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areyouwell · 5 months ago

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Autophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of being alone. Children or adults with this condition often suffer from severe panic attacks at the thought of being completely alone.

Ch.5.5

Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of a depressive spiral, atypical methods of self-harm, severe mental breakdown

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: just a little follow-up chapter cuz if i put this all in one it would have been almost 20k words. let's not talk about how my mini-chapters are over 6k words i'm fluent in yappanese let me monologue

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck

The last twenty-four hours had been a complete blur. Numbly going through the motions of packing a rucksack, letting your body take you to where you needed to go whilst your mind was stuck in a loop. Eighty years. Eighty years. That’s how long you were kept from the world. That’s how long you’d been fed lies and bullshit. Eighty fucking years. And everything about your life, about who you are, what you’d been through, was in that venomous folder you couldn’t bring yourself to open. Nobody looked at you the same way. Ororo could barely stand to be in your presence, having to leave every time you entered the room. Charles kept looking at you with fucking sympathy and you wanted to knock his bald head clean off his shoulders. Scott kept apologising every time he passed you in the hallway, saying he didn’t know and would have done things differently if he had. Kurt and Hank barely knew what the fuck was going on and you hadn’t seen Jean since before the raid.

And then there was Logan. Who kept almost tiptoeing around you, asking if you were alright every five fucking seconds, asking if you needed anything or if you wanted him to do something. Honestly, you wanted him to shut the fuck up. You wanted them all to shut the fuck up. You hadn’t processed anything. Hadn’t been allowed to process anything. After you woke up, you’d explained to those in the med-bay what Dr.Kremlin –or whatever his stupid fucking name was– had told you. Charles filled in the gaps, and you were given all of thirty seconds before you were taken upstairs to pack a bag and to meet Logan in the garage. You felt nothing as you swung your rucksack in the backseat of the beaten pickup truck, clambering into the passenger’s side and falling into dead silence. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Not to Jubilee, not to little Artie. Not even to Kitty.

At least your trip away made more sense now. Charles wanted you out of the mansion so he could monitor those neurotransmitters from the supposed environmental research facility without you catching wind of anything. Not that you’d know anyway, but maybe he thought it was safer if you didn’t know. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right?

How ironic did that feel?

You’d been driving for around four hours in complete silence, your head resting against the slightly smudged window, eyes trained on the outside world as it blurred past, a kaleidoscope of greens, browns and greys. Feet perched on your seat, your arms tucked atop your knees as you subconsciously made yourself as small as possible. You didn’t know how long left you had of the drive, and honestly, you didn’t care. He could keep driving forever and it wouldn’t matter to you.

“Y’alright?” Logan broke the long silence a little tentatively, his voice hushed as if not to disturb you. You found it vaguely amusing. He could shout at the top of his lungs and it wouldn’t disturb you. Not at the moment. You didn’t care. Didn’t even care to respond. It was a stupid fucking question anyway. You’d felt like this only once before. At least, only one time you could remember, if that was even real. And it was the days that followed after Jade’s death. A bus could have hit you and you wouldn’t have been able to find it in yourself to care.

Logan sighed through his nose. Stealing a glance at your huddled form, staring unblinking out the window, he went to rest his hand on your shoulder but thought better of it as you tensed. Seeing you like this, so utterly devoid of emotion, was almost jarring. He was used to seeing your smile and hearing your laugh. Fuck, even when you lost control and tried to kill him was better than this. At least he could smell the fear on you. But he couldn’t smell anything right now. Just the oil of the engine and dust of the seats. You’d faded. Not just your personality or your mental state, but everything about you had faded. Suppressed. This was nothing like when you lost control. He had an idea of how to bring you back then. But this?

He was way out of his depth.

“Talk to me,” he urged quietly, and he thought his pleas had fallen on deaf ears until you finally raised your head, turning to look at him blankly.

“About what?” Though your voice was completely flat, he was still glad to hear it. If he could get a response out of you, then perhaps he could bring you back after all. If he could just get you to talk to him…

“Anythin’. How you’re feelin’. What you’re thinkin’. We have a long ways to go yet.”

Your shrug wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. “So? You’ve never had a problem with silence before.” It was all he was going to get out of you before you returned to leaning against the window, your vacant eyes falling to watch the grey skies beyond. Suffocating quiet consumed the truck once again, only the hum of the wheels against the tarmac acted as a symphony for your thoughts. “Ya know what’s fucked?”

Logan almost jumped as you talked again, not expecting you to continue the conversation. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t glad. “I don’t even know what’s real. If it was all a simulation… I don’t even know if this is real. If you’re real. Or just another sick twisted plot produced to make me believe I’m living a life that I’m not.” It was a thought that had plagued your mind since the raid. If everything in your past had been a lie, how did you know any of this wasn’t just more bullshit spun to widen the web?

Stretching out his hand, this time he didn’t hesitate to pry your own from your folded arms, clasping your knuckles in his palm. “‘M real, sweetheart. This is real. We’re real.” He held his breath, waiting for you to pull away from his touch, but you didn’t. Instead, you raised your head from the window again, offering him a small smile that didn’t even come close to reaching your eyes. He squeezed your hand and found a kernel of hope kindle in his heart as you weakly squeezed back. You’d be okay. He’d make certain of it. It didn’t matter how long it took, or what he’d have to do. He wouldn’t stop until you were okay. “Get some rest, we’ll be on the road for a while.” He pulled your hand up to his face, pressing a light kiss against the front of your wrist where the scars from your past fed into the present, before interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Logan?” your voice was barely audible, timid in a way that had him fighting the urge to pull over, gather you in his arms and hold you until all of this blew over and you could be safe again.

“Mmm?” was all he could say instead, always ready to listen.

“You–” you paused, finding the words heavy in your throat and stuck on your tongue. You hated feeling like this. Feeling the need to be reassured. Hated coming across as insecure or needy, but just this once, you needed to know. “You’re not gonna leave, right?”

Wordlessly, Logan flattened your hand over the centre of his chest, and you felt his heartbeat beneath your fingers. “Not whilst this is still beating.”

It was the first emotion you’d felt since waking up, and you couldn’t stop a silent tear slide down your cheek. His devotion to you incarnate, beating beneath your palm. You knew the weight of his words, and felt their meaning in your soul. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not now. Not ever. And it was one of your fears put to rest, knowing that he wasn’t one for lying.

“Okay.” You responded quietly, your free arm shifting to hug your knees whilst he returned your other, not letting go of your hand. And you found you didn’t want him to. You were afraid earlier that any kind of touch would send you into a spiral, but now he held your hand in yours, you never wanted him to let go.

“Sleep, firefly. I’ll wake you when we get there.” He hushed, and you nodded, curling up against the humming door, letting the soft vibrations of the truck lull you to sleep.

True to his word, a slight shake to your shoulder had you jolting awake, eyes flying open, heart racing as you tried your best to gauge your surroundings as quickly as you could.

“‘S okay,” Logan soothed, and your breathing calmed slightly, whatever dreams had been haunting your unconscious mind faded into nothing with each swipe of his thumb against your shoulder. “We’re here.”

Your eyes scanned the woods beyond the windscreen as he opened his door, the hinges squeaking with age. It was dark out, meaning you’d been on the road for at least eight hours and four of those you’d been asleep for. There was the distinct smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the upholstery of the seats, and you looked down at the source, a burnt-out cigar lay discarded in the central unit, brown paper blackened at the roach.

The door to your right opened and Logan offered you his hand. It wasn’t that you needed help, and you really fucking hoped he knew that, but you took it simply as an excuse to touch him as you stepped out of the truck, the smell of pine needles hitting you almost instantly as your feet touched soft earth. Wherever he’d taken you, this was certainly off-grid. It was so peaceful here. To the point where you’d surpassed tranquillity and landed right back into unease. It was too peaceful here.

“Where are we?” You asked as Logan retrieved both rucksacks from the back seat, mindful not to slam the door shut before locking up the truck. Swinging both backs across each of his shoulders, he took your hand again, leading you around the hood of the truck and you finally saw your new halls of residence.

A sizeable pinewood log cabin. Dark on the inside, but it looked homely enough. A small pair of antlers adorned the front door, piles of firewood stacked neatly beneath little shelters around to the left. You could imagine this as a forest getaway for some rich family who owned several yachts and a sports car. But when Logan produced a thick iron key from his pocket, you blinked. “Is this yours?”

It was the most emotion he’d heard from you since he’d started driving eight hours ago, your words delicately laced with surprise. He smiled back over his shoulder. “Belonged to an old friend, left it to me when he passed.” He wasn’t ready to launch into that whole story, not yet. You had enough to deal with without him banging on about his own past. Sliding the key into the lock, he turned it anti-clockwise until the iron gave way, giving the door a gentle shove as it swung open. It definitely needed doing up, but he was happy to do that himself. “Home sweet home,” he murmured, vaguely hoping all the electrics still worked as he flicked the light switch.

The cabin was illuminated in a soft orange glow, the faux candles on the walls giving the same ambience as torch flame. The interior was cosier than you could possibly have imagined. A comfy-looking, though slightly faded brown sofa faced a broad hearth with yet another stack of kindling piled next to it, a red and green tartan print blanket draped over the back of the sofa. Logan shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on one of the multiple cast iron coat pegs lining the wall by the door, setting the rucksacks down next to the dark wood dining table. There were no arches or doorways that you could see, an open floor plan joining the small, rural kitchen area to the lounge.

A set of stairs led up to another floor behind the hearth, various antlers and horns of different woodland animals hung on almost every available wall, as well as a TV, which you weren’t expecting. Every cupboard looked identical, even the fridge, learning which one it was due to Logan immediately grabbing out two bottles of larger for you both.

You smiled as you inhaled, and recognised the distinctive amalgamation of smells. It was him. Pure, unfiltered Logan.

Crossing to one of the windows, you ran your fingers over the corrugated radiator, noticing the various blankets and pillows set up on the windowsill looking out into the dark green woodland beyond, brown woollen tassels hanging a little too close to the heater, to the point where you tucked them in. Staring out into the forest, you held your arm tightly until Logan’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, tucking you into his side and handing you the second bottle of golden liquid.

“What’ya think?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you moved your hand from your arm to hold his wrist against your shoulder.

“It’s very you.” You offered as much mischief as you could muster, which wasn’t much considering your circumstances, and unfortunately resulted in a confused raise of his brow.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

You huffed an exhausted chuckle, pressing your head into the space between his shoulder and chest. “Yeah. It’s a good thing.” You breathed, before raising the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip of the icy cold beverage. He held you in silence, offering to be whatever you needed him to be, and for right now, you just needed him close to you. You didn’t know what had happened in the past, and you didn’t know what was going to happen. You couldn’t hide forever, and there would come a day where you would have to face the contents of that folder. But it was enough for now just knowing you weren’t alone, and when that time came, you wouldn’t be alone.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall or you can use the ensuite upstairs if you wanna freshen up. I can get started on makin’ dinner, should have some preservatives lyin’ around somewhere.” He looked towards the cupboards and you wished you had the energy or emotional bank to tease him properly about his cooking. But you didn’t need to, he looked back at your face of slight mock disbelief, a small, almost bashful smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’ve picked up a few things over the last couple months.”

He didn’t resist as you weakly shoved at him, his smile widening as you showed small signs of your old self before your eyes took on that faraway look again and you retreated back into your protective shell. He knew it was a defence mechanism, he’d seen it in the kids now and then. When things got overwhelming or something went wrong, they’d shut themselves away behind emotional walls, appearing almost hollow before he’d sit them down and pry their emotions out one thread at a time. It nearly always resulted in them sobbing their eyes out, but it was a tried and true method.

One he was planning on using on you when he felt the time was right. You couldn’t shut yourself away forever. He wouldn’t let you, for one. There was no future where your past wins over and you remain this way. Even if it resulted in you drowning the cabin in shadow as you lost control, he didn’t care. In this state, any emotion is a good emotion.

Setting down your bottle, you clung to his wrist for as long as you could before the increasing distance forced you to let go to retrieve your rucksack. You’d packed essentials, being under a strict time limit. A few spare pairs of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, cleanser, moisturiser, a Swiss army knife and as much underwear as you could stuff in the little space that remained at the top. You swing the bag over your shoulder, heading to the stairs before Logan caught your forearm.

“Shout if you need anything. I’ll be right here, ‘kay?” He looked so sincere, so serious it almost broke you. The first time he’d said those words to you, you’d laughed them off, teasing him for being overprotective. You couldn’t find the energy to do the same now, thinking back to how things had changed so much in the last day or so. Well, since you returned, really. You simply nodded in response, attempting to offer him a smile that could ease his worries but clearly failing miserably as his brows pinched in concern.

You had nothing left to give him, your emotional reservoir completely drained. So you simply turned away to head up the stairs, guilt gnawing at your chest. You didn’t want him to worry about you. Fuck, you hated it when he worried about you. Even about mundane things, you’d wave off his concerns. But you knew this was an issue that couldn’t be solved by telling him to ‘take his concerns elsewhere’ because where else would he go? You’d pried him away from his home, from his friends and teammates because he had some twisted obligation towards you. It was selfish of you to ask if he was going to leave. You’d all but trapped him into staying by asking that very question. He was too good of a man to say no, he was going to dump you off and dip.

You hated it. Hated how much he was giving up for you. You didn’t deserve any of this, and he certainly deserved so much more. A wall erupted in your mind, locking your guilt away with everything else you were supposed to be feeling at the moment, your heart once again emptying of the hurt it had felt, leaving you with blissful numbness.

Cresting the top of the stairs, you were faced with one of the homeliest scenes in the house. A large four-poster bed piled high with various pillows, cushions and blankets stood against the back wall, yet another window seat snuggled against the window straight ahead of you, overlooking the opposite side of the forest. Two hunting rifles, one barrel crossed over the other, hung triumphantly above the headboard, yet another set of antlers positioned between the two guns, larger than the other sets you’d seen yet. You couldn’t imagine the choice of decor was Logan’s idea, at least you vaguely hoped it wasn’t, but it made you wonder who this place originally belonged to.

Your shoulder went limp as you carelessly dropped your bag to the floor at the foot of the bed, turning to your left to see the door to the bathroom slightly ajar. Crossing over the thick rug on the floor, you pulled the door open, eyes widening in slight surprise. It was a lot bigger than you’d expected for an ensuite. A large bathtub took up most of the space, the shower standing right next to it. You were glad they weren’t one and the same, for some reason you had a vendetta against bathtubs that doubled up as a shower. Maybe the reason lay in that fucking folder, who knows?

Stripping yourself of your sweaty clothes, you cracked the window open, allowing fresh air to circulate around the room before fiddling with the taps and switches of the electric shower. You wondered how often Logan visited, considering how well kept the place was, and how well everything still worked. Steam rolled from the shower into the rest of the bathroom as you stepped beneath the stream, your skin tingling with the heat. It was a pleasant sensation, to feel something other than all-consuming guilt, sinking despondency or nothing at all. You cranked up the dial on the temperature, hissing slightly as the water increased from warm to scalding, staining your skin red raw.

The feeling was addictive, turning ever so often to get that kick of pain on whichever side of your body wasn’t beneath the volcanic stream, inhaling as the pain drowned every other sensation in your chest and head. There was no room for anything else other than the burning against your flesh. You only wished you could turn the dial further, but it seemed you’d reached the maximum.

It could have been anywhere between a few minutes and twenty years before Logan came up to check on you, you’d lost complete track of time. There was a soft knock at the door, a vague call of your name you barely heard and partially ignored in favour of getting lost in the heat. At what point you dropped to the floor, knees hugged against your chest, you couldn’t recall, eyes too focused on the pattern of the droplets against the tiled floor to look up as he entered.

“Christ it’s like a sauna in here, can’t fuckin’ see anyth–” He stopped instantly as he saw you huddled on the floor in the same position you’d spent a good portion of the journey in. But that wasn’t what scared him. It was the angry red of your skin that had alarm bells ringing loudly in his head. He rolled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt, preparing to plunge his hand through the cascading fall to switch the power off. But the moment his skin came in contact with the water, he hissed loudly. “Fuck! ‘S fuckin’ scalding sweetheart.” You didn’t move. Didn’t even look as if you’d noticed him. Panic surged in his veins, gritting his teeth tightly as he endured the searing burn of the lava stream to twist the handle for power, taking a breath as the waterfall eased from a deluge to mere droplets.

Only then did you look up, as if snapped from a daze. He crouched before you as you blinked at him, remembering where you were and what you were doing. However, what you should say in this moment never came to you, only able to stare straight ahead at him, his pinched brows and wide-eyed concern only fuelling the self-loathing in your gut. You hated the way he touched you so gently as if you deserved to be touched like that. You despised the way he draped a large, fluffy towel around your shoulders as if you’d done anything to warrant such comforts.

And you couldn’t stand the way he hooked his arms beneath your knees and carried you from the bathroom, all without a single word. And you loathed how your body reacted, leaning into his touches like you had any right to comfort. You’d all but dragged him away from the life he’d built for himself. Dragged him away from people like Marie and Bobby. Fuck, you couldn’t even think about them right now. You’d stolen one of Marie’s best friends from her, how could you ever go back there now?

Would you ever go back there now? You hadn’t even thought about it. Most likely not. Why would they let you? You’d killed a team member, been sent away for two years, lost control of your mutation, tried to kill not only another team member but the man you love, and have been lying to everyone you’d ever met because the life you thought you’d lived never fucking existed and it turns out you were over eighty fucking years old. Scott was right.

He should have killed you years ago.

“Lemme grab some aloe gel…” you’d been so lost in your head you hadn’t even noticed Logan removing the towel from your shoulders to inspect the raging raw burns on your back and arms. You barked a harsh, joyless laugh.

“Why? What does it matter?” you asked savagely, and Logan turned from where he stood near the bathroom doorway, slowly looking at you in suspicious bewilderment. “I mean, I can just heal, so who cares? I’ll just disappear into shadow and come back good as new, so don’t bother.” You shrugged, feeling burning hatred bubble in your gut. “That is, if I come back out at all, of course. Because that threat still hangs over my head every fucking day.” The shadows writhed with your growing fury, only furthering your tirade of self-deprecation. “And hey, would ya look at that, my mutation only fucking works when I’m insanely pissed off. And I lose control completely when I’m terrified, my only fucking instinct being to survive. How fucked up is that?” You continued, laughing bitterly as you stood from the bed. “Probably some result of whatever the hell is recorded in that file. Eighty years, by the way. Eighty fucking years. Here I was, the fucking asshole who thought she was thirty-two. Imagine that?” Your fingers found your scalp, scratching desperately at the roots of your hair as if to claw your way into your own mind and pry out your memories. “And you just seem to be fucking fine with everything!”

Logan didn’t so much as flinch as you directed your inferno of rage toward him. Sure, his heart shattered with your every word, but not because they hurt him.

“I’ve lied to you. For the past couple of months, I’ve straight-up been lying to your face. About everything! I’ve dragged you away from your friends, from your family, all because I manipulated you into thinking you owed me fucking anything. All those bullshit sob stories are lies. None of them even happened. And ya know what? I can’t even say if that’s true or not because I don’t fucking know.” You gestured to your surroundings wildly, laughing manically as the shadows whipped out from the walls like vines. You always knew the day would come when you completely lost your mind.

“I killed the woman I loved because I couldn’t control myself. I tried my fucking damnest to kill you too, because it seems I just fucking bleed toxicity. And I don’t even know how twisted that makes you for still being here. For still caring. It’s fucking pathetic. I tried to fucking kill you, and all I can see is your ridiculous, unwavering sense of devotion. Do you know how fucked up that makes you? How little must your self-worth be that you’re still here? That is if this isn’t just another simulation created to test my mental durability because who fucking knows at this point? I sure as shit don’t. And ya know what’s worse? No matter what happens, I still have to read that fucking folder. Because we sure as hell can’t hide out here forever, and the only way I can even begin to understand anything is the one thing I can’t bring myself to do.

“So instead, instead I’ll just make everyone suffer along with me. Strength in numbers, right? I’ll just force you to isolate yourself away instead of getting the fuck on with it and reading that fucking file. Nah, I’d rather torture the people I care about, because that’s just what happens. That’s what always fucking happens. And I can’t seem to stop,” your hands returned to your hair as you slowed down, squeezing the sides of your head as if to silence your mind. “It never seems to stop. It’s all just so fucking loud. I just want it to stop… I just want everything to stop…” You sank to the floor, drawing your knees up to your chest, your back pressed against the end of the bed. “I’m so tired, Logan. I’m so fucking tired.” Your voice faded to a whisper as you screwed your eyes shut, your mind still a roaring tornado of anguish and heartbreak. You didn’t want to hurt him. Fuck, that was the last thing you wanted to do, but you did it in a desperate bid to keep him safe. Maybe, if you sank enough knives into his chest, he’d walk away. The shadows receded into their natural places as you withdrew back behind the walls inside your head.

Logan thought he’d seen vulnerability before, both in you and in others. But the way you looked now, naked, trembling on the floor, your head tucked behind your knees, hands clawing at your own hair…

Nothing could have prepared him for that.

He said nothing, silently crossing the floor to kneel next to you. Softly, he removed your nails from your hair, setting your arms limp by your side as he cupped either side of your jaw, raising your head to look at him. Tears flowed freely from your eyes as you desperately searched his face. What for, he didn’t know, but he let you look. He let you hunt in the corners of his brows, digging around the slope of his nose, finally returning to his eyes. What you found, or rather didn’t find, pulled a sob from your chest, and he tucked your face beneath his chin. Wrapping his arms around your naked body, he just held you as stuttered sob after stuttered sob wracked your body.

Grief was a funny old thing. Always lurking around the corner, rearing its bittersweet head when you least expected it. You cried. You cried for Jade. You cried for Rowan. You cried for the other members of NLMO. You cried for Kitty, and her guilt for hating you. You cried for Ororo, having been burdened with the knowledge not even you wanted to know about yourself.

You cried for Logan. Holy shit did you cry for Logan. You didn’t want this for him. Only the previous morning was he talking about being a normal couple and doing ‘normal couple things’, and now he was stuck in a relationship with a woman who didn’t even know who she was. Who didn’t know what parts of her were real and what parts were fabricated? Your voice scratched your throat raw, every breath like rusty nails in your lungs as you sobbed harder than you ever remember in your life, both real and fake.

And he held you through all of it, gently whispering sweet nothings against your damp, tangled hair, soothing soft caresses against your bare skin with his calloused hands, fingertips grazing every scar he could reach, from the healed burn on your calf to the serrated needle in your neck. His hatred for the Kreva’s only grew with each newly discovered scar on your body, even as your full-bodied cries quietened to mere hiccups of despair.

Tentatively he drew your head away from his damp neck, using his thumb to wipe away the salty lines carved down one side of your face, and using his little finger for the other. “C’mon firefly, let’s get you changed. Gotta do somethin’ ‘bout these burns too…”

You shook your head with teary incredulity. “I don’t understand… why are you still doing this? Why do you still care? After everything I've just said. After everything I’ve done… why?”

“Because I love you.”

Your mind fell completely silent as you stared up at him in utter, petrified shock. “What…?” you managed to whisper, to his slight knowing smile.

“I love you.”

You shook your head again, though this time you looked horrified. “You’re insane.”

Logan nodded as if he already knew this. Of course, he was insane. But not simply because he loved you. He was insane because if anything happened to you, nothing and nowhere would be safe from him. He would walk through hell itself to get you back, and make as many deals with as many devils as he needed to. What was insane was the lengths he would go through to protect you.

“Who am I, Logan? You read the folder, you’ve seen everything… how can you love what’s in there? Who am I?” You almost pleaded with him, and he caught the sides of your neck in his palms.

“‘M gonna need you to listen real close, okay? That folder doesn’t define you. You are who you are in spite of what’s in that folder. I didn’t read all of it… I– I don’t know if I can. But from the reports I did see, you’re still you. You were almost killed because you stepped between your brother and four bullets to the chest, and I’ll be fuckin’ damned if I said you wouldn’t do that with who you are now. What you endured is fuckin’ harrowing, I’ll be honest. There were very few happy moments from what I saw, and fuck, if you don’t you deserve to be happy, none of the rest of us do.

“I don’t know if I’d read that entire folder if you gave the rest of my life, which I’m thinkin’ is a real long time. But if that’s how long it takes for you to read it, I’ll gladly spend the rest of my days with you. I don’t give a shit where we are. At the school, in this cabin, hell, we could be squatting under a bridge for all I care. I’m tired of being too damn scared of saying I love you. Because I fuckin’ do. And you’re crazy if you think any of this changes a goddamn thing about how I feel.”

It was your turn to be rendered completely speechless. Somehow, in one fell swoop, he’d put the fears that hovered around your head concerning him to rest. The terror that he was going to leave you, the fear that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him melted away as you peered into his hazel eyes shining with such conviction you wanted to sob into his arms all over again.

“You love me?” you asked a little diffidently, and Logan rolled his eyes with a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“It wasn’t obvious? I love you. And before you ask; yes. This is real.” you blew out a breath as he answered your question before you’d even had a chance. How did he know you so well? His hands moved from either side of your neck to your waist, helping you back onto your feet. You continued staring at him in awestruck adoration, still unable to quite believe what he’d said. He loved you. You don’t know why it came as such a shock, he’d shown you almost every day since you danced in the kitchen. Probably before that, in the way, he’d helped redesign your room. In the care he’d taken to learn about your mutation and adapt your new living situation accordingly before he even met you. Before he even believed you existed.

You followed almost blindly as he led you back into the bathroom, opening the cabinet behind the mirror and retrieving what he went to get before you exploded in front of him. Turning you around, he swiped your hair to one side, and you winced slightly at the cooling balm touching your shoulders, his hands gently kneading at the stiff muscles. The aloe took almost instant effect, soothing the angry burns left behind by your shower.

He worked in comfortable silence, snapping the lid back of the bottle and placing it back on the shelf when he was done. His fingertips grazed up and down your slickened arm, before placing both hands back on your shoulders and guiding you back out the bathroom to sit atop the bed.

“I love you, too.”

Logan froze. Though it seemingly came out of nowhere, you’d said it like you’d wanted to say it for a long, long time. In the moment, he didn’t think he’d cared all that much that you hadn’t said it back to him, but hearing you say those words now, those words he’d been yearning to hear since he first set eyes on you and you teased him for something or other filled him with a warm sense of belonging.

You smiled and his heart stopped as your eyes shone along with it. How did he get so damn lucky?

Bending at the waist, he tilted your head up with a finger beneath your chin, his other hand braced against your cheek as he moulded his lips against your own, finding an instant, slow rhythm. And if he hadn’t known you were utterly exhausted, he’d have you there and then, gasping and whimpering on his cock. But he could tell by the way you kissed him back, you were shattered. Not that he was in any rush. From the looks of things, it seemed like the two of you would be hiding away for some time.

Pulling away a fraction, Logan reached for the clothes he’d pulled out for you earlier from his closet before he interrupted your shower. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a pair of incredibly loose sweatpants and a faded t-shirt of his. He slipped the shirt over your head, biting back a smile as it all but hung off your shoulders, and you shot him a flat look.

“I have my own clothes, ya know?” You pretended you were reluctant, though showed no signs of hesitation when he opened the waistband of the sweatpants for you to step into, pulling the drawstring tight around your waist.

“I know.” Was all he responded, and you snorted a small laugh as he stepped back, almost to admire his work. You were positively drowning in fabric, the short sleeves of the t-shirt reaching your elbows, sweats hanging low off your hips. But it was comfy and smelt like him, so honestly it didn’t matter to you. “C’mon, I made soup.” He outstretched his hand toward you for you to take, which you did with a suspicious raise of your brow.

“You had fresh ingredients for soup?” You asked, following behind him as he led you back down the stairs, the crackling of the lit hearth filling you with a sense of cosy tranquillity you never expected to feel again, not after everything that had happened.

“A’ight so I found a couple cans of soup and heated 'em up, same difference.” As if being parted from you robbed him of breath, Logan brought you back into his arms, feeling his chest loosen when you didn’t resist the way he walked you over to the gas stove.

“I’m going to ignore that,” you instinctively took the wooden spoon from the rack of utensils to the right of the backsplash, stirring the bubbling pot and grimacing slightly as you felt the bottom of the pan. Definitely burnt. Though you couldn’t exactly blame that on him. He’d been a little preoccupied with making sure you didn’t plunge the cabin into suffocating shadow. “A gas stove in a wooden cabin is a bold choice.” You mentioned absently, turning the dial for the gas down and watching as the blue flame lessened beneath the iron pan. Logan set his chin atop your head, arms still circling your waist.

“Not my decision. Previous guy’s choice.” he offered as a means of explanation, and you shrugged in acceptance. Much like you thought with most of the decor in the cabin, whilst there were a few things you’d noticed that you were sure were his, the rest you couldn’t see being his interior design choices. Not that Logan had much interior design, even his room at the mansion was pretty barren.

Reaching above you, Logan pulled open one of the cupboards, keeping one of his arms still wrapped around your middle, and started rifling through the contents. There was a slight clatter of boxes before he pulled one of them out, setting it down on the counter. You eyed it curiously, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you read the italic cursive on the front of the box.

Honey and Chamomile tea. You dropped your head back against his chest, heart almost exploding when he left briefly to retrieve two mugs, one of them you knew like the back of his hand.

When the fuck had he found the time to grab your favourite mug? He stood next to you, gas clicking rhythmically as he went to light a second burner, the huff of ignition breaking you from your stare of wonder and watching as he placed the black kettle atop the flame. It was rudimentary, old school but you kind of liked it. It suited him.

Logan’s heart and eyes softened as he looked down at the top of your head resting against his bicep, not bothering to fight the urge to press a kiss to your hair.

“I love you.” You whispered, and the words struck him like a bolt of lightning, still completely unused to both saying and hearing them. He let the warmth in his chest wash over him, let the encompassing adoration flood his veins and fill his heart. He couldn’t be by your side in the past, couldn’t save you from the horrors you’d endured. But he was going to make damn sure he was there for your future, whether you’d stayed in the cabin or managed to return to the mansion, he’d ensure he was by your side for all of it.

Never again would you face these things alone.

“I love you, too.”

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #x men wolverine #x men x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan smut #the wolverine x reader #the wolverine #essa's works

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soobnny · 2 years ago

Text

labyrinth — lee minho.

trope. best friends to lovers. college au. slow burn. angst. fluff. a story on second loves.

synopsis. sometimes, the path towards healing involves not only mending your heart but trusting in the love of those who have been there all along, or alternatively, in which lee minho teaches you to love again

word count. 20k words

warnings. drinking, mentions of vomiting, curse words, intoxication, the aftermaths of heartbreak, not feeling good enough

note. hello it’s me again! have this semi self-indulgent lee know fic i wrote

one.

When Mark breaks your heart in the first weeks of summer, Minho doesn’t say “I told you so”. Instead, he becomes your gentle refuge, sitting still and letting you cry on his shoulder.

He’s careful to touch you, doesn’t want to shake you out of the pretense of composure you’ve built for yourself. Though, it only takes a brush of his hand before the inevitable scrunch of your face that follows into a sob. His hands pull your waist closer, running soothing circles down your back.

You bruise yourself for your naivety.

In the tapestry of first loves, it’s easy to be bound to the intoxicating notion that he will be all you’ll ever know. When you fall, you think it’ll last forever. The memory of him emerges from around you, slipping in like sand through your feet. Most of it passes quickly, but some moments sink on your skin, desperately pulling you down and forcing everything down your throat—–the sound of ocean waves bathing the seashore when he held your hand, barefoot and laughing, the birds singing from outside the window as you spend the morning in, the scent of coffee in the morning, the sound of laughter in grocery stores, and the feeling of rain dripping down your clothes as you run for the night train where you tell each other everything.

How are you supposed to forget pieces of him you’ve cemented in your heart?

Loss is too terrible to grasp at once, especially when unexpected. Especially when you had thought the world of him only to have your heart shattered.

Pain only stems from the comfort of memories. It snags on you, clinging onto you and reminding you that they will just be memories now. You will only remember him now, remember falling in love over and over again, remember your first kiss and every single one after. You will only remember how he looked at you, with so much love in his eyes, you thought you would last an eternity.

“I’m going to kill him.” Minho’s voice is soft despite the connotation behind his words. He has his arms firm around you, bringing one hand to pat your hair down.

“You don’t even know what he did.” You mumble, voice coming out shaky and incoherent from sobbing the past few hours. There’s snot running down your nose and staining his shirt, and your prickling tears still haven’t stopped. His favorite shirt is soaked, but he couldn’t be less bothered.

“He—,” Your best friend pauses, taking a deep breath in. It’s something he does when he tries to recompose himself. “He made you cry.” He breathes out, taking the back of your head and pushing it further into his chest. He doesn’t think he can bear the sight of your tear-stained eyes, doesn’t think he can handle the quiver in your lips.

“Maybe I just wasn’t good enough. If I was prettier–”

The words sound practiced in your lips, slipping far too easily that it breaks Minho’s heart to think it must’ve been something weighing in your mind for a while now. He shakes his head rather fervently, carefully peeling your head back from the crook of his neck so your eyes meet.

“I don’t want you to finish that sentence.” His thumb swipes at the tears falling from your eyes, and while Minho hadn’t had the time to switch on the living room lights when you had knocked on his door at close to midnight, you can still see anger swimming in his eyes. You know it isn’t directed to you, know that he’s trying his best to subdue his rage and not drive and crash into Mark’s house right now.

“He’s going to hell for even letting that thought run through that little head of yours. There’s already barely anything in there, and he dares plant something so painfully untrue?” You notice his lips are twitching in effort of a teasing smile.

Despite the unbearable pain, you can’t help but laugh at your best friend’s words, even though it comes out sounding more like a sob. “My head has a few things in there.” You manage to croak out, and Minho pockets the accomplishment of making you laugh to think about later.

“Of course, of course. Definitely not differential calculus, but there are a few things in there.” His eyes are soft when he speaks. “One of them is that you’re enough, and it’s that fucker’s loss for letting you go. Want to hear you say it.”

He follows along with you, accompanying you with every word. “I’m good enough.” He nods his head, urging you to continue speaking. “And?”

“And it’s that fucker’s loss for letting me go.” You almost cry when you say it.

“There you go.”

Minho pulls you back in his arms, wrapping you in his scent and the entirety of his comfort. He says nothing, only listens to your heavy inhale and exhale. You’ve never been here before, never felt this pain before so he lets you feel your emotions. It’s an ache that doesn’t need to be taught, but is inevitable to learn.

“Thank you, Min.” Your voice wavers, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m…” An apology sits on your tongue, but you know your best friend won’t let you. He’s picked you up multiple times before–failed tests, college admissions, family arguments, and never once has he let you apologize for crying. “Thank you.” You say through the clatter of your teeth.

He doesn’t say anything, only squeezes you in his arms. It’s two in the morning now, and Minho can hear your quiet snoring. It’s prominent, sitting louder than the few honks of cars outside. You must’ve barely gotten any rest these past few days.

Your face is still wet when he lays you down on his bed, pulling his covers over you and letting it fall just by your chin. Minho falls asleep on his small, run-down couch.

two.

The process of disentangling Mark from you is a lot harder than you thought it would be. The first time you cross off his favorite candy and brand of milk from your shopping list, you sobbed for two straight hours. At one point, when Minho was accompanying you, you had started crying in front of the sweets section and he’d had to whisk you away embarrassingly and calm you down in his car.

Since the break up three weeks ago, you’ve refrained from doing anything that remotely reminded you of him. For one, you’ve stopped wearing his favorite hoodie, the one tucked away at the back of your closet. You don’t know how to return it to him yet. It’d be too hard to face him when you can barely hold yourself together even by just the sight of it. You stopped viewing his Instagram stories, after making the same mistake a week ago. Minho has told you to block him, but it’s too big of a step to take right away.

Though, you think the most painful was seeing Juyeon on your way to class. You don’t know whether to greet him or not. He was Mark’s friend over yours, but you’d like to think you’d gotten along quite well to consider him a friend. Though, it seems too much of an overstep towards the boundaries created when Mark had called it quits. His friends will take his side on the breakup, and your friends will take yours. It’s no longer a shared “our” friends. It's just yours or his now.

The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, and what starts as stabs of pain evolves to a dull ache. You crave for the time to come where days without him would feel far, especially when you can’t sit still at this stupid restaurant without recalling your second date and how you’d spent everyday thinking forever of him.

“(Name)? You okay?” Felix’s voice is piercing, reverberating through your thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, sorry.” You swallow, propping your elbows on the table and leaning forward to seem more present.

“You spaced out a little bit.” He laughs, taking a sip out of his service water. “Is it cause you miss Mark? I know you had one of your dates here.” His voice is teasing, and you shiver a little at the mention of your ex-boyfriend.

Minho shifts in his seat, scooting a little closer and ghosting a hand behind your chair. He’s looking at you now, unrecognizable expression on his face as he waits for your response. He hadn’t told any of your friends, kept his promise when you had asked him, but he doesn’t like the way you’re cornered into a response.

“Oh…” You blink, eyes scanning each person from the table before dropping down to your glass of water. “We— we broke up actually.” You swallow again, taking the glass but not quite bringing it up to your lips.

There’s a recollection of Mark sitting adjacent to you, his voice sodden and repeating. And you don’t like all the eyes frozen on you as you share the pathetic end of a relationship you thought would be everlasting.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Felix feels guilty, voice growing smaller and smaller with every word. You’re quick to reassure.

“It’s okay. It happens.” You shrug, even though it’s not okay. Even though it wasn’t supposed to happen to you. You were supposed to be an exception to fate's horrible hands.

Everyone’s eyes buzz, and you know they’re thinking of it. You bite your lip, eyes searching for Minho’s in desperation. For a barrier. For someone to break the pity dripping from everyone’s features. It makes you feel small.

Minho’s head peps up, smile pulling on his lips as he suddenly claps his hands. “Hyunjin-ah, do you remember the last time we were here?”

“Why are we suddenly having this conversation?” His friend groans in embarrassment, but rides on the conversation anyway.

Hyunjin pretends not to remember even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the shame of mispronouncing the names of the dishes while you, Minho, and Jisung were stifling in your laughter. You’d almost forgotten the way you laughed until your stomachs hurt when the waitress finally walked away after a cruel 15 minutes of asking Hyunjin to repeat himself.

“The one I ordered was pretty good though. I have a pretty good eye for food.” Jisung joins in on the conversation, heart clenching at the way you quietly retreat in your seat. He’s always had a soft spot for you.

“Yeah, sure, you have eyes, I guess.” Minho replies without hesitation, which has Jisung dropping his mouth and staring at the boy in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Laughter falls in laughter as everyone stares between the two, who are bickering back and forth. You turn to them with a smile on your face, grateful to break away from the impending conversation about Mark. The attention is elsewhere now, and you feel like you can finally breathe properly.

“As if you didn’t order something horrendous too. It was a silly time.” Minho leans towards you with challenging eyes at your input in the conversation. It’s abrupt, the way he suddenly twists his body so he’s facing you, and so Minho-like.

“You had fun.” He points at you. “You had so much fun. You had fun.”

“Okay, okay, damn. You’re being really aggressive right now.” You laugh a little, falling back in your seat and pushing his pointing hand away.

“We enjoyed ourselves.” He says one more time as a matter-of-fact, just as the food arrives. The conversation takes a short pause as hunger hits, long arms reaching out to grab as much food as they can on their plates.

Jisung stares at the variety of dishes, mouth watering as he holds a critical stare–as if he’s about to make life-altering decisions with the food he chooses. There’s everything you could name, variants of chicken and beef and noodles and seafood all plastered on the table. You quietly take a few portions when it looks like no one’s going for the same serving spoon.

“Oh, oh, yes, try that (Name). I tried it a while back, and it’s so good.” He waves his spoon around, eyes lighting up at your choice and you laugh at the way everyone moves away from the table to avoid getting hit by the splattering sauce.

Jisung only stops holding you hostage when Chan moves to distract him.

By the time you fill up your plate, Minho is already digging into his food, chewing diligently with furrowed eyebrows. The steak he ordered for himself looks good, and a smirk forms when he senses your prying eyes. He plays dumb, like he always does, slicing the meat in an annoyingly slow pace before sticking his fork into it.

“Your order looks good.” Your smile is nothing but innocent as you stare at his fork without shame. He mirrors your grin, sly as he picks up his fork.

“I thought you said the food I ordered was horrendous.” He interrupts, lifting up the slice of meat and waving it around cartoonishly. He is so annoying with his rolled up sleeves and his hooded eyes.

“That was before. I’ve changed!”

“No.”

You pout, stuffing a piece of fish in your mouth at failing to coax Minho into sharing his food. All efforts against Minho always end in vain, but you’ve always held pride in the way he takes a second longer to reject you. You’re just about to twist some noodles in your chopsticks, terribly hunched over posture, when a fork is shoved in front of your face.

Minho doesn’t say a word as he waits for you to eat the slice of steak, free hand hovering just under your chin in case the food falls. Your eyes fall on his, horribly failing to hide the smile on your face as you lean forward to bite the meat off.

“Oh, it’s so good.” You huff, chewing carefully with widened eyes. It’s a close second to the steak Seungmin and Minho cooked for you on your birthday last year.

Though, it’s only taking the Number 1 spot because the criterion was solely based on who made it, and how they took time out of their day to cook one of your favorite meals for you. The taste of the steak in this restaurant wins by a landslide, but you don’t think they can replicate the love put into your birthday steak.

Minho makes that face exclusive to his friends when he wants to put up mock annoyance at being forced to do something out of his will, like sharing his food, yet everyone’s accustomed to his cold exterior.

“Have you ever—” Jisung starts after your table becomes a victim of silence, stuffing his mouth with a few chips. He doesn’t finish his thought, though, reaching out for Hyunjin’s glass of water after having finished his before the food was even served.

“What?” Changbin asks the question brewing on everyone’s throats.

“Nevermind. I’m gonna keep it to myself because you guys are gonna say it’s gross.”

The ongoing conversation falls deaf in your ears. You hate to admit you were too busy weighing your options on whether you should have shrimp or not. It takes you a feverishly long time to peel them, and everyone might as well have finished their meals before you can make it to five shrimps. But the sight makes your mouth water, and you’re stuck at a crossroad. Maybe Jisung was onto something when he had stared at the food earlier, as if it was the most important decision in his life.

“Woah, woah, woah. I peed on a tree recently if that makes you feel any better.” Jeongin says without a stutter in his sentence, and everyone pauses from their meals. “Now, what was that gross thing you wanted to talk about?” He nudges Jisung’s shoulder.

“....Have you ever wondered if there’s snot flavored chips?”

“Jisung!” Chan chastises as everyone else shares judging stares. Hyunjin is having a hard time holding his laughter, and Changbin almost spits his water out. Minho is too busy peeling his shrimps to give the conversation the time of day.

“We shouldn’t have allowed you to talk in the first place.” Seungmin grimaces.

You’re too immersed in still deciding whether you should eat shrimps or not to notice Minho transferring the seafood he had peeled on your plate. He doesn’t say anything when he reaches for your plate, doesn’t even look at you when you glance at him. Instead, he resumes eating and listens quietly to the ridiculous conversation from his friends.

“This is why I didn’t wanna say it!”

“Yeah, you definitely should’ve kept that to yourself.”

The breach of silence from Jisung doesn’t last long as the noise quiets down into chewing and Minho’s quiet yet persistent “eat more” when he sees small portions on your plate. He knows you haven’t been having the appetite to eat lately, but he still makes sure you’re at least intaking a healthy amount to sustain your body.

An hour and a half later, you find yourself in the passenger seat of Minho’s car as he drives you home. He lets you connect to the Bluetooth, lets you control the music despite preferring to drive in silence. Though, he’s ill-prepared for you to actually start singing.

“You are an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry, never impressed by me acing your tests—”

Minho groans, briefly gazing in your direction before keeping his eyes on the road. A half second is enough to see you moping with your head leaned against his window.

“All the girls that you’ve run dry have tired lifeless eyes cause you burned them out.”

“When I gave you control over the music, I didn’t expect you to start playing Taylor Swift.” He shoots you another glance, one hand on the steering wheel and the other just behind your headrest. He’s giving you a judging look, as if he hadn’t blasted Adele when he had his first heartbreak years ago.

“Deal with it.” You stick your tongue out childishly before turning to your mini karaoke session. “Don't you think I was too young to be messed with? The girl in the dress, cried the whole way home—”

It takes four more songs from your Spotify playlist titled Taylor Swift but you’re heartbroken before Minho’s finally pulling up to the front of your dorm building. You know he’s so fucking done with you, with his eyes closed and head rolled back as he waits for you to finish sulking. He doesn’t kick you out of his car, though. He only crosses his arms with his lips pressed into a bored line until you’ve decided you’re done singing for the night.

You don’t think you can take the quiet. Without music blasting in your ears, you’re confronted by a suffocating silence. There is no relief when you see how the night sky looks so peaceful outside his car window because why can the night sky bask in calmness while you have to sit there in this excruciating hurt?

So, you stay there for another two songs. You are too fragile to be nudged right now, and Minho doesn’t think it’s an appropriate time to confront you about the band-aid you’ve stuck to temporarily keep your heart together.

three.

Time doesn’t stop for your grieving. Everyday, the same sun will mockingly look down at you, reminding you that days would go on without you. That despite the squeezing pain in your sternum, time will not stop for your hurt. People will go on about their days unknowing of your suffering.

Ironically, while time stops for no one, it does move excruciatingly slow. When you’re in love, time passes by you so quickly that you don’t know it’s the last time. You’re never given a warning. Endings are always so sudden that it makes no sense. When love unclasps its grip from you, days and nights drag on longer, stretching out the pain. There is nothing to do but rot over your break.

The past two months have felt like a year. It’s strange how one moment you could be in the middle of clinging onto your lover’s hand, and the next it all feels like a very long time ago, and none of it is ever coming back. How are you supposed to cope with the loss of someone you know too much about as life continues to progress around you?

You don’t understand how you’re supposed to endure this. There is nothing to do but to stare at your ceiling until you feel horrible about yourself.

You’re curled up on your bed like the day before, and the day before that, when the sound of your door opening jolts you awake. Though, Minho’s voice is quick to reassure that a stranger hadn’t broken into your dorm. You didn’t know he was back from his parent’s house. He had even invited you, a few days ago, telling you a change of scenery might do you good but you were pretty adamant on crying through your hurt in your dorm room alone.

“I’m walking into your bedroom. You better not be naked.” Your best friend announces before his familiar silhouette emerges from the dark of your make-do living room. He has his arms folded across his chest as he leans against your doorframe.

“What do you want?”

“You’re coming with me to do groceries.” He speaks with vindication, pacing inside your room in search of something for you to wear in your closet.

“I don’t want to.”

He throws a hoodie to your face, standing by the edge of your bed expectantly. You thrash around for a few seconds, mostly for dramatism, before stubbornly sitting up to wear the hoodie he had thrown at you. “What do I even get out of this? Just let me suffer in peace.”

“Vitamin D.” He’s still hovering. “Your bones are gonna break if you don’t see the sun, and we promised we’d race each other when we’re eighty.”

Your heart rises to your throat at the recollection of when you were seventeen and unaware of what the future would hold for the both of you. It had been some stupid agreement you’d come up with when you had snuck a bottle of soju into Minho’s parent’s house. Perhaps it was the excitement from drinking for the first time or the numbness from losing your grandparent just a few weeks ago, but the alcohol had made you cry. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else, not your parents, not your friends, not Minho. The introduction to loss was so overwhelming, and you hated how permanent it was. In an attempt to make you smile again, Minho had promised to buy you a house if you could outrace him when you’re both eighty and frail. Prideful and under the influence, you accepted.

“I’m getting that house.” You say with a lazy grit, unmoving from your spot. He laughs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, dragging you out of your bed.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you even if you’re old and wrinkly. Now, hurry up. I’ll cook for you if we get back before 4pm.”

“Seafood pasta and steak?” Your eyes light up for the first time today, and Minho lets out a long sigh at your request.

“Yeah, whatever.” He scrunches his face.

“And you’ll make it spicy?”

“Hurry up before I take it back and let you starve.” Minho takes his leave, turning his back around heading for your front door as you make it out of your bed in record time. You hate to admit that it’s the first time you’re leaving your house in days. And while you were planning to spend the rest of the break like this, Minho’s temporary accompaniment and the meal awaiting you is very much appreciated. Otherwise, you would’ve let your limited supply of cup noodles suffice and seafood pasta outweighs instant noodles by a mile.

The trip to the grocery store is short, but it’s enough to play a song and a half. When you arrive, Minho makes a beeline to the frozen section to restock on his pudding. You sigh, bowing your head faintly and following the bunny boy.

You have to admit, the lighting from the lined up refrigerators does well in making Minho look adorable with his pink nose and a smile that frames his two front teeth. It’s a shame he only ever directs this look to his cats and oddly enough, pudding.

He throws a few cups in his shopping cart before moving along to another aisle. You match your footsteps with his, walking next to him as he pushes the cart along. The grocery store is dangerous. There are ways to find Mark everywhere. So, you look anywhere but aisles–the ground, Minho’s back, his cart. Anything but his favorite candy and the brand of milk he uses.

“Want anything?” You look up at your best friend, and he looks at you with pointed eyes before gesturing towards the bags of junk food lining up.

“I thought you said this was unhealthy for me?” It’s with incredulousness that you look at him.

“Do you want me to take back my offer?”

Smiling sheepishly, you reach out to grab a few bags of popcorn and some honey butter chips before adding it to the pile you hadn’t even noticed. It seems he’s gone through half of his grocery list as you stared aimlessly at the ground.

He tells you to stay there and have a look around if you want anything else, and by the time he comes back, he has two cartons of milk in his arms that he places in his cart.

You skip past the dairy and sweets section as Minho finishes up.

“I’m gonna have a piece of chocolate as a treat. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.”

“You’re giving yourself a piece of chocolate?” Minho asks, pulling you back by your wrist to stop you from wandering around.

“Yeah, I think I earned it for leaving my dorm today. I think I earned it.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You ask defensively. “I don’t understand.”

“Not good enough reasoning.”

“Oh, but I worked so hard today. I feel like I really earned it.”

Betrayal seeps through your features as you head towards the cashier, and your shoulders sag in defeat as you begrudgingly help place the contents of your cart on the counter so it’s easier for the cashier to scan. Though, as Minho runs to grab an ingredient he’d forgotten for the meal he had promised you, you notice a box of chocolates tucked under his other arm as he returns. The price of the chocolate is added to his total bill, and he doesn’t look at you as he puts it in the shopping bag with your chips and popcorn.

Minho drives you back to your dorm, and you busy yourself with putting his frozen goods in your refrigerator so it doesn’t melt while he cooks. He can take it out later when he goes back to his dorm.

You admit to being a little useless in the kitchen, so you sit still as Minho shuffles through the ingredients. He looks mesmerizing, save for the Hello Kitty apron too small for him that he had borrowed from you. It does add to his charm though as he moves around like he takes up the whole space of the kitchen. You can tell he’s used to this by the way he moves and the way he uses a knife. He looks focused, radiating. He always has this look on his face when he’s concentrated, plush mouth parted a little with furrowed eyebrows. You’d teased him about it once.

It’s habit the way he cooks, the way his hand shapes around the knife, the way he chops vegetables and measures in a heartbeat. And it’s pattern that he checks on you once in a while, eyes traveling from the boiling pasta towards where you’re seated on the kitchen counter. From time to time, he walks towards you with a wooden spoon, hand habitually falling under your chin so the sauce doesn’t drip.

Minho hums in satisfaction when you make a noise of approval, eyes widening as you nod your head with fervor. He turns away, licking his lips as he returns to finishing up his cooking. The sizzling of the pan, the bowl of the water, and your quiet humming is the sound of his heart right now, and he smiles to himself at the visible peace of being in the kitchen. He doesn’t have much time to cook these days.

It takes almost an hour for him to finish, but it doesn’t feel that way. Unlike the past two months, time moved at a hare’s pace just in this moment, with Minho presently on your heels as he sets the plates down on your dining table.

“Min, this is so good.” You note at how good the sauce tastes, and how the spice ties everything in. The way Minho prepares food is nothing like the ones you eat at restaurants. It’s better.

“I know. I’m the one who made it.” His response almost makes you scoff if not for the fact that he’s feeding you right now. So, you stay silent as you eat. Piece by piece, bite by bite, that you almost forget the last time you’ve sat on your dining table.

You prefer to eat your meals anywhere but—the couch, your bedroom, the kitchen floor. The last memory leaves a bitter recollection on your throat. Dinner used to almost always be with Mark. He’d bring takeout and you’d spend the rest of the night updating each other on your days. Then, those nights became sparse and you were left with Facetime calls until they were nothing at all. There’s still a space for his shoes by your doorway, and you have yet to throw away the spare toothbrush he kept in your bathroom. There’s fragments of him in your dorm, and you hate it.

The past hangs a heavy air around you that you don’t realize the gutted look of heartbreak on your face and the tears slipping past your eyes until you move to wipe them on instinct. You don’t know if it’s the chili oil on your fingertips or the sudden trip down memory lane, but you start to cry even more as you stuff your face with seafood pasta.

“Is it too spicy?” Minho gently leaves his spot adjacent to you, puts his utensils down in favor of standing by your side. “You okay?”

He laughs when a choked ‘yes’ leaves your lips before you’re stuffing even more pasta down, chewing animatedly as you try to blink the tears away. Though, when you make a move to rub your eyes, Minho is quick to grab them, pushing your arms away from your face.

“Be careful. It’s gonna sting even more.” Pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie, he carefully uses the fabric to wipe the tears off your cheeks. He’s gentle with his movements, consciously mirroring your gutted, frowning look in his usual teasing. It makes you laugh, dropping your hands to your sides before suddenly letting out another sob.

It’s a funny sight, seeing you laugh and cry at the same time and Minho can’t stop the periodic chuckles that escape his lips as you whine out for him to stop laughing at you. It only makes him laugh harder, patting down his sleeves on your eyes.

“Do you want to keep eating?” His tone is significantly softer when your tears finally subside. “Do you want to finish it later?”

“Keep eating.” You mumble.

“Keep eating? Okay.” Disappearing to the kitchen, he hands you the glass of water, and takes your hand in his to start wiping away the chili sauce from your fingers with a tissue. It’s only when you finish gulping down the water does he return to the seat across from you.

“You’re babying me.” You sniffle, staring down at your food before twirling some noodles into your fork.

“Because you’re a baby. Stop pouting.” His lips curve into a smirk. “Want some more steak?”

You grumble, and Minho rolls his eyes as he takes the steak he had sliced for himself and transfers it on your plate. ��Come on, eat up. I didn’t waste my time cooking for you not to finish my food.”

“Thank you.” He brushes you off, though, it’s with a small smile on his face.

“Do you think you can stay here tonight?” You ask in small. Under normal circumstances, he would have called you clingy. It’s the answer you’re waiting to hear when the question slips out of your mouth. You don’t expect him to just hum, answering, “okay”.

There’s a short pause after his response.

“But only because I know you’ll spend the night crying if I’m not here, and you look stupid when you cry.” It’s his own way of telling you to stop crying. Though, you still sigh for show.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What, what?” He acts oblivious, and when his eyes blinks, it’s almost caricature.

“I just love this.” Sarcasm drips heavy, but your heart flutters anyways. You don’t remember the last time you’ve smiled like this, so much that your cheeks start to hurt even if you’d just finished crying.

“Right!” He grins.

Minho cares in ways that others don’t recognize. You can only see it when you pay attention, can only hear the quiet and gentle underlie in his words. He’s loud with his teasing, but he doesn’t need words for you to know he cares.

It’s nice to be cared for.

four.

Autumn sends a harsh breeze as it takes over Summer without much of a warning. It marks a shed of the things that had transpired over the previous season, almost a big red button labeled restart. You have every intention to use it well, to usher in change alongside the changing color of the leaves.

But what kind of heart doesn’t look back?

You wonder, do the leaves hang on tightly to not fall? Do they beg the trees not to let them go, to stay a little longer?

You sigh. The cycle is neverending, and you’ll have to spend the next seasons without Mark.

“Are you even listening to me?” You’re tugged back to your body at the sudden breach.

Minho’s voice is whiny, plush lips pulled in a pout at having caught you spacing out while he was mid-story. He had made an effort to be especially animate with his story, after numerous previous complaints from you that he was a boring storyteller, only for you not to listen.

“I am, I am!” You’re nowhere near convincing as you defend yourself, trying to recall the last words you had heard from him before you had lost yourself to your thoughts. Something about Jisung and fruit punch? You’re not quite sure.

It was a horrible idea to try and balance your best friend’s stories with your own thoughts, letting the former slip so easily. Now you’re being called out for it.

“Then what did I just say?”

“That… you want to buy me coffee?” You ask with a sheepish smile, head tilted slightly to mimic a feigned innocence.

Minho’s lips press into a line in response.

“I’m sorry!” You apologize almost immediately.

It’s funny the way you give up your act right away, pressing your palms together as if begging the boy to forgive you for your inability to listen to him. You were technically listening, synching your movements with his and staring at the way the words rolled out of his mouth. It wasn’t your fault they had fallen short before reaching your ears.

“You just lost a point on my friend tier list.” He walks a little ahead of you now, refusing to match your pace in the name of dramatism.

“You have a friend tier list?” You snort. “That’s kind of lame.”

“Did you just call it lame? At this point, you’re at bottom place with Kim Seungmin.”

Your reaction is funny despite shitting on his tier list: mouth dropping, eyes boring on his back as you struggle to keep up with his long limbs, hurrying to catch up to him.

“Okay, now you’re taking it too far. First of all, I do not bite you so that should nudge me up a spot.”

“If you say it nicely, maybe I will.”

You know he’s messing around when he starts to slow down his pace, waiting for you to reappear beside him before resuming his walk.

“No, but seriously, what were you saying?” There’s laughter laced in your voice, elbowing Minho gently to coax him into repeating what he had said earlier.

“I asked if you were going to Jisung’s party later.”

Minho notes the way your face visibly scrunches at the thought. As if it wasn’t enough, you pair it with a shake of your head.

“Absolutely not. I hate the taste of alcohol.” You pause, head snapping towards him before adding, “Why? Are you going?”

His eyes don’t hide his disinterest, narrowing in judgment as you ask him.

“No. We have a 9am class tomorrow.” He mutters.

You begin to laugh, always amused by the way your best friend expresses himself, but then you stop. It wasn’t immediately made clear to Minho why your demeanor had suddenly shifted so hastily, as if someone had forcefully switched it, and why your eyes were suddenly glazed. The cogs only stop when he follows your line of sight after having noticed it was drawn somewhere behind him.

Mark’s butterfly tattoo isn’t hard to miss. It’s so potently his that you vaguely register his hand holding someone else’s. Someone that wasn’t you.

She looks beautiful, so radiant that it almost blinds you. She looks like she has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t feel that horrible for hoping she’d break his heart the way he did yours. Though, anger is temporary when pain starts to sift through—especially when Mark is looking at her with the same sparkle in his eyes when he used to look at you.

You try to make the hurt look calculated, the way you will your eyes to draw away, the way you purse your lips. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself that you were over it, that you were emotionally mature. And while it is half true, there is still pain. No one teaches you how to deal with this. There is no guidebook to tell you what to do when you see your ex with someone else only months after he had called it quits.

It is difficult to look at them without breaking.

A haunting silence settles, before Minho’s scrambling to break it.

“Ah, let’s go. I’m suddenly hungry.”

Minho watches as your shoulders slump in relief when he speaks, turning away from Mark in favor of looking at him. “And my legs are getting tired from standing around. Come on.”

It’s meant to be teasing, but you do not miss the anger in his eyes. It’s always painstakingly obvious when Minho is angry. He didn’t say painful words, never did anything hastily, but his eyes would always tell you he’s angry. They have a look to them, and when they were glassy, you’d know he was angry.

There’s a tap on the back of your hand before he takes it in his, pulling you away from the scene of the crime. It makes your whole face look up at him, and your heart softens when he offers a small smile. It does something inside of you.

“Have you eaten anything since lunch?”

You only shake your head in response.

Minho doesn’t say anything at the sudden drop of your mood, though he doesn’t find any pleasure in seeing your attitude change so quickly. He just squeezes your hand in his. And you’re sure you’re imagining the way he intertwines your fingers because your best friend hates skinship. Lee Minho is always so repulsed when you attempt to take his hand, so why is his hand on yours?

“Don’t think I care about you or anything, but let’s get something to eat first? You know, before we meet up with the guys.”

You hum in compliance, and also because you know he’s teasing you. His hand feels warm.

It’s silent for a while, save for distant honks and the echo of your footsteps. Soft, blinking eyes look down at you when you finally make it to the small food stall, tugging on your hand to get your full attention.

“Come on, get whatever you want.” You lean forward, tilting your head to look at your options. “I’m not doing this again, by the way.” He jokes, looking down at you.

Minho doesn’t eat despite being the one who had said he was hungry. Instead, he hovers next to you, hands in his pockets as you quietly eat your food.

“Are you full?” His voice softens when he speaks.

“A little.” You mumble.

“Okay, now go pay for what you got.” There’s a smug smile on his face when you glare at him, and he only laughs at you when you pull out your wallet from your bag.

“You dragged me to eat here because you’re hungry, and you’re letting me pay.” Your feet hold your ground, flipping through the compartments on your wallet before pulling out a bill—for your pride, more than anything else.

“Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if I paid? I need to teach you independence.”

You scoff. “A good best friend.”

Minho is looking at you up and down as you stretch your hand towards the man to pay for your food, mapping out how he can remember this moment.

“Ah, miss. Your boyfriend already paid.”

“Huh?”

There’s laughter from behind you, and you humiliatingly turn back around and shove your wallet in your bag before slapping Minho’s arm. He flinches, but his laughter doesn’t stop.

“Thanks for paying, I guess.” You mumble, heavy footsteps walking ahead of him the way he did with you earlier. It’s touching, really, and there was a nudge in your heart when the man had told you Minho had already paid. Your best friend’s laugh is too maniacal to ignore, though, so your slap is well deserved.

Kim Seungmin’s face is nothing but irritated when you and Minho finally show up to your meeting spot, hand lifting and pointing an accusing finger at the pair of you for being late. The rest of the boys except Jisung and Jeongin are all sprawled on the empty parking lot’s concrete floor, and you can hear a faint mumble from Minho–something about how the ground was dirty for them to be sitting on it. You sort of agree, already cringing at the thought of rubble sticking to your clothes and the prospect of dusting them away.

“They’re finally here!” Seungmin puts an emphasis on the word ‘finally’, and he’s about to berate you even more when he spots the skewer in your hand. “You guys ate without us?”

It’s so loud and relenting, but Seungmin’s by your side in a second and opening his mouth for you to feed him the remaining of the food Minho had bought you earlier. You suppose you owe him this much for delaying their wait. You know Seungmin’s not very known for his patience.

“We’re all going to Jisung’s party, right?” Chan finds himself asking, head perked up as he plays with his car keys between his fingers.

Seungmin mumbles something incoherent, still glued to your side and still stealing your food. When he moves to grab the stick from you, Minho slaps his hand and tells the boy to leave you and your food alone. It’s like a scene straight out of a sitcom, and all you have to do is stare at the non-existent camera directed at the three of you.

“I don’t think (name) and Minho are?” You hum in confirmation at Felix’s response, spotting him get up from his place on the ground. He asks Hyunjin to dust off the specs of concrete sticking to the fabric of his pants.

“What?” Changbin’s voice is loud, in contrast to the sooth of Felix’s, and he looks his squinted eyes with yours—as if you had wronged him for not going to the party. “Why not?”

Though, the thought of drinking doesn’t seem all that horrible to you anymore. You refuse to acknowledge it might be because of what you had bore witness to earlier, but it is one-hundred percent the reason why. A drink wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Actually… I think I might.” Your eyes are still on Seungmin as he finally finishes the skewer you’ve been holding, though, your gaze shifts in a split second towards a shrieking Changbin who has jumped from his spot on the ground at your change of mind.

“Really? Let’s get it!” He cheers, hands clapping temporarily in a way that is so fitting for him. His smile is etched, pulling you towards where the others are. The exaggeration makes you laugh a little, at how something as simple as you suddenly agreeing to drink has Changbin giggling and smiling. You know he’s always loved when you guys hang out together.

Similarly, Felix and Hyunjin are cheering alike.

“So, you’re coming too then?” In the span of time it took to confirm your attendance, Chan has dragged his feet towards where Minho is standing, nudging his side and looking at the boy expectantly.

Minho sighs. “I guess I’m coming too.”

“I don’t think we’ll all fit in Chan’s car, though?”

Chan’s fancy 6-seater car would have sufficed for them. However, with the sudden addition of you and Minho, there’s a need to adjust the seating arrangement. It seems Seungmin’s realized the problem right away when he hovers by the front seat, basically denying entrance from anyone that isn’t him.

“Let’s just eliminate people instead. Kim Seungmin, start walking.” Minho is too quick with his response, as if he had already been thinking about it. Seungmin stays unbothered, though, still at his post at being Chan’s passenger princess for the afternoon.

“I can sit on Changbin’s lap.” Felix proposes as Chan unlocks his car. It triggers a sinister smile on Seungmin’s face, and you can tell that whatever he’s about to say next will not benefit Minho in any way after your best friend’s comment earlier.

“And (name) can sit on Minho’s lap. Okay, that’s settled, let’s go.” As predicted, Seungmin is already seated at the front, tugging at the seatbelt to solidify his position before Minho can stomp on his newly bought pair of converse for revenge at the proposition. That boy and Jeongin really need to cut down on their shoe purchases.

“Is that fine for you, (name)?” Chan asks, opening the backseat door for you. You nod, not missing the way Minho’s eyes travel to yours in confirmation of your comfort.

“Is no one going to ask how I feel about this?” Minho asks as the boys start to hunch over and take their seats in the back. Seungmin simply says a ludicrous ‘no’ as he twists his body so he can see the way everyone struggles while he has the front seat all to himself.

Minho pulls you and seats you on his lap, as Changbin does with Felix. The position is extremely uncomfortable, with your back slouched and your cheek pressed against the headrest of the driver’s seat, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. In fact, you remember a time when even Jisung and Jeongin were present in this same car. Although, you don’t recall much of what happened, just that your neck hurt so much from being craned the whole ride.

“I’m not holding you by the way, so if Chan breaks suddenly then you’re on your own.” Your best friend feels the need to inform you, his arms pressed to his sides to offer you no support while Changbin has his arms wrapped around Felix’s torso.

You know what happens to kids that don’t wear seatbelts.

“Hyunjin, can I sit on your lap instead?”

Hyunjin laughs, staring at the two of you before jokingly offering his hand to hold onto. You doubt it’ll be much help.

The rest of the ride is spent engulfed in Minho’s warmth and the joint scent of everyone’s perfumes which is a little suffocating. And untrue to his words, when Chan does make a sudden break, you find Minho’s arms suddenly wrapped around your waist and tightening around you so you don’t stumble forward.

Chan mutters something with a smug smile as he looks into the front view mirror, though you can’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart.

five.

The music echoing around Jisung’s house thrums loudly in your ears. It’s the type of volume that solicits yelling just to hear each other, and you’re unsure if you’re prepared for the amount of screaming you’ll be doing tonight just to be heard by your friends.

Jisung is the first to greet the seven of you, a bottle of beer in hand and loud laughing as he tugs all of you in for a hug. You can feel his insobriety, can smell it off of him, but he looks so adorable with excitement basically leaping out of him at seeing his best friends.

Though, his eyes do narrow with a curious brow at the sight of you and Minho who had texted him earlier that you couldn’t make it.

“You made it!” It’s endearing the way his smile grows even more, cheeks protruded as he leans in to hug you. He does the same for Minho, and you can see him whisper something to the boy which earns him a harsh push. You can’t hear it though, and you doubt it’s anything serious when Jisung simply laughs in response.

“Come on, let’s get you guys something to drink.” He yells over the music.

The base from the speakers offers a steady rhythm as you navigate your way across sweaty and drunk college students, and it allows you the time to give the space a good gaze. It’s amiable, as expected from Jisung, and he doesn’t seem to have any form of fear at the lack of supervision of his things during a party. Though, you suppose he must’ve locked up anything important down in his basement.

“Here we go.” He grabs a few bottles for those who ask for a beer, and offers cups to those who want to venture into the unknown mixture of alcohol in the fruit punch bowl. Jisung also apparently has a shot glass, and tells you where he hid the bottle of vodka in case the seven of you want any. He doesn’t want anyone else touching his precious stash of alcohol. Jisung’s lips wrap around the rim of his bottle, chugging down a few gulps, and then he’s pumping his fist up into the air to tell you guys to start drinking.

Chan and Changbin start to take swigs, popping the cap from Minho’s bottle. It’s second nature to them that they don’t even bat an eyelash. You wonder how many times they’ve done this before. Meanwhile, you, Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin take a chance at the mysterious concoction.

Chan scolds Felix for smelling it, immediately discouraged by the familiar scent of alcohol.

With a cup in hand and a countdown falling from Changbin’s mouth, you bring it to your lips and take a big gulp. The taste is strong, scorching down your throat as you swallow it down immediately the way you’re taught. There’s a tinge of spice, and the disgusting bite on your tongue solicits a scrunch on your face.

“Oh my god, I actually hate alcohol. Why am I doing this to myself?” You exhale, pushing the cup away from your lips and squinting your eyes in disgust. It’s a mixture of vodka and some type of juice, but it seems they half-assed the ratio of juice so it’s majorly the hit of hard alcohol. You’d kill to have a Cola in hand as chaser.

Felix mutters the same remarks, and you laugh at the way he puts the cup down. At most, Felix is a sweet boy, and he could never swallow down anything as vile as alcohol so he goes to find some more juice to dump into his mixture while you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin force yourselves to empty the contents of your solo cups.

It doesn’t really take long for the tipsiness to kick in, especially with whatever the hell they put in that bowl because before you know it, everything looks a little hazy and the simple scrunch on Felix’s face has you doubling in laughter. Everything is always funnier when you’re tipsy.

“I’m definitely hit.” You bite down at your lips, teeth gliding and chewing. You feel nothing but numbness, and that’s how you know you’ve taken more than you can handle. “Min, you should be drinking more.”

“Min, you should be drinking more.” Minho repeats your words, almost mocking. In his grip is his second bottle of beer, and he stands by your side unperturbed by your swaying and your yelling over the music so your friends can hear you better.

“Are you mocking me?” You’re on your toes, poorly trying to match his height to confirm whether he had repeated your words in mocking or because he can’t hear you properly. You know it’s the former. “Are you serious? You guys heard that, right?”

“Yo, that was so disrespectful. Personally, I wouldn’t stand for that.” Of course, Seungmin is the first to respond. He’s always the one instigating arguments, though, he can’t do it to the best of his ability when Felix is resting his head on his shoulder, grumbling about how awful the alcohol tastes even after he had dumped every juice he could find in Jisung’s refrigerator.

You almost stumble when you bring yourself back to your original height, and Minho’s arms are around you in reflex. Though, they’re quick to let go so he can laugh at you. “Are you really already drunk off of, like, three cups?”

“Where’s Jeongin anyway? He should be suffering with us.” Felix peels his head from Seungmin’s shoulder, breath intertwined with alcohol before dropping his forehead back, eyes half-lidded.

“Crying over his minor subjects.”

Your small circle falls into laughter at Seungmin’s response. Minor subjects were hell, especially when your professor treated them as if they were a major one. You could still recall barging into Minho’s dorm to cry over a project. Thinking back, you really could’ve half-assed it and still passed the class.

“Oh, that poor boy. I remember crying over Foreign Languages.” Changbin’s laugh doubles in volume at the memory of Jisung crying while mumbling some Russian gibberish.

“No, because why would you think to take Russian of all the languages offered? You were setting yourself up.” The way Changbin’s voice cracks at laughing too much is contagious and has everyone clutching their stomachs in laughter.

“I took German with Hyunjin. What did you guys take?”

“Spanish. I’m actually really good.” You boast, laughter slowing down into broken chuckles as you guys try to recollect your breaths.

Seungmin passes you your newly refilled cup. “Okay. Tell us something in Spanish then.”

“Si Papi!”

There’s a pause before all of you laugh your loudest for the night. It’s the type that makes your ribs hurt, bending over with aching cheeks from smiling too much. It even has Minho almost spitting out the beer he had just sipped from his bottle, taken aback by your response to Seungmin’s question. He had spent the night nursing a beer bottle in hand and listening in to your conversations, almost looking bored, though, you always find ways to solicit pure amusement from the boy.

Only you would ever say anything like that.

Minho has to bite down on the back of his hand to stop him from choking over his own laughter and the beer he had almost spat out.

“Yeah! That sounds… yeah! You nailed it!” Felix interrupts with more laughter.

You’d give anything to stop time at this moment. Perhaps it’s because you don’t want to have anything in your mind but the happiness that you feel right now. You allow yourself the time to enjoy yourself, to take away the scorching image of Mark in your head and replace it with the overwhelming volume of the music.

Hyunjin, who has grown more extroverted after chugging down his cup, pulls you, Jisung, and Felix to where everyone else is dancing. Chan’s gone to look for another bottle of beer while Changbin is singing along to the music at the top of his lungs, your personal karaoke as he sways from side to side just right next to the three of you dancing. Minho is the only one sitting up straight from your group, and while the look on his face can be deceiving, you know he’s having fun watching over everyone.

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you, unblinking. He throws you a thumbs up with an arched eyebrow and you nod your head before returning your attention to the music and the way you’re jumping around and singing along to 2000s pop hits with your best friends.

Exhaustion hits pretty fast. You can smell the fatigue on yourself after having jumped around for almost an hour. You stumble your way to where Minho’s seated, and he brings your chair closer to you so you don’t drop yourself on the floor. The way you attempt to sit straight is a pretentious act that you aren’t out of it, but you are, and your stomach’s starting to not feel so good. Your blurry vision and the overwhelming lights and music doesn’t really help your case either.

“Minnie.” You hiccup, putting away your cup on the table and bowing your head faintly. “I don’t feel so good.”

Now the alcohol doesn’t seem that much of a great idea because the after effects are hitting you, and you know tomorrow will be much, much worse for you. At least you were offered a short getaway to stop thinking for a while. The temporary accompaniment was good until it wasn’t.

Minho frowns, having already made his way next to you and helping you up. “Come on, I’m taking you to Jisung’s room. Is that okay? Are you done having fun?”

It’s endearing the way he asks if you’re done, though you can’t fathom any other form of response except for a grumble and the way you almost collapse into his arms from your wobbly legs. You don’t really remember how you end up on his back, but when you peel your eyes open, you’re moving past the crowd with your cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung hiccups, making his way to the two of you and helping move people aside so the path towards his room is easier on Minho.

“I think she’s had too much to drink. I’m taking her up to your room, is that fine?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Minho is strong in the way he carries you with his hands on your thighs, crouching down and hoisting you up when you feel like you’re about to fall. When he successfully makes his way to Jisung’s room, Minho makes sure to knock loudly on the door, ear pressed against the door. “Nobody better be making out in here!” And it’s only when silence greets him does he allow himself to twist the doorknob open.

“Sit down for a moment.” You burp when he places you down, body swaying alarmingly as you move to lay on the ground instead. Minho bends down to sit you back up so you don’t accidentally choke on your own vomit. It’s happened before with Chan, and he is not about to have a repeat.

“Just let me get a few of Jisung’s clothes for you to change into. And I should probably get you water. It’ll help you sober up, kay?”

“No, Min… wait!” The sudden movement has you clutching your head and forgetting what you were going to say to the boy. “Ugh.”

“Are you okay?” He takes a look at your heavy eyelids and your disheveled hair, and the way you hold your head in the palm of your hands. Minho moves from his place by Jisung’s closet to crouch down next to you instead. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Stop scolding me.” You hiccup. The music is more drowned out hidden in the four walls of Jisung’s room, and you know Minho’s teasing you by the tone of his voice.

“I’m not scolding you.” His eyes hold yours, and he speaks softly.

Your faces are a few inches apart, and even in the hazy way you’re seeing things, you can still admit that Lee Minho is beautiful. His hair is a little sweaty from the warmth of the overcrowded house, and his cheeks are dusted pink from the alcohol, but you know he’s not hit.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You clear your throat before he can say anything else.

“No, you’re not. I am not cleaning anyone’s vomit. Not today.”

Minho lifts you up from the ground, taking you to the bathroom so you’re seated directly in front of the toilet. He pulls the hair tie around your wrist, taking it from you so he can tie your hair up in case you do end up vomiting.

Tears prick in your eyes in your attempt to puke, though nothing but choked coughs come out. It makes you feel pathetic, so much so that you swat away Minho’s hand that’s rubbing your back. You don’t want anyone to look at you like this, teary eyes and hunched over so you bury your face in your hands where no one can see you.

“I’m so miserable and so unlovable.” You mumble incoherently, banging your head again and again on the wall before it meets contact with Minho’s palm instead. His free hand guides itself across your face, peeling away your fingers so he can see you better.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m misera—”

“Unlovable. You’re not unlovable.” There’s a pause as he exhales.

“How would you know?”

There’s an unreadable expression on Minho’s face when you ask. He looks like someone you’ve never met with the way he stares at you, although familiar. It’s clear that he’s thinking, but of what, you have no idea. He looks so concentrated.

“I just do.”

He’s so soft-spoken that you can’t bring yourself to rebut. And he doesn’t seem to wait for your response when he bends down to scoop you back up in his arms after making sure you showed no more signs of vomiting.

“I’m gonna get water. It’ll help you sober up.” He repeats, placing you down on Jisung’s bed and you immediately roll over to get yourself comfortable. Minho notes to change the sheets for the boy after classes tomorrow.

When he comes back, you’ve already fallen asleep.

six.

“Wake up.”

Minho’s shaking is unforgiving, peeling the comforter away from you despite your protests. He cringes at the way you grab the pillow, gripping it over your face so his whining would come out filtered and a little mumbly. Though, you fail to consider the way the pillow can easily be yanked away from you, especially from someone like Lee Minho.

His shaking are full-blown shoves now, and his voice is growing louder and louder despite the grumbling from Seungmin who had apparently also stumbled into Jisung’s room and fallen asleep on the floor some time in the night.

“Wake up, or we’re going to be late.”

The mention of class causes you to abruptly sit up, and Minho is about to drag you away from the bed when you fall back down, hands clutching your head and eyes squinted. “Oh my fucking god, my head.”

Too much is happening for your liking. The trance of sleep is still lingering in the way you blink slowly, and the headache you’re suckling under is hard to ignore. This is what you get for drinking on a weekday when you have 9am classes the next day.

The sight of your disheveled hair and the terribly grumpy look you’re sporting almost makes Minho snort, but he focuses on the mission at hand, and it’s to get you out of your bed so you don’t miss the only class you have for the day. And, as much as you want to be pissed off at Minho, you know he has your best interest at heart.

“Drink this and go take a shower.”

You rub your eyes, resentfully sitting up once again with Minho’s helping hand on your back. It’s only now you notice his damp hair, and the way he’s standing there with a plain black shirt and the gray joggers he wears almost everyday–you swear he owns ten pairs. He’s holding a whole pitcher of water too, shoving it in your direction as you blink away the restlessness.

You drink straight out of it even though the water seems to want to expel out of your body. You’ve had a few drunken nights to learn this, and it’s best that you finish it so you aren’t dehydrated for the rest of the day. Something about alcohol and the way it causes excessive urination which makes you lose more fluids than you should.

There’s barely any time to adjust to real-time when your best friend starts shoving you to the direction of the bathroom, throwing you a pair of Jisung’s joggers when he was in high school and an oversized hoodie that the boy had stolen from Minho. You don’t process how you manage to take a shower with your headache and the lack of sleep, only remembering the way the cold water felt and how relieving it was to brush your teeth to try and rid the scent of alcohol.

“You ready?” Minho runs a hand through his hair before pressing it down, eyes meeting yours just as you stumble out of the bathroom. He already has Chan’s car keys in hand.

You follow him tiredly, keeping your head hung to try and remedy the aching, all while Minho is gently shaking Chan’s passed out shoulder on the couch. “Channie, I’m taking your car.” The older boy just stirs, hand lifting in approval before it falls limp on his chest.

“Alright, in you go.” Minho reaches over, grabbing your seatbelt for you so he can fasten it. The position is a little compromising, and he’s inches away from you that you get a waft of his scent. He smells like Jisung’s soap, the same one you had used on yourself. Though, you don’t want to obsess about how close he is.

When he’s sure you won’t topple over in the case that he breaks, he stumbles out of your space and positions himself in the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t need to make much adjustments to anything considering he and Chan are nearly the same height. So, he takes the handbrake off and pulls on the gearshift before he’s guiding you out of Jisung’s parkway and towards the direction of the university.

Lee Minho is attractive as he drives steadily down the highway, eyes never leaving the road. His posture is sharp, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and turning it in perfect control when he needs to. It’s a little addicting to look at, and you’re sure you would’ve spent the entire duration staring at him if not for the lingering headache that causes you to veer away from your staring and close your eyes instead. It makes you grumble, head falling back into the space between the car window and your headrest.

“You sound like a dying mouse being suffocated by a small knife.” It slips out of his mouth, and even without looking at him, you know he’s wearing a small smirk on his face.

“...You need to go to a psych ward.”

You spend majority of the ride trying to recall what had happened last night, not that you remember much. You vaguely register laughing over Jeongin’s demise, dancing a lot, and Minho’s voice while you tried to retch out what you had for dinner over Jisung’s toilet. “What the hell even happened last night?”

“Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Why? Was I that embarrassing?” You open your eyes for a second to glance at your best friend, though his eyes remain glued on the road. It only makes you whine even more when he nods, shutting your eyes back closed after feeling dizzy over the strain of lights on your vision. “This is why I should never drink ever again.”

“You really don’t remember anything?” Minho tries asking.

“I remember pieces and chunks of it. I… uh, remember dancing and eating ice cream? Dude, I don’t even know. I think I tried to pick a fight with someone at one point.” You start. “And in the bathroom, when… oh.” You smack your lips together at the sudden memory, a pit in your stomach suddenly forming at the recollection.

You’re not unlovable. His words ring in your ears, hovering over the honking of cars and the bustle of business outside as people start their days. Did he really mean it when he said that or had he taken pity over your self-wallowing? Was he only saying it to comfort you? He didn’t feel cold when he said it though. While you don’t remember much, you can feel the faint warmth and the gentle lull in his voice when he spoke to you.

“What?” He eggs you to keep going, but your mouth suddenly feels bitter, pressed together in trial of sealing the words in your mouth.

It was embarrassing enough to yap about it drunk to Minho last night, you don’t need to repeat it this morning. Clenching your fists, you bring them to shield your eyes, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

You sigh.

“DoyoureallythinkI’mnotunlovable?” You shuffle out the words as per his request, head tilted away from him so you’re facing the window instead.

“I literally cannot understand you, please learn how to speak.” He deadpans.

“Do you really think I’m not unlovable? Do you actually mean it?” You repeat, slowly this time, like he’s asking of you. You don’t see the way his grip tightens around the steering wheel.

There’s a pause, and he’s silent for a moment. You almost regret bringing it up again had you not remembered that this was a usual thing for your best friend. There’s something about him–in the way he presses his lips together, front lip tutting out, and the way he blows his hair away from his eyes and peeks at you for a second before leading them back on the road. It’s indicative of when he thinks, when he ponders over teasing or being genuine.

“Of course I do.” If you listen close enough, you would’ve heard the way his voice cracks a little at the latter part of his sentence, though it’s well hidden beneath an exhale. “A lot of people love you, (name). The boys love you, your family. I— Soonie, Doongie, Dori too. You aren’t a reflection of what one stupid fucker thinks of you.”

You can’t help the quiet, airy laugh at the way his voice significantly grows softer, free hand patting your thigh for a second before returning on the gearshift. There’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel something inside, a small silver lining piercing through your heart.

“Wow. I didn’t think you would actually… that you had it in you to tell me that.” Your eyes meet his side profile, and you can tell he’s taking quick glances at you before he heaves a heavy sigh.

“Don’t act like I don’t care about you.” He mumbles, and there’s a little hoarseness in the way he said it. You think you might be imagining it.

“You don’t care about me.” You say as a joke, and almost out of impulse at the way Minho is making your bones rattle right now. Maybe if you moved the course of your conversation somewhere lighter, the rattling would stop.

“I don’t care?” He scoffs, but you can tell he’s chaffing by the way his voice increases in volume. “I… don’t… care?” It’s incredulous the way he says it, mouth dropping as if you had dropped the biggest, wrongful accusation his way.

“Okay, okay, okay, maybe you care a little. It’s touching that you give me coffee.”

He hums. “Because for coffee, there’s a minimum order amount.”

You merely laugh.

“That’s right. I guess I’m just a means to match the minimum order amount.”

“Okay, but seriously, you aren’t unlovable, okay? You’re just sad and a little bit angry. Let’s have some coffee after class, hm?” The pace of the car slows down as he puts Chan’s car on hazard. You recognize the building to be his dorm. His words make you look down at the sleeves of the oversized jacket you’re wearing, stomach tying in knots. “Now, wait here. I just need to get my homework.”

That surely makes your head spring up.

“Homework?”

“The one Miss Kim assigned us last time? You know, when she left class early and had us do a few equations.”

“Oh my god.” When your exasperation meets his gaze, he laughs.

“You didn’t do it?”

“I didn’t do it!” You say in panic, eyes widening as he hurriedly jogs into his dorm room to grab the paper hanging on his desk before he shoves his answered worksheet to you. You catch it, immediately rummaging your backpack from the day before for a pen and paper so you can start copying off of Minho.

You don’t finish by the time you make it to your building, and Minho has to push from behind you as you look nowhere but your paper. You don’t even realize you’ve made it to your seats until your best friend pushes you down to sit while he mindlessly scrolls on his phone.

“Minho, Minho, Minho.” You don’t look at him as you call his name, still scribbling down numbers and equations you don’t understand. “If she comes in, please distract her. I’m only halfway done, please, please, please.”

“What do I get in return?” He cracks a vexatious grin, one you want to wipe off his face so bad because of course he’d find a way to profit off of your suffering. He puts down his phone, fixing his gaze on your hunched over figure with the same stupid smirk. You almost want to stab the pen in his eye.

“Please, I would take back every insult I’ve ever said to yo— Actually wait, you’re the one that insults me. I’ll forget every insult you've ever said to me if you do this, please.”

He sighs, body falling limp on his chair in defiance. He’s acting like a three-year-old when their parents don’t get the toy they’re begging for in the mall. “You’re taking me to that cat cafe that just opened.”

“Fine, just do it.” You respond harshly.

It’s with perfect timing that Minho arrives at the entrance to your classroom, just as Ms. Kim walks in and the students start going back to their seats from having gossiped with their friends. This prompts you to look over at your best friend, seeing him pull out his phone and shove it in your professor’s face. You would have laughed if not for the homework that’s staring at you maniacally. You try not to fuck up your numbers.

Minho glances up at you from time to time, and when you’re still bent over the table, he knows he has to keep scrolling through his photo album appropriately labeled Soondoongdori. You better be paying for his coffee later in exchange for the stupid things he does for you on a daily basis.

“Don’t you have a cat too, Ms. Kim?” He asks, tone sickeningly sweet as he forces her to look at another video of Doongie meowing in front of his door. In the first minute, it’s actually kind of cute and sweet for him to show her endearing photos of her favorite animal. That is, until six more minutes pass and he’s still showing her photos when she’s supposed to have started class by now.

“Oh, wait. But look at Soonie and the hat he’s wearing.”

“Lee Minho. I appreciate you showing me photos of your own cats, but please go back to your seat so I can start the class.” She tries to keep an even tone, and Minho all but smiles in faux innocence as he finally returns to his seat next to you just as you finish. “I’ll send you a Google Drive if you’d like!”

She dismisses his offer.

“Alright. Pass your homework.” Ms. Kim announces, and you let out the sigh you didn’t know you’ve been holding as Minho takes both of your papers from you so he can put it on your professor’s table as instructed.

“You’re paying for my coffee.” He whispers threateningly, chucking his phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants before crossing his arms and relaxing in his seat in preparation for your 2-hour lecture.

You would’ve thrown him a gentle punch in retaliation for attempting to steal money off of you, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Lee Minho is your lifeline, and you’re sure you would’ve dropped out of college if not for his constant nagging and the way he saves your ass every single time you need it. In fact, you were fully convinced you would’ve fallen prisoner to your breakup if not for the way he forces you out of your dorm to do something as simple as grocery shopping or eating dinner with him.

“Alright, fine.” You say, turning your attention to your professor as she begins her powerpoint presentation.

You risk one last glance at your best friend, lips jutted out the way they do when he’s concentrated and bored eyes directed to the front. It’s awkward timing to be grateful for him while your teacher rants about something, but it can’t be helped.

It’s uncommon to come across a Minho in your life. Perhaps all the reincarnations of you before had suffered tremendously for the lack of luck on having Lee Minho, so you suppose the price of coffee will suffice in hinting at your appreciation for the boy for the lengths and hoops he goes through for you.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get him again in your next life.

seven.

The Cat Playground is a cafe that recently opened a month ago just outside your campus. You’ve been meaning to head there for quite some time, however, the initial buzz of a newly opened establishment is terrifying. Whenever you and Minho had passed by it, a truck load of people were filling up the space, and you really didn’t want to stress out the kittens.

Though, it’s a little more bearable now that people have gotten over that fizzle. As promised, you take him to the coffee shop for the “embarrassment” you had put him through earlier this morning. Plus, coffee will do the light dizziness you’re still nursing.

The inside of the small building is cold, though the sun does a wonderful job reflecting through the huge glass windows to perfectly balance the temperature. You coo instantly at the sight of the cats, pacing around and jumping to sleep in their little wooden cat houses. There’s a sort of friendliness the place houses that’s striking to you. The paintings lined up give the place a character of its own, pillows on the floor and tables surprisingly stout. You suppose it’s so that it’s easier to play with the cats, though, there is space in the back with normal-sized furniture. You don’t pay it mind. You know exactly where you and Minho will be seated.

You continue to walk a few meters as Minho lines up for the both of you, instructing you to find a seat. The closer you got to where the cats stayed, the more you could distinguish their scent, and there are a few toys sticking out that only look familiar to you because Minho has them back at home for his own cats.

Though, a sharp squeeze turns in your sternum when you spot an empty space only for a huge butterfly painting to decorate its wall. Your throat dries up at the sight.

Oh.

You contemplate whether or not you should just suck it up and sit here, eyes unmoving from the painting that you don’t notice your best friend until he places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you past the painting towards an empty space not far away.

He drops on a beanie bag right away, hand outstretched to start calling the attention of the cats. They come stumbling in, purring loudly and situating themselves by your feet. You wonder if they can sense cat owners, almost convinced they can by the way they comfortably sit by Minho.

One of them jumps on his lap, patting down on his stomach before flopping down to lay down. On instinct, Minho reaches out to rub its head, moving down to its chin and neck. “What are you doing on my belly, hm?” He mumbles, leaning down to bump his nose with the cat’s.

The sight you’re subjected to makes your heart soften significantly.

“Your order is horrible, by the way. How the hell do you drink that?” Minho laughs, face scrunching in faux disgust when you start sipping on your drink. It has way too much cream and sugar for your best friend’s liking. You simply roll your eyes.

“You literally drink straight black coffee. I don’t know who thought that was good for human consumption. Ahh—” You’re immediately distracted by the cats passing by you, trying to coax them to come to you but they don’t. You pout, holding both your arms out to the little group settled around Minho. “They don’t like me very much.”

“They don’t?” Minho coos, eyes full of mirth as he reaches down to one of the cats. A british shorthair. “Can you go to her and make her feel better, hm? She’s being a little sulky right now.”

On command, the little kitten paces towards where you’re seated, hovering around you before you finally scoop the little boy in your arms and place him on your belly, mimicking Minho. Your eyes fall towards the cat before making contact with your best friend’s, big smile on your face so much so that the apple of your cheeks are visible.

“See, they just needed some time, but they like you too.”

The softness in Minho’s gaze takes great effect in whatever the hell you’re feeling inside that you have to avert your eyes back to the small cat lounging on your stomach. This cat, and Minho, and the hot coffee waiting for you on your table makes you so overwhelmingly happy, as little things often do. It’s new, this feeling of contentment.

It’s quiet and nice to just be with your best friend, and the cats, and your coffee. They make you feel like everything will only get better from here on out, make you realize that sometimes happiness is this simple.

“Mark didn’t like cats very much.” Your voice softens, hand scratching the kitten’s head. “So… this is nice.” You mumble the rest of your words, but it’s at the right amount of silence that Minho still hears you.

“Hmm… should’ve ended things right then and there.” He murmurs.

You laugh at his response. “I should’ve. I hate that I can’t— like some things will never be the same.”

Minho scoots his seat closer to where you are.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like—” You sigh, biting your lips and staring down on your lap. “You’re gonna say it’s stupid.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, not diverting his gaze anywhere but on you. “Only if it is.”

“Like butterflies.” Your shoulders slump, and there’s a dejection in your voice. “We were gonna sit there, but then it reminded me of his stupid tattoo and I just… He took away something beautiful from me— I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” He places his hand over yours, stopping you from fiddling with your fingers. The contact makes your heart jump. “Do you think it’s something you can regain?”

You look down at his hand on yours, carefully taking it to play with the ring he wears, pulling it out and pushing it back in. When you look up at him once again, you’re met with his softening stare.

“I want to… I hope to. It doesn’t hurt as much when I buy milk.”

“That’s good. Hopefully, you’ll be able to feel that more than you feel haunted by it.”

You swallow, nodding your head. “I’m trying.”

Minho doesn’t say anything else, taking your order from the table and handing it to you so you can satiate your thoughts temporarily with the taste of coffee. Then, he positions himself next to you so you can rest your head on his shoulder the way he knows you want to. It’s quiet, aside from the gentle chatter of those around you and the purring of the cats walking around. Minho still has a cat in his arms, his knee would nudge yours from time to time just to check on you.

Then his phone rings. It doesn’t look like he wants to make a move to pick it up, groaning at the sudden breach of his peace. Sighing, he finally picks up the call and presses it to his ear just as the cat hops off of his lap.

“What? Don’t call me if you don’t need anything.” He hangs up just as quickly as he picks up the phone and you laugh a little at the abruptness and his urge to return to the moment with you.

“Min?”

“Hm?” He hums, pocketing his phone and turning to look at you. The sound of his name falling from your lips always makes him perk up like this.

The irritation on his face has dissipated, and he looks at you with nothing but gentleness. You treasure these moments with Minho. He might not look like it, but really does care about the people around him. You’re lucky he let you into his circle.

“Thank you.”

You don’t need to specify for what. He already knows.

eight.

Finals season for the semester marks the arrival of winter, sweeping in mounds of snow.

Your university is blanketed in white, frosted windows as students hurry towards their next exam wearing layers upon layers of coats. The winter’s breeze settles heavy, harsh winds nipping at your dorm window. Though, you can’t quite hear the frigid weather over Minho’s unabashed laughter, meshing with the chilling winds outside. It’s so infectious, that if you hadn’t ensnared yourself into this situation, you would’ve been laughing with him.

“Will you stop laughing?!” The perplexity etched upon your face only seems to make Minho laugh harder, one hand clutching at his stomach while the other grips tightly around your notebook. “Minho, I am going to fail!”

You drop on the ground, piles of papers and notes surrounding you. You suppose this was on you for mistakenly thinking your Calculus exam would take place after your winter break, only realizing it was actually in three hours when Chaeryeong had texted you with a picture of her notes, asking you if it was included in the coverage for the exam later.

You called Minho in a panic, knowing he had taken this class a year before. However, when you had told him of your predicament, he had fallen into a fit of laughter. He knows your distress is genuine, yet he can’t help but find it funny. This would only happen to you.

With your face buried in your hands, you kick your feet around messily, akin to a child denied of things they wanted their parents to buy.

“Get up. Come on.” He interrupts himself with more laughter, kneeling down next to you and slapping your legs so you can get his message. “Get up, we can do this! We still have three hours!”

“I didn’t know the exam was later. I thought it was after the break.” Your muffled cries are punctuated by Minho's choked laughter. He’s still shoving your legs, persistence heavy until you actually sit up from your place on the ground.

“Focus!” Minho’s laughter finally subsides, eyes scanning over the pages of your notes. “Okay, you know how to write polar equations in parametric form right?”

“Dude, I don’t know.”

“Oh my god, you’re actually so fucked.”

“Minho, please!” There is no way in hell you can scold the boy. You need his help. Otherwise, you’d have to fail your exam without so much as an effort to even get a passing grade. And you were not about to retake this class next semester.

He’s laughing again. “You can use the standard transformation from Cartesian coordinates to polar coordinates. Come here, look at this.”

He finishes up writing out the equations and formulas on your notebook, propping it up for you to see better. “You just have to memorize these, and you’ll pass. I swear.”

“This is so ridiculous.” You whine, grabbing the notebook from his hand and staring at it as if your life depends on it. You’re desperately wishing you had just checked on your schedule again, clarified with a classmate, absolutely anything that could’ve gotten you out of the hell of cramming formulas you don’t understand in three hours.

“You’re a lost cause.”

Minho flinches when you attempt to hit him with your notebook.

“I know I am, but one of us has to be optimistic and as my best friend, you’re going to be playing that role.” You drop your head back down on the floor, although the collision isn’t as harsh when your head makes contact with Minho’s head.

“Why are you trying to hit your head? You’ll lose everything you have left in there.” His eyes are mirthful, and you know there’s laughter brewing at the tip of his tongue.

“Minhooooooo!” You whine.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you. You’re probably going to fail this test. It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, but there’s just nothing we can do about it now. Besides, you still have that final project, right?” You feel a section in your brain twitch and Minho lifts his hands up when you direct a chilling glare at him.

“Maybe Seungmin can be my new best friend.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Minho!”

“Okay, okay! Memorize the formulas and you’ll at least pass.”

You do better than you expect, and it’s all thanks to Minho’s stupid list of formulas.

nine.

You hate that it hits you randomly.

It had been 2 months since you last saw Mark, back when you had gotten so drunk at Jisung’s party. The pain isn’t so much over him, but the powerlessness that you feel. You’re sure you’re over him, but insecurities are so hard to banish when the breakup acts as a fuel to send everything in flames.

When you feel this way, something as easy as your bracelet snapping can set you off. It’s a silly thing to be worked up over, but you are.

It’s how you find yourself in front of Minho’s dorm, nose red from the nipping snow and snowflakes littering your eyelashes and your hair. There’s visible puffs when you breathe, and you’re sure your tears have frozen over from the harsh winds, though the tug of the breeze does nothing to hide how swollen your eyes are.

Snow pollutes your vision, and it’s a little difficult to trek through the heavy snow, but you make it to his dorm building. He doesn’t expect to find you crying in front of him at eleven in the evening.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice wavers, gently tugging you into the warmth of his dorm room. He positions you by the heater, grabbing the blanket he had been using and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Min…” You try to speak, but your face almost breaks.

He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. “Don’t cryyy. It’s okay, come here.”

Minho dusts away the snowflakes on your hair, tugging you to sit on the couch. He’s careful with his steps, guiding you forward as he walks back.

“Be careful, the floor’s slippery. I just mopped it.” He brings his palms together, rubbing them and blowing into them before resting them on your cold cheeks when you’re finally seated on the couch. There’s a prominent furrow to his eyebrows, but his eyes are soft.

“It’s broken.” Your face twitches, staring down at your clenched fingers.

“What’s broken?” He murmurs, hand wrapping around your wrist to bring your fist closer to him.

“My bracelet. It’s…” You have to bite back the sob that bursts from your throat, opening your hand to reveal the broken string and a few beads that had fallen off when it had snapped earlier. You’re feeling so much—embarrassment, frustration, everything.

“Okay, it’s okay.” He draws himself closer to where you’re seated, wrapping the string around your wrist. “I’ll fix it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your vision is distorted as Minho ties the string around your wrist, head hung inches away from yours as you stare down at his hands. His elbow nudges your chest gently as he works on your broken bracelet, and you can feel a few strands of his hair tickle your cheeks at the proximity.

“Is that better?” It’s temporarily fixed, string tied in knots just enough so it’s clinging onto your wrist but it’s enough. “See, all fixed now. Nothing to worry about.”

At his words, you start to break into another silent sob, face scrunching as you bow your head so he can’t see you properly. Your free hand goes to fiddle with your temporarily fixed bracelet, sniffling as you feel a few tears dripping down and sinking into the skin of your arm.

“Hey, look at me.” Minho coos, but it only makes you cry harder when you finally lift your head to meet his gaze. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves, taking in a deep breath as you struggle to keep eye contact.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

You shake your head.

“Do you want to eat now? I can cook you something really fast.” He whispers.

You sniffle, blinking back your tears until you can see him enough. “Okay.”

Minho rushes to the kitchen, leaving you with the rabbit stuffed animal you had given him in your senior year of high school. He says it’s to keep you company while he cooks, and that you should take in slow deep breaths with Leebit.

He does return fast, bowl of hot food in hand that he blows into before handing it to you. “Careful, it’s hot.” He blinks at you, voice as soft as you had heard it that time you had cried over his spicy steak and pasta.

“Good?” You nod, chewing into the food slowly. There are still tears bunched up in your eyes, but they don’t fall anymore.

“Of course it is.” There’s a teasing edge to his voice as he leans forward to brush your hair out of your face, soothing it down, and it makes you laugh a little like it did before.

The boy reaches forward, decides to wipe a stray tear away as he sits cross-legged beside you on his couch, eyes staying on you as you continue to quietly eat the food he had made for you. There’s still a lingering feeling in the pit of your stomach, but Minho makes you forget about that.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out shaky. “I don’t— I don’t know why I was crying.”

“Oh, this poor baby.” There’s an intonation in the way he speaks, setting down your empty bowl on the table as he pulls your head to rest on his shoulder. His heart clenches at the way you instantly succumb, eyes dropping from exhaustion as you nuzzle your head on his shoulder.

“Stop babying me.” You whine. “You always baby me when I cry.”

“You make it so easy, though.” He murmurs.

A warm hand comes up to your chin, stroking it like he would a cat. And you don’t understand in the slightest, but it lifts a pressure off your chest just being here with him. It feels familiar here with him, so comfortable. You’ve always been made to think that crying makes you weak, but it’s never been a problem with Minho.

You’re thankful for exactly who he is, and for offering a type of relationship you would have only dreamed of when you were a child. He makes you feel easy to love, that you don’t have to try and make yourself digestible so people will love you more.

You’ll do what makes you happy, and that’s all he’ll ever ask from you.

ten.

You spend the night before New Years at Minho’s dorm room.

He’s out buying a few things for dinner, and he comes home to you staring outside the window. Your lips are parted, like you want to ask him something, but no words come out. He lets you be, feet waddling to stand next to you as he tries to see what’s outside that has so much of your interest.

“What’re you looking at?” Minho stirs, piping down to try and see things clearer, but all he sees is snow.

“Why? Are you so interested in the things that catch my eye?” He looks down at you with a judging eye, lips drawn together into a line.

“I’m going to stick my fingers in your eye.”

“I wanna go out and play in the snow.” He knows the question hanging in your statement, knows you want him to come out with you. But he also knows that you know he’s not the biggest fan of winter, and the heavy snow, and how it’s prone to make someone sick.

“No.” Minho responds, moving away from the window to start arranging his groceries in the kitchen. You drag your feet to follow him, pouting up at him. It’s manipulative, you’re trying to manipulate him with your stupid pout, but it isn’t working.

“Please! I wanna go outside, and it’ll be boring to play in the snow alone!”

“I know a really nice place where we can go.” He suddenly grins, the kind that meets his eyes in a haunting manner, but you know him better than that. You know exactly what he’s going to say.

“You’re gonna say this dorm, aren’t you?” You mumble. “Okay, fine. I’ll just go outside alone.”

“Really? Great thinking!” Minho laughs directly in your face, and it only makes your pout grow. Even reserve psychology isn’t working on him.

“Minhoooooo.” You whine, tugging at the ends of his shirt and smiling bright at him—almost as if a politician begging for his vote.

He finishes putting away his groceries, head hung back as he lets out a sigh. “You are such an old woman. Fine, let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit! You know, I think this should be your year of yes.”

“I say yes to everything though.”

“Yeah, but like begrudgingly.”

“And that’s the best I can do. Now hurry up, you’re taking too long.” He’s already waiting for you by the door, arms crossed as you struggle to put on your coat and your boots.

When you attempt to run outside, he tugs you back before grabbing an extra pair of gloves for you to wear. You smile at him thankfully before running outside and instantly dropping to start playing with the snow. Minho stands by your side, watching as your eyes stay focused on the falling snow. It’s an endearing sight, the way you crouch down and gather as much snow you can in your gloved hands.

He’s not too eager for the season as much as everyone is, doesn’t find the appeal in freezing your ass off, doesn’t have the time to scoop away the snow just to get his car out of the driveway. He’s almost everything that you aren’t. Though, he thinks he can make an exception by the way you excitedly show him the snowball in your hands. You look like an example of pure, unadulterated happiness brought by the season, and in the moment, Minho sees why people enjoy the snow so much.

“Alright, come on, let’s build a snowman.” Your head snaps in his direction, smile so bright that you have to bite down at your lips to hold the giggle that’s trying to escape your mouth. A winter ago, you had complained to him about how Mark never wanted to build a snowman with you. He had taken his side at the time, having hated the snow himself.

“Actually?” Your eyes are wide as you ask him.

He thinks you look like an idiot as you drag him to where there’s a few piles of snow, but he’ll be mute with amusement as you actually start to build one together. He travels the distance of where you are to his dorm twice just to grab a carrot and buttons for eyes as you scour around to look for a few sticks as arms. It’ll be worth it when you jump back in amazement at the snowman you had built.

To be frank, Minho thinks it looks a bit scuffed. His arm is about to fall off, and his head is way too small in proportion to his body, but he watches with an unconscious grin on his face as you excitedly take photos of the snowman.

When your face starts to flush red, Minho ushers you back inside his dorm. “Let’s get back inside. It’s time for you to go into the oven.”

You laugh.

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

He clears his throat at the sudden sincerity. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You jump back when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. It’s his silent revenge for you dragging him out into the cold he dislikes so much. “Your hand is so cold! Get it away from me!”

“Ah, I must be passing away soon. My temperature keeps dropping.”

“Can you stop saying stuff like that!”

Minho laughs at the way you throw the gloves you had worn at him, a cute string of chuckles with his habitual ‘ah’ right after. He catches it with ease, setting them aside on the table in case you feel another sudden spur to go outside.

He makes you hot chocolate a few minutes later. Another begrudging yes upon your sudden request. Leebit keeps you company as he cooks up something for dinner.

eleven.

Winter settles heavily, and you’re handed the hot chocolate you were promised. You eat dinner over quiet conversations, new year's resolutions spilled after small sips of the wine Minho had opened. Though, around an hour before the calendar restarts, his voice falls mute in your ears. You just nod at the right times, smile when he does, and focus on the way the words fall out of his mouth.

This is the most relaxed you’ve ever felt.

You suppose you should feel guilty for your inability to listen to him, but there is something enchanting about the way Minho laughs. You didn’t know it looked as beautiful as this, starting from his throat before bubbling out in a boyish chuckle. You would’ve never noticed otherwise.

The moment only unmutes itself when he pinches your arm.

“Ow!” You yelp, drawing your hand back. “What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening to me anymore.” He whines, setting his empty wine glass down.

“I’m sorry, I’ll listen now. I swear”. You laugh, staring down at the space between your thighs before looking up at your best friend. He’s wearing a pout, but you can tell there’s a small smile threatening to pull at his lips.

“Was just talking about how we should ruin children’s dreams by telling everyone Santa Claus isn’t real.”

It’s such a Minho thing to say, and you can only laugh at the boy fondly as he pushes himself to his feet. You’re about to ask where he’s going when he tells you to wait a second, disappearing into his room with a purpose in his eye. Though, when he comes back, he says nothing as he resumes his place next to you.

“Close your eyes.” He finally says.

“Why?”

“Just close them.”

“The last time you let someone close their eyes, you had violently shoved tissues down their mouth.” You accuse, recalling the time when Hyunjin had fallen victim to your best friend’s antics. A smile ghosts on his face at the memory. He truly is a psychopath.

“I don’t have any tissues on me, so close your eyes before I shut them myself.”

“Jesus, alright, I’m closing them. How have you gotten away with this behavior for years? You should be locked up somewhere.” You joke, finally shutting your eyes.

“Give me your hand.”

“Minho, I swear to God, if you put a bug on my ha—”

“Give it to me.” He interrupts you, taking your hand. You feel a weight being pressed down on your hand. It’s light, and it feels a little scattered.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

You feel yourself freeze momentarily, staring at the bracelet on your hand. You had expected him to pull some sort of gag, to put a fake plastic bug on your hand, not a bracelet that looked identical to the one you had broken almost a month ago. It leaves you speechless, looking up at him but he instantly breaks eye contact.

Minho is looking down at his feet, scuffing it around his floor. His lips are parted like he wants to say something, but it looks a little hesitant. Pondering even. And he does intend to say something, but of the thousands of words he has learned from the day he was born up until this moment, he doesn’t think he can find the right words to say to you.

He still tries.

“I know that Christmas is over, but it took me a really long time to find the exact one you had broken.” He settles on something teasing. It’s what he knows best. “I know, I know, I’m the greatest best friend in the world.”

You look down at the bracelet that he quietly wraps around your wrist. You can only blink, frozen in your spot. He’s wordless as he encases it, and it’s only now you see that something’s different about him. There’s a small butterfly charm sitting at the center, beautiful and dainty. Your heart squeezes.

“The butterfly…” You start.

“Is to regain it. No boy has power to take away the things you find beautiful. I hope… in this way, it can be yours again.” He finishes for you.

You’re sure the nudge in your heart is easily seen in your expression. His name falls from your mouth, looking down at the bracelet before back at him. He looks so beautiful. His smile is too pretty, hair too soft. It’s hard not to look at him. It’s even harder when he does things like this, little by little making your heart feel whole again. He introduces you to a warmth you’ve never known.

“What’s with that face? Don’t get emotional. I’m not saying this to move you.”

His response makes you laugh when he says it because it’s just so him, but even his words contradict with the way he’s holding back his smile.

10…9…8…

There’s silence right after your laughter subdues and you hear nothing but your muted breathing.

“I’m really happy I’m spending New Years with you this year.”

He makes you feel like flying that it feels like you need to hold onto him to keep you grounded. With bated breath, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him. It’s hard to express how grateful you are for him, so you hope that your thoughts get closer to his heart if you hug him like this.

Minho jumps back in surprise, hand gingerly resting against your hip for a split second before wrapping his arms fully around your waist and pulling you closer to him. His fingers dig into your skin gently in a warm embrace.

7…6…5…

Minho’s gesture is still taking root in your heart, everything he’s done for you from the moment you met, and all the things he continues to do. It’s all still processing in your head when something registers in your head. Blood rushes to your ears at the realization. This can’t be right.

A million thoughts rush through your head. Maybe it began with a few brushes of contact, so fleeting that if you blink, you’ll miss it—a hand on your back, a shoulder brushing against yours, thighs pressed together. Maybe it was in your stomach, the butterflies fluttering around that you had thought you’d imagined. Maybe it was in your heart, in its constant thrumming and the unidentifiable nudge you felt once in a while.

4…3…2…

You look up at your best friend, taking a good look at the small smile on his face. When he catches you staring, his mouth morphs into a smirk, but it doesn’t look as teasing as it usually does. His features are softened. You think it might be in how gentle his eyes look, gaze so soft.

There’s a look on his face when he looks at you, and you only realize it now—the look he reserves for his cats, and his stupid pudding. There is no better feeling than having the hope of reciprocation.

1…

“Happy New Year, loser.” He mumbles, and the way he’s smiling down at you right now could mute all the fireworks decorating the sky.

Oh no.

You’re falling in love again.

twelve.

Spring arrives overnight, like an unexpected guest. With each budding flower and unfurling petals and the chirps of birds early in the morning, you’re only reminded that things do get better. Spring’s sudden flurry signifies the coming of change in a sweet promise of healing. The barren branches of winter snow now adorn young flowers

You do nothing about your feelings for three months, allowing them to cement themselves deeply into your heart until you’re sure of how you feel. But you’re unsure if you can keep it in anymore, not when the petals of cherry blossoms float around Minho who’s walking next to you, like he always does.

It feels different, like there has always been a premonition of love sitting on your chest until it was the right moment. Like the young flowers growing from the barren branches of the winter snow, you feel your heart adorn a feeling that is blossoming.

It’s quiet, save from your footsteps and the rustling of petals around you. His eyes glisten with a certain warmth that no one can replicate, and it’s something you’ve grown familiar with. A confession is brewing in your throat, and you try to make it look like your mind isn’t reeling. You fail to consider the way Minho knows you like the back of his hand, watching you closely as your brows furrow purposefully.

“Something on your mind?”

The prospect of confessing to your best friend is scary, almost uncharted territory. The realization that you’ve fallen in love once again is even scarier. Your first love had left you with a kind of sadness that took some time to recover from, but being with Minho had made you believe in everything again, at a time when you thought your whole world had crashed down on you, at a time when you thought you’d never feel this way again.

He makes you happy, so screw everything else. Screw that fear. There is nothing else to do, but—

“I think I like you. No, I think I…” You blurt out, stabbing the silence.

The word is sitting on your throat, but it’s much harder to say out loud. Minho’s eyes widen, caught off guard by your words. He feels the need to reassure you, can see the way you’re bruising yourself over being unable to say it.

“Hey, you don’t have to say it right now.”

“But I do. And I… I need— I need to know how you feel… about me.” Your voice grows significantly quieter. You try to maintain eye contact, but it’s a little difficult when he’s looking at you like that. Doe eyes and soft lips parted.

He meets your eyes, as if searching for something. He looks so entirely Minho that it has your heart tumbling.

“I love you.”

“I… What?” Your heart fills with hope.

“I love you.” He says so easily, as if they had been words sitting in his mouth for a very long time. You look into his eyes, searching for any sign that would indicate any teasing, but you don’t find anything. You only find a type of genuineness and softness unique to him, when he’s stripping himself vulnerable in his truth.

“Do you really mean that?” Your breath is shallow, staring at him straight in the eye. You step closer to where he’s standing.

“I do.” Minho’s face visibly relaxes. “Ever since you visited my house for the first time and met Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.”

You remember that day as if it was yesterday. He’d been so excited to finally let you meet his cats, bag slung over his back as he tugged you towards his door. He’d stopped and stared when you crouched down to his cats’ heights, pulling out a few treats you had bought for them when Minho had told you you’d be meeting them. You thought nothing of it, nothing of the way his eyes flicker from you to his pets, lips curved into a small smile and eyes softening significantly. And then you realize that had been years ago. He had been in love with you for years.

“But that was… that was way before. That was…” You stutter over your own words, unable to believe that he had been harboring these emotions for such a long time, far longer than you could fathom.

“And I have loved you every single day after. Even when you wore those god awful bright red parts almost everyday.” He says, taking your hands in his. You snort at the memory.

“Minho, stop joking around.”

“Me? Joking around? I would never.” He brings your hands to his lips and presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I’ve loved you, and I’ve loved past those pants, and your snot when you cry, and when you were puking over your toilet after drinking for the first time, and the crumbs you leave on my couch when you eat your chips.”

A soft laugh escapes you, and you jut your lips out in recollection of every single memory. He mirrors your laughter, eyes forming crescents. He’s been so good at hiding how you make him feel, but maybe if you looked close enough, you would’ve seen it.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me.”

“Hmm, but I love you.”

You crack a smile, even though it feels like you’re about to cry from the way your heart is aching from the overwhelmingness of Minho’s softness. It doesn’t take long before the tears start to form, laughter cracking in a stubborn way when a bubble forms in your throat.

“What are you doing? Are you crying?” He teases, letting go of your hands so he can hold your face in his hands, so he can see you better. There’s no need to answer him when it’s painfully obvious by the way he swipes at the tears on the corner of your eyes.

“I’m not!” You sniffle, letting your hands rest atop of his that’s still cupping your face. “Stop looking at me. This is so embarrassing.”

“Even more embarrassing than when you cried over milk when we were doing groceries?” He murmurs, thumb stroking up and down your cheeks and lips brushing over your face that it makes your heart contract.

“Okay, we don’t have to bring that back.” You pout, trying to will the tears away from your eyes. You fail, but it does make Minho laugh. “Why didn’t… If you loved me for so long, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because you were hurting. And I’ll always be your best friend before someone who’s been in love with you.” His words take root in your heart, injecting itself as he leans in even closer. Now you feel all soft and putty in his hands.

“Do you really mean all this?” You’re having a hard time believing that any of this could be true. Your voice falters as you speak, staring into his eyes but all he was fixated on was your lips.

“Mhm. I love you. Get used to it because I’m never saying this again.” His eyes light up, and it squeezes your heart. Then, his eyes flutter closed and he pulls you gently to his lips, finally closing the distance and allowing himself to fall into you freely, in the open. It’s slow and sweet, and it almost makes you tumble that you have to hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself standing.

He kisses you like he wants you to feel the love he’s kept locked up just for you, and you think you imagine the whimper that falls from his lips against yours. Minho keeps his hands on your cheeks, unable to touch you anywhere else, unable to act out on how in love he is with you. So, he keeps kissing you, and kissing you until he can cement every detail into his head.

When you break away from the kiss, he doesn’t fight back the giddy smile on his face, he doesn’t mask the softness he’d bared himself in front of you. Minho only rests his forehead against yours, leaning down to press a few kisses to your face.

You’ve never been this happy, never felt more love than in this moment. Second loves don’t get as much credit for the way they’re able to rebuild a heart you thought would be shattered for a long time. They don’t get enough recognition for the way they teach you that maybe your first love hadn’t been your first love after all. That maybe everything was meant to happen to lead you down a single winding path towards Minho’s heart. Maybe this has always been your predetermined destination.

In a few months, summer will come again, and you’ll be ready to move past the seasons with Minho, the way it was always meant to be.

note. u have made it to the end !!! let me know what you think :’) i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it

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zuzuelectricbugaloo · 1 month ago

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Lifeafterdeath Ship Kid: Vidal!

Created by @sarcosticsarcomere and I, he’s a revamped version of Goth in both appearance and personality, given that they are now the son of Life as well as Reaper and Geno

Concept art for their design:

Yes I know the art is mid but if I could commission my favorite artists all the time I would be drowning in over 20K of credit card debt lmao

Nicknames: V, Vivi, or Vi

Follows True Pacifist Reapertale, making V the youngest of their siblings Frisk (aka Mercy; Life’s child), Chara (aka Faith; Reaper’s child) and Asriel (aka Hope; Life’s child)

Pronouns: Masculine, V identifies as a He/Theyby

Sexuality: Fluid

Height as a teenager: Over 6 feet tall

Personality and some background info: Vidal is a soft-spoken, socially awkward guy. Doesn’t say much, but once they open up to someone and are comfortable around them V could excitedly ramble on and on about their special interests. They had trouble making friends growing up due to being the demigod son of two prominent gods. As a result, when they first met Palette Roller and TK, they went by the name Valeria to hide their identity and befriend the other young skeletons.

Fun facts:

V can do goat blep, shift his eyelights to resemble a goat’s eyes, goat bleat, goat scream, and freeze like a goat when frightened. As a child, V adored affectionate headbonks and would play fight frequently with their siblings and parents. For their goat Mom and goat brother, it was a delightful game. For everyone else, sore foreheads were a common occurrence

When angered, V’s eyelights morph into a goat’s eyes and take on a redder shades

Around 6-8 years old their horns and tail started to appear and grow.

When Vidal’s horns and tail grew out, they became clumsy due to constant struggle with their sense of balance. They’d become frustrated and give up on walking altogether and simply float. This lead to Lifeafterdeath using child leashes to hold onto their floating son while a grumpy V pouts with their arms crossed in the air like a huffy balloon.

They share Life’s passion for botany, inherited Geno’s love for astronomy, and mimic Reaper’s gothic aesthetic. However they are terrible with plants and kill every one they try to grow much to their dismay. They also often carry around a messenger bag for their scrapbook and journals to write about and press and preserve their favorite flora into.

Reaper preens V and their siblings and occasionally V will try and preen their friends or familial figures like Epic and Dream.

Palette Roller is Vidal’s best friend since they were young babybones. They’d often hangout together and when they learn about the other’s infamous parents, empathize and soon become inseparable.

Whenever they can’t be watched by one group’s parents, they are babysat by Epic, their “Bruhncle”. V adores Epic and enjoys wearing fingerless gloves and boots as a nod to him.

Vidal’s Fashion Aesthetic

Best described as gothic cottagecore, V’s color scheme consists of primarily white and black with some blue, green, and purple. Anything that has plants, a gothic motif, or celestial theme, V will wear. Sometimes V will have jewelry decorating their horns for special occasions like birthdays or holiday celebrations. Or when they’re trying to impress their crush xD

Vidal x Palette: Canon

When Vidal develops a crush on Palette, they don’t confess their feelings because they have no idea if their best friend even feels romantic feelings, least of all towards them. They’re very close, but Vidal can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic.

Palette knows they care deeply about V but has no idea what kind of love it is. He’s unbothered by this. After all, his parents are all in a queerplatonic/romantic relationship (Hyperinsomnia; the romantic comes from Dream and Error’s relationship) and happy and committed. As long as V is in his life and they’re best friends forever he’s happy. Palette does experience attraction and think V is hot. Unlike V, Palette grew up in queerplatonic family, so romance isn’t something Palette has particularly experience in

They start dating before they confess their feelings, confusing everyone except Palette’s family xD At first glance it appears as though Palette is aggressively friend-zoning V the entire time when it isn't his intention.

Some bonus funny screenshots regarding Palette and V from Sarco and my talks the other day:

#vidal goth sans #goth sans #vidal goth #revamped goth sans #Vidal ref #yes I know the accent on pere is wrong #stupid autocorrect 😭#crepic #lifeafterdeath

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trustmypoison · 1 month ago

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LMLY - Act Two

Choi Y/N hasn’t seen her long lost best friend Yoon Jeonghan in four years and doesn’t even recognize at first him when paramedics roll him into the OR after a motorcycle accident during her shift. She kind of expects to go back being total strangers as soon as he’s discharged, but Seungcheol has something to say about that when he asks them to be Best Man and Maid of Honor for his wedding.

You can find the masterlist here.

LMLY is the sequel to Calico. You don’t need to read Calico to follow along with most of this story, but it will make things more enjoyable if you do.

Genres: fluff; angst; smut; best friends to strangers to lovers; wedding au

Pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

TW/CW: MDNI, contains explicit smut, some tough family dynamics such as divorce, a lot of marriage and wedding talk, mentions of having children, mentions of depression, mentions of manipulative relationships, quite a few details about accidents and subsequent medical procedures and issues.

A/N: I am not in the medical field, so please forgive any inaccuracies included in this story.

Word count: 20k

This is a repost of a previous fic I did. It was one of the first fics that I ever posted on here and I wish I had made some different choices aesthetically. The content will be the same, it will just be a little prettier and more readable.

The first step according to Byeol and Y/N is to pick a venue and book the date they want. They already have a list that Seungcheol and Jeonghan just kind of skim. Seungcheol doesn’t care where they have the wedding and money isn’t really a problem. The top of their list contains a few churches and a winery locally that interest Byeol, and the two women spend hours pouring over pictures online of each venue.

Seungcheol mentions a destination wedding and Byeol’s eyes light up, before they dim again. She doesn’t come from money and the idea of splurging like that is something she usually declines outright. Seungcheol struggles to get her to understand that he doesn’t care to spend quite literally any amount on her. He’s struggled lovingly with this for years, gifting her luxury bags and new electronics, and even a car recently. She’d only accepted any of those because he wouldn’t back down and her junky care was becoming dangerous to drive. “Baby, I promise I won’t mind a destination wedding. I just want you to enjoy our wedding, no matter the cost,” Seungcheol insists.

Byeol pouts and Seungcheol is all over her immediately. Jeonghan wants to tease him for it, but he’s happy that his friend is in love, particularly with someone as kindhearted as Byeol. Byeol has never abused the power that she has over Seungcheol. “I know, but I’ll enjoy our wedding even if we get married in the church down the street. I don’t care about all the frills.”

“I know you don’t, but just think about it. Put a few ideas on the list at least.”

So that’s how Italy, France, and Greece end up on the list. They’re places that Byeol has never been and would love to visit. Seungcheol bites his tongue to resist the urge to argue that they can just go anytime and it doesn’t have to be a special occasion.

The following weekend, the four of them visit the local churches for a tour and Byeol admits that it’s not quite what she wants.

So the weekend after that, they decide to take an overnight trip to the winery. Jeonghan and Y/N are in the back seat again and they make it their goal to annoy Seungcheol until he can’t stand them anymore. Byeol cackles when Seungcheol groans, “Maybe you two should go back to not being friends again. My life was really peaceful then.”

“Not a chance, Cheol,” Jeonghan insists.

“You’re stuck with us forever,” Y/N adds. Seungcheol turns up the music so he can’t hear them, but Jeonghan can see the small smile he’s wearing in the rearview mirror.

The winery has a bed and breakfast attached to it. It’s small, but it would be enough for the wedding party to stay and get ready at if they rented out the whole place. Y/N and Jeonghan had insisted that they don’t need separate rooms for the single night, so they drop their suitcases in the room and flop on the bed. Well - Y/N flops, but Jeonghan careful lays down because of his sore ribs.

“This is nice,” Y/N comments dreamily.

Jeonghan agrees. There’s something old about it’s design but there’s also something cozy about it. There’s a fire place in the room that Jeonghan kind of wants to have a drink in front of later tonight. And the view is nice outside. He actually never wants to leave. “I don’t think she’ll pick it though,” Jeonghan lamented.

Y/N snorts. “I don’t think so either. She keeps looking at pictures of Greece. I hope you have your passport ready.”

“Well, let’s just enjoy the free trip on Seungcheol’s dime then,” Jeonghan joked sitting up. “Come on, let’s wander around. I can’t just lay around anymore.”

She and Jeonghan take the tour and then sit on the large patio of the bed and breakfast, drinking wine all afternoon. Jeonghan thinks the countryside is good for Y/N. She’s got a bit of that sparkle back when she smiles, shoulders relaxed, and it makes him feel warm inside. He was always worried about her but ever since they’ve become friends again he sees how reserved she’s become. She used to smile so openly and he hasn’t seen it much in the last two months. He’s grinning widely at her as she giggles into her wine glass when Seungcheol and Byeol find them around dinner time. Seungcheol asks, “Are we interrupting something?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at Cheol’s tone, but Y/N seems none the wiser to whatever her brother is implying. “You guys have to try this wine. It’s so good!”

Over dinner, Byeol quietly admits this isn’t quite the place that she had in mind, but they all decide to enjoy the night anyway. After a few too many bottles of wine, the four of them stumble up to their rooms. Y/N and Jeonghan change into their pajamas and sit on the couch with one more bottle of wine to share. The air is cozy as they both drink and watch the fire crackle.

For a change, it’s Y/N that’s leaning against Jeonghan. He knows if she hadn’t of had so much to drink, she’d be more cautious about his chest, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s a little uncomfortable. She so rarely let her hair down like this before the space they had over the years, and it certainly seems like she doesn’t relax much now. He didn’t want to discourage it when she plopped down next to him, curled up, and leaned close like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

“I could get married here,” Y/N said, but her words run together a bit.

Jeonghan smiles. “I could too. Feel okay?” Y/N nods into his chest, letting out a single hiccup. Jeonghan laughs, taking the wine glass from her to set aside. “Okay, I think it’s time to stop for the night.”

“But it’s good. And I feel good,” her voice adopts a bit of a whine and Jeonghan can’t help but pinch her flushed cheeks.

“I know, angel. I just don’t want you to feel sick tomorrow. We have to drive home in the afternoon,” he says, watching as she props her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes are abnormally bright as she blinks at him and her face is so close to his. Still, he keeps looking at her.

“I guess so,” she finally sighs, then hiccups again, looking around the room. “I really like it here.”

“Kind of romantic, isn’t it?” Jeonghan teases. He’s sure that’s why she likes it so much. She doesn’t seem interested in pursuing romance anymore but he knows a vibe like this will always be a soft spot for her.

Y/N gives him a cheesy smile. “Yeah, it’s nice. Don’t you think?”

Jeonghan thinks he’d agree to anything with the way she’s looking at him right now. It’s so innocent and warm, without an ounce of manipulation like he was used to for the last five years, and he realizes just how much he missed this, or missed her, rather. “It’s nice. Kind of don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

Y/N hums, chin back on his shoulder. “Do you remember when were 16?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. That was a whole year, angel,” Jeonghan teases the random question.

She shoves his shoulder lightly before putting her chin down again. “I’m thinking about the stupid marriage pact we made.”

Jeonghan chuckles. “I’d totally forgotten about that.”

One night, just a few days after she’d been brought back from boarding school, Y/N had witnessed a nasty fight between her mom and dad, specifically about how Y/N’s new stepmom, Nari, was treating her. Her parents’ divorce the year before had shattered her image of love and marriage because it had come out of left field for her. Ultimately, this fight would lead to a change in custody and a bitter relationship between her parents. The animosity was hard for her to stomach because she always saw the best in things, but there was really no positive to the situation.

That night, she was hiding out at Jeonghan’s because that’s what she did a lot back then. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be with anyone, much less get married. Not if it can end up like that,” she had sighed, rubbing her red eyes.

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor next to her with their backs against the bed, an arm thrown around her. She rarely cried, but he hated it more than anything. If he held her like this then he didn’t have to look at her and the pangs in his chest weren’t so intense. “That’s not true. You just have to be patient. And love doesn’t have to look like that.”

Y/N had let out a little humph sound. “I don’t know. Can’t I just marry you?” She laughs but it’s a miserable sound. “At least we get each other. I can’t imagine we’d ever be that cruel to one another.”

Jeonghan remembered how his heart had pounded, despite the serious topic. “I guess you could. We could make one of those lame deals where if we’re still single at 30, we’ll just get married.”

Y/N had snorted and Jeonghan had been elated that her mood seemed to lift a bit. “Would you want that? I might hold you up to your end of the bargain in about 15 years.” Her voice is teasing.

Jeonghan had shrugged though the answer was obvious to him even at 16. “Yeah. Who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend? Isn’t that ideal?”

Back in the present, Y/N giggles. “Do you regret that now? Time is almost up.”

Jeonghan laughs. “No, why would I regret that? I meant it, who wouldn’t want to marry their best friend?” He can’t forget the irony that he didn’t want to marry Sora just a couple months ago…. But Sora was never his best friend, or really a friend at all. She’d always been his girlfriend and the connection was just not the same.

Y/N hums. “I don’t know. I don’t have the best track record.”

“That doesn’t matter to me, Y/N. I told you back then that it didn’t,” Jeonghan admonished.

Y/N looks at him with wide eyes and he’s transfixed. She’s not subtle about looking down at his lips and he knows he should stop her. But then she’s leaning in and he’s kissing her back immediately. It’s so much better than when they were teenagers and he’d loved that back then too. This kiss lacks the nervousness that the first one years ago did. His hand cups her face and she sighs into the kiss. The feeling and sound makes Jeonghan’s heart race. However, it’s like a bucket of ice water over his head when her tongue swipes at his lips. He pulls away but doesn’t let go of her face yet. She’s gotten the wrong idea and she looks alarmed, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Jeonghan can’t help but try to quell her panic a bit. He hates the wild look in her eyes when she did nothing wrong. “Angel, it’s okay. We’ve just been drinking. That’s all.”

Y/N blinks at him a few times. “That’s all?”

“Yeah, no big deal, I promise.” He says this casually though his heart is still racing and he’s still holding her face.

“Okay. No big deal,” she echoes, but the sparkle she had earlier is gone and he wishes he knew why. Impulsively, he presses the smallest peck to her cheek and stands up. He puts out the fire in the fire place and helps her into bed, climbing in beside her. She starts snoring softly as soon as her head hits the pillow and Jeonghan hopes they can forget about this in the morning. He wants her sparkle back.

Byeol had reluctantly pondered the idea of visiting the potential destination wedding locations to aid in her decision making and Seungcheol had practically lunged across the room for his computer to book flights and hotels. Y/N and Jeonghan would be joining them because the soon-to-be newlyweds insisted that they needed their opinion.

Joshua helps Y/N pack the night before Y/N is set to leave. “Another romantic getaway, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrow at her.

Y/N pelts him with a handful of panties. She’s long over being embarrassed by him seeing them. Not only did they sleep together once upon a time, but he does her laundry all the time anyway. He’s washed most of these pairs just earlier today. They don’t have a lot of secrets now. “It’s for wedding planning, dipshit. Byeol needs to pick a location and she doesn’t want to without visiting them.”

“Oh, I get it. That makes perfect sense. I’m referring to the romantic trip across Europe with your best friend.”

Joshua’s teasing has been relentless since wedding planning started. Apparently Mingyu and Wonwoo had a lot to say about Y/N and Jeonghan after the celebratory dinner and it had gotten around her friend group. “It’s not romantic. We’re going for Seungcheol and Byeol.”

“Uh huh. Where are you going again?” Joshua smirks.

“Venice, Paris, and Mykonos,” Y/N answers shortly, snatching a stack of clothes from Joshua’s hands.

“AKA some of the most romantic cities in the world. Tell me again, how was the winery?” Joshua is grinning widely and it makes Y/N scoff at him.

“I hate you. Stop making me feel awkward about it.”

“What’s awkward about being into your best friend? It’s okay if you are,” Joshua urges and it makes Y/N reel back.

“Whoa, who said anything like that?”

Joshua nods simply. “You don’t fool me. Something happened at the winery. You’ve been weird ever since.”

“You are so nosy, do you know that?” Y/N snaps though it doesn’t have a lot of heat behind it.

“I know,” Joshua’s still smiling and it’s starting to get irritating. “I’m just invested in your happiness. Now what, did you guys hook up or something?”

Y/N frowned. “Not quite. And it was probably a mistake anyway.”

“Honey, what was a mistake?” Joshua asks cautiously. He’d really been teasing. He’s surprised that anything happened at all with the way Y/N had been about men over the past 8 years.

Y/N purses her lips. “We had a lot to drink and we kissed. He said it was no big deal when I apologized. See? A mistake.”

“But it bothers you.” Joshua observed. She hated how good he was at that sometimes. She could never get much past him. “Tell me why.”

“It’s a lot to explain…” she mumbles.

“I have time. Now let me help you before you go spend over a week with him in Europe.”

Y/N huffs and opens her mouth. Somewhere in all the word vomit, it must make some sense because Joshua’s eyes keep getting bigger. She explains what it was like growing up with him, their first kiss, losing their virginities to each other, that stupid marriage pact that they hadn’t acknowledged in years until recently, the way he’d always looked out for her, everything to do with Sora, and how warm things had been since Y/N and Jeonghan had reunited.

Joshua whistled. “Okay. What do you want to do about it?”

Y/N stares blankly. “What do you mean? I want to keep my best friend. I haven’t been good at that over the last few years.”

“Y/N, baby, I’ll be honest. That’s not just your best friend anymore. You said it felt different right?” Joshua asked. “It’s okay if it is different now. Like you said, you both have done a lot of growing up. Maybe it’s not supposed to be just friends now.”

Y/N looks like she could cry from frustration as she angrily folds a shirt. Joshua gently pulls it out of her hands and makes her sit down, squatting in front of her with his hands planted on her knees. “I just got him back. And he just got out of a long term relationship. The last thing I want to do is fuck anything up.”

“But would he make you happy?” Joshua pressed. She frowns at him and he continues to press. “That day at our internship years ago when you yelled at me, you said you just wanted to find something that felt right. Does it feel right with him?”

Her frown is deeper then as she looks down at Joshua. He’s carefully watching her. “I’ve never really let myself entertain the idea. At least not since we were teenagers.”

“Then maybe that’s what you should use this trip for,” Joshua suggests. “Do the romantic things I know you want to do because you’re there anyway. And while you’re at it, figure out if it feels right with him or not. And try to get a read on if he likes it too.”

Joshua stands up. “But we should rethink what you’re bringing. Do any of your old stuff from college fit?”

Y/N gives him a bewildered look. “You think I’m going to wear things I wore in college? If I can even fit in them still?”

Joshua huffs, going to her closet. “I’ll figure it out.”

Jeonghan insists that Y/N take the window seat when they board the plane for Italy. She’s always liked to look outside down into the clouds and she’s kind of touched that she didn’t have to remind him of that. It’s still early when they take off so the flight is quiet. When they land it’s only sometime in the afternoon local time, but they’re all exhausted because of the flight and time difference and decide to tackle sight seeing and venue touring the next day.

The hotel room is beautiful and Y/N oohs and aahs over the view from the bed. Seungcheol made sure not to spare any expenses for this trip now that Byeol was letting him splurge on her and Y/N and Jeonghan were benefiting greatly from it. She and Jeonghan relax and take a short nap before it’s time to go down to the hotel restaurant for some dinner. Much like at the winery, they have too much to drink and stumble up to their rooms late.

They come inside the room and Y/N shuffles around as Jeonghan sits down on the couch by the window. Y/N doesn’t really think twice about stopping in front of Jeonghan and turning her back to him as she pulls her hair out of the way. “Can you unzip this for me?” Joshua had picked a royal purple dress that wasn't her favorite because of the cut and shape of it. She’s not sure why she even has it because she’d had to take the tag off of it earlier today, but Joshua insisted it would look good. She’d let him chuck a lot of things into her suitcase that she felt iffy about and now she just wanted out of the dress that was a first of many.

She waits patiently to feel Jeonghan’s touch, and when she finally does feel it, it doesn’t do what she expects. One big hand wraps around the curve of her waist in slow motion and pulls her closer so she’s standing between his knees and the other lands between her shoulder blades. Both touches are incredibly warm, but a shiver runs down her spine anyway and she fears it was obvious.

“Why? It looks nice,” Jeonghan said lightly with a hint of amusement. She’s sure if she could see his face, she’d think about smacking it.

“I’m not going to sleep in it,” Y/N snorts, trying to recover even though his hands haven’t moved. “Besides, it’s not my favorite.”

Jeonghan’s fingers still don’t move for the zipper yet, running along the top of the spaghetti strap dress just under her shoulder blades. The other drifts to her hip and she’s being pulled back a little more now. “What’s not to like?”

Y/N loses whatever train of thought she had. He’s complimented her three times in this dress now. Once before they went downstairs and she’d asked him to help her zip it up, and now twice sitting behind her as she waits for him to unzip it. It’s not like he never gives her any compliments, but now she’s reading into everything too much. There’s also something in his tone that she’s never really heard before and can’t identify. His touch in particular makes her hands shake a little the longer it lingers. Lamely, she finally says, “It’s a little too snug in the waist. I’ve put on a few pounds since I bought it, I guess.”

“I think you look beautiful in it. Plus, I like this color on you.”

“Thanks, Hannie. You really think so?” It comes out more like a whisper and she has to close her eyes.

There’s a chuckle behind her, still tinged with that little something she can’t name. “Yeah I do.” Finally, he puts her out of her misery. The hand at her hip stays and squeezes a bit, but his other fingers finally close around the zipper and he pulls down slowly. Her bare back is cold now, but more importantly she can feel her face flushing. She can’t really face him now, so she softly pulls away from his hands and grabs her pajamas and toiletries on the way to the bathroom.

Y/N is questioning such a reaction as she showers and changes. She tries to rationalize it with the fact that she’s not really dated, much less been intimate, with anyone in years. But that had been different than every other experience she’d ever had. It was so simple, and yet there was something sensual and sweet about it. Like he’d take care of her. Immediately, she thinks that’s silly because he has always gone out of his way to take care of her, outside of the time that they were strangers.

She checks that her face isn’t too red when she comes back out. Jeonghan is lounging on the bed in his pajamas, flipping through TV channels. He looks up to her and smiles as she approaches. “Better?” Somehow the little question warms her more than the little touches and compliments did earlier. He was concerned about her comfort on top of everything else.

She simply nods and settles into bed, looking out at the Venice skyline. She’s still awake much later when he’s turned off the TV and lights and is tossing and turning. He does this a lot now due to the lingering rib pain and struggles to stay comfortable. His arm comes around her waist and his body slides close to hers. She doesn’t think too much initially about letting her hand fall over his across her stomach.

Just as she starts to overthink it and pull back though, he mumbles into the back of her neck. “Why are you still awake?”

“Don’t know. Insomnia, I guess. Don’t let me keep you up.”

He’s humming into the back of her neck now. “Is that normal for you?”

“A hazard of what I do for a living. And sometimes I can’t get my mind to shut off,” Y/N whispers back.

“What’s on your mind tonight?” He asks sleepily.

Y/N doesn’t know how to answer because somehow the words, ‘I think I’m into my best friend and am overthinking literally everything we say or do’, don’t seem like the right thing to say. She settles for a non-descriptive, “I don’t know, a lot right now.”

“Don’t do that.” When she makes a sound of confusion, Jeonghan props his head up in his palm, pulling her to lay flat on her back and face him. The way the lighting hits his face leaves her kind of breathless and she feels so fucking cheesy for it. “Stop bottling things up.”

“It’s not that I’m bottling things up intentionally,” Y/N pouts up at him. “I just don’t know how to articulate it.”

“What’s it about then?” He asks simply. He’s trying to pull small answers out of her to get her to talk about the big things. It’s always been his technique for her because she needs the encouragement. But that’s kind of a dangerous thing considering where her mind is going while looking up at him. So she looks away towards the ceiling.

“All this wedding planning has got me thinking. I don’t think I want to be alone. Maybe I did for a while, but now I just don’t know how not to be alone.”

“You’re thinking about dating again?” Jeonghan asks and there’s something careful about it. Y/N just shrugs. “Anyone in particular?” Though he’s trying to tease, he’s still being careful. Maybe it’s just because he recognizes it for the sensitive topic it is.

“I don’t know that it matters,” Y/N mumbles.

“It should matter…” he starts. “But if it doesn’t, we can always keep that marriage pact.”

Y/N can’t help but giggle but she can’t look at him. She’s picturing a stupid wedding at a stupid winery with a stupid bed and breakfast. Their room would have a stupid couch with a stupid fireplace. “Buy me a ring. I hear you have good taste.”

Jeonghan bows his head as he laughs. “I don’t know about that.”

“Byeol liked it. And I think you did a good job,” Y/N said lightly.

He fiddles with her fingers and they both get quiet. When he grazes a finger over her ring finger, her mind scrambles a bit, wondering if he entertains the joke even half as much as she does. “What would that even look like for us?” He asks curiously.

Y/N ponders the question. They’d always been close. Outside of the more physical elements of a relationship, she wonders if anything would really change. There weren’t many lines between them otherwise, which is why she’d been so comfortable with pitching the idea of sleeping together at 16. And as silly as it sounds, it was something she thought about from time to time. It had been sweet and careful and full of trust - exactly how their whole friendship had been and worlds better than some of the horror stories she’d heard before when it comes to your first. Looking back on her dating experience, not much had compared to it since and in a way she had been chasing after it. And it was both a blessing and a curse that they went right back to normal the next day. There were times that Y/N had wanted it to mean more than it seemed to, but it wasn't worth the risk of mentioning it back then.

But now things were different between them. They were older with more life experience, but still understood each other so well. Objectively, they didn’t do many things differently now - they still annoyed and teased each other, they still shared food every time they ate together, and looked out for each other the way they always did. The big difference to Y/N now was that the casual touching and compliments didn’t feel so casual. There was a level of intimacy about it that hadn’t been present before. She wants to chalk it up to the years-long dry spell she’s under, but no one she’s dated before that has ever flustered her with simple touches or words the way he does lately.

But she feels like she can’t say any of that so she does what she does best and makes a joke. “I don’t know, Hannie. If we got married, you’d have to pretend to like me a little, at least.”

Jeonghan scoffs and acts like he’s going to push Y/N away, but ends up dragging her a bit closer. “I like you more than anyone else. What are you even talking about?”

“Sounds like the first step of a good marriage to me,” Y/N teases. “You should like your partner more than you like anyone else.”

“Mhm,” Jeonghan hummed, clearly amused. “And what about you? Could you tolerate me for the next 70 years?”

Y/N snorts, looking up at him. “We won’t live that long. But yes, I can’t imagine tolerating anyone but you that long.”

Jeonghan is smiling when he lays back down on the pillow - her pillow, that is. His breath is on her cheek. “And what are the benefits to this marriage? Arguing about eating sushi every night? Or whose a bigger blanket hog?”

The teasing makes her laugh up at the ceiling. “It would all be with love. Plus, there’s financial benefits like taxes and insurance. And I’m sure there would be some physical benefits to it too.” The words are out before she realizes it and she hopes he can’t see how she’s blushing. She keeps looking at the ceiling, feeling embarrassed for what she said, and then feeling even more embarrassed about being embarrassed about it at all at the age of 30.

“Would there be?” Jeonghan asks and Y/N can’t really decipher what’s in his tone again, but she knows that the teasing and amusement are totally absent. When Y/N bites her lip, he grips her fingers. “There would be no pressure for that in this entirely hypothetical plan.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N mumbled. “After all, I asked you before… I’m not sure how you feel about it now though.”

“I feel the same about it as I did back then,” Jeonghan says simply and Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him.

“I’m not sure what that means, Hannie. We never really talked about it before or after the fact.”

“All you have to do is ask. That’s how I feel about it.” Another simple statement.

“And if I asked right now?” Y/N dared to ask, looking him directly in the eye.

Jeonghan’s eyes flit across her face. “That depends. Are you still drunk?” Y/N shook her head. She hadn’t been nearly as bad as she was at the winery a few weeks ago and the drinks at dinner tonight had been hours ago at this point. His hand leaves hers at her stomach and grazes the side of her face. “We’re starting to toe the line where this doesn’t feel entirely hypothetical. Have you noticed?”

Y/N’s eyes flare with surprise and he smiles softly when she speaks. “Yeah, I wasn't sure if you had though. So it’s not just me that feels like things are different now?”

“No,” Jeonghan chuckled. “Not just you.” His thumb grazes over her bottom lip. “I don’t know where to go from here though, Y/N. I just got you back.” He doesn’t really have to explain anymore, because Y/N is right there with him. After four painful years without him, it feels so risky to even discuss this.

Y/N thinks of Joshua’s advice. Take the nice, free, romantic vacation and figure out how you feel. It seems like good advice now and there’s an openness between them, so Y/N suggests it. Jeonghan looks at her for a long time before mumbling, “Okay.” Then he’s leaning in to kiss her.

Jeonghan and Y/N meet Seungcheol and Byeol for breakfast on very little sleep, but it doesn’t matter because Byeol has a laundry list of things she wants to accomplish. They eat quickly and get a move on. There are a couple rooftop venues that overlook the Grand Canal and both women seem intrigued by the view. Seungcheol and Jeonghan stand back and let them hash out the details over the notebook Byeol is carrying with her. Ideas for decor, colors that will look good with the backdrop, what type of flowers would fit this vibe. The men just glance at each other and shrug. Jeonghan doesn’t care much and he knows Seungcheol doesn’t either as long as Byeol will be walking down the aisle wherever they pick.

They stop for lunch at a little cafe and then they’re moving again. This time, it’s the tourist traps like Saint Mark’s Basilica and the Bridge of Sighs. They don’t have a ton of time anywhere in particular because of how much they want to pack into this trip, and Seungcheol promises they’ll come back after he sees Byeol’s face when it’s time to find somewhere for dinner and wind down for the night. She’s clearly enjoying the trip and doesn’t want to leave quite yet.

Jeonghan is terribly distracted. Not in a bad way, but he can’t for the life of him focus on anything else but Y/N. He hasn’t been able to all day. It’s a good thing that Seungcheol excepted very little from him here besides showing up and giving an opinion on the venues, because Jeonghan has done very little besides watching Y/N as she looks around in a sort of childlike wonder or excitement. It’s what he refers to as her sparkle.

He first noticed her sparkle when they were five. Jeonghan had been dropped off for a play date, something they’d done their whole life up to that point, and he’d let himself in because he might as well have lived at the Choi’s just as much as the twins lived at the Yoon’s. He found Seungcheol and Y/N in the backyard. Seungcheol was too busy trying to make free throws to notice Jeonghan had arrived, but Y/N did. “Hannie, come see what I can do!” She’d looked so focused that her tongue was sort of sticking out as she places her feet carefully, and then executes a very clumsy pirouette. She’d been taking ballet for a few months and it was her favorite thing back then. When she was facing him again, feet both planted on the floor, she gave him a smile that made him ask to see her do it again.

He’d seen that look again when she pulled him down to duck under a bridge during a gondola ride. And when they were looking out at the canal from one of the rooftop venues. And when she saw someone walk their dog past their table on the sidewalk during dinner. He liked seeing it.

Later, when they arrived to the hotel room, the first thing he did was hug her. It felt silly, because they’d hugged hundreds if not thousands of times over the years. But after last night and today, he couldn’t help it. Kissing her for just a few moments last night had made him realize it wasn’t even remotely just friendly now, and it was kind of agonizing to have to play it cool all day.

Y/N is giggling in his ear, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “What’s this for?”

“What? You don’t like it?” Jeonghan teases, starting to pull away, but her grip around his shoulders becomes a little tighter.

“I didn’t say that, and I also didn’t say you could stop,” Y/N insists and Jeonghan has to laugh because her tone is cute. It’s got some of that sparkle.

When she finally pulls away, he leaves his hands on her waist. Again, it feels silly because it’s not like he’s never touched her waist, but there’s something different about her hands landing softly on his chest that make him smile. “Did you have a good time?”

Y/N grins widely. “Yeah, it was nice!”

Jeonghan gives her a knowing look. “She won’t pick it though.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “It’ll be Greece. I bet you anything.”

“Oh, anything?” Jeonghan gives a sly smile and Y/N pushes him back with a laugh, walking past him into the room. He trails after her to her suitcase, hovering behind her back. He can tell she’s not mad at the comment, just nervous. Her hands shake a little as they dig through the clothes and he feels bad. The last thing he wants is for her to be nervous around him. He puts his hands back on her waist and presses a small kiss to her bare shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, angel.”

Y/N looks over her shoulder at him for a moment, biting her lip. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hannie. I’m just not sure what I’m doing here.”

“I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anything from you except honesty. Besides, I’m not sure quite what to do either.” She lets him turn her until she’s facing him again. “I know we talked about toeing this line last night, but we don’t have to do that. We can pump the brakes or just stop the car all together right now.”

Y/N fiddles with the buttons on his shirt, lips pursed. “I don’t really want to pump the brakes or stop, if you don’t. A lot of things about this are just nerve wracking.”

Jeonghan pulls her to the couch and makes her sit with him. “I agree,” he says honestly. Whatever he’s been feeling lately is scary in its intensity. “But tell me why so I can help.”

“Besides the potential of losing my best friend?” Jeonghan squeezes her thigh because that much was obvious to both of them and she sighs. She stares for a long time at him, looking conflicted. Finally, she says, “Is this what you want, Jeonghan?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed last night if I didn’t want to explore this, Y/N,” Jeonghan nodded.

“And it has nothing to do with Sora?”

Jeonghan blinked at her. “Y/N, I haven’t thought about Sora in weeks, and even then it wasn't a positive thing.”

“You're sure this isn’t a rebound?”

Her question makes him frown deeply. He wants to be mad, but it’s a fair thing to ask given he just ended a five year relationship only a matter of months ago. “No, Y/N. I love you too much for that. I want it to work if that’s what you want.”

“And if it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, what do we do?” Y/N’s eyes look a little watery, but per usual she blinks it back. “I want a plan.” Jeonghan can’t help but laugh for a moment because she’s still just as Type A as she’s always been. She likes back up plans for her back up plans. Y/N’s eyes flare with anger. “I’m serious, Hannie. If we explore this, we need to agree on finding a way out if it’s not working.”

“Angel, that’s like planning for failure,” Jeonghan is still chuckling, but the sound dies in his throat when she doesn’t laugh along.

“That’s really all I know when it comes to this sort of thing. So I need a guarantee that you’ll still be in my life if wherever we go with this doesn’t work out.” The watery eyes are back, but this time it seems like too much for her to blink them back.

Jeonghan sticks out his pinky and Y/N cracks a smile. “I promise you will not be rid of me until you beg me to go.”

“Unlikely,” Y/N laughs but it kind of chokes her up. She links their pinkies together. “You can’t take it back now.”

“Can’t imagine why I’d want to. Now, can I kiss you? I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Y/N barely nods before Jeonghan’s hand comes up to the side of her face, the other still holding her thigh. She feels his breath on her lips for a moment and her eyes drift closed. Finally, he kisses her. It’s soft and warm, light presses landing and receding over and over. It sends tingles through her body and her hands slide to his shoulders. When her tongue swipes across his lips, this time he doesn’t stop her. It’s still soft, but something is gently building and it has her sighing into the kiss.

He’s so slow and careful, like she might break, which is about right. The sensations have her feeling so fragile. When his hand slides from her cheek and into her hair, she thinks she might cry. A few more touches, specifically his hand sliding from her thigh to her waist where it rubs lightly and she actually does.

Jeonghan pulls back when he feels the tear. “Do you want to stop?” The question is automatic as he swipes at her cheek.

“No, I’m sorry for being such a big baby.” Y/N knows her apology is weak but Jeonghan gives her a kind smile, totally void of any teasing.

“Stop bottling it up, Y/N. It’s okay. And it’s also okay if you just want to go to bed.”

“I don’t,” Y/N answers quickly. “But I probably killed the mood.”

“No,” Jeonghan laughs lightly. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Y/N feels her face flush and she knows she’s caught because his thumb runs over the apples of her cheeks where it feels the warmest. But his smile is still kind and it makes her lean in to peck his lips. “I’m okay.”

The answer must be good enough for Jeonghan because he’s leaning into her space more, hand at the back of head to hold her in place. This time he swipes into her mouth and whatever was building earlier is back again. So much that after a while of it, she doesn’t feel embarrassed to slide into his lap and straddle him. He sighs into her mouth when she’s fully seated against him and his big hands spread across the curve of her waist. She looks down at him. “Okay? Not hurting?” When he shakes his head, she leans down to his lips again.

His hands are starting to drift now and it’s starting to take her breath away. They slide up her waist until his thumbs are just under her breasts before sliding back down, past her waist and hips and to her thighs. It’s so easy to get swept up in the touches and she’s heating fast. She can feel herself getting wet as he continues, though he hasn’t touched any skin besides her thighs. And she’s not alone in being turned on. Underneath her, she feels him hardening. It’s kind of a rush to have this effect on him.

When she can’t breath anymore, she pulls back to look at him and he looks as dazed as she feels. “Should we stop?” Y/N asked and feels kind of silly for it again, but Jeonghan remains serious.

“Whatever you want, angel.” His voice is low and scratchy and she likes the sound. She’s never heard it like that before.

Y/N bites her lip nervously. “I want to know what you want, Hannie.”

Jeonghan stares up at her, hands still drifting up and down her body gently. “I don’t want to stop,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop this. But I’m not interested in rushing you if you want more and I don’t expect anything from you if you don’t. Which is why it’s whatever you want.”

Y/N’s nerve endings feel like they’re on fire. For some reason, she remembers being 16 as he hovers over her in bed, saying similar things. ‘There’s no rush’ and ‘we don’t have to do this’ and ‘are you sure you’re comfortable?’ He was gentle then too. It had dashed any nervousness she felt back then and he’d made her feel good when she agreed to continue. She wanted that again.

“If we keep going, do we have to go all the way?” She feels lame for asking, but this is such a fragile situation and she feels like they’re kind of walking a tight rope right now.

Jeonghan is smiling sweetly. “No. We go however far you feel like.”

Something about the way he says it emboldens Y/N. She’s always let the men she’s been with take the lead, but there’s something powerful about being handed the reigns. Without another word, she leans down to him again and kisses him. It has a little more urgency but his touch his still gentle. She grabs one of his hands from her side and puts it on her thigh, angling inward. She’s glad he gets the point because it starts creeping up slowly. The fabric of her skirt starts to bunch but he’s still not rushed.

Her breathing catches when his finger tips graze the edge of her panties and he pulls back to watch her face. “All you have to do is say stop, okay?” It seems highly unlikely that she’s going to do that, but she nods anyway. When his fingers graze over the center of her, she can’t help the little gasp that escapes her mouth as her eyes snap shut. Small circular motions start working her up through the fabric and she’s getting wetter by the second.

Jeonghan gently pulls the edge of her panties to the side and gives her a few beats to object. When Y/N doesn’t, his finger grazes her, dipping into the wetness and spreading it. When his finger finds her clit, she shudders, the shock waves already moving through her. Her grip on his shoulders tighten. The cord in her stomach is tightening quickly and just before it’s about to snap he pulls away.

A whine escapes her mouth before she can really stop it, but he's leaning up to kiss her again. It’s still sweet and she huffs against his lips. It makes him laugh. “Be patient, okay? I want to keep making you feel good.”

“Fine,” Y/N relents and it makes him laugh again, especially when his fingers find her center again and one pushes inside. Her jaw drops open a bit at the slight stretch. It’s nothing like her own fingers and it has her breath catching in her throat again. He pumps it in and out softly and the way it hits her walls make her want to moan. When he adds another finger, she can’t help it. He head tilts back as the sound falls from her mouth.

Dimly, she’s aware that a little fingering shouldn’t have such an impact, but it feels too good to be embarrassed about it right now. Besides, Jeonghan has never let her feel genuinely embarrassed about anything for long. It feels too good the way his fingers spread inside of her, hitting spots she’s unfamiliar with anymore. When his thumb lands on her clit again, rubbing softly with every push and pull of his fingers, he leans forward into her exposed neck. She feels a few soft kisses and then the slight sting of his teeth and it has her clenching. Her fingers find the hair at the back of his head to keep him there and he nips and sucks a few times.

“Feel good?” He asks quietly against her throat and she nods weakly. “Will you let me see you come?” The question works her up even more and the cord is getting tighter again. “You look so pretty like this. Come on, angel. Just let go.”

The coaxing is all it takes for the cord to finally snap. It’s a full body reaction that she has to anchor onto his shoulders for. But his free hand is on her back now keeping her upright and in his lap as the other hand still helps her ride it out. When his fingers finally slide out of her, she feels a little boneless. She’s nervous to open her eyes and look at him, but some of it fades out when his hand grabs her chin and a soft kiss is placed on her lips. “Okay?”

The question is still gentle, just like everything else he’s said since they got back to the hotel room, but she hears a tinge of nervousness that matches her own. She cracks open her eyes and he looks exceptionally vulnerable, and she wonders if he thinks he’s done something wrong. But he has nothing to worry about because this is the safest and most cared for she’s ever really felt. So she leans down and kisses him one more time for good measure. “Okay.”

The next day is a travel day, but it’s much shorter because they’re only going to Paris. Jeonghan watches Y/N look out of the window for most of the flight. His nerves are fried and he keeps a grip on her hand. She doesn’t ask why.

Toeing this line over the past couple days is something he enjoyed - really enjoyed, in fact. This was someone he’s known forever, literally, and someone that knows him best, better than anyone else surely. And the feel and sight of her on his lap last night had totally scrambled his brain until not a single coherent thought remained beyond making sure she was happy and felt good. But he kind of felt like he was at a precipice when he woke up this morning.

To be clear, it’s not regret that he’s feeling. He knows immediately that that’s not it, because it had all felt right to him. He was just afraid of waking up and seeing that she might have regretted it and he wasn’t sure how he would deal with that. When she woke up, she gave no indications that she did, even pecking him on the lips before she got out of bed. In the rush to the airport, he hadn’t had much time to think about it, but this short flight felt like an eternity. He’s not sure what he’d do with the time if he wasn’t stuck in this seat, but it makes him twitchy.

Which is something that Seungcheol notices when they’ve landed. The girls have run to the restroom and he and Seungcheol are waiting for their bags when Seungcheol pins him with a look. “You seem off.”

“How do you mean?” Jeonghan hopes to play dumb.

“You’re anxious. Why? You’ve flown a hundred times before so that can’t be it,” Seungcheol presses.

“I’m good. Nothing to worry about.” Jeonghan prays he’ll drop it as he spots the bags coming around the corner on the conveyor belt.

“Uh huh. You know I don’t like secrets.”

Jeonghan does know that. But what he doesn’t know is if he and Y/N should be keeping things quiet until there’s something definite to say. So he shrugs, “When I have something to say, I’ll say it. I promise.” And he means it. If this is actually going somewhere, which he hopes that it is, then they’ll say something to Cheol. They’ll have to.

But that also opens up the possibility of it going nowhere or going horribly wrong. Jeonghan has to put the idea out of his mind immediately for his sanity and because their bags are here.

They arrive at the hotel and it’s another nice one with a nice view. Y/N jokes that they should let Seungcheol pick lodging from now on, and Jeonghan laughs but he’s still distracted. They change out of their outfits from the flight and meet in the lobby for a tour. The hotel they’re staying at happens to be a popular venue for weddings and Seungcheol booked a tour on a whim when he booked the rooms. Byeol seems to like the ballroom and the rooftop, from which you can see the Eiffel Tower. Y/N’s sparkle is back as she enjoys the view and Jeonghan has a hard time looking at the scenery.

The second and third venues are not far and they walk to them. Both are chateaus that are privately owned but often hosts weddings. Byeol had scheduled tours at both ahead of time. Byeol is pretty charmed by both of them and even Seungcheol comments on how much he likes it. Y/N shivers in the cold, castle-like interior. It’s not a winner for her, but Jeonghan notices she keeps her mouth shut. He already knows what her choice would be anyway if it were up to her.

After a long lunch, they hit the usual tourist destinations, such as the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Notre-Dame Cathedral. At the Cathedral, Byeol and Seungcheol even gather some information about hosting their wedding there because they like the interior. Y/N looks excited by the idea, but one look between Y/N and Jeonghan makes it obvious that it will still be Greece when it comes time for Byeol to pick.

Seungcheol and Byeol are staying on a different floor, so they get off the elevator before Y/N and Jeonghan after dinner. As soon as the elevator doors close, Jeonghan is on Y/N and she giggles. “What do you think you’re doing?”

It’s playful so he laughs, dropping a couple kisses onto her neck. “Nothing, I just missed you today.”

Y/N lets out another giggle. “Missed me? Hannie, we spent the whole day together.”

The elevator doors slides open on their floor and he takes her hand, leading them to their room. “I know, but it’s true.”

“But I was right here all day. What could be different?” She asks as he uses the keycard and opens the door. Once inside, he lightly pushes her against the closed door.

“This,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to her lips. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted any of this in public, or in front of Seungcheol or Byeol for that matter.”

She’s smiling against his ear when he buries is face in her neck again. Her arms wrap tighter around his shoulders. “Do you want that?”

“I think you already know my answer,” he laughs into her neck. “I’d be all over you anywhere if you let me.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” she admits as a hand combs through his hair. “Does Cheol know what’s going on?”

“He’s suspicious about something. He cornered me at the airport earlier.”

“Do you think he would be mad?” Y/N sounds unsure.

It only takes a split second for Jeonghan to answer. “No, not as long as I treat you well.”

She pulls back a bit to look at him. “How can you be so sure? I remember him giving you a bloody nose one time over a simple rumor.”

Jeonghan bites his tongue. He’s not ready to admit how long these feelings that they’re coming face to face with have been lingering for him. Or that Seungcheol is in on that secret. “Would you take my word for it for now?”

She stares at him for a long time and he feels nervous about it. Finally, she says, “If you’ll tell me one day, then yes.” She gives him a few pecks. There’s a blend of something that takes over her face when she pulls away. Something like fear and anxiety, but also a bit of her usual sparkle and some mischievousness. “I was going to take a shower… do you want to join me?”

Jeonghan’s mind screeches to a halt. He’s impressed by how calmly he speaks, because he doesn’t feel calm at all. He’s surprised his hands don’t shake a bit at her waist. “Y/N… are you sure? That’s quite a leap from what we did yesterday. I have no expectations for what we do and what pace we do it at.”

Some of the sparkle and mischievousness dims and she plays with the pocket on his shirt to avoid looking at him. “I know, but… You made me feel good and I felt safe with you. I always do. So I’d like to do this, if nothing else just for the company. We don’t even have to do anything.” She smiles sheepishly. “I missed you today too, you know?”

“And I missed you… you’re sure? Even if nothing happens, this is still a leap.” Outside of a handful of occasions, being without clothes was not something that was common in their friendship up to this point. That alone would be different. Jeonghan doesn’t budge until he has confirmation. She gives him a strong nod, but he still waits for her to say something.

The moment she says, “I’m sure, Hannie,” he backs off of her and lets her lead him to the bathroom. The whole thing is made of dark green tiles and the lighting is dimmed. They took a peek at the shower earlier and it’s expansive with a bench inside. Jeonghan closes the door behind them to keep the steam in later, but as soon as he faces her he knows she’s losing whatever confidence she had before when she asked him to join her. He carefully reaches out for her hands because it feels like the safest option.

“Do you want help? Or do you want me to step out?”

Y/N gives him a weak smile. “You first?”

Without much thought, Jeonghan begins unbuttoning his shirt. He’s barely two buttons in when Y/N hands push his own out of the way. She’s slow and meticulous and he lets her take her time, because it seems to help ease her nerves to be able to do something else than think about where this is going. Jeonghan helps untuck the shirt and then sheds it off. He cares very little about how it might get wrinkled on the bathroom floor when Y/N puts her hands on his bare chest. It takes him a minute to realize that she’s not just checking him out, though he does think she is. She’s also looking at the scar from his surgery. He lightly squeezes her hand bringing it up to kiss. “Don’t think about it.”

It takes him leaning over her and kissing her before that spell is broken. He walks her back into the bathroom counter, but her hands are still hesitant and she needs more time to warm up or decide to back out. So he picks her up and places her on the counter, squeezing between her legs. She looks surprised at the move and it makes him laugh. “Comfortable?”

She looks a little dazed when she nods. “Would you be offended if I said I was surprised you were that strong? It’s just, I’m not exactly light.”

Jeonghan scoffs, leaning back into her lips. “Y/N has a strength kink. Got it.”

Y/N sputters out a laugh. “I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to, angel. Your face said it all.” Y/N hides her red face in his neck but she’s still laughing. His arms wrap around her, hands rubbing up and down her back. “I’m messing with you, Y/N. You can relax.”

“Maybe you’re right. I kind of liked it,” she said shyly into his neck.

Jeonghan chuckled, letting his hand creep up the back of her shirt slowly, palm pressing into her skin. “Noted.”

Y/N huffed, frustration evident, “I’m sorry, Jeonghan. I know this is clumsy.”

He makes her sit up so he can look at her. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. I’m just relieved you trust me enough to entertain any of this. And that you’d tell me if you’re not quite ready. Right?”

Y/N nods. “Yeah, would you?”

Jeonghan can’t help but place a peck on her lips. “Yeah, I would.” Both palms are on her back now, shirt bunched up her back slightly. “What now?”

He watches her as it looks like she’s steeling herself for something. Then her hands come to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. She’s wearing a black lacy bra and it makes him suck in a small breath. He’s staring a moment too long and she starts to squirm. He kisses her to get her to stop. “You are so pretty,” he mumbles against her lips. He’s rock hard now, pressing against her between her legs.

Jeonghan is surprised when Y/N starts to get a little impatient. It seems like a switch has flipped. He sucks in another breath when she reaches for his belt, starting to unbuckle it. He laughs because she was hiding in his neck moments ago over a joke about a kink. When she reaches for the button of his pants, his laugh dries up because things are moving kind of fast now. He sheds his pants too before returning back to between her legs. Not that she would let him get away, because she was kissing him again with urgency, holding both sides of his face.

His hands land on her thighs and when she gasps, he slowly slides them up. Her skirt bunches up to her stomach. One of his hands flies to the matching panties before slowing, gently rubbing. Like last night, she keens at the touch. He slowly repeats what he did the night before, pulling the panties to the side and working her up carefully. He thinks he could watch her come over and over again and never get tired of it.

When she comes down, he watches her. “Okay?” She nods, her smile slightly dazed. “Still want that shower?” Another dazed nod, and he laughs. “Okay, let me help.”

He helps her off the counter, and when she’s on her feet, his hands drift from her waist to the button of her skirt. He slowly unhooks it and pulls the zipper, but she shoves it down her legs as soon as the fabric is loose. Jeonghan laughs at the rush she’s in because they really have all night or she could kick him out of the bathroom right now, but he stops laughing when she quickly unhooks her bra and tosses it, along with her panties. His eyes follow her as she walks towards the shower. “Are you coming?”

Y/N tries to breathe deeply under the stream of water, soaking her hair and body. Every time she makes a bold move, she instantly second guesses it. So she’s relieved when she hears the shower door close. Good, she didn’t scare him off yet.

Jeonghan’s arms slide around her waist as he presses into her back. A kiss drops onto her wet shoulder. “Kind of cold in here,” he mumbles. She giggles, spinning them to put him under the hot water. She watches his muscles relax in the warmth. He really is attractive. Always has been really. Tall with a lot of lean muscle. Handsome face. Her hands meet his chest, running down his stomach and wrapping around his waist. He peers down at her with a look of curiosity, but he doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around her either. A kiss presses to her forehead. “Good?”

Y/N nods, head laying on his chest. She’s not sure if that’s a lie because she’s pretty sure he can feel her heart beat where she leans into him. For the thousandth time, she wishes this wasn’t so nerve wrecking. She remembers being so much smoother about these things a long time ago. His hand pats the back of her head mindlessly and it soothes her a bit.

“I can feel you tensing up. Stop stressing, angel,” he says simply. “Now turn around so I can wash your hair.”

This does the trick. As soon as his fingers scrape across her scalp, Y/N’s mind goes blank. He’s meticulous about lathering and massaging and she lets him do it for as long as he wants, primarily because it feels good but also because he’s right. She’s nervous and this eases it a bit. In the back of her mind, she wonders if he’s working off his own nervous energy with this too, but she can’t be sure because she can’t open her eyes right now to look at him.

He gently pulls her under the water, rinsing out her hair. Then she’s out of the water and he’s using conditioner on the length. While it sits, he comes around to her front, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. The whole thing is warm and by the time he rinses her hair out again she’s putty in his hands. “Better,” he laughs against her lips. It’s not a question. He must be able to feel the lack of tension now.

“Shut up, you make me nervous,” Y/N laughs too.

She hears a strange laugh and she cracks open her eyes to look up at him. “Me? First of all, we’ve known each other for years, Y/N. There’s no reason for that. Secondly, it’s you who makes me nervous.”

Y/N feels her eyes widen in outrage. “Hannie, that’s such a double standard. Why would I make you nervous? I’ve been an absolute klutz this whole time!”

“That’s exactly why!” He laughs, though there’s a serious look in his eyes. “You could do no wrong in my book and yet you’re afraid of making a fool out of yourself in front of me.”

Some of the tension is creeping back in her shoulders and his hands come up to rub them, forcing them to stay relaxed. “It’s only because I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s,” Y/N says weakly.

“And you have nothing to worry about there. You’re already my favorite person. And even if you weren’t already, I think you’d have me hooked in a heartbeat.”

His sincerity makes her eyes water. “Stop making me want you,” Y/N half jokes. It makes Jeonghan laugh loudly and it echoes throughout the shower.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he says simply and then his lips are on hers again. He’s walking her back to the shower wall and when her back hits the tile, she can’t help but hiss at the cold. His tongue swipes at her mouth when she makes the sound and then it feels like he’s all over her. His hands are swiping up and down her body again, but it feels ten times better without clothes in the way. On one particular swipe up, one hand closes around her breast and it rips a moan from her. But his tongue still presses into her mouth unforgivingly and it kind of feels like he’s trying to eat her alive. His thumb rubs across her nipple and it pebbles instantly, scrambling her brain for a second.

His other hand tilts her head and his face buries in her neck. His lips start at her ear, sucking and licking right below it and it makes her feel like she’s floating. Then his lips and teeth scrape down the column of her neck. At the base, he sucks lightly. She might have a bruise tomorrow, but that barely entered her mind before it’s gone again, because now his tongue is sweeping across her nipple. Her body arches into him because she just can’t help it, and he must like it, because his hand flies to the small of her back to keep her there.

Y/N’s breathing is a bit ragged when he comes back up to her lips. One hand still plays with one of her breasts and the one at her back skates to her ass, grabbing a handful there gently. She’s totally aware of his hardened length pressing against her stomach and it’s all she can think about now. So she pushes him away.

There’s a flash of panic on his face and he looks like he might be getting ready to apologize, but Y/N smiles up at him as she falls to her knees in front of him. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching the realization and subsequent awe spread across his face. “Angel, you don’t have to…”

The complaint dies on his tongue when her hand wraps around him, stroking lightly. A light curse falls from his mouth and he doesn’t look away. When her lips wrap around his tip, he hisses, another curse tumbling out. Jeonghan’s fingers thread into her wet hair but there’s nothing forceful about it. He lets her bob and lick at her pace, taking as much and then as little as she wants.

It’s when her lips wrap around his base that his grip on her hair tightens. It loosens right away and Y/N kind of misses it already. So she pulls her mouth off of him to look up. “You can do that again.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.” His voice sounds kind of choked.

“You won’t. Besides, there’s that newly discovered strength kink, remember?” Y/N says it teasingly, but there’s a thrill when she watches his eyes glaze over a bit more at the mention of it. His fingers grip tighter when she takes him back into her mouth again. He’s starting to become a little impatient and his fingers keep gripping tighter. The sting on her scalp makes her moan and it surprises even her. She’s historically been pretty vanilla. She’s not so naive to think this is really as rough as it can get, but the edge to it is new and has her dripping.

Jeonghan pulls out and takes a small step forward, gently pushing her back and head against the shower wall. The position is a little uncomfortable and new, but she can’t help but nod immediately when Jeonghan strokes her hair and asks her if she’s okay. She’s more than okay because she can have the best of both worlds here, the gentleness that she needs, but also a little of the rough edge that she’s craving now.

He guides himself back into her mouth and then he’s the one pumping in and out. The movement is gentle and so are his hands on her head, but there’s no mistaking the control he has right now. It makes her eyes roll back a little and she grips his thighs to ground herself.

And that’s a good thing when the thrusts become hastier. She knows he’s putting in work to remain careful, but she can feel that he’s getting close. The sounds falling from his mouth make her wrap her hands to the back of his thighs, encouraging him to be closer.

“Fuck… Angel, I’m going to come. Where do you want it?”

Something possesses her. That’s the only explanation because she’s never done anything like this before. Y/N pushes him by the hip gently and he backs up, keening into her hand when she wraps it around him, pumping fast. “My face.”

He looks totally gone now, and a broken moan falls from his lips, watching her stick out her tongue. He curses again when he comes. Some lands on her tongue, but most of it paints her cheek and nose. He’s hauling her to her feet immediately and her back is against the shower wall, arms wrapping around his shoulders for stability due to her weak knees. It’s entirely erotic that he presses his tongue into her mouth, not the least bit put off by the taste and feel of himself all over her face. When he comes down from his high, he’s laughing in shock. “Holy fuck, you’re so hot.”

It makes her laugh loudly too, and relief floods her body that he liked the risk she took. Then he’s guiding her under the water, helping her rinse and wash her face, careful not to get any soap in her eyes. Then she does the same to him. They finish washing each other, but the water is still hot and they stay under the spray, holding each other.

“Too much?” Jeonghan asks carefully, kissing her neck.

Y/N shakes her head. “No… in fact, I could do more.”

His head pops up and he looks down at her with a mixture of caution and excitement. “Is that so?” When she nods, he asks, “and what were you thinking?”

Y/N feels a smirk cross her face and she’s not sure where the confidence comes from. “Can we explore that strength kink a little more?”

Jeonghan looks elated. “Yeah, I can manage that. Just tell me if it’s too much.”

Y/N lets him push her back against the shower wall that she’s becoming really familiar with. His hands stroke across her body for a while as he kisses her and she’s waits patiently. She doesn’t know how to navigate this, but he seems to and she trusts him.

His hands wrap around her arched back, gripping and massaging, and it has her sighing into his mouth, especially the lower they go. A few rougher grips to her ass and they fall to the back of her thighs. When he lifts abruptly, she squeals in surprise, clinging to his shoulders. Instinctively, her legs fly around his waist and then her back is against the shower wall again.

Jeonghan is laughing again. “Sorry, should have warned you.”

Y/N lightly slaps his shoulder. “Yeah right, you wanted to scare me.” She can tell she’s right because he giggles into her neck. Whatever lecture she might give him is gone when his hands grope at her ass again. Everything about the position is exposing and she’s totally at his mercy. His cock is hard against her again and the feel of it so close to where she wants it has her huffing.

But he knows her too well. “Patience, angel.” His hips stay anchored against her, along with one hand on her ass, but the other comes back up to her breast and she’s falling back flat into the shower wall at the feeling. His lips graze her jaw. “How far do you want to go?”

She has a hard time answering because he’s pinching lightly at her nipples. “All the way.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a few beats before finally asking, “Like this?”

Y/N considers it through the haze of his touch. It’s been a long time and there might be better positions to reintroduce her to all of this, but she wants him so badly right now that it doesn’t matter. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. Tell me how it feels. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” He says this against her jaw and when she nods, he pulls back again. He reaches down and the head of his cock rubs against her opening a few times before notching there, and she sucks in a breath. She can feel the stretch already and she’s still not breathing quite yet. “Deep breath, angel. It’ll be okay, but stop me if it’s not.” She gives another nod and then his lips are on hers and he’s pushing in slowly.

The stretch is insane and tears prick her eyes. It’s not exactly pain, but there’s something uncomfortable about it. It reminds her of her first time and she feels silly for the comparison. She focuses on his lips and when he’s fully seated she’s pleased by the sound he makes against her mouth. He stays there and his hands stroke her body gently. He leans back to look at her. “Okay?”

Y/N sighs and laughs shortly, a little overwhelmed at the feeling. “Yeah, just… go slow.”

She expects the same pain or discomfort when he pulls out most of the way, but the drag against her walls has her pinching her eyebrows together as the feeling shifts. “Oh.” It falls from her mouth before she can stop it and then he’s slowly pushing back in and it feels good. Really good actually.

Jeonghan starts a slow and steady pace and Y/N leans forward to kiss him again. There are some broken gasps and moans from both of them. When he hits a particular spot, Y/N feels herself clench around him and he hisses. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Another clench. Jeonghan chuckles. “Praise kink, too? Y/N, really?”

“You’re really making fun of me right now?” Y/N whines, slightly breathless.

Jeonghan seems more focused now. His thrusts become more intense and now words are flowing freely from his mouth. “So pretty like this, letting me have you against the wall. And you sound so good, I just want to keep pulling those little noises from you. Everything about you is so perfect.” She clenches repeatedly on him and his thrusts are coming faster. Y/N’s nails dig into his shoulders. “Can I see you come? I know you’re close.”

She was close. Dangerously close in fact. It takes a single pinch of her nipple and him hitting a certain spot deep inside her and suddenly she’s seeing stars. Moans fall from her mouth and she can do very little to help him keep a hold of her. His grip gets tight on her hips and he’s pounding her through her orgasm. “You’re going to make me come, angel. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, Hannie,” her request is weak but there’s something about it that propels him forward, a deep groan escaping his throat. His grip on her hips is so tight it hurts as he buries himself deeply and comes inside of her. After a few deep breaths, he eases her down to her feet. HIs grip is still tight because she’s unsteady. Both of their breathing is ragged still, but she’s giggling at him. “Breeding kink?”

Jeonghan guffaws. “Shut up. Let’s hurry up and get out of here. The water’s cold now.”

The next day, Seungcheol and Byeol have a list of things they want to do alone. Byeol is nervous to say so when she knocks on Y/N and Jeonghan’s hotel room door as they’re getting ready. They both shrug it off and tell her to go have fun. After all, they’re here to start planning their wedding and they’re in one of the most romantic cities in the world. Byeol starts to apologize but Jeonghan waves her off and says he and Y/N will go find something to do.

And that’s actually a blessing in disguise. They might have been toeing the line before, but now they’ve straight up crossed it. But every single time they’ve gone near this line lately, it’s been in private. As Jeonghan stops replaying how Y/N rode him this morning while he sat on the tile bench in the shower, he worries about how he can navigate this public facet of whatever they’re doing. And the ‘whatever they’re doing’ part stresses him out more, because a label would be really useful right about now.

It’s probably a good thing that he has some time to figure out how to approach this without being under the watchful eye of Seungcheol or Byeol, who have been giving him knowing looks and making comments since Y/N and Jeonghan reunited a few months ago. Seungcheol apparently doesn’t keep any secrets from Byeol so she knows all of Jeonghan’s dirty laundry dating back years.

They’re dressing down today since they aren’t visiting any venues. At least that’s what he thinks until Y/N comes out of the bathroom in a sun dress. Jeonghan looks down at his jeans, t-shirt, and flannel and scoffs at her in offense. “Do you have to be so pretty?”

Y/N becomes shy, cheeks turning pink. “What are you talking about? It’s just a dress and some makeup.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty without it.” Jeonghan says and she shoves him on the way out of the door. They go to a small cafe down the street and Jeonghan decides to start simply. When they’re about to cross the street, he laces his fingers with hers. Once they get to the other side of the street, he doesn’t let go until it’s time to open the door and usher her into the cafe.

He reattaches their hands when they arrive at Jardin du Luxembourg and walk the garden. At lunch, he sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. He’s happy when she leans into him. He lets go of her when they arrive for a tour at the Palace of Versailles because she’s too busy admiring it anyway to pay any attention to him.

Until dinner, they wander around the city together. When they stop and look at something, his hand falls to her back. And at dinner, he brushes a crumb off her mouth.

She doesn’t pull away once and in fact usually leans into his touch. It leaves him elated, almost to the point of overwhelm because of how things are shifting so fast between them. It traps him in his thoughts as they stroll around after dinner aimlessly. They’re in a park that Jeonghan didn’t pay attention to the name of when they entered, when Y/N squeezes his hand. “Don’t bottle it up.”

Jeonghan glances at her and huffs a laugh. “That’s my line.”

“And I’m stealing it. You’re not usually this quiet. What’s on your mind?” Y/N says sweetly.

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking around the park, though he can’t see much because it’s so dark. “Is a lot of this overwhelming to you too?”

Y/N hums. “Yes and no.” He can’t help but look at her curiously. “Yes because things are changing so fast between us and I don’t know where it’s going. No, because it’s you.” The words warm him. After a few beats, she looks up at him. “Do you want to slow things down? Or stop all together?”

His response is instantaneous. “No, I don’t. I’m loving all of it. It just makes my head spin… Do you want to stop or slow down?”

Y/N shakes her head just as fast. “No, I love it too. That doesn’t make it less scary though.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It is scary.” Jeonghan agreed without an ounce of humor. He’s surprised when Y/N laughs.

“I feel kind of stupid now. We’ve only ever talked about what our silly marriage pact would look like. We’ve just been winging any of the steps before that, assuming that that pact ever comes to fruition and wasn’t just a joke.”

Jeonghan does finally laugh and he throws his arm around her to pull her into his side. “Yeah, I guess we have marriage on the brain lately.” He doesn’t feel awkward often but he does right now. “Is this where we have the dreaded ‘what are we’ conversation?”

Y/N chuckles. “Maybe it’s time… what do you want?”

Jeonghan thinks carefully and he can feel her squirm against his side out of nervousness. But he takes his time because this is a pivotal moment and it needs to be honest. He pictures having days like this for the rest of his life. Holding her hand as they walk, shielding her in a crowd, sharing his food with her. He imagines taking her back to the hotel later. He’s still hesitant to assume they’re on the same page when it comes to sex, but he’d be patient as long as she’s still interested in exploring it. But it’s laughable that all of that feels foreign and weird in a good way, and yet the idea of marrying her seems totally natural. The idea warms his chest and he imagines making this kind of trip to pick out a venue for themselves. But then he knows there’s no need for a trip like this when that little bed and breakfast at the winery exists. He thinks about being married to her and living out the rest of his life with her. Again, it’s laughable that it’s not hard to imagine.

He leans over to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I could marry you tomorrow, but I’ll settle for being your boyfriend for a while until then if you’ll have me.”

There’s humor in it and he knows she’s picked up on it, but her eyes water when she looks up at him. Her sparkle’s back. “Okay. Just until you’re ready to get me a ring though!”

Y/N and Jeonghan are not subtle the next morning when they meet Seungcheol and Byeol to go to the airport. They might have their bags but their free shands are linked. Seungcheol and Byeol are about to ‘aww’ at them, but the taxi driver honks his horn impatiently.

When they board the plane, Jeonghan knows something’s up the moment Byeol sits in his seat next to Y/N with a grin. Jeonghan scoffs and sits next to Seungcheol a couple rows up. As he buckles his seat belt, Seungcheol’s expression is nearly maniacal and Jeonghan does his best to ignore it. He really can’t ignore it when Seungcheol sings, “So… something you want to tell me?”

Not that he wants to ignore it because he can’t help but beam. “Are you always this nosy?”

Seungcheol nods, nonplussed. “Did it finally happen? After years of me patiently waiting?”

Jeonghan scoffs, but he’s incredibly entertained. “Years is a stretch. And I recall you punching me one time over something like this. Pick a lane, Cheol.”

“Oh, I picked a lane when we were 22 after I apologized for hitting you. I’m just happy it’s finally happening. How did it happen though?” Seungcheol asks curiously.

“You want to talk about what I might be doing with your sister? We’ll get thrown off the plane if you hit me here,” Jeonghan needles just to watch Seungcheol’s face twist with disgust.

After a gag, he says, “No! Spare me the details about that. What I mean is, are you together? And how did that happen?”

Jeonghan decides he’s tortured Seungcheol enough for now, so he grins. “Yes, we’re together. It’s been happening slowly, I think. But we made it official last night.”

Seungcheol genuinely looks happy and it makes Jeonghan kind of emotional in a way that he can’t quite explain. Seungcheol’s opinion matters to him, particularly when it comes to who he dates. Seungcheol never said anything unkind about Sora, but Jeonghan knew he hadn’t cared much for her. And it’s not just anyone that he’s dating now. It’s Y/N. The way Seungcheol grins right now means he approves and it’s a huge weight off of Jeonghan’s shoulders. He doesn’t have to say it and he can’t anyway, because a flight attendant is on the intercom now giving instructions.

They arrive in Mykonos and they are barely out of the airport doors when Jeonghan and Y/N look at Byeol and then back at each other. Silently, they know they were right and they’ll be back here soon. The hotel they check into is the best one yet for this trip in Jeonghan’s opinion. It’s an ocean side hotel with private beach access and the view from the deck and the bed right inside is incredible. There’s also a rooftop pool that Seungcheol says is the entire reason he picked this place, but they all want to enjoy the beach while the sun is still out.

Jeonghan and Y/N change and get to the beach first. They pick a couple lounge chairs and Y/N promptly hands him a bottle of sunscreen and sits at the foot of his seat. He doesn’t hesitate to drag her closer so that when he’s done layering her back in the lotion he can wrap his arms around her and place a kiss on her cheek. That’s how Seungcheol and Byeol find them. Byeol coos while Seungcheol gags. “People are going to think you guys are the ones getting married,” Seungcheol needles.

Y/N peeks back at Jeonghan with a secretive look before grinning at her brother. “Maybe we will. We’ll try not to upstage your wedding.” Jeonghan laughs into her shoulder and Byeol giggles behind her hand while Seungcheol waves them all off with a scoff.

That night, Jeonghan and Y/N shower together again. It’s overwhelming how Jeonghan can’t get enough of her and the great irony is that she’s been there all along. It’s not just about lightly pushing her into the shower wall and taking her from behind, though he thoroughly enjoys that. It’s the smile she gives him when she turns back around and demands to wash his hair for him, and he only allows it if she goes first. Or the fact that she sits on the closed toilet seat while he brushes and dries her hair after the shower. Or when he helps her pull a t-shirt over her head right before they crawl into bed. He’s always loved taking care of her in the little ways that best friends do but this is a whole new level.

He realizes they have to go back to the real world in a matter of days and there will be an adjustment to that too. He’s spent every second with her for a week now, and a pretty significant amount together in the weeks before that, and he has to go back to work now? And she has to go back to work? And they don’t live together?

Jeonghan puts a pin in that thought for now. He just got her back, he doesn’t want to scare her off.

The next couple days in Greece fly by. There are a few sight-seeing things that they go do, but they spend a lot of time on the beach. On their last night, Seungcheol and Byeol turn in early because they all have an early flight in the morning to go back home, but Y/N and Jeonghan opt to check out the rooftop pool if only to feel like they’re delaying the inevitable. It’s warm when they get in since the sun hasn’t been down for more than a couple hours. The busiest tourist season here has already past and there seem to be very few people staying in this hotel. That means they get the pool to themselves. They look out at the scenery for a while but Jeonghan gets bored of it eventually, beginning to pepper kisses to her neck as he stands behind her.

“Are you ready to go home tomorrow?” Y/N muses, still looking out at the night sky.

Jeonghan groans into her shoulder. “No. Can’t we just keep touring Europe forever? A new city every week until we find one we really like and just stay there forever?”

Y/N giggles. “That sounds like a dream, but I don’t think either of us are doing quite that well at our jobs yet. I don’t know about you, but I’m running out of leave time anyway.”

Jeonghan grumbled. He was running out of leave time too, due to this trip and his time recovering after his accident and he really would have to get back to work in just a few days. “I hope you know I’ll be bothering you every spare second you have.”

“That’s good to hear… I was beginning to worry about what things might be like when we get back,” Y/N answers softly and Jeonghan squeezes her a little tighter.

“How do you want to spend the last night of freedom? It’s a long travel day tomorrow trapped in a cramped plane,” Jeonghan asked lightly and thankfully it lifted the mood.

Y/N hums, smirking over her shoulder. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Jeonghan beams. “Was that a dirty joke? Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?” He laughs, pinching her waist lightly, making her giggle. He pecks her cheek. “Well since you asked, we can make use of the lovely shower again. Or the bed, which was pretty nice. Or maybe the deck or the little dining table in our room.” She’s giggling more and Jeonghan’s chest is about to burst. “Or right here in the pool.”

He gets so much enjoyment out of watching her face light up with surprise. “The pool? But anyone could come by.” Her eyes flit to the rooftop entrance behind him.

“Yeah, angel. That’s kind of the point. What, no exhibition kink for you?” He teases, but she’s still looking around and it feels like the answer is a ‘no’. So he presses another kiss to her cheek. “I’m messing with you. We don’t have to do any of it, least of all out here.”

She’s turned in his arms now, eyes flitting between the door and his face and there’s some serious concentration going on. He waits patiently. Her eyes suddenly narrow up at him. “Do you have an exhibition kink?”

He purses his lips to keep from laughing because she looks so serious. “Yeah, I’m into it. But you need to be too or else we’re not doing anything out here.”

“I’m not saying no, Hannie. I’m just nervous.” And she sounds like it when she laughs.

He watches her face closely. Finally, he offers, “We could start and if you want to stop you just say so.”

Y/N gives him a hesitant yet sweet smile before folding her hands into the hair at the back of his neck. “Okay.”

He chuckles against her lips. “Cute.” But then she’s pulling him against her and her tongue is in his mouth. This is something Jeonghan doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of - her mouth and the little sounds she makes, her hands roaming his body, and the feel of her pressed against him. This doesn’t have to even go any farther honestly. He entertains the idea of doing this all night right here. Until the pool is too cold, that is.

Jeonghan grips her waist and lifts her to sit on the edge of the pool. He sees the flash of excitement just like any time he lifts or moves her with some force and he smiles, walking in between her spread legs. Because of the height difference now, he can’t press against her like before, but it’s almost better the way she’s above him now. Now he’s the one tilting his head up and she’s the one leaning down when they kiss again. The urgency of her lips and the way her nails scrape at the back of his scalp make him groan into her mouth. He was trying to play this safe and let her lead, but he couldn’t help how his hands drifted after that.

He buries one hand in her wet hair, careful not to snag any tangles, and the other cups her breast as he just leans back and watches her. The touch is soft at first, but the way she moans makes him grope a little harder. When he runs his fingers over her nipple through her bikini it’s already stiff and he feels her shudder under his hands. She seems to have forgotten whatever anxieties she had before, so he pulls the triangular fabric to the side to expose her breast. He loses track of time on how long he stands there and works her up, pinching her nipple, groping her, stroking her. At some point, he exposes the other breast too to do the same there. She’s breathless by the time he finally leans down to wrap his lips around her nipple. She jerks violently when he bites, but the sound that comes out of her mouth is too much like a moan for her to not like it so he does it a few more times.

He’s back up at her lips, a hand still toying with her breast when he asks, “Okay?” It’s clear she’s lost in the bliss because he barely gets a nod, and he debates on pulling her back to reality a bit. Selfishly, he’s enjoying this far too much. He wasn’t kidding about a little bit of an exhibition kink, but she was so nervous before. He grips her chin to look at him and it’s a firmer touch than he’d usually use with her, but it does the trick because her eyes snap open. “Verbal answer, angel.”

“I’m good,” she mumbles. “Keep going, please.”

He places a single peck to her lips and then steps back because he’s already decided what he wants to try next. His hand lands on her upper chest, fingers grazing her neck. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes shift at the touch and he’ll remember that for later. Instead, he says, “Lie back,” and gently pushes her. She falls back onto her forearms, still looking at him with wide, trusting eyes and it makes him want to burst in so many ways because she looks like a dream. Especially when his hands spread her knees wide and one lands between her legs, cupping her through the string bikini, and she throws her head back.

His hand on her chest slides to her breast as he pushes the bottoms to the side with the other to stroke her. Her hips jerk when he rubs her clit and then it’s clear she’s having a hard time staying upright on her forearms when he slides two fingers into her, all the while playing with her nipple. “It’s okay, angel, just lay back,” he urges, but she shakes her head.

“Want to see you.”

Both her words and the sound of her voice makes Jeonghan smile, pumping his fingers a bit faster. “I have an idea.”

Y/N gives him an unfocused look. “Yeah?”

He decides he wants to keep her talking when she’s like this because it’s making him rock hard. “How many times do you think you can come?”

“Overstimulation kink?” She laughs faintly. “I don’t know, Hannie.” The sound of his name in that voice almost makes him come right then. “The most I’ve ever had is with you.”

Jeonghan can’t help the smirk that falls on his lips. “What do you think about me testing that limit? All you’d have to do is tell me to stop when you’ve had enough.” His fingers are still pumping into her and playing with her nipples and she’s barely with him for the conversation. Firmly, he says, “Angel, you need to tell me what you want and what you’re okay with, or I’ll have to stop.”

Panic flashes across her face. “Please don’t stop,” she says in a desperate way that makes his mind melt. “Make me come as many times as I can take.”

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asked and she nods, mumbling something unintelligible, but it’s enough for Jeonghan now. His hand leaves her breast, sliding up to her neck and that same look from earlier is back, especially when his fingers wrap around her throat delicately. He doesn’t seem to need to apply any real pressure because the placement alone is enough to have her clenching hard on his fingers. “Oh, I’m going to have to use this later,” he groaned. “Come on, let me see you come.” It’s more demanding of a tone than he’d normally use but it has her coming all over his fingers in seconds. He watches her pussy pulsate around them and it makes him ache in his swim trunks.

He pulls his fingers out and looks down at her one more time when she seems to be hearing him. “Remember, say stop. Or tap me three times.” As soon as he gets a nod, he’s leaning down, hands spreading her knees even wider.

She barely gets a “what are you-“ out of her mouth before his tongue swipes across her pussy and he moans at the taste. This is something they hadn’t done yet and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. But his goal is to see how many orgasms he can give her, so he doesn’t wait long to wrap his lips around her clit, flicking his tongue across it. She’s already clenching when he slides two fingers back inside her. She comes fast before she even realizes it from the sounds of it, but he keeps going and she’s adopting a whine. She leans on one forearm now as the other hand flies into his hair to grip hard. And that’s how she tips over the edge a third, fourth, and fifth time.

She’s laying flat on her back when he stands up straight and pulls his fingers out of her. “What do you think? Can you take more?” He asks gently and it’s kind of a joke, because she doesn’t look like she can take much more, but his eyes widen when she nods. He decides he needs to get her somewhere private right now. He pulls her swimsuit back into place carefully and helps her sit up. “Come on, let’s go back to the room.”

The answer is nine times. They get approximately two hours of sleep before they have to be up to go catch their flight. They both sleep most of the way home.

“Alright, I’ve met all of your requirements. I waited until we were both off. I bought the wine and dumplings. I put your stupid horror movie on. I’ve refrained from teasing you for nearly a week. Now tell me, dammit,” Joshua demanded, turning to her on the couch. Y/N gives him an entertained look.

It’s Friday around lunch time and she and Joshua finally both had a day off together. He’d started nagging her as soon as she walked in the door on Saturday night, despite it being almost midnight, but Y/N had held up a hand and made a few demands. He had whined, but when she didn’t budge he just huffed and went to bed. But he made it clear first thing this morning that they had plans.

“There’s nothing to tell you,” Y/N says, trying to hide her smirk behind a dumpling.

Joshua looks like his head might explode. “Y/N! You spent over a week in Europe with your best friend, who you’re into, and who has been attached to your back, quite literally, every moment that neither of you are at work, and you have nothing to tell me?”

Y/N hides a laugh. Joshua is right, of course. If they were both off, Jeonghan was here or she was at his apartment. He happened to be at work right now, which is why Joshua had this opportunity to interrogate her. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Oh, I know something happened, I just want the details,” Joshua insisted. He hadn’t even touched his food or drink yet because he was too busy glaring.

“You are such a gossip,” Y/N snorted. “Fine, here it goes. We’re together. We got together during the trip.”

“… And?” Joshua waved his hands to demand more.

“And what?” Y/N gave him a baffled look. “I told you what’s going on. We’re dating. What more do you need? Do you want to know everywhere we had sex too?”

It was a joke but it has Joshua gasping. “Are you serious? Everywhere, as in multiple times?”

“Yeah, but that’s not something you need to know about,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

He adopts a sly look. “Was it one of the outfits I made you pack?”

Y/N rolls her eyes yet again. “Technically speaking, it was a contributor. I hated it but he didn’t.” She still didn’t like that royal purple dress, but it got hung back up in her closet somewhere in the middle, rather than the dark recesses in the back, just in case she’d ever entertain pulling it out for Jeonghan again.

“I knew it,” Joshua yells, throwing a fist into the air in celebration. “You’re welcome. I got you laid after a very, very, very long dry spell.”

“Mhm, well, you can stop worrying about my sex life now. Thank you so much,” Y/N says sarcastically.

“Oh, no. We’re circling back to that. But for now all I want to know is if you’re happy.”Y/N peers over her styrofoam box of dumplings at Joshua. He looks pretty serious now, waiting for an answer. She doesn’t have to think long before she smiles and nods. “And it feels right?” He adds.

“Yeah it does,” Y/N says lightly. “Everything always has with him. Even though we were both nervous wrecks when this started to shift into something else, it still felt right.”

Joshua gives her a genuine smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. You’ve been alone too long and I worry about you. And from what I’ve seen of you two together, it’s seamless.”

“Thanks, Joshua. I know I haven’t been the easiest to live with in that regard. I mope around a lot.”

“You do,” Joshua laughs. “But you have this… glow about you now that I think people only get when they’re in love. Is that what this is?”

Y/N bit her lip. “I’m not sure yet… I’ve always loved him, but now it’s something strong but I can’t assign a name to it right now.” After a moment, she smiles, adding, “And according to Hannie, it’s a sparkle, not a glow.”

“Sparkle. That’s a good word for it,” Joshua laughs, agreeing. “Can I request one thing though?” Y/N hums. “Can you guys not fuck loudly while I’m sleeping? I have a very serious job and I need my rest! These walls are thin!” A dumpling flies into his face.

Byeol had, in fact, picked Greece, the exact hotel they’d stayed at to be specific. Both Byeol and Seungcheol had given Y/N and Jeonghan perplexed looks when they laughed at the ‘huge’ announcement. Y/N had just simply said, “We know, Byeol. We knew it would be Greece all along.” This made Byeol spiral a bit because she felt like she’d wasted so much time and money to figure it out when two of her best friends had already known, and Seungcheol spent a long time convincing her it was no big deal and they just had a good vacation either way. He also refused to let her see the receipts in his email. None of them actually wanted to know how much he’d spent on this little exploratory trip.

So, they book the venue for next May and take the all-inclusive wedding package that the venue offers. That really means they just have to show up with themselves, their outfits, and the rings and the thought makes Byeol’s shoulders relax immediately. They start pouring over lists of meals, cakes, decor, and flowers that the hotel can provide. When Jeonghan’s eyes widen at the stack of papers in front of him, Y/N promises this is nothing compared to what it could be. Most weddings would require going through multiple vendors and that opens up an overwhelming amount of options than what is listed from the hotel. It’s actually a blessing in disguise to have a wedding coordinator from the hotel put these sort of things together because they know what would look best, given the setting.

So, most of October, November, and December are spent doing that in their spare moments together. The week before Christmas, all that’s left to get back to the hotel is the decor and flower choices, which are being held up by the many color swatches spread across Byeol and Seungcheol’s dining room table. They can’t pick the wedding colors and that confuses Jeonghan and Seungcheol when they’re handed nearly identical shades of blue to pick from. One is cyan and one is dark turquoise according to the printing on the bottom of the swatch but there’s so little difference that both men randomly pick one. The girls ultimately decide on dark turquoise and send their answers for decor and flowers off.

On Christmas Eve in the afternoon, Jeonghan shows up at Y/N’s apartment and lets himself in. “I’m almost ready!” A yell comes from down the hall and it makes Jeonghan laugh. He laughs harder when he comes into her room and sees that she is, in fact, not almost ready. There are a lot of discarded outfits on the bed, she’s just starting her make up, and her hair is still wet.

“What happened, angel? You said 2pm, right?”

Y/N gives him a frazzled look as he leans on the door frame of the bathroom. “I know, but I overslept. I had to work a couple hours later than I expected and didn’t get here until 7am, and then my alarm didn’t go off at 1!”

She’s speedily doing her makeup, but between tools, Jeonghan puts a hand on her back to interrupt her. “Angel, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. I’m not in a hurry. Dinner will still be there when we get there.”

The mention of dinner makes something flash across her face that Jeonghan hates. It’s because they’re going to meet her father, stepmother, and Jeonghan’s parents for dinner. She would have been frazzled about being late any day of the week, but their destination tonight amplifies her anxiety. “I know, but you know how my father is.”

He does and he bites his tongue as not to add to her anxiety. “And you’re 31, Y/N. It’ll be okay. Take a deep breath and finish getting ready. Slow down some.”

Jeonghan relaxes a little when she listens, taking a few breaths before picking up her makeup again. Then she dries and curls her hair. He leads her out to his car, holding the passenger side door open for her to slide in. During the drive, he tries to focus on quelling her anxiety, but he has his own to deal with and holding her thigh with her hand on top of his helps.

Jeonghan’s not close to his parents and hasn’t really been in a long time. Nothing dramatic, but as soon as he wasn’t their legal responsibility anymore, they took a big step back in the name of giving him independence. That independence also meant a single call once a month while he was in college, and even fewer now that he’s been out. They’d visited him briefly at the hospital after his accident earlier in the year, which surprised him a bit, but they’d only called once since then. So, their relationship wasn’t hostile, but there was some pretty significant distance and coming together for something like this had an air of awkwardness.

Y/N’s, and Seungcheol’s to some extent, was actually hostile however. Their parents had a nasty divorce when they were 15 and their father had left their mother with very little in the separation, including custody. His high priced lawyer had managed to convince a judge that their mother didn’t have the means to care for the twins. During the short time that Y/N and Seungcheol had been in their father’s custody, their father had remarried quickly to the young secretary that he’d been seeing on the side for years. That stepmother, Nari, had been particularly cruel to Y/N, up to and including shipping her off to a boarding school across the country citing behavioral issues. That had always been an asinine reason to Jeonghan because Y/N was as straight laced as a teenager could be and had never talked back to an adult in her life.

Y/N had lasted about three months in boarding school before the twins’ mother had had enough and drove up to pull her out of the school and take her home. That started a nasty custody battle, which their mother ultimately won. Since then, the twins didn’t go out of their way to visit their father and their father didn’t reach out either. Christmas Eve dinner was one of the few times that they couldn’t really say no, and Jeonghan didn’t like who either twin became in that house.

They pull up to the front of the house and Jeonghan gives Y/N a few moments to pull herself together. “In and out, a couple of hours. Then we’re at the hotel with some Christmas movies and eggnog.”

Y/N gives him a half-hearted smile. “You don’t like eggnog.”

Jeonghan squeezes her hand. “But you do. Come on.”

The front door flies open when they knock and Sohee greets him with a big smile. Sohee is wife number 4 and Jeonghan has met her a few times, as has Y/N. She’s nice, so much nicer than wifes 2 and 3 that it makes Jeonghan feel a bit bad for her. “I’m so glad you guys could make it! Here, I’ll take your coats. Was the drive okay?” Sohee asks excitedly, ushering them inside.

“Not too bad,” Jeonghan asks, shedding his coat and handing it to Sohee, before turning to Y/N to help her out of her coat.

“We’re not too late, are we? I overslept,” Y/N admitted nervously. Jeonghan’s dimly aware that she would have never admitted this to someone like Nari to use for ammunition.

But Sohee grins kindly. “Oh, no. Dinner’s not quite out yet and we’re just having drinks right now. Rough night?” Sohee asks sympathetically.

“Something like that,” Y/N mumbles with a small smile. Jeonghan imagines she’s still very uncomfortable with the stepmother situation, but she’s warmer to Sohee than he’d seen with Nari or Minju.

Sohee leads them to the sitting room and Jeonghan feels some relief that Seungcheol and Byeol are already here. Their father is in an arm chair and looks like he’s already a few drinks deep. Jeonghan’s heard through the grapevine at work that the big boss has developed a little bit of a habit over the years, but Jeonghan tries to spend very little time with him to see for himself.

Once Y/N and Jeonghan are seated on the couch, Sohee smiles at them. “I’ll make you two a drink. I forget, do you like grenadine?” Both nod their head and Sohee is off.

“Seungcheol and Byeol were just telling me about how the wedding planning is going,” Y/N’s father starts lightly.

Y/N nodded politely. “Yes, it’s all starting to come together. I think it’ll be a beautiful ceremony.”

“That’s all thanks to you, Y/N,” Byeol beamed, before turning to Mr. Choi. “She’s been such a huge help in keeping me sane and on track. Jeonghan, too.”

Mr. Choi nods. “Good to hear.” Then he turns with an expression that Jeonghan has never really seen in 30 years. “I hear you two have some news as well.”

Y/N and Jeonghan glance across the coffee table to Seungcheol and Byeol who give subtle shakes of the head. It’s kind of a mystery how Mr. Choi knows, but Jeonghan nods, smiling professionally. After all, this is his CEO. “Yes, sir. We’ve been dating for a few months now.”

Mr. Choi gives a big grin and Jeonghan feels Y/N grip his hand tightly. “It’s about time.”

Jeonghan feels his eyes widen and Y/N glances to him with matching shock. “Uhm, excuse me?” Y/N asked. It’s to their great surprise that Seungcheol and Byeol are giggling now. This is feeling a bit like the twilight zone because laughter isn’t something that’s terribly common in this house.

“We’ve been taking bets for a long time,” Mr. Choi says vaguely. “Any wedding bells in the future? I have some money at risk and I’d like to know.”

Y/N is still gripping his hand tight and one glance to her tells Jeonghan that she won’t be answering, so Jeonghan speaks up again. “We’re not opposed to it, but things are still very new,” he says diplomatically.

“Fair enough. One wedding at a time, right?” Mr. Choi says lightly again.

Sohee arrives with their drinks as well as Jeonghan’s parents. The same conversations are rehashed with them as well, and Jeonghan does most of the talking when it’s their turn because Y/N’s knuckles are turning white.

At the dining table, Sohee serves a rather lavish meal that she looks pretty proud of. Jeonghan enjoys it, but he sees that Y/N is taking bites only to be polite. Throughout dinner, Mr. Choi, Sohee, and Jeonghan’s parents ask the typical questions of Seungcheol and Byeol regarding wedding planning.

Jeonghan’s mother smiles at them and Jeonghan knows what’s coming because he’s seen that look before. “And when do you plan on having children?”

Byeol flushes a bit but smiles nonetheless, glancing at Seungcheol. “As soon as we’re married?” The older adults laugh.

“Be careful with that, you should enjoy some time by yourselves, because you’ll never have it again,” Jeonghan’s father teases. It makes Jeonghan’s eye twitch because he spent a lot of time with nannies growing up.

“Byeol, will you continue working after you have children?” Sohee asked. She doesn’t seem to mean anything by it. She was a lawyer before marrying Y/N’s father, and still consults on some cases from time to time.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet. Since I’m freelance, I can do a lot on my own schedule, so it might not be necessary to quit working. Plus, I enjoy my work,” Byeol says.

Mr. Choi frowns. “But children are far more important than work, especially for a mother.” Byeol agrees, but Mr. Choi is on a roll, turning to Seungcheol. “You’d want her to work, rather than stay at home?”

“Appa, that’s up to her. Plenty of people make it work and children don’t seem to suffer for it,” Seungcheol says, clearly biting back a bit of impatience.

Mr. Choi turns to Jeonghan and Y/N. “And you two? What will you do when you have children?”

Jeonghan tries to maintain a poker face. “I agree with Seungcheol. Y/N’s spent a lot of time working on her degrees. It would be a shame in a way to not use them.”

“It’s not a waste if it’s for your children,” Mr. Choi snaps. “Y/N, would you seriously continue working, particularly with the crazy schedule you keep?”

There’s a fire in Y/N’s eyes that he doesn’t see often. She’s not quick to anger, but that’s not the case tonight. She’s been at a tipping point since they pulled into the driveway. “Appa, we’ve just started dating. Marriage and children aren’t even part of the conversation for us right now. And even if it was, you’d want me to throw away over a decade of education? I’m not even licensed yet.”

“Your stupid license means very little compared to my grandchild,” Mr. Choi rages.

“Is that what you said to Eomma when she wanted to go to nursing school?” Y/N bites and it makes most jaws at the table drop. Y/N has always been so even tempered and has certainly never talked back to her parents - or anyone older than her for that matter.

Sohee interrupts and does her best to save the conversation, but it does very little to release the tension for the remainder of the dinner. They get through the main course and dessert and Jeonghan makes the excuse that they should go soon. Seungcheol and Byeol look a little relieved to be able to use the same excuse too. Y/N all but runs to the car when Sohee sees them out and Jeonghan is barely out of the driveway before she’s crying.

It’s a short drive to the hotel since they’re visiting Y/N’s mother in town tomorrow morning, but Jeonghan decides that if this lasts long enough to see marriage and children, which he hopes it does, he won’t let her father have this kind of power over her anymore.

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #Yoon Jeonghan x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #smut

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