woes is to say FUCK LINEART and just do a second, tidier sketch layer. more like with cleaning up something i drew in pencil.

it’s still not that gr8 but it’s getting me over that bump of, you know, “I can’t colour this bc i haven’t inked but also i hate my inking” aaand my goal with arting is to start learning to actually finish stuff instead of having a gazillion unfinished sketches everywhere

(i think what i might do with thing i drew last night -- bc it’s a gift and i want it to be nicer!! -- is do some serious cleanup now that i have the sketch and basic colours down and then focus on necessary shading and detail work)