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luv-beam · 2 years ago

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awwwh omg ally !!! you had nothing to worry about in concerns of writing fluff cuz this was so cute 🤧🤧 the way they're both just so awkward and fumbling all over each other reminds me of a fresh relationship :'))) and damn, u really weren't lying when u said they were both gonna be clueless asf (´Д⊂ヽ KSNDKDJD BUT ANYWAYS !!! omg i love fortune tellers skdnwkdj my childhood for real, and such a cute and unique way to write a confession scene :'))

Make or Break | Ji Changmin

summary: both you and Changmin have been childhood besties for as long as you could've remembered. but when Changmin finally realised that you are more than just a friend at this point, he decided to take it a step further beyond that.

pairing: best friend Changmin x g.n!reader

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, some crack & humour

warnings: soft best friend ji changmin, both changmin & y/n are just clueless when it comes to romance (mostly y/n 😭)

word count: 4,713

a/n: hiya i'm finally back from summer vacation, which means it's back to writing as usual! i'm currently fulfilling the requests you guys have sent in for my 100 followers event, and this first entry is requested by my sweetest @zzoguri i'm so happy you requested this song bcs it's one of my all-time fav b-side tracks! i really hope i've managed to get the vibes you were going for ><

also a huge shoutout to my love @sungbeam for making these gradient dividers for me (which i absolutely LOVE thank you my meimei 🫶) so i'll be using them in future fics & decided to revamp the theme of my blog! 😉

without further ado, enjoy 😊

You were deep in your dreamland before you were jolted awake by a tap on your shoulder.

As you slowly opened your eyes, you were surprised by the individual who had his face in such close proximity to yours.

“Woah Changmin-ie!!” You shrieked, surprised by the sudden visit of your co-worker right at your work desk.

Or rather, your childhood best friend.

“Geez, Y/N. Working overtime again as usual?” He began shaking his head while starting to help you pack away your belongings into your bag.

“Well, it’s not like I had a choice. I have to fulfill my client’s requests by the weekend.” You yawned as you began to give yourself a good stretch.

“Y/N. You know, you can always ask me for my help. You know I’m only a few cubicles away.”

You smiled. He was always like that, offering you help in any situation you may be in, and he always prioritises your needs before his.

“It’s fine, minnie. I’m sure you have your own responsibilities to worry about, and may I add, the few deadlines that you’ve somehow missed previously, which earned you a good scolding from your head of department, Mr Kim?”

“Now that’s just mean. I came to help you, not asking you to make fun of me.” He began to pout, which was one of your favourite sights to see and look forward to. You both have grown accustomed to each other’s small habits. Basically, you both knew each other well to the point that you could anticipate what are the small gestures or movements the other party would make in any situation possible.

He has been there since the beginning, when he moved into your neighbourhood when you were about five years of age. In fact, it was your mother that insisted you went and made friends with him. Given your bubbly and friendly persona, of course, you were pumped and excited to have a fellow friend who was about the same age as you were since you were accustomed to the older kids in your neighbourhood.

Changmin was too shy to even engage with you at the beginning, always hiding around the corner and refusing to mutter a word even. However, your bubbly persona did not allow him to stay put at the corners of his garden and always somehow managed to drag his ass out to all of your crazy adventures. You climbed trees, played football, and even went to pick some flowers from your neighbour's garden (for which you both got into big trouble).

But ultimately, in the end, you both eventually became really good friends and ended up attending the same institutions throughout both middle and high school and eventually in university. And perhaps it was fate that you both ended up in the same company right after graduation as well, in the same department.

As you both finished packing away all of your belongings and switching off the lights around the room, you both decided to head straight out to the door while beginning to decide which izakaya restaurant you both would be drinking while chatting away about the day.

“The one down the street it is.”

“For the love of God, did you know how rude it was for Jake to leave me just there as it was??” Your speech began to slur, which indicated you had a little bit too much to drink. But it was a weekend, and Changmin knew that there was no stopping you since you’ll be having a day off the following day anyways.

And, of course, he would be walking you home because the last thing that he’ll do is trust your drunk ass to get yourself safely back home this late at night.

The hour was getting late, and you were beginning to lose control ever so slightly of the amount of alcohol you were about to chug down into your system, which caused the man to step up and stop you in your tracks.

Sulking and giving your friend a frown, you began to whine like a child, but the man did not mind even in the slightest bit. In fact, he found it to be cute, in all honesty.

After paying for the meal, he decided to call for a cab to take you back to your apartment, since knowing how you’d usually be a tad bit more talkative than usual, he decided to avoid public transportation to save the embarrassment.

When you both arrived at your front door, you could kind of vaguely make out that he was trying to tell you something important. But since you were tipsy and obviously not in the right mind, he took your phone from your bag and started typing away. It was normal for the both of you to check on each other’s phones because you were that close. Hence, you didn’t mind it at all.

Once that was done, he brought you inside the comforts of your living space and helped you tidy yourself a bit until you were sober enough to finish off the rest on your own.

“Okay, I’ll take my leave now, Y/N. And remember, don’t forget-”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Lock the doors before going to sleep so that the bad guys won’t come and get me. Pinky promise.” You cut the male off and made your usual pinky promise gesture as you shoved the man out to the door.

“Nighty, Changmin-ie.” You smiled before closing the door shut.

Changmin took a deep breath in and smiled as he looked right up into the sky.

“It’ll be all okay, right?”

Changmin’s POV

As Changmin unlocked the front door to his apartment, he was immediately headlock by the only one among his roommates who still does it all the time to this day.

“Geez, Juyeon. Why would you touch the man when he’s all filthy from work.” Chanhee protested, as usual, he’ll always come up with something savage to spit at the male.

“Cut him some slack, Chanhee. Man’s just gotten home from his little date night with we-all-know-who.” Kevin winks and smirks while he nudges Changmin to spill the tea like always.

As he freed himself from Juyeon, he began to chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck, which everyone could tell how something was up.

“Care to share the details with us, buddy?” Juyeon guides Changmin right to the couch in their shared living space and gathers the rest to join as well.

It took a while for Changmin to look at three of his friends while finally deciding to spill the tea.

“I asked Y/N out.”

The three of them were about to scream and celebrate joyfully before Changmin had to burst their bubble.

“Without telling Y/N directly, that is.”

Now that has gotten everyone’s full attention as they looked at Changmin as if he was drunk and didn’t know what he was actually talking about.

“God, did you just get hit by a truck? You’re not making any sense.”

“How on earth would you ask Y/N out in an indirect manner?” Kevin questioned, clearly not getting any of this.

Changmin paused for a bit before bending his head down to his hands. “Well, you see... Y/N wasn’t fully sober. And I took their phone to set an alarm and reminder.”

Everyone went silent, that was until Juyeon spoke up.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know that was the new trend these days to ask someone out.” Poor Juyeon has always been naive like that.

That caused Chanhee to slap some sense into the guy. “Of course not, man.” The male then turned his head back towards Changmin’s direction. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“Be-because!! I’m starting to think… that Y/N is beginning to mean a lot more to me. More than just friends, that is.”

The amount of ooohs that filled the room caused the male to blush and eventually hide his face in the palm of his hands.

“Honestly though, I think that’s such a cute idea.” Kevin reassured the man.

“You really think so?”

“I mean, imagine Y/N just waking up to a reminder saying ‘hey you have a date with the one and only ji changmin!’, cause I’d like that myself.”

“Stop feeding the man with delusions, Moon. What if Y/N wakes up in total shock? Have you ever thought about how Y/N would feel?” Chanhee questioned the male.

“Nah, I’d said you did the right thing, and you’re a man now. That fun little date is something to look forward to.” Juyeon places one of his hands on Changmin’s shoulder while giving it a slight squeeze, letting him know that it’s all okay now.

With his friends' support that somehow calms his nerves and makes him think that maybe his idea wasn’t so crazy after all.

“Ye-yeah! It’ll definitely turn out great tomorrow.”

Y/N’s POV

You were jolted awake by the sudden blaring alarm from your phone that was placed on the nightstand.

You felt annoyed, yet you were questioning yourself at the same time. Knowing your personality, there was no way you would’ve set an alarm on your day off. Unless you were too drunk the night before and decided to do some questionable things that even your best friend Changmin wasn’t able to help contain.

As you turn your body to the side to reach out to your phone, you squint your eyes to try to make out the text on your phone.

A reminder? Now that was odd. You usually never use them ever, since you were more of a bullet journaling kind of person with all of your tasks and chores you had to do.

But when you finally made out the words, you immediately shot up straight from your bed as you tried your best to reread them repeatedly.

🐿️: Let’s go out for a date this afternoon! I’ll be waiting at the cafe near 7th Avenue at 12:30pm. Don’t be late! :)

Holy smokes.

That was when you remembered that Changmin was trying his best to tell you something the night before, but you were too drunk, less sober enough to actually make out the words he was trying to converse to you, which was when he resorted to picking up your phone to type in some words.

You sighed and rubbed your eyebrows with your fingers.

Of course, it was what happened then.

Suddenly, you looked up at the clock that was situated on the right side of your room above your desk, and you realised that it was already 12pm at this point.

Shooting out of bed, you quickly ran to your closet, digging through the entire stack of clothing you owned that you’ve yet to fold away neatly. Not to mention that your table was still a mess with all of your makeup products that you had somehow forgotten to put away the day before because you were running late to work.

As you were already short on time and desperately needed someone’s help, you quickly grabbed your phone and called the best fashionista you would know around the neighbourhood.

“Choi Chanhee, for the love of God, please help me.”

Changmin stood patiently while having his hands inside his pockets as he waited for his so-called “date” to arrive at the set destination.

He was wearing a casual white tee paired with a black cardigan along with some blue jeans and Converse shoes. To make himself more presentable, he even tried slicking his hair back for the first time today, which his model friend, Lee Juyeon, obviously advised him to do so.

Constantly pacing back and forth, he tapped his fingers inside his pocket while having a tad bit of negativity right in his mind.

What if Y/N overslept? What if Y/N never shows up?

So many questions went on in his mind, even to the point where he thought that doing all of this in the first place was such an awful idea.

Just as the clock was about to strike 10 minutes before 1 pm, Changmin was greeted by a loud panting sound that was coming from his left side. Sure enough, he found you running towards his direction and finally coming to a halt when you reached in front of him.

As you tried your best to calm your fast-paced breathing down, you finally mustered up the courage by looking up to your best friend, which was where you were left stunned, and so did the male himself.

You wore a bright lilac top that paired extremely well with a pair of navy linen trousers that you got for sale on Amazon Prime Day. You paired the outfit with a white cardigan and somehow wore matching Converse shoes with your best friend.

What a coincidence.

What really stood out the most for Changmin was the way you presented yourself. Sure, he has seen you in your usual makeup for the past 5 years working at the company, but this was the first for him to see you in a completely different style. Instead of going for the usual heavy work-like makeup, you went with a subtle yet sweet makeup look that you’ve recently been doing for the past couple of weeks on weekends.

Changmin was stunned, to say the least. He was definitely in awe of your beauty.

“Umm... Changmin-ie? Is something on my face?”

“N-no! Of course not! I mean.” Clearing his throat and turning his head off to the side to somehow hide his now-turning red-flushed face to the side, he managed to cough out the words that he’s been dying to tell you.

“You’re really beautiful.”

The most beautiful person ever, to be exact.

Now it was your turn to feel the heat rising up to your cheeks, and you quickly placed one of your palms to quickly hide them from your friend.

“Th-thank you.”

As you both stood there for a few seconds in awkwardness, Changmin finally decided to break off the tension and gestures for the both of you to start walking down the streets and head to your next destination.

During the entire time, you noticed how Changmin seemingly tried to keep a distance from you, way more than he usually does. You thought it was odd since he usually walked pretty close to you without feeling any sort of awkward feelings in between. But, it was clear that something was going on between the both of you today, and neither of you could really pinpoint what it was, quite frankly.

As you both reached the cafe that Changmin chose, he quickly found a table situated right by the windows near the end of the cafe and reassured you that he’d be back with some mouthwatering pastries and desserts while you sat and waited.

You were about to protest since you both usually head to the cashier together to split the bills and choose what you guys wanted together, but since he insisted, you thought that you couldn’t refuse, no matter how many times you tried to talk to the man himself.

As you finally sat down and relaxed by looking out at the windows, Changmin quickly speed ran towards the display, took a picture of the pastries and desserts available, and sent them to the 98z group chat.

Chucky’s father: guys, which one do you think Y/N would like (inserts pic) Chucky’s father: i’m torn between getting the passionfruit meringue or the crispy caramel chocolate honey cake. Kitty boy: well, why won’t you ask her for her opinion? Melon pan: silly boy, obviously Changmin is trying to impress Y/N by picking something they’ll like on his own Chanel’s next top model: hold up while i key in those desserts into an online generator brb Chucky’s father: asjdhdjdj okay (seen for 2 minutes) Chanel’s next top model: okay my phone says the passionfruit meringue. Kitty boy: can you get the chocolate honey cake for me when you get back home please

You were beginning to worry as Changmin took longer than usual to get the food back to your table. Just as you were about to stand up to see what really was going on, the male returned with a tray filled with tons of mouthwatering desserts and your favourite drink, matcha latte.

“Changmin-ie, all of these-”

“Don’t even think about splitting the bill, my treat today.”

“Woah, look at you go. Did you just get a rise recently from Mr. Kim?” You nudged his shoulders.

“I guess you can say something like that.”

You both had a great time devouring all of these goodies while chatting and laughing away at so many random topics you both always seemed to enjoy talking about, ranging from how you both used to get into trouble and eventually ending up in the detention room during high school, to how you actually help saved Changmin’s ass from that one time where he almost exposed Mr. Kim’s secret stash of girl group albums hidden beneath his desk.

Throughout eating halfway, you noticed how Changmin was staring quite intensely at your lips, which you knew very well how you had gotten some cream on them. It was something you didn’t mind at all, you can be a pretty messy eater at times when you get a little bit too excited with food.

What was different this time was that Changmin actually leaned forward and wiped the cream away, not with the tissues that were given, but with his thumbs, and then proceeded to lick them like a puppy.

Holy-

You swear from the back of your mind something’s going on today.

Chucky’s dad: hey umm… Chucky’s dad: how do I yknow… hold Y/N hands in the best and most natural way possible Kitty boy: umm… ask her directly?? Melon pan: i’d say just go straight for it Melon pan: be a man and take her hands right away Chanel’s next top model: ^^ what mr.kevin moon said Chucky’s dad: okay sure it’s worth a shot i guess

As Changmin puts his phone away, his eyes are only met with your dangling hands on your side as you walk out of the cafe giddily. Having an internal battle with himself on how to grab hold of your hand is painful, so much so that he gets so frustrated with himself.

To the point that he immediately grabbed hold of your hand immediately, and a slight bit roughly too.

Puzzled, you asked the man for the sudden gesture. “Chan-changmin? What’s this all about?”

“I.. umm… I thought your hands might be cold since it’s rather chilly today… and umm… I guess I could give you some warmth. If that’s what you’d like.”

Funny. Changmin never speaks with sudden involuntary pauses in between. He’s always very straightforward and upfront with what he says, sometimes being a little too direct, as you would scold him. But this? It was truly something else.

“Oh, umm yeah!! It is kinda chilly, thanks for the little warmer, I guess.”

As you both slowly walked down the streets hand-in-hand, Changmin eventually loosened his grip and intertwined his fingers with yours, easing into this whole holding hands scenario. With that, a smile began to appear on his face as he quickened the walking speed, which meant you had to do the same since you both were literally holding hands with one another.

Okay, weirdo.

It was about ten minutes after the somewhat relaxing and breezy walk when you both finally came across a florist shop. You thought Changmin was going to sign you up for the flower arranging lessons that they have been hosting since you literally told him how you’ve recently discovered the beauty of the activity itself and that you’re willing to give it a shot as a side hobby.

Hence, you skipped happily right into the building, leaving Changmin behind to catch up with you.

Again, as you were out of sight, Changmin quickly whips up his phone and begins texting away for more help from his buddies.

Chucky’s dad: y’all, everything is going great so far Chucky’s dad: we’re finally at the florist Melon pan: OMG IT’S FINALLY FLOWER TIME Chucky’s dad: my question is Chucky’s dad: which one should I get for Y/N 😭 Chucky’s dad: like something sweet yet meaningful Chanel’s next top model: okay but like go for something that symbolises love Chanel’s next top model: but don’t get roses cs that’s so overrated Chucky’s dad: 😭😭😭 Kitty boy: oh i found this website with a list full of potential ones to give Kitty boy: maybe it helps? Chucky’s dad: thanks i’ll be needing them 😭

Once again, your best friend was gone for a period of time. You didn’t think much of it, thinking that he would probably ask some inquiries about signing up for the workshop.

What you didn’t expect was for the male to return with a bouquet of perfectly wrapped and decorated magenta lilacs, which you thought was very odd because you thought he would get you lavenders instead, your favourite kind of flowers.

But the male didn’t say much and just shoved the bouquet right to you and demanded your thoughts about them immediately. So, of course, you decided to let out your most genuine train of thought.

“Umm.. are you trying to get me into liking a new species of flowers?”

“Wh-what, no!! I mean… there weren’t many lavenders around for the day, so I decided to get you the closest shade of purple I could possibly find.” The male stammered while scratching the back of his neck, trying to fight against the awkwardness and the unexpected question that came from you.

In return, you smiled at your best friend while allowing the male to understand that he was somewhat still safe and the plan was a success. At the end of it all, you both still managed to secure a slot for the next workshop that will be happening the following weekend, and you both promised to attend before exiting the store.

If only you knew that those magenta lilacs were Changmin’s indirect attempt to tell you about the beginning of a new relationship with you.

Chucky’s dad: okay folks, change of plan Kitty boy: whatttt whyyyy Kitty boy: did you fail Chucky’s dad: i mean Chucky’s dad: i did not expect Y/N would be so innocent 😭 Chanel’s next top model: or who knows Y/N might be doing it on purpose Melon pan: OOOOOHHH Melon pan: like a playing hard-to-get situation Chucky’s dad: do you really think so? Chanel’s next top model: nvm scratch that, i don’t speak Y/N language Chucky’s dad: ajsksdjk Chucky’s dad: Chanhee, for the love of god, please- Chanel’s next top model: okay fine Chanel’s next top model: i can guarantee that this next plan will surely work.

You were holding your bouquet while happily skipping down the road when your friend suddenly stopped you as he grabbed hold of your arm.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we, you know, just sit down and talk for a little bit?”

Now what in the world is going on with this dude today?

Not wanting to question his actions further, you played along as he brought you to a nearby bench by the riverside. As you both found your comfortable positions, Changmin decided to pull out an item from his back pocket, and it was surely something that you hadn’t seen in a really long time.

“A paper fortune teller? Really, Changmin?”

You both used to play with this simple yet intriguing fun game when you both were a lot younger. It was a thing of the past, where the youngsters would write down random topics ranging from their favourite colour to animal and began doing their magic with the paper fortune teller to see what you’ll eventually end up with at the end.

But what does this have to do with any of these now? Unless Changmin was going through something in his own personal time where he is in dire need of using fortune telling method to help him decide the actions he should proceed with.

Not explaining much to you, he gets you to choose each category from each layer from the paper, from your favourite television show at the moment to your favourite bubble tea chain store in town.

As Changmin was working with the paper and eventually reached the final layer, he slowly and carefully unwrapped it fully to reveal the contents that were written within.

Y/N. Make or Break?

You could’ve sworn that Changmin probably had a concussion, and whatever he was writing made absolutely no sense at all. Now, it was finally your turn to feel slightly frustrated and push the male to come clean and explain all of the weird behaviours and gestures that have happened throughout the entire day.

It took a while for Changmin even to mutter up a word, but when he eventually did, it was definitely something that you weren’t expecting to hear from your best friend.

“Listen, Y/N. All of these tiny little events I’ve done up to this point are all carried out from the multiple fantasies I’ve had about you.”

“Wh-what?” You immediately defended yourself by covering both of your arms across your body, starting to panic a little bit. “Are you trying to be a pervert, minnie!”

“Of course not, Y/N! Okay, that came out wrong, what I meant was that it’s been a while since I’ve begun to see you differently.”

“Ah-ha! Another dirty comment, Ji Changmin! Don’t test me-”

“Stop! Hear me out!” Clearing his throat while grabbing hold of one of your shoulders to calm you down, he then decides to continue. “I am starting to believe that I care a lot about you. More than I have ever had when we were kids.”

Oh.

“And…I don’t think I can see the Y/N that I’ve grown up with within you anymore, but rather, a much more mature and beautiful Y/N that makes my heart flutter whenever I see you face-to-face.”

This time, he places the paper fortune teller down on his lap and takes both of your hands in his, and he now returns a rather serious look with you.

“All of these dazzling fantasies I’ve had, from yearning for the day to be able to hold your hand to buying you a bouquet of flowers that indicates the start of our new relationship with one another, I definitely do not wish to leave them behind. In fact, I’d like to make them into a reality. And all of these ecstatic and vivid emotions I have towards you, I can no longer ignore them any further. Y/N, I don’t just like you anymore, I love you. And I ask this once more.”

“Make or Break?”

Oh. Now, you were finally putting the puzzle pieces together.

It took you over ten seconds to process the thought while staring at your best friend blankly. You have never dated, let alone been exposed to enough media or content in relation to romance. And because of that, you were slightly afraid.

“Changmin-ie? Can I ask something first?”

“Of course, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally posing the question. “Which of the two options will guarantee that our relationship now wouldn’t change for the worse?”

Oh, for the love of god, you were just so innocent.

Changmin paused and had to take a few seconds to think of the right words to say in this situation. “Well, it is your decision, Y/N. At the end of the day, I’d like for us to remain as close as we can, like how we’ve always been. But if you’re willing to take a step further with me, I promise to hold you tight and never let you go. I’ll be with you eternally.”

Just like that, you have finally made up your mind and know firmly now what the future holds. If it was this man who has decided to spend the rest of his life with you, then you can be rest assured knowing that you’ll be in safe hands.

You smiled and nodded your head vigorously before giving the male a reply.

“Make it work then, Ji Changmin.”

a/n: idk abt yall but growing up asian i used to love playing with those paper fortune tellers, and i thought it would be a cute idea to include it in this fic 🤭

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#the boyz fic recs #ji changmin x reader #also the 98z input is ALWAYS a form of chaos i endorse 😼😼

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minastras · 26 days ago

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the poet and the rosarian // changmin

With his million watt smile and magnetic presence, Ji Changmin has had a lifelong 100% adoration rating. You would know: you’ve been attached at the hip since you were three years old. He’s always been obsessed with the idea of falling in love, chasing relationship after relationship in search of his soulmate. You think you’ve already found yours, but you’d never be good enough for him.

at a glance: university au, childhood best friends to lovers, secretly in love x oblivious idiot trope, fluff and angst but i hope it’s comforting above all, PINING, gender neutral reader, ft. 98z

words: 14.5k

warnings: alcohol consumption, minor death mention

notes: this is my favourite fic i’ve ever written so please look upon it kindly <3 (also spin-off for juyeon in the works so stay tuned!)

——————————

i. some people turn sad awfully young.

You were generally a well-behaved kid growing up with one exception: you weren’t with Ji Changmin, the neighbourhood menace and your best friend. Some (your parents) called him a terrible influence. Others (Ji Changmin) argued he helped bring you out of your shell, throwing a rope around your waist and dragging you kicking and screaming behind him.

Alone you were serious and withdrawn, but with him you were a handful. He was the one who forced you to talk to the other kids on the playground instead of hiding behind him and letting him do the talking for you. The only time you weren’t trying to set people’s rubbish bins on fire or doing dangerous flips off the playground monkey bars was when you were at the house at the end of the street.

You and Changmin went there often; the elderly man Mr. Lee there lived alone and welcomed the company. He’d give you both chores to do to keep you out of trouble and paid you for your efforts. Changmin took care of his rose bushes, and you dusted the bookshelves.

One day, Mr. Lee asked Changmin to harvest twelve red roses while he supervised his work with a watchful eye. You sat at the kitchen counter while he carefully arranged the roses in a tall glass vase, enraptured by the deftness of his usually shaky and frail hands.

“Who are those for?” Changmin asked.

Mr. Lee smiled, the type of syrup-sweet smile adults only gave to children. “It’s my wife’s death anniversary.”

You pointed to a small, black-and-white photograph of a woman sitting neatly in a silver frame on the TV cabinet. “Is that her?”

“Yes. We were high school sweethearts,” Mr. Lee began, smiling wistfully. “I lost her four years ago, and I miss her more and more everyday.”

You sat and listened politely as he told you about her illness, hands resting on your knees, thinking you should make an effort to visit him more often. Beside you Changmin was tearing up, his bottom lip trembling in the way little kids’ lips always did when they tried not to cry.

“Don’t be upset,” Mr. Lee chuckled, ruffling Changmin’s hair. “Everyone returns to the universe eventually. Here you go.”

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, dropped a small pile of coins into yours and Changmin’s outstretched hands, and sent you on your way.

The walk from Mr. Lee’s house to the corner shop wasn’t a long one. He meant to teach you about the value of money, but being the children you were, you two always blew all your earnings immediately on sweets.

Changmin usually talked on the way there, but that day he was strangely quiet.

“I wonder when I’ll find my soulmate,” he mumbled after a long silence. “When I grow up I’m going to love someone as much as Mr. Lee loves his wife.”

——————————

It very quickly became clear as the two of you grew up that Changmin was everything you were not. He was a forever-smiling boy who attracted people to him like iron to a magnet. Every adult in the neighbourhood doted on him, and everyone at school wanted to be his friend.

Why wouldn’t they? He was one of those people who sucked the marrow out of life, who gave all of himself to anyone who asked. He loved life so much he was overflowing with it.

But he never left you behind, despite kids far cooler and more popular than you vying for his attention. On weekends, instead of going to the parties he was constantly being invited to, he went to Mr. Lee’s house with you to take care of the elderly man’s rose bushes.

After school, too old and proud for the playground but too nostalgic to let it go, you sat together on the curb and watched the cars fly by. He would point out the ones he liked, saying, “I’ll buy that one for my mom someday.”

You’d smile. “You and what money?”

And then he’d shove you and call you a cynic.

In your binary star system, he was the sentimental one, crying on Saturday movie nights and writing you birthday cards that got longer and sappier by the year. While you loved him with all your heart and had no doubt he knew that too, you could never find a way to show him that. And you were certain that someone like him, who felt so deeply and loved so freely, would get fed up eventually.

“Come sit with us, Changmin,” the star football player of school offered to him during lunch once when you were fourteen, staring at you with disdain. Behind him, the entire cafeteria was watching. Changmin reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“No thank you,” he said sweetly, with his trademark dimpled smile that blinded you every time you saw it.

Perhaps you weren’t binary stars at all. Perhaps he was the only star — pure and golden and dazzling — and you were his planet, illuminated by him only insofar as you were in his orbit. You didn’t mind, though. Comets couldn’t have bright tails without debris around them to ignite. Not everybody could be special.

“I’m so nervous,” Changmin whined, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you vigorously. You were fifteen, standing with him in the corridor as he clutched a bouquet of six red roses to his chest, courtesy of Mr. Lee.

“You’ll be fine,” you assured him.

The soon-to-be recipient of the bouquet, Dain, emerged from around the corner. Dain was one of the prettiest girls in school and the apple of Changmin’s eye for the last month. He’d told Mr. Lee about her and asked him if he, too, became giddy when he looked at his wife back when they were teenagers.

“Here I go,” he declared, his hands shaking. You had no doubt in your mind that Dain would accept the flowers; it was Ji Changmin, after all.

It took you far too long to realise you were hopelessly in love with your best friend. You were sixteen. It wasn’t a grand bold declaration that he was choosing you over the popular kids in front of the entire school, or a green-eyed epiphany from one of his sappy romantic gestures to whoever he was in love with at the time.

No, it was one of your Saturday movie night sleepovers. It was his turn to choose the film, so of course you were watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. As usual, he laughed throughout the film while you sat frozen in fear under the blanket.

That night, after you retreated to your bedroom to try and sleep despite still reeling from the movie, Changmin opened your door. You screamed, jumping out of your skin.

“Sorry. I came to check on you,” he said softly.

You sighed, heart still racing, and closed your eyes to regain your composure. “I thought you were Leatherface,” you groaned, throwing the orange stuffed octopus he gave you for your twelfth birthday at him.

He giggled, caught the octopus, and walked over to your bed. “Okay, move over.”

“Why?” you frowned.

“Move over. I’ll keep you safe,” he promised.

That was the moment, when he climbed into bed with you and tucked your octopus back into your arms and pulled your head against his chest.

The thing about crushing on someone you’d known for so long was that he didn’t make you nervous like other crushes did, not really. He wasn’t a source of anxiety; he was a sedative. You stopped thinking about the movie and relaxed into his touch, burying your face into his soft maroon hoodie that smelt like fabric softener.

“I’m here now. He can’t get you,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair.

His presence seemed to make everything go away — the faint knocks you kept hearing outside your window, the dark shadows you kept spotting as your paranoid eyes played tricks on you.

You never told him, obviously. You shared every other aspect of your life with him, but this you had to keep to yourself. Through his dozens of crushes and relationships, through the piles of chocolates he received every Valentine’s Day, you gritted your teeth and never said a word. Such was the condemnation of a one-sided love.

——————————

Changmin liked giving roses to people; it was his thing. It started when he was eleven and gave a red rose to his crush at the time. A single flower became a handful, and a handful became a deliberately arranged bouquet wrapped in gauzy tissue and matching ribbons. Mr. Lee was always happy to let him nick a few roses from his garden whenever he wanted — it was for love, after all.

The habit continued all the way into the end of high school. Changmin swung past Mr. Lee’s house after school that day with you to pick up some roses. It was the day before his then-girlfriend Mikyoung’s birthday, and he wanted to surprise her.

He still vividly remembered that night. He was almost eighteen, standing outside the girls’ track team’s locker room waiting for Mikyoung to emerge after her training. You were stationed down the corridor with his phone in your hand, ready to film the surprise.

“I thought you were dumping Changmin today.”

Mikyoung’s voice was light and breathy. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I’ll do it soon.”

“Why the rush? He’s cute.”

“He’s too clingy. I thought he’d be cooler, with the way everyone talks about him,” Mikyoung answered. “Whatever, I got what I wanted. I was never gonna keep him around, anyway.”

Changmin froze. Surely things like this didn’t happen in real life. Surely people this cruel didn’t actually exist.

He was vaguely aware of a presence behind him, but he couldn’t make himself turn around until you actually called his name.

“Min? What’s wrong?” you asked, only for your attention to be drawn away by the voices inside the locker room.

“Yeah, you made it, girl. You dated the Ji Changmin.”

“You better break up with him soon. It’s my turn next, remember?”

Changmin didn’t notice his grip on the bouquet getting progressively tighter and tighter until the thorns of the roses pierced through the wrapping paper and into the flesh of his palm, the stalks crushing in his hand.

“How do you even know he’ll like you?”

“Please, he’s a serial monopolist. I just need to bat my eyelashes and call him babe and he’ll be mine.”

“You mean monogamist, you moron,” you muttered to the girl you couldn’t even see. He would’ve laughed at that — it wasn’t often that you spoke so bluntly and with so much contempt — but there were other things on his mind.

“I want to go home,” he said quietly, not to be heard by anyone but you.

You looked ready to burst into the locker room and give Mikyoung a piece of your mind, with a quiet rage blazing in your eyes he wasn’t used to seeing from you, but the second you heard him it dissipated.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking his free hand, “let’s go.”

It was a short and silent bus ride back to his house; Changmin hated talking when he was upset and you were the only person on the planet who never forced him to. Nor did you say anything when he aggressively acted as though everything was normal, bringing an armful of snacks up to his bedroom and turning his speakers on to play music as he usually did whenever you two hung out.

He tossed the bouquet carelessly onto his bedside table and shut the door behind him, not wanting his parents to see it and ask questions.

“What happened to your hand?” you asked. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

There were superficial cuts on the heel of his palm from the roses’ thorns, though none were deep enough to bleed and most barely broke the skin.

Changmin said nothing, only sitting cross-legged on his bed with you and letting you brush liquid bandage over the cuts. You hummed along to his playlist as you did, even though he knew you didn’t like this song.

“Why would she do that to me?” he finally said, fighting off the ache behind his eyes he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You sighed sympathetically. “I don’t know. Min. I’m sorry.”

He never understood why people said they were sorry for things they had nothing to do with. If it had been anyone else he might have gotten annoyed, but he could never get annoyed at you.

“Don’t say that,” he mumbled, the ache now too much to bear. He palmed away his tears and sniffed. “You always apologise when other people hurt me.”

At last, you looked up at him and smiled, although your eyes stayed sad. “Do I?”

Changmin took the bottle to put it back into his drawer, blinking rapidly, trying to hide his face from you.

“You were right to not like her,” he admitted, hoping his voice didn’t waver.

“I never said I didn’t like her,” you said.

“You didn’t have to. I knew the minute I told you I asked her out,” he told you, still holding back tears. Then, he broke into a soft smile and poked your cheek. “You’re a bad liar.”

The air in his bedroom was stifling. You walked out to the convenience store two streets over for instant ramen like you usually did on nights like this, bringing your food to the playground where you used to play as kids.

The playground was always empty at night, quiet and peaceful. It made him nostalgic, as lots of things did these days. Just a few years ago he used to run through these deserted streets with you almost every night, filling the cold air with laughs and giggles, basking in moonlight and the glow of adventure. You sat at the bottom of the blue plastic slide, and he chose one end of the wooden seesaw.

“Why did you bring those along?” you asked, pointing to the roses in his lap.

He held them out to you. “For you.”

It was a dark night, with thick clouds obscuring what would have been a full moon and one of the playground lights not working, but he could still see your smile as you took the bouquet.

“Are you going to text Mikyoung?” you asked with a cautious glance, ready to change the topic the second you detected any discomfort on his face.

“I’ll confront her tomorrow. I want to do it in front of everyone. On her birthday,” he replied.

He was a more vengeful person than he liked to admit, but he had hurt burning in his ribcage and it needed to go somewhere. It was clear from the look in your eyes that you disapproved of this plan, although you said nothing. You’d always been the magnanimous one.

He knew how people saw you, although he never knew how to fix it, or if you wanted him to fix it at all. You were ‘Changmin’s friend’: his saturnine, slightly cold, aloof sidekick, notable only because of him.

He didn’t care for popularity, nor what everyone else thought of you. But as much as he pretended to be above these labels, there was something about your reputation that made him feel incredibly special, that he was the only person with the luxury of truly knowing you.

The silence between you two was thin, airy. He’d never once felt awkward with you, even when your silences dragged on. Your eyes met his again for a split second.

“Do you ever think I’ll find my soulmate?” he mused.

“I think we’re too young to be thinking about that,” you answered, which wasn’t the first time you had expressed this sentiment. But you always entertained him.

“Don’t you want that, too?” he asked. He’d asked you this before, but you had never given him a straight answer.

“I don’t know. I’m scared,” you said.

“Scared? How can you be scared of love?”

You bit your lip in thought, always so measured in conversations like these, carefully thinking over each response before you spoke, never saying anything you didn’t mean. Unlike him — impulsive, reactive.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” you eventually replied.

In a strange way, he felt like he knew what you meant.

——————————

ii. hiding in the belltower.

Despite having a happy childhood, you had never been a happy child. You had loving parents, a roof over your head, and the best best friend you could’ve asked for, so why did you always feel like there was an emptiness within you that was destined to never be filled?

The night before you were set to board a bus that would take you to your new city and close the door on all you’d ever known, you and Changmin were lying on the side of the hill near your house, staring up at the night sky. It was a remarkably clear night, cloudless, brimming with stars.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“How I didn’t think leaving would be this hard,” you said after a lengthy pause.

Changmin rolled onto his side to face you, making you turn to him too. “Me neither.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you came face-to-face with him. His eyes, warm and brown as they always were, felt like they pierced through you. He had the kind of eyes that could make anyone feel special, that he liked you just a little more than anyone else.

As scared as you were, you’d made your marks on the small canvas of your tiny hometown, done and seen all there was to do and see, and you were ready to leave. You had your sights set on the top fine arts programme in the country and he enrolled in the very same one. We’re a team, he said. But you knew he had a longing to leave, too.

It didn’t take long for Changmin to acclimate; he made friends quickly and easily, to whom he soon introduced you — the performance major Juyeon and the fashion major Chanhee.

“If you gave them a chance I think you’d like them,” Changmin said to you one evening, lying on your bed while you were hunched over your desk, studying. He’d just asked you to come along with him to dinner at Chanhee’s apartment (who was lucky enough to live off campus, unlike the rest of you), and you declined.

“I do like them,” you said.

Everything always seemed so easy for him — the way he fit in everywhere, adapted to anything. You hadn’t belonged in your hometown and you didn’t feel like you belonged in this one, either. Maybe there was no place for you, anywhere.

He kicked your desk chair, like he did whenever he wanted you to pay attention to him. “So why aren’t you coming?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you answered.

You and Changmin could have two conversations at the same time: what was being said and what each of you really meant. He was the only person in the world who heard the words you crossed out in your mind before they were spoken. In this case, they were, what if they don’t like me?

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not intruding,” he scoffed. Why wouldn’t they? I like you.

“Are you sure?” But they’re not you.

He threw your stuffed octopus at your face. It was one of the few keepsakes you’d brought with you from home.

“They asked me to bring you, idiot.” Anyone would like you if you let them see what I see.

So you joined them for dinner. And every dinner after that.

You studied with Chanhee in the library a lot — more than you did with Changmin, even — because he was the only one who didn’t distract you when you needed to get work done. And you sought refuge in the café where Juyeon worked when the air conditioning in your dorm room broke, which was often.

If you weren’t in the library, Juyeon’s café, or your room, you were in Changmin’s. It was only natural that the group coalesced around Changmin, that his dorm room almost immediately became your base of operations.

You sat on his bed one day, your back against the wall and your laptop on your lap while he lay beside you scrolling idly on his phone. Juyeon and Chanhee were on the floor building a Lego spaceship.

“You’re typing very angrily,” Chanhee said to you. “What are you doing?”

You looked up from your laptop screen, realising that you had, in fact, been hammering away at the keys.

“I’m writing a story for my creative writing class,” you replied.

“It’s about soulmates,” Changmin added, waving his hand around with a theatrical flourish.

“Ew,” Juyeon said.

Changmin swung his leg off the bed to kick Juyeon, but ended up hitting Chanhee on the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“It’s a cute story!” Changmin scolded, ignoring Chanhee’s yelp of pain. “It’s about how our neighbour met his wife.”

You sat in silence, listening to Changmin recount Mr. Lee’s entire backstory in excruciating detail. Under normal circumstances anyone would have swiftly lost interest, but he had a knack for holding onto people’s attention.

He’d never really been the same after that night with Mikyoung in high school. He didn’t fall head over heels anymore, didn’t ramble on about his crushes with sparkles in his eyes, didn’t give his partners flowers. But even then, he still often spoke of falling in love. It seemed like no amount of heartbreak could quell his desire for it.

Juyeon turned to you. “Can I read it?”

“No,” you answered.

“They won’t even let me read it,” Changmin whined.

Chanhee gasped dramatically. “Not even Changmin? But you two are basically one organism!”

You had spent the better part of the last few years fighting to purge your unrequited love. Pushing your feelings away got easier over time, although the green light at the end of the dock never fully went away. Initial hopes that it was just a sandbox love failed to materialise, and you were starting to think you had to live with it your whole life — an ache you couldn’t outpace.

Changmin slammed the lid of your laptop shut to get your attention, staring intensely at you in faux anger, with his trademark dimpled smile you could never look away from. “See? You should let me read it!”

“You should submit it to the student filmmaking guild,” Juyeon suggested. “They’re always looking for scripts.”

You instinctively shook your head without really hearing what he said, because the mere thought of serving up any part of you on a silver platter for others to see was enough to make you recoil.

“Submit it! Submit it!” Changmin chanted, slapping your knee with each word. “They’ll definitely choose it.”

“You haven’t even read it,” you said, messing up his hair in retaliation.

Changmin stopped hitting you and pouted. “I’m sure it’s good; everything you do is.”

Sometimes you wondered if it would be easier to get over your feelings if he wasn’t so sweet to you. Part of you wanted him to betray you or ruin your life — anything to let you hate him.

Because people of his calibre fell for the glamorous girls with perpetually bouncy hair and all matching jewellery, the charismatic boys with broad shoulders and bewitching eyes. Those with a dazzling history of attractive ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, the girls with DMs full of messages and the boys with ins into all the hottest clubs. People like him didn’t fall in love with people like you.

——————————

The approaching end of your first semester caused you to go into a bit of a tailspin; you thought you’d be happy by now. You were in your dream city and your dream programme, with a generous scholarship and new friends. It was all you ever wanted, and yet the misery remained. Perhaps happiness was not made for you.

“You’re really not coming?” Juyeon asked, pleading. He and Changmin were leaving for a party, while you and Chanhee were staying in for the night at his apartment to study.

Chanhee gestured to himself, swaddled in a hoodie and bundled up under the blanket on his sofa. “Do we look like we’re coming?”

Changmin was already halfway out the door, stomping his foot and nagging Juyeon to hurry up as you were talking. Juyeon shoved his feet into his boots and clumsily tumbled out of the door with a hurried goodbye.

“I thought Changmin was an introvert,” Chanhee griped under his breath once they’d left, returning to his laptop.

You laughed and sat down on the other end of his sofa, your notebook perched on your knees. A good full hour went by before either of you broke the silence, when Chanhee glanced up at you over the top of his laptop screen.

“Why aren’t you going home with Changmin for the mid-year break?” he asked.

“I have a lot of assignments due,” you said. Chanhee wrinkled his nose in disapproval of your obvious lie. You sighed, “Fine. I don’t want to go home.”

“Do you not miss your family?” he asked.

“I do, that’s why I can’t go. I don’t want to be happy for two weeks and then get homesick all over again when I come back,” you said. “It’ll be harder to leave the second time.”

Chanhee stared intently at you with his chin resting on his palm. “If you visit often enough it won’t feel so crushing,” he pointed out after a brief silence. “Does Changmin know?”

“I told him I had too much work to do,” you said.

“I’m pretty sure he knows you were lying,” Chanhee said with a bemused smile. But he kindly dropped the topic after that, turning back to his work with a pat of your knee.

——————————

Changmin had always had a clear mental picture of each major milestone ahead of him: moving out for university, meeting his soulmate, proposing, buying a house with them, settling down…

His first year hadn’t even ended yet and he was already getting anxious. He’d dated three (Juyeon would’ve said two and a half) people in university so far and none of them had lasted more than two months. He’d long since moved on from Mikyoung, but the precision strike to his heart was harder to let go. It sat in the back of his mind on every first date, every time he asked someone to be his partner, after every break-up.

He was thinking all of this because his mom had just called to tell him Mr. Lee had passed away.

Mr. Lee had been old the entire time Changmin knew him, but the thought of his mortality somehow never crossed his mind. He knew it crossed yours, because you’d mentioned the possibility of this precise scenario twice.

The news didn’t upset him that much, which in itself was more upsetting. Granted, as you and him got older you stopped going round to Mr. Lee’s house as often, but Changmin was disturbed by how quickly his brain had warped a man’s death into selfish thoughts of his own coming-of-age.

He stayed in the dance studio for a couple more hours after getting off the phone with his mom before he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go see you. His feet seemed to move on their own, taking him straight to the minimart and then to your dorm room.

“Come in,” you called, hearing his signature knock.

He keyed your PIN into your door lock, a pattern burned into his muscle memory, and let himself in. You were seated at your desk with books strewn everywhere and your laptop balanced precariously in the middle of the chaos.

“Hi,” you greeted, noticing the single white rose in his hand. “What’s the occasion?”

Your tone of voice was flat, but he could tell you knew why he was there. It was so obvious to him — the distance in your eyes. He chose not to even acknowledge your pretence, closing your door behind him and handing you the rose.

Buying it was a strange experience. He’d walked into the mart not really knowing what he wanted to get for you, only that he wanted to bring you something, when he saw the flower display stand in the back of the store. He’d picked the largest, brightest, whitest rose for you, a single long-stemmed flower wrapped in clear cellophane rather than the shorter bundles clipped from Mr. Lee’s rose bushes he was used to dealing with.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You took it, fingers curling around the single stalk.

“How did you know I knew?” you asked, looking down at the rose instead of at him, all but confirming his conclusions.

Changmin sat down on your bed, hooked his foot under the leg of your desk chair, and yanked you towards him and away from your desk. You were so transparent.

“You’ve been listening to the Mario Kart Wii soundtrack for the last three hours,” he sighed. “You should turn off your Spotify activity.”

You laughed, but it was an empty laugh, and nudged his knee with yours. A few seconds passed before you looked up, studying his face carefully.

“Are you okay?” you asked, echoing his earlier question.

“I asked you first,” he pointed out, stubborn.

At that, you finally stopped pretending. He didn’t know why you bothered — it was impossible for you to hide from him — but you always tried anyway.

“I wish we could go to the funeral,” you said quietly. It was an admission of sorts, in your own roundabout manner, that you were in fact not okay.

“Me too,” he said, which wasn’t a lie, but the words had come out by rote and not because he actively wanted to say them. He knew you would never judge him; he’d made lots of idiotic choices and not once had you ever criticised him unfairly. It was this that compelled him to continue, “Is it bad that I don’t really feel anything?”

You turned the rose over in your hands, pausing to think.

“I don’t think scrutinising the validity of your emotions is something you should be doing,” you said after a while. It wasn’t the first time you’d told him that, that trying to moralise the way he felt was never a worthwhile endeavour.

And he knew you were right; you always were. He watched as you set the rose on your bedside table and immediately started picking at your nails, a tic of yours that kicked in whenever your hands were empty.

“I should have gone home with you,” you muttered, eyes shining with tears, “I should have gone to see him.”

He frowned, reaching out to take your hand. “Hey, don’t say that.”

From the very beginning he’d never been as perceptive as you were. He hardly ever knew what to say when you were upset, although you always did when the roles were reversed. It was one of his greatest regrets, but he liked that you chose him to take care of you regardless.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you forward and lying down on your bed. You complied and lay down beside him, letting him thread his arm around your shoulder.

He hated all your mattresses. They were far too soft for him — truthfully he didn’t understand how you could still sit up straight. Every childhood sleepover at your house netted him a two-day long backache at minimum, but he never had the heart to tell you no when you asked him to spend the night.

“Thanks for being here,” you mumbled into his hoodie, your cheek pressed against the fabric.

“Of course,” he said.

Changmin spent last night at Myungseo’s place, the girl he’d been casually dating for the last month. This morning, he told her they should see other people. Why? Because he caught her rolling her eyes at him when he laughed at a TikTok on his phone. She did that often; like his happiness was a blight on the earth.

He felt like an idiot, being upset about something so banal while you were grieving a death. The worst part was that he didn’t even like Myungseo that much, not really, and yet his heart was so easily bruised.

“Is my laugh annoying?” Changmin asked (his back was already starting to hurt).

“No. Why would you say that?”

He shook his head instead of answering you, and you didn’t press him further.

“We should move in together. Let’s get an apartment,” he said suddenly.

You craned your neck to look up at him, frowning, as if this was somehow a ludicrous suggestion. Both your dorm leases were up at the end of the year and there was no way either of you could afford to live alone, so it surely just made sense. But you’d never once brought up the possibility to him, probably because you knew he was looking for his next serious partner to move in with. The idea that you could have been holding that back just for him made him feel guilty. Lots of things made him feel guilty, it seemed.

As he got older a sinking feeling in his chest had begun to develop, a deep fear that seeped all the way into his bones. You used to keep a notebook of quotes or lines of poetry you liked which he flipped through on occasion out of curiosity — you still had it, although you didn’t add to it anymore these days because you called the concept of it pretentious and your teenage self insufferable.

Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying. No one will ever want to sleep with you.

That was the only quote he remembered (and to be honest, the only one he liked) from your notebook, and he knew it word-for-word. It was that quote that sat in his bones, he thought. Maybe he was doomed to bear it for the rest of his life.

——————————

iii. how did i forget to live before i lived at all?

A couple of weeks before his second year began, Changmin signed his first lease with you. He couldn’t help but be slightly upset at how it all turned out — he’d always imagined he’d move into his first apartment with a partner — but he would obviously never say that out loud. The guilt of knowing he was treating you like an inferior replacement to a relationship was crushing enough.

Moving into his first apartment was too big a milestone to feel real, at least not immediately. Even when he went to Ikea with you it didn’t feel real; perhaps that was because you found Ikea strangely entertaining as children and went there far too often. You used to go to the kitchen timers section, set all of them to go off in a minute, then run away and watch the ear-splitting chaos from afar.

“We should get a wine rack,” you said, your arms full of stupid knick-knacks you definitely didn’t need. “Juyeon gave us that nice dry riesling.”

The second you collected your keys for your new apartment last week, you invited your friends over, ordered pizza, and ate dinner on the floor in your padded jackets because you had neither furniture nor heating. As housewarming gifts, Juyeon brought the riesling and Chanhee brought a sizable stack of polaroid pictures of your little friend group. You put them all up on the living room wall together.

Changmin knew you well enough to know you only suggested the wine rack because he liked wine, but you never wanted the kind things you did for him to be obvious. He grabbed a wine rack.

“When I eventually move in with someone, I’m gonna buy those fake leaf garlands,” he pouted, still sulking a little. You’d vetoed them a few minutes ago, arguing they would get unbelievably dusty and annoying to clean.

“Someone? You mean Serim,” you said, clearly distracted for reasons unknown to him. He could tell by the shallow dimple in your chin that formed whenever you pursed your lips in thought. Serim was his new girlfriend of a few months.

He hummed, looking at a set of wine glasses. “Maybe not. I don’t think she’s right for me.” Serim had a way of making him feel small, dumb, breaking off bits of him to feed her own ego.

You looked up from the crescent moon-shaped vase in your head. “Are you going to break up with her?”

“Probably. Eventually,” he sighed.

Two more trips to Ikea and a week later, the apartment was finally coming together. You both dedicated that weekend to putting together the non-essential furniture — he worked on a shelf while you assembled a shoe rack.

“Oh, we still need to get rid of the old TV cabinet,” he noted, remembering the hideous green thing blocking the entryway.

“I can do it tomorrow while you’re in class. Juyeon said he’ll help me take it downstairs,” you told him.

Changmin squinted at his own instructional manual. “You and Juyeon have gotten pretty close,” he observed, one of those things he said without thinking just because he wanted to talk to you.

You only half-heard him, searching for your allen wrench. “Hm? Yeah, I guess,” you said.

That made him jealous, even though he knew it shouldn’t have. He was too used to being the only person who got to be close to you — to the point that Juyeon and Chanhee being unable to make it for your regularly scheduled Saturday night dinner felt like a return to form for him.

The two of you had dinner out on the balcony that night, the crown jewel of your apartment and the main reason you’d picked it in the first place. You opened Juyeon’s riesling for the occasion: your first Saturday night dinner in your new home.

“It’ll be nice to have breakfast here,” you mused, filling his glass before your own.

That turned out to be true. He spent many a morning doing just that with you, mornings of sunny side ups and secondhand smoke from your neighbours downstairs. Mornings were easier for him; nights always seemed to cut through him like a knife.

Changmin tapped his wine glass against yours with a smile, and the clink felt like a christening.

“We should give Juyeon and Chanhee some roses,” he suggested, nodding to the plant pots behind you on the balcony. The main reason Changmin had insisted so vehemently on finding an apartment with a balcony was so that he could grow roses. It felt like the right thing to do; Mr. Lee would’ve wanted him to continue the tradition.

“It’s been a while since you gave someone roses, rose boy,” you teased, peering at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“I gave you one a few months ago!” he refuted.

You waved this away. “I don’t count.”

He rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

Yes, nights weren’t so difficult anymore. Changmin liked walking home after dark and looking up to see a warm square of yellow in the window, telling him you’d gotten in before him. He liked the idea of carving a little soft world out of the big cold one just for him and his favourite person. He liked being able to take the weight off your shoulders each day when you walked through the front door.

——————————

You did listen to Juyeon, in the end. The students film guild put out their yearly call for script submissions just as you finished your assignment, and you turned it in. You weren’t quite sure why — it was a decision entirely incongruous to the way you lived your life — but you did.

Changmin was the only person you told, because you weren’t sure you could take the embarrassment of the others knowing if your script was rejected. When you made it past shortlisting, you kept it to yourself. There were other more pressing matters at hand.

He broke up with his girlfriend of five months, Jinah, right around the same time and it hit him hard. Normally you would have attributed this to him being too nice, too trusting, too willing to jump into relationships. Many people just wanted the opportunity to declare they had dated him, like he was a video game achievement. But Jinah was not one of them. She treated him well and genuinely liked him — life just had a way of breaking hearts.

“This one seems different,” Chanhee whispered to you over the café booth, as if the not-present Changmin could hear him. “Jinah was actually nice, too.”

“It was his most serious relationship in a while,” you agreed, glancing at your phone. Changmin had promised to join you both at Juyeon’s café, but he hadn’t shown up nor answered any of your calls.

Juyeon walked over during a lull in customers and placed a fruit tart and a caramel slice on the table. On the house, as usual.

“Is he okay?” Juyeon asked.

Chanhee shrugged. You shook your head.

“You don’t look okay either,” Juyeon said to you, unsubtly nudging the caramel slice towards you. It had become a habit of yours to get one whenever you were having a bad day.

“I’m fine, just tired,” you said, which was for once the truth, but you took the caramel slice anyway. “Changmin’s been having a lot of people over. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Ah, rebounds,” Chanhee sighed, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand. “We should do a movie night or something. To cheer him up.”

The bells hung above the café doors rang as they opened, but it wasn’t Changmin. You deflated slightly, glancing over at your phone yet again.

“I think he just wants to be left alone for now,” you said. “But I’ll ask him.”

Over the next couple of weeks the frequency of Changmin’s hookups slowed, he started hanging out with the rest of you again, and he stopped playing exclusively breakup songs around the house. You were busy relaying this intel to Juyeon at his café one day when you got an email from the film guild, subject line: Congratulations!

You didn’t even bother opening it to read the rest, simply throwing your stuff into your tote bag and tumbling out of the café with a cursory goodbye to Juyeon cast over your shoulder. You raced home to tell Changmin, bursting at the seams with excitement as you swung the front door open.

“Changmi-” You stopped in your tracks, face falling. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had someone over.”

There was a girl on the sofa beside him, kissing his neck, and he had his hand in her lap. She glared at you, clearly not pleased with your interruption.

“What is it?” Changmin asked, not-so-gently pushing her away.

“Nothing. It’s not important. It can wait,” you answered, backtracking. You were a terrible liar; you could not deny your feelings for him to save your life. The only thing that kept you from discovery was him never asking the right questions.

He sat up and combed through his hair with his hands, frowning. “Are you okay?”

It was unbearable sometimes, the way his voice became so soft and tender whenever he could tell you needed him. Of course, you could never hide from him. He knew if you were upset by how you opened the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it later,” you said.

With that, you hurried into your bedroom and closed the door behind you.

Your heart had been hardened with practice over the years, or so you’d thought. Maybe it was just an off-day, or maybe you could only keep up the charade for so long.

It wasn’t until you heard Changmin and his date move to his bedroom — their whispering and giggling and him slamming the door shut — that you cracked and reached for your phone.

“Hi, what’s up?” Juyeon greeted, picking up almost immediately despite being at work.

“I’m in love with Changmin,” you blurted out.

That was exactly it. You didn’t love him, you were in love with him. It had consumed you for so much of your life. It made you sick.

There was nothing but stunned silence on the other end, your shocking revelation rendering Juyeon speechless. Even without being able to see him you could picture his expression, jaw dropped and eyes round and blinking.

“O-okay… When did…?” he asked, pausing after each word.

“Since we were sixteen,” you replied.

He sighed loudly. “Oh, you’re one of those.”

Juyeon, at least when it came to love, was Changmin’s polar opposite. He avoided romance at all costs, called it humanity’s greatest scam, and thought it was a supreme waste of time.

“Hey, I called you in my time of need,” you retorted, forcing some lightness back into your voice. That was noteworthy in its own right, that after so many years you had finally admitted your feelings to someone other than yourself.

Juyeon coughed. “Right. Sorry. Did something happen?”

“No, I just… he brought a girl home and-” you paused, “I’m normally better at coping with these things.”

“What changed?” Juyeon asked.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that this had been chipping away at your heart piece by piece for years, and you were running out of pieces.

When you didn’t answer, Juyeon continued, “You won’t tell him, right?”

“God, no,” you said.

“Good. It’s not worth ruining your friendship for love,” he lectured, despite you already agreeing with him.

Maybe that was why you decided to call him — you knew he would understand. Chanhee might have tried to convince you to take a leap of faith, but a cynical anti-romantic like Juyeon would recognise your fate for what it was: a tragicomedy of epic proportions.

You took a deep breath and let his words percolate. It was one thing to realise the sentiment, but another thing entirely to hear it from someone else.

“I did what you suggested,” you said, the compulsion to change the topic and forget what you’d just admitted to overwhelming you in that moment. “I submitted my script. It was chosen.”

Juyeon screamed. You winced and moved your phone away from your ear.

“Congrats! You deserve it!” he shouted down the line, clapping wildly.

“Thanks, Juyeon.” You were grateful he couldn’t see how weak your smile was, although you were sure it seeped into your voice. There was a reason you called him instead of FaceTiming.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” he asked. “We can order food. Chanhee’s coming too. Get your mind off him.”

Neither of you could bear to say his name.

The old you would have turned down his offer without a second thought, choosing instead to trap yourself in a despairing fortress of your own making with no one but yourself privy to your thoughts.

“Okay. Thank you,” you said quietly, hoping he would be able to read between all your layers of gratitude.

——————————

A few days had passed since that night, and you still hadn’t brought up what you’d wanted to talk to Changmin about. He knew something was up with you, but he couldn’t tell what. Maybe you were annoyed with him. You always said you didn’t mind him bringing people over, but he also wasn’t sure you’d tell him if you did.

“I have news,” you announced as soon as he walked through the front door, holding something behind your back. There was a weight to your words, an unusual heft that immediately made him concerned.

“What is it? Are you okay?” he asked.

You handed him a stapled sheaf of papers, twiddling your thumbs. If he didn’t know you he’d think that was just a figure of speech, but you did literally twiddle your thumbs when you were anxious and he teased you about it constantly. It was an adorable habit, like how you tied rubber bands around all the jars you struggled to open to make them easier to grip onto.

“Remember my creative writing assignment?” you began, with a tentative edge in your voice he wasn’t used to hearing. “I submitted it to the film guild, and it was chosen.”

Changmin let out a high-pitched screech, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you vigorously, jumping around. “Really? Really? That’s amazing! I knew it!” he giggled. His heart swelled with pride, more pride than he knew what to do with.

You joined him in his celebrations, laughing along with him, but there was still something you were nervous about.

“Is this a secret? Does anyone else know?” he asked, clutching the script to his chest.

You shook your head. “Only Juyeon.”

Changmin’s face fell. That didn’t seem right. That went against the laws of the universe, against life as he knew it. How could you tell Juyeon first?

“Oh,” he said, not even trying to hide his dejection. “You told him before you told me? Why?”

He was self-aware enough to realise he was turning your success into a story of his own heartbreak, to feel repulsed by his narcissism and disgusted by his jealousy. But he couldn’t help it, because it was you. It was written in the stars that you were supposed to put him before anyone else, and he was supposed to do the same.

Your eyes softened, instantly filling with regret, and you reached out to take his hands between yours. It stung more precisely because he knew how tightly you held your cards to your chest.

“Because I was worried,” you answered.

He frowned. “About what?”

“That you wouldn’t like it.”

The absurdity of him not liking something you did wasn’t lost on him, but some part of him understood what you meant. To him, there was no question more intimate than: do you like it? It revealed what you cared about, showed another’s importance to you, opened a direct line to one’s heart.

“You’re the first to read it,” you assured him, squeezing his hands, probably mistaking his silence for more hurt. “I’m not letting anyone else read it but you.”

He glanced down at the script in his arms. The apology clear in your tone made the guilt of his response settle in now.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Who you told first isn’t important. I’m proud of you.”

You beamed, bright and dazzling; your parents always commented on how you only lit up like that when he was with you.

——————————

iv. you are the knife i turn inside myself.

It surprised you how quickly the novelty of living with Changmin wore off, because within months it felt like this had always been your life; you had always lived in this apartment with this schedule and these friends. You’d always had Chanhee’s polaroids on the living room wall and caramel slices from Juyeon’s cafe in the kitchen and Changmin’s weekly bouquet of roses harvested from the balcony sitting on the dining table.

“Who’s directing your film?” Changmin asked one night on the sofa, peeling an orange for you two to share.

“Kevin Moon,” you said. “I think he’s an art student. Chanhee knows him.”

“Will you get to meet him?” Changmin asked, shoving an orange carpel into your mouth with great inelegance.

You shrugged, your mouth too full to speak, and he waited for you to finish eating with a bemused smile. “Maybe. He invited me to the start of production party, but I’m not going.”

“But you have to go,” Changmin whined, throwing a piece of orange peel at you.

“No,” you shook your head, baulking at his comment. “I won’t know anyone there. I already told Kevin I was busy-”

Just like that, Changmin plucked your phone from your unsuspecting hand and sprinted away, cackling and shrieking.

“Hey!” you shouted, running after him. But he was faster than you and always had been. You chased him around the living room a couple of times, only barely catching up to him even though he was furiously typing away on your phone while he ran, jumping on his back to tackle him to the floor.

“This is assault!” he screamed, a high-pitched whistle that made your ears ring, wildly batting your hands away.

Finally, you managed to wrestle your phone back from him (or, more likely, he finally let you win).

“What did you do?” you groaned, scrambling to your feet when you saw your chat with Kevin pulled up on the screen. You (Changmin) had just eagerly announced you wanted to attend after all, and, of course, Kevin responded with equal enthusiasm.

Changmin threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for a side hug, giggling and ruffling your hair. You were still staring at your phone screen, too dumbfounded to even register his hold on you.

“That’s not how I text,” you finally managed to get out.

He looked at you, confused. “It’s how you text me.”

You bit your tongue and pushed his hand away, sighing as you reread the texts. He had reacted to Kevin’s final message with a heart, something you never did with anyone but Changmin himself.

“I’ll come with you! I’m your plus one,” he declared proudly, beaming. Even after all these years, you never understood how he could be both so obnoxious and so endearing.

So there you were walking into director Kevin Moon’s apartment, Changmin in tow, wanting to crawl out of your own skin. The apartment was small and clean but buzzing with activity, although the music was soft and the crowd was thin. You were relieved to find it less of a university rager and more of an understated hang out. There was a neatly set up drinks table void of any hard liquor by the kitchen archway that looked barely touched.

Changmin squeezed your hand (because of course he was holding your hand) and smiled at you, the very smile of his that made the constant buzzing anxiety in your head fade.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” he said.

You would never admit it, but he was right.

“I just need to say hi to Kevin, then we can go,” you said.

Right on cue, a black-haired crescent-eyed man strode over to you.

“Y/N? I’m Kevin, the director,” he greeted with a wide smile. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said. “This is Changmin.”

“Hi,” Changmin beamed.

Kevin returned the greeting before turning to you. “We were actually just about to start the speeches. Would you like to give one? You are the writer, after all.”

What kind of university party had speeches? A film kid’s party, you supposed.

“I’m not great at public speaking,” you replied, shy.

Changmin let go of your hand to sling his arm around your shoulder, grinning mischievously. “Can I give a speech for them?”

You looked at him in horror, but he pretended not to see it.

“Uh, sure. I’ll gather the cast and crew,” Kevin agreed, politely downplaying his surprise.

Changmin skipped after Kevin and jumped right onto the coffee table, grabbing the TV remote and holding it up to his mouth like a microphone. He held out his free hand to you. You wanted nothing more than to dig a hole in the ground and bury yourself in it, not least because seemingly everyone in attendance at this party was now filing into the living room at Kevin’s request.

But Changmin looked down at you, his eyes pleading, the softest of smiles on his face. You sighed, took his hand, and he pulled you up onto the coffee table. Even after you found your footing on the glass (which you had serious doubts was sturdy enough to support both your weights), he didn’t let go.

“Everyone,” he began, talking into the remote. You suppressed a smile.

Of course, being the person he was, he captured the attention of the room with just one word. The crowd fell silent instantaneously.

“Everyone, please give it up for your screenwriter, Y/N!” he shouted, spawning a confused rumble of applause that only made you more anxious. You were standing on a coffee table in a stranger’s house, surrounded by more strangers, holding hands with the most attention-grabbing person alive. When your hand started to shake, he squeezed it.

“Y/N will never admit this, but this script means a lot to them,” Changmin began, swinging your joined hands back and forth. “It’s a very important story to us both, and I’m so excited for it to be told.”

He hadn’t even introduced himself, you realised belatedly, like the only thing on his mind was giving this stupid speech for you. He paused, taking a deep breath and turning to you. All his showmanship melted away, the persona he put on in situations like this. He was still using the remote as a microphone, but even that didn’t undercut his words. Despite all the attention on him, his gaze never wavered from you. But this was how he was — in a room full of people his eyes always found yours first.

“You’re so smart and talented, and now people will finally get to see it,” he said, running his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m so proud of you, really. Not just for your script, but for putting yourself out there.”

You weren’t sure at what point in your life feeling shame when people praised you, or even paid attention to you, became your modus operandi. You felt that shame now, so strong it was almost unbearable. But Changmin wasn’t done.

“You’re a star, okay?” he said, more insistent now. He shook your hand urgently like he could tell he was losing you to the room, training your attention back onto him. “You’re my star. I hope you can see yourself the way I see you.”

It was when you forced yourself to meet his gaze that you noticed he was tearing up. You hadn’t seen this side of him in a long time; it came out less and less frequently as he got older. But this was who he was deep down, the type of person who felt so freely and deeply that he got drunk on life, intoxicating everyone around him and wrapping them up in his whirlwind.

“I’ll be in the audience of every show,” he promised, smiling through the glassiness of his eyes. “I’ll be your fan until the day I die.”

When you were sixteen Changmin had quite dramatically broken up with his girlfriend at that time because he found out she and her friends were mocking you on her private Instagram stories. He did this in front of your entire class before walking right up to you, grabbing your hand, and skipping off.This didn’t feel like that. He wasn’t getting back at anyone; he wasn’t proving a point about moral integrity or kindness. He was just talking to you, private despite his audience, like you were hiding yourselves within yourselves.

——————————

As soon as you and Changmin got down from the coffee table you sequestered yourself in the corner of the kitchen. He very graciously and loyally stayed by your side instead of mingling like you knew he wanted to.

“Wasn’t that a good speech? Did you like it?” he giggled, hopping around and slapping your shoulder in giddy excitement.

He did that a lot, which was fine when you were kids but problematic when he was a fully grown man who didn’t quite seem to grasp his own strength. It started hurting around the time you turned fourteen, although you never had the heart to tell him to stop. He smiled so brightly when he did it, after all.

“It was a great speech,” you admitted, although your heart was still bleeding into the cavity of your chest. The pain came not from the knife that had been lodged between your ribs for years, but from Changmin grabbing the handle and twisting it as he spoke.

Across the room, Kevin waved to you. You waved back awkwardly, which Changmin of course noticed.

“You should go talk to him,” Changmin said, pushing you towards the director so forcefully you nearly tripped and fell flat on your face. By the time you regained your balance, he was gone and Kevin was standing right in front of you.

“Hey, I meant to say this earlier,” Kevin prefaced. “I just wanted to tell you I loved your script and I’m really excited to bring it to life with you.”

At his gentle disposition, you relaxed. You needed to stop reacting like a spooked deer every time someone other than Changmin (or by now, Juyeon or Chanhee, you supposed) talked to you.

“Thank you,” you forced yourself to answer. Your whole life you’d felt like a puppet jerked around by invisible strings, carrying out every expected perfunctory action without anyone noticing how practised your motions were. “And thank you for picking my script.”

Kevin waved this away with a smile. “You’re welcome to drop in on table reads or filming sessions whenever you want,” he offered, gesturing behind you. “As is your boyfriend.”

You paused for a moment before the realisation hit you, turning around to see what he was pointing at.

Changmin was standing in the middle of the room (of course, because he was a middle-of-the-room person) talking to one of the main cast members, the male lead. He caught your eye earlier — tall, charismatic, and strikingly handsome. You swallowed the familiar bitter taste of inadequacy and turned back to Kevin.

“We’re just friends,” you recited, a practised phrase, each word a sharp blade slicing your tongue and making it bleed. Just, as if friendship was somehow less than. You felt the marionette strings around your wrists and ankles tighten.

“Oh, I misinterpreted,” Kevin said politely. It was a reasonable interpretation, with the ‘plus one’ text and the hand-holding and the tooth-rotting sweetness of Changmin’s speech. “But, hey, feel free to bring him along regardless.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it, really,” you said, just barely having enough time to get your sentiment across before the stage manager came to drag him away to another more important conversation.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder and you turned around. It was Juyeon. He had signed up as a crew member in secret right after he found out about the film and was brought on as a boom operator (because he was tall, you guessed). So had Chanhee, in costumes and makeup. You learnt that only when Kevin posted the cast and crew roll online.

“You good?” Juyeon asked, empathetic, his brows drawing together in concern. “That speech was… wow.”

“I think Kevin can tell and it’s stressing me out,” you blurted out, not answering his question.

“Kevin can tell what?” Juyeon asked, before taking one look at your face and realising what you meant. Rather unsubtly, his gaze flitted over to where Changmin was.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Why did I submit this script?”

“Because you were brave and took a leap of faith,” he said, swatting your shoulder as if to punch out your self-doubt. “You still haven’t told Chanhee about you… being in love?”

At that, you looked up in alarm. “No. Did you tell him?”

Juyeon calmly shook his head, not registering your panic. “Was I supposed to?”

“No, just checking,” you breathed out, relieved. He seemed slightly proud that only he knew.

“Good. Chanhee’s one of the suckers. I’m sure he’d tell you to shoot your shot,” he said. “You people are so annoying.” You were about to retort that you weren’t one of them — a Changmin-esque hopeless romantic — but why else would you be in love with the same person for years? Perhaps you just didn’t know how to hold love, or let it hold you, without its thorns ripping holes in your skin.

——————————

Changmin always thought you spent far too much time on eBay (and Facebook marketplace, and GMarket, et cetera), but even he had to concede that your secondhand shopping habit made the apartment his favourite place to be. You procured the best furniture and decor, and he styled it to perfection.

You and him picked up a new shelf yesterday from a creepy old man’s creepy old house. Getting murdered over a shelf wasn’t his preferred way to go, but he wasn’t going to let you go alone.

The shelf was soon filled with your most prized possessions and all the stupid trinkets that had been consigned to the junk drawer since you moved into the apartment. Random bits of sea glass collected from some school trip or other, dance competition trophies and chess tournament medals, the orange stuffed octopus he’d won for you from a claw machine when you were twelve. Your mementoes were so intertwined he could barely tell them apart — a shrine to the double helix of your souls.

“Hey, new shelf,” Juyeon said when he and Chanhee came over for dinner the next day.

“Pretty, right? Y/N chose it, and I picked the wood stain,” Changmin beamed.

“Where is Y/N?” Chanhee asked.

“At class. They’ll be home soon,” Changmin replied.

Then he shrieked, remembering something. Chanhee jumped, but only slightly, considering how loud the sound was, and Juyeon barely reacted.

“I have to show you something!” Changmin yelled, sprinting into his bedroom and reemerging with a thin book with a leather cover.

He held up the book with a proud grin. “Isn’t it cool? I printed Y/N’s script and got it leather-bound. Look, the title is embossed. Their name, too.”

Chanhee reached for the book, running his fingers over the indented letters on the front cover. The leather was soft, glossy, and clearly not cheap, with a beautiful patina.

“What’s the occasion?” Chanhee asked, flipping through the pages.

“Was it expensive?” Juyeon asked. Different priorities, these two.

Changmin rolled his eyes. “It’s for the wrapping of the short film, and yes.”

He didn’t usually spend much money on you, nor did you on him. The most either of you ever dropped on each other was a fancy meal here or there, perhaps a nice sweater or jacket if one of you saw something in a shop you knew the other would like. This book was the most expensive gift he’d ever gotten you.

“Do you think it’s too much?” Changmin asked, watching Juyeon inspect the bespoke craftsmanship of the binding on the book’s spine.

Chanhee smiled, not teasing him for the first time ever. “No. I think they’ll love it.”

Changmin left not long after that to pick you up from class, because it started raining and you didn’t pack your umbrella that morning. He waited outside your lecture theatre, watching a stream of your classmates trickle out the doors. You were usually one of the first to leave.

Finally, you emerged, your eyes lighting up the second you spotted him.

“Hi,” you breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Changmin waved his umbrella around in answer. “You forgot yours.”

In hindsight, he probably should’ve just brought yours. Yours was sturdier and his had two broken ribs.

“And you didn’t wear your coat today,” he added, holding out the hoodie in his other hand. You smiled and put it on.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I bumped into Kevin,” you said.

His ears perked up. “Kevin? What did he want?”

“Nothing. He just showed me his concept boards and asked me what I thought,” you answered.

Changmin forced his broken umbrella open. It would have to do — at least the rain wasn’t too heavy. You and him quickly fell into step side-by-side on the narrow pavement.

“He seems to talk to you a lot.”

“I think he’s just trying to include me,” you said, in neither agreement nor refutation.

“Maybe you should ask him out,” he suggested with a teasing lilt. “You have a lot in common.”

You simply smiled and shook your head.

He had never quite understood your reluctance to date. You said no to every single person who tried to ask you out, which never grew less bewildering with time. Even at Kevin’s start-of-production party it was instantly obvious, at least to Changmin, that Kevin wanted to talk to you — but you didn’t notice in the slightest.

It was a quiet night, dark and chilly with only the sounds of raindrops hitting concrete to fill the silence. It was exactly the kind of night that made him painfully aware of his own melancholy. You stumbled, slipping on the wet pavement, and he grabbed your elbow to steady you.

“Are you going to Yuri’s tomorrow?” you asked.

Yuri was a classmate Changmin had been seeing for the last month. It wasn’t serious yet, but he was already getting the feeling she was tiring of him. As always, he could not keep people from slipping through his fingers.

“Probably not,” he replied. “We fought. She said I’m moving too slowly. So I guess I’m supposed to have asked her to be my girlfriend by now.”

You looked at him curiously, perhaps wondering when he’d become so bitter. He wondered that too, more and more these days, in fact. But you remained silent, somehow sensing his arm was starting to ache and taking the umbrella from him.

“Do you ever feel like no one actually sees you?” he asked, rain pelting down around him. “They want to be your friend or they fall in love with you, but it’s not actually you?”

“Sort of,” you said, in a tone that implied you knew how you answered wasn’t really that important.

“That once people crack you open they realise there isn’t anything inside you and move on? You’re just empty with nothing to offer anyone?” Changmin said. He wasn’t talking about Yuri anymore.

You’d reached your apartment building. He looked up at the warm yellow square. He could see Juyeon and Chanhee’s silhouettes in the window — the former standing still while the latter appeared to be draping fabric over him. Working on costumes for the short film, he presumed.

“You have yourself to offer,” you answered after a long pause. “That’s not nothing.”

Changmin remembered reading about false front architecture as a kid, when he was in his cowboy phase. Those Wild West buildings in America with elaborate front facądes to hide how plainly and shoddily they were built by White colonists. He felt a strange affinity for them even back then, when he was just eight or nine, however odd it was to see oneself in a building.

“Thanks for coming to get me, Min,” you said, ushering him inside the lobby ahead of you.

He watched with a smile as you shook the water off his umbrella with more force than was probably necessary and battled with the broken ribs to get it to close. Your right shoulder was soaked, evidently a result of you shielding him from the rain over yourself.

“Of course.”

——————————

v. wishing, wanting, yours for the taking.

To celebrate the wrapping of Kevin’s short film, your friends were throwing you a surprise party at your regular Saturday night dinner. Well, it was no longer a surprise to you — a result of their total inability to lie — but you appreciated the thought nonetheless.

Changmin sent you and Juyeon to the supermarket to ‘pick up a few things’, none of which were necessary for what he and Chanhee were cooking for dinner, to get you out of the house for an hour or so. You worked your way through the bogus shopping list anyway, humouring them.

“Y/N?”

You turned around at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice.

“Hi, Jinah,” you greeted, nudging Juyeon to get his attention. He waved politely, although he seemed to only recognise her after you said her name.

“Hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jinah smiled. “How’s Changmin?”

Her question took you aback. You paused, and even Juyeon raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. That was so rude,” Jinah blurted out, embarrassed. “How are you?”

“It’s fine. I’m alright, and you?” There you went, feeling like a marionette all over again.

Jinah was unbelievably pretty, the sort of face that belonged on the silver screen or in luxury advertisements rather than in your neighbourhood supermarket’s snacks aisle, the sort of person Changmin dated. You understood why he took so long to get over her.

“Yeah, I’m well!” she answered, bubbly and cheerful, before she hesitated. “I’m really sorry about that. I just- I guess I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

Juyeon was beginning to fidget next to you, shifting his weight from foot to foot and awkwardly poking at the food in the shopping basket on his arm. You just smiled and waited for her to continue.

“How is he? Is he- I mean-” Jinah cut herself off with a sigh, upset with herself for even trying to ask you that. “It doesn’t matter. We didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been difficult,” you said.

She forced herself to smile. “I guess he was the one who got away. We’ve all got one of those, right?”

You bit your lip. “Right. We do.”

“Well,” Juyeon interjected, far too loud, clearly having been waiting for his chance to jump into the conversation for a while. You suppressed a laugh. “We should probably get going.”

“Ah, yes. I didn’t mean to bother you,” Jinah said. “I’ll- I’ll see you guys around.”

Juyeon hurried you to the self-checkout the second she was out of earshot.

“You handled that well,” he observed, on scanning duty as usual. “I was half-expecting you to offer to put her back in touch with Changmin.”

You looked at him, baffled. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like shooting yourself in the foot,” Juyeon answered. “Because you don’t think you deserve love.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in love at all,” you countered, mainly because you didn’t want to let his last statement just sit in the air like that.

But the whole walk home, up until your hand was on the front door knob, his words swirled incessantly in your mind.

You opened the door to a shower of pink confetti.

“Surprise!” Changmin, Chanhee, and Juyeon shouted in near-perfect unison.

Changmin jumped on your back and ruffled your hair with a giggle. “Why aren’t you surprised? Did Juyeon spoil it?”

“You all did,” you laughed, looking around the apartment.

The table was set, food all cooked and ready, with a fresh bouquet of roses as the centrepiece. Chanhee (you presumed) had hung string lights all around the living room and dimmed everything else, lending the apartment a warm, intimate glow. Golden foil balloons spelt out ‘congratu’, which Juyeon would later explain was because he ran out of money and hadn’t thought to just commit to ‘congrats’.

“Look!” Changmin exclaimed, jumping off your back and shoving a helium balloon in your face. It read: it’s a boy film! He did the same thing when you made the dean’s list in your first year of university, with a happy birthday dean’s list! balloon, crossed out and scrawled over in black marker.

“Ah, the food’s getting cold!” Chanhee whined, pushing you all towards the table.

You obediently sat down, Changmin lit the decorative pillar candles, Juyeon poured the champagne, and Chanhee started shovelling ridiculous amounts of food onto your plate.

“We bumped into Jinah earlier,” Juyeon told Changmin. You turned to the former in surprise, having expected him to keep it a secret. “I don’t think she’s over you.”

Changmin looked up from the ladleful of soup he had precariously hovering over your bowl, his expression inscrutable. Being unable to read him was not an experience you were used to.

“Isn’t that such a rom-com trope?” Chanhee teased. “The old flame, the lingering feelings, the reconnection-”

“I don’t believe in that stuff,” Changmin said, laughing slightly.

You looked at him — at his slight smile and the flickering candlelight making his skin glow — and then at the vase full of red and pink roses he’d harvested and arranged that morning. The extra care he’d put into them had been your first clue that he was planning something.

“Since when?” Chanhee asked in shock.

Changmin laughed, saying nothing, pouring your soup. Then, he cleared his throat and raised his champagne flute. You and him had found the set of four in a secondhand shop, and he always gave you the glass without any chips or scratches.

“This is Y/N’s party,” he said, changing the subject. “To Y/N!”

——————————

Changmin and Chanhee did a good job with the decor, if he did say so himself. His bouquet was even better than usual, as was his food. Chanhee matched the red candles to the red roses and found the perfect combination of string lights and lamps to lend the whole apartment a dreamy orange glow.

“What?” you asked over a spoonful of soup when you spotted Changmin staring at you out of the corner of your eye. You were eating heartily — you seemed to only eat that well when he cooked for you — your cheeks stuffed with his tofu stew.

He smiled fondly and shook his head. “Nothing. Is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s always good,” you replied.

Changmin wondered what a stranger would think if they looked up at your apartment window from the street below, at the square warmer and dimmer than usual. They couldn’t possibly hear Juyeon and Chanhee fighting over whose turn it was to pick the dinner playlist or see the balloons on the wall next to the TV. But maybe they could make out the silhouettes of four friends gathered around the dinner table, feel the love held in the space.

“I have another surprise,” Changmin announced, producing the leather-bound book from a bag stashed under his chair and handing it to you.

You took it carefully, breaking into a wide smile when you saw the title of the short film and your name embossed in the brown leather. In awe, you held the book up to the candlelight, marveling at the masterful stitching of the perfectly bound spine.

“This is beautiful,” you said. “Thank you.”

He threw his arm around your shoulder, excited. “Open it, open it.”

The very first page held an inscription he’d agonised over for hours. You read it aloud.

“To Y/N, my past and present and future —

I’m so proud of you and so lucky to know you. Let’s stay together for a long time.

I hope I get to grow old without ever letting go of your hand.

Love,

Changmin.”

Even in the relatively dim glow of the candles and the string lights, Changmin could see your eyes shining with tears. When was the last time he saw you cry — when Mr. Lee passed away? He pulled you into his side, patting your shoulder.

“Thank you, Min,” you breathed, running your fingertips over the neat blocks of his handwriting. “I love it.”

“Aww,” Juyeon cooed. Sitting beside him, Chanhee had his phone out, filming the moment dutifully as always.

——————————

It was well past your bedtimes when Juyeon and Chanhee finally headed home for the night, but both of you were still far too wired to sleep. Changmin curled up on the sofa beside you with a cup of chamomile tea in his hands.

“Thank you for doing all this, Min,” you said, leaning against him with your back to his chest and his arm around your shoulder.

“Of course.” He picked a stray sliver of pink confetti out of your hair. “I really am proud of you, you know?”

“It’s just a student production,” you mumbled, shaking your head at the fondness in his words. Even though he couldn’t see your face, he could hear your embarrassed smile. You used that word a lot, just, and often you used it against yourself. It made him sad.

He sipped his tea, humming along to your playlist under his breath. It’d been a while since you moved into this apartment. Maybe it was time for him to buy better Bluetooth speakers than the cheap ones he brought with him from home when he first moved here.

“You know how Mr. Lee and his wife broke up after high school, then got back together after six years apart?” Changmin asked after a long silence.

“They met again at a funeral when their old classmate died tragically young,” you recited obediently, a story Mr. Lee had told you both many times. Seemingly able to sense he had something important to say, you sat up and turned to face him.

He pursed his lips, pensive, not really wanting you to shift away from him. “When Juyeon brought up Jinah, part of me was hoping I’d be happy. But I didn’t feel anything.”

You placed your hand over his. Whenever he got like this, there was a pillowy sadness in your eyes. You were always there to take his pain and despair and press it into your own heart, so they were not his to bear alone. He didn’t know how or why you put up with him for so long, sure that if he showed this side of him to anyone else they’d be gone in an instant.

“I guess I was waiting to see if I’d magically fall back in love with her when I heard her name again,” he admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. “What’s wrong with me? Why does everyone else have someone made just for them, and I don’t? Am I a bad person?”

You ran your thumb over his knuckles, your voice warm and tender. “You’re not a bad person, Min.”

He had never been a stranger to this shame, this limitless regret, and yet, he was unable to stop it from slicing him open. It lingered in his bones.

“And for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone has anyone made just for them,” you added.

“I know, I know, soulmates aren’t real,” he mumbled, just barely cracking a smile now. “You’re becoming just like Juyeon.”

But you had a point. Everyone he dated cast a gold idol in his image, only to smash it to pieces and melt it back down the second they realised he was just a person like anyone else. How many people had ever seen him as he really was, and not as an idea?

“Well, say soulmates are real — the red thread and all that,” you posited thoughtfully, reaching out to swipe away a tear from his cheek he hadn’t even noticed was there. “Of the people you dated, why did you choose them?”

He looked at you, holding your hands between his, sitting cross-legged on the sofa. “I didn’t. They chose me.”

You smiled, shaking your head and leaning forward. “But what do you want in a soulmate? What makes you happy?”

“You, mainly,” he replied, with no hesitation. “Juyeon and Chanhee. Our apartment.”

That same sadness in your eyes was back, even though you were smiling. He remembered that look from Kevin’s party, when you were both up on the coffee table together. It was there that night in the playground when Mikyoung broke his heart and he gave you the roses intended for her. He always recognised it, but he never knew what to make of it.

”Why?” you asked.

“Because you’re kind. And you actually see me,” Changmin said.

Why did you make him happy? He was happy seeing you smile like you were now, your cheeks raised and your eyes crinkling at the sides, feeling you play with the silver rings on his fingers in this space you’d made for each other.

“Everything just makes more sense when you’re around,” he told you, an unfamiliar warmth blooming in his chest. “Nights are less lonely. Washing dishes is more fun.”

You didn’t take your eyes off of him, nor pull your hands out of his grasp. It hit him in that moment — an overwhelming wave that crashed down around him, cleaving at his heart and clawing at his soul — why the stars always shone brighter around you.

Something in his face must have shifted, because your expression changed without him having to say a word. Your eyes widened, your shoulders rose as you held your breath.

“Oh,” he whispered.

Your pillowy sadness at last gave way to shy trepidation. How long had you waited for him to meet you here?

“I’m yours, Min,” you said, so soft as to be almost inaudible, squeezing his hand. He could feel a tremor in your fingers. “You know it.”

He’d spent a lifetime chasing this elusive concept, magical and abstract and surreal, trapping himself in an impossible quest to disguise the depth of his want. But he didn’t regret it, not really, because everything in his life had led him to you. Every mistake, every heartbreak, every laugh and every tear.

Changmin leant forward and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, but there was a stillness in the room nonetheless. Maybe it was you, grounding him, making it bearable.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his breath catching in his throat.

“Please,” you whispered.

Slowly, he closed the distance between you, your lips meeting, hesitant and careful at first, before you kissed him back, making him come alive. He cupped your face gently, fingers trembling on his skin, and your palms rested on his chest. You could probably feel his heart racing through his clothes. You tasted like red wine and black cherry lip balm.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, brushing his thumb across your cheek. Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw, warm on his skin.

“I love you,” he mumbled, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from lifting.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so terrifying anymore. He wondered if you remembered that quote too, if you carved it into your bones the way he did.

“I love you,” you echoed.

Changmin pulled you into his arms, hiding you from the world. You were two halves of a whole, held up to the light, unmasking each other.

Love was in the rose bouquets he arranged with you, not to gift to you but just to spend time with you. Love was in the way you held his hand and the way he tucked you in when you fell asleep on the sofa. Love was at the dinner table and out on the balcony and under his umbrella with two of the ribs broken.

——————————

thank you for reading!

-minastras <3

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