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sugarlywhispers · 2 months ago

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b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.

a.n; fare warning, THIS IS A MONSTER<3 lol

Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part |

The gentle sound of the scribble your pen makes over the paper, right where it requires your formal signature, is heard louder than you expected in that tense silence. Well, it isn't a bad silence, but more like an anxious one. One that has Bakugou, who is sitting right next to you, literally shaking his right leg up and down continuously, even though you already told him you would do this.

And what does ‘this’ mean? It means you agreed to marry Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki. To help him finally be free from his own mother's clutches.

You had a hard time believing in the whole story he told you when he knocked on your door last Sunday morning –almost tearing down the door actually– after his father died. Even though you had agreed that same day, you asked him for a few days to clear your head a bit. He accepted, respecting your space even at work, which was weird.

A normal day at work always starts with a banter with this same man right at the entrance of the company and it follows until you enter the elevator. Everyone is already used to it, so they ignore both of you. It mostly ends when you have to get off on the floor where your office is, which is one under the one where all heroes keep their hero costumes and get changed. Of course, sometimes the banter would continue if you were assigned to work with Hero Dynamight through the earbuds that connected you at a distance.

That Monday morning though, was different. Weird for everyone who looked at both of you in shock. The moment you stood in front of the other right outside the company, everyone was waiting for it to happen, yet found themselves opening their eyes wide in surprise as you and Bakugou simply bowed slightly in hello and walked towards the building in complete silence. It followed inside the elevator, where he willingly stood next to you –you always stood on each side of it to avoid even accidentally touching. Nobody could believe their eyes. Especially when it was your moment to walk out on your floor and he said, “See ya’ around”, and you turned your head towards him and slightly smiled, murmuring a timidly, “You too. Take care outside.”

That day you weren't assigned to work with him, nor the two days after –in which these same actions and words were repeated by both of you every morning– yet you could feel the whispers and gossip around about this neutral ground between you two. Your boss even called you to his office to ask if everything was okay.

You internally laughed at the situation. It was so normal for you to fight with Bakugou that everyone found it weird and worrisome if you didn't. It was actually hilarious.

Wednesday shift had you entering the office at 5 p.m. and would have you leaving at almost 3 a.m. –if the hero assigned to you didn't get caught in a villain fight around that time. So when you were about to take the elevator and its door opened, you almost bumped into a freshly showered and already leaving Bakugou Katsuki.

“Oh, hey…”

“Hey,” he answered back. Both of you took a step out of the elevator, standing right in front of each other. One of his hands flew to the back of his head, scratching it and making small droplets of his still wet hair fall as he spoke, “I was, ummm, gonna talk to you today… but, umm, your shift…”

“Oh yeah, it's night shift today,” you nodded, hands holding the strap of your bag, trying to look casual and not let the nerves be shown. “Yours finished?”

“Yeah, tomorrow's night shift for me.”

“I know, I'm with you tomorrow,” you smiled.

His eyebrows pulled up, nodding in acceptance, “Cool.”

Yours frown, tilting your head a bit to the side, “Is it? Since when?” Now that you think about it, all that neutral ground between you two was very weird. New, but weird.

He rolled his eyes, hands hiding inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Since I'm trynna marry y–”

“Shhhh! Shut it, not here!” He smirked arrogantly. Ah, there's the comeback of the old annoying Bakugou.

“I–...”

“KATSUKI!”

A screeching yell made the hairs of your arms stand in alert, completely unexpected for you. Yet for the man in front of you was a sound he was very familiar with. He grunted, his mood completely changing into anger as he turned around towards the yell.

“The fuck are you doing here, old hag?”

Oh. His mother.

You have seen her at a distance before, never actually got to meet her personally or even hear her voice –you were glad about that last particular fact though, she sounded awful.

You didn't miss to recognize the position Bakugou had you at the moment when he turned around and covered your small form behind his massive body from his mother to even acknowledge your presence there. You're grateful for his surprising and kind of sensitive tact. He's giving you an out from that, what you know for sure was going to be, a quite tense moment.

“I fucking told you, you need to hurry! I’m not fucking waiting for you any longer!” She yelled again, not caring at all about the place she was nor the people around in the lobby.

Bakugou looked to the side, taking a very deep breath before pinching his nose. His hand then hung loosely on the side of his body, but he kept opening and closing his hand in a fist. Oh wow, he was really holding himself back.

You didn't know what possessed you to do what you did or why, but you acted before thinking.

Your hand flew towards his, holding his trembling fist tightly. You knew it took him by surprise, but he hid it well by standing straighter, body still hiding you behind him. You knew for a fact that his face didn’t show any emotion other than anger, so nothing was amiss. His arm flexed behind him, bringing yours with his, as his hand opened and held yours tightly back.

This had been the very first time you willingly touched him. The first time you actually ever touched him at all. And your eyes couldn't leave the sight of his big hand fully surrounding yours, making you feel smaller than ever. I mean, you had eyes, he was a freaking hulk next to you. But the warm feeling of it enclosing yours securely made you feel safe, protected. It also felt calloused, a hand that was used every day to bring down bad guys and protect a whole nation, if not the world. Yet the warmth in it made your whole body tingle.

Fuck. What was this?

“I fuckin’ told you not to come in the first place,” he didn't need to yell, his voice sounded loud and clear even at the distance.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!”

You tightened your hold on his hand, just to ground him in support. He sighed, returning the gesture to thank you before saying in his mother's direction, “I'm fuckin’ going, you pain in the ass”, and walked towards her, letting go of your hand.

His mother simply turned and walked in front of him outside of the building. She never realized you had been there the whole time.

The moment had been so stressful, and if that was what Bakugou had to deal with every day since he was born, damn. You actually felt sorry for him.

Thanks to the glass walls of the lobby you could watch the Bakugous walk towards the expensive car waiting for them outside. They were clearly shit-talking to each other the whole way, until before they got inside the car, his mother actually slapped the back of his head strongly. Twice.

A rising rage traveled up your body, hands closing in fists. What the fuck?! Who the fuck did she think she was? Why the hell did she need to fucking hit him like that, twice? Why the hell did she do it at all? Fuck, you were starting to believe in everything Bakugou told you about her.

“You get it now, don't you?” Izuku's voice from behind you made you jump a bit in surprise.

You cleared your throat, looking elsewhere and breathing deeply, trying to clear your head.

“I don't–”

Izuku's hand raised, making you go silent. “Before you come up with a clever excuse, let me remind you that Kacchan and I have been friends since diapers… and we talk to each other.”

His eyeing made you gulp, but his words were clear enough, “You know then.”

He nodded, hand detaining the elevator’s doors so you both could enter, him after you. “He came to my apartment right after and told me all that happened. I was at the funeral too.”

He didn't need to explain anymore, it was more than clear he was talking about last Sunday when Bakugou asked you to marry him. You knew his father had died sometime Saturday afternoon and that the funeral was held that same night. Bakugou had come to your apartment right after his father had been cremated.

“I know you two fight like cats and dogs all the time, but he's not that bad once you give him a chance. And by what you just saw, I know you understand now why he's always on the defensive.”

You sigh. Damn it, you do. Growing up in an environment like that made you think it was actually a miracle Bakugou turned out the way he did.

“I also know that you agreed to marry him to help him be finally free from his mother,” he confirmed out loud once the doors of the elevator closed and it was just the two of you in there.

“Any advice?”

He chuckled, turning his whole body and looking directly at you, “Be open-minded. Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything.”

You rolled your eyes. Ugh, you were feeling the stress already.

The elevator signaled that you had arrived at your floor, so you sighed, nodding in his way as an answer and walking outside. But before the doors closed, Izuku held them for a bit longer to talk again.

“Also… Be smarter.”

“Than him?” You asked confused.

“Than her.”

And with that, he let the doors close, a smile plastered on his face that told on all the mischief his eyes shined with.

This little… cheeky bastard.

The audacity.

You made a mental note to punch Izuku the next time you bumped into him. On purpose.

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn't get that image of Bakugou being abused by his own mother out of your head. Because yes, it was fucking abuse. And in fucking public! How many times had this happened already? And why the fuck no one had ever said or done anything against it? Even when he was a kid?!

It was outrageous.

And the fact that Bakugou held himself back, because you knew he did, not only because she was his mother but also because she was a woman –and you could bet she fucking used that at her advantage– only spoke about the kind of man he was.

Bakugou Katsuki is a good man.

You took your cell phone out and searched for his contact number, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

You: Make the appointment for this Friday.

His reply didn't take long.

Bakugou K.: Done.

You took a deep breath. The decision was made. And you were not going to back out from it. Or so you hoped.

Another notification made your phone ring and it was another text message.

Bakugou K.: Thank you.

The beginning of a smile threatened to break out from your mouth as you re-read that message several times. Until the loud pip-ing that alerted a villain attack completely distracted you, or more like, brought you back to reality.

The rest of the days went faster than you expected.

The shift on Wednesday ended on time, miraculously. So at exactly 3 a.m. you were turning off your computer and putting your stuff back in your bag. You had several notifications on your phone but didn't feel like giving them your attention at that moment, choosing to concentrate on clearing your space and going back home. You let out several yawns when you got inside the elevator, holding yourself on the handrail, sleep having you on the verge of passing out tired of the stressful days. For some reason, villains chose that week to be more active than usual, which demanded more of your focus and being in constant alert mode.

When the doors finally opened on the lobby floor, you walked towards the check-in clock to mark the end of your shift. You bowed goodbye to the receptionist and walked towards the entrance of the company. For a moment, you entertained your mind with the idea of taking a taxi to get home faster. But damn it, that was expensive, and you were not going to waste money like that. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

You sighed, covering your neck as best as you could with your coat once you crossed the doors, and began your walk in the direction you needed to go. It was a very chilly night, but because it was Spring, you didn't expect such cold weather.

You were thinking about how you'd have to resist this coldness until you got home when you looked up and recognized Bakugou's obviously expensive car and him resting against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn't check your messages, short-legs?”

You denied, head shaking, “I finished the shift and packed everything. Wanted to leave as soon as possible…”

He snorted, shaking his head, “Get in. I'll take you home.”

“Oh, it's okay. I can walk…”

He frowned, “The fuck you think I would be here for then? Get in the car, dumbass.”

“Geez. Okay! No need to get grumpy, asshole.”

You rounded his car towards the passenger seat and climbed in. He followed and got on the driver's side.

The inside was warm, as the heater had been on. You smiled gladly, rubbing your freezing-cold hands to warm them up faster.

“Can't believe you were planning to walk home. Are you stupid?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but Izuku's words invaded your mind.

“…Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything…”

You thought for a moment, and it was actually easier than you thought to figure it out. Bakugou wasn't actually trying to insult you. He was worried that you would walk home that early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, in that weather.

Oh. That changed the perspective entirely.

“Yeah, actually,” you chuckled, hands still rubbing to heat them up. “I can't afford a taxi, and the subway isn't open yet.”

He turned on the car, but his attention was on you, “What you mean you can't afford a stupid taxi? Isn't your pay–…”

You denied, body relaxing a bit over the seat thanks to the warmth as he drove smoothly. You liked warm things. Spring was your favorite season because of it.

“Contrary to common belief, Quirk & Training Specialists don't gain much.”

“What?! Why? I mean… Most of the time is thanks to your area that we heroes are fuckin’ alive.”

“Awww. Thank you for admitting it! Now, would you admit that publicly?”

“Of fuckin’ course I would!”

You smiled, “Well, you would be the first one. Tell me, do you think other heroes would willingly admit that their wins sometimes belong to a ghost that tells them what to do or where to go through their earbuds?”

Your words made him close his mouth. Aha. Touché.

You chuckled, “It's okay, Bakugou. It's my job.”

“Now that I think about it, your name is nowhere to be seen in my reports. It's not even fuckin’ mentioned as a sidekick or something.”

“That's because I'm not a sidekick. I'm just a quirkless person who is observant enough to point you the best way to go. I'm not that important…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant. He didn't mean to insult you, what he was trying to say is, “don't say that about yourself”.

Wow. Izuku was so right about that advice. You made a mental note to thank him the next time you saw him. After punching him, of course.

The rest of the car ride was silent. But not uncomfortable. The gentle sound of the heater turned on was relaxing enough to even doze you a bit, warm and content.

Bakugou didn't speak until he parked right in front of your apartment building. You immediately noticed you had probably slept the rest of the way.

“I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep.”

“You think?” He chuckled, face looking your way. You snorted back, finding his teasing funny. His crooked smile made tingles run up your arms. Or was it the heater? Yes, that probably was it, the heater.

You cleared your throat and looked down at your seat belt and untied it –wait. You didn't remember putting it on. Did he… Did he put it on you when you fell asleep? Oh, my. You gulped, feeling the tingles run all over your body again. Fuck. You needed to leave that small space you shared with this man, like… now.

But before you did, you looked back at him one more time.

“Thank you… for driving me home,” you pulled a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. You were indeed grateful that you actually didn't have to freeze on your way home, so you bowed slightly too.

You were about to open the door when he spoke.

“Wait,” you turned back at him and watched curiously as he opened the compartment, taking out a small folder.

He pushed it in your direction and looked expectantly at you. You took it, a bit doubtful, not quite understanding what it meant.

“I said I would sign a contract if that's what you wanted. It's just a draft, but I put some items in there that I want you to check. You can add some yourself. And if we both agree, we can sign it.”

Oh. “Oh, okay… I'll check it out and let you know.”

He nodded in response and you finally got out of the car and ran through the shocking cold towards your building. Inside the elevator, you pressed the folder over your chest. This felt way more real than what you felt earlier when you made the final decision and texted him.

But something tasted a bit… bitter. Was this something you had to do on your own? Like, the marriage was between the both of you. And while it wasn’t one out of a loving relationship, it was still something that included both. This contract thing felt like something you needed to sit down and review together.

You decided then.

Your hand searched for your phone in your bag, and ignoring all the notifications, you directly made the call.

Not one ring later, he picked up the call.

“Are you o–...”

“Did you leave?” You interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“No, I'm still down here.”

“Umm, are you tired? Cause if you are we can definitely leave it for tomorrow, or better said later, but I slept through the car ride so I'm not that tired anymore, but if you think–”

“Cut the fuckin’ rambling. Go to the point, short-legs.”

You sighed, fingers sliding through your hair and pulling it back. “If you want, he can revise this now. I think it's better if we do it together.”

You heard the intake of a deep breath, a relieved one, before he said, “Yeah… Okay. I'm on my way up.” The sound of the car's door closing confirmed he was on his way.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated and then ended the call.

It took you both three hours and just one heated discussion to come to terms with each of the items. Both satisfied with the consensual agreements, you brought out your laptop and rewrote it. You printed two copies, one for each, that you both signed. That's how the contract was ready and done. Now the next and final step would be the marriage in front of a judge. That Friday. In one day.

“We need two witnesses,” you reminded him, to which he grunted.

“Right, I forgot about that.”

“Well, we already know who you are picking…”

He pulled up an eyebrow, looking in your direction, “Huh? And who am I picking, know-it-all?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “Izuku.”

He tched, not admitting it out loud, but it was obvious you were right.

You chose to let it be and not cause any banter, mostly because you definitely felt more tired than a few hours back.

“Smart-ass. Then who are you picking, mmh?”

You shrugged, “I don't know. I was thinking Mina,” his groan made you chuckle, “but I think Jirou would keep a low profile better.”

“Yeah, good thinking.” You nodded in agreement. You loved Mina, and you knew he did too, but she couldn't keep things down sometimes. And one of the items was to keep a low profile throughout the whole marriage thing. Bakugou hated the press and paparazzi, and you weren't a fan of them either. Even though you had never been the center of attention of them, you actually preferred to keep it that way. On the low and as invisible as possible.

Thursday went very quiet and chill, which was very surprising considering it was Dynamight's shift. Sometimes, villains made you think they had a particular masochistic side and loved appearing whenever Pro Hero Dynamight was around. Some of them even loved to provoke him on purpose so he would yell all those obscenities towards them. And they enjoyed it. Freaks.

But not that Thursday. It had been a very peaceful one. It even found you chatting with Bakugou through the earbuds.

“So what now, ya’ gonna fuckin’ tell me Endeavor is better than All Might?”

“Oh, shut up, you All Might-obsessed-freak! I will admit All Might was huge, but you can't deny Endeavor stood his ground and made big stuff too.”

“Like fuckin’ what?”

“The fight with the nomu–”

“HA! Please! That was child's play. All Might took down AFO.”

“Yeah. But it was Deku who won against him in the end, not him. And All Might only fought twice against AFO. Endeavor killed a powerful nomu.”

“You are so fuckin’ blind!”

“You are the blind one!”

“How could you say Endeavor is better than All Might?!”

“I did not say that!”

“Wait– then what did y–?”

“I just said, Endeavor was N° 1 too. He was a Hero too. He deserves a bit of recognition.”

You could hear Bakugou’s snort, “So you like them complicated and misunderstood…”

Bakugou’s malice in his teasing was palpable, yet you always had an answer for him.

“Well… What does that say about you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed all your co-workers smiling at your cute banter with Bakugou. Yet you were so invested in it, you didn't notice.

Conversations that also led to getting to know each other a little bit more also happened.

“I like orange. You?”

The question took you by surprise after almost half an hour of silence from both ends. Yet, it didn't surprise you at all his preference in color. It was kind of obvious.

“Figures. It doesn't surprise me at all–”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Mine is purple.”

“Why?”

“Ummm, I don't know. I always pictured that if I had become a Hero, my costume would be purple. I decided that even before I knew if I had a Quirk or not.”

You had said it in a conversational tone, never intended to make him feel some type of way. Yet, he still asked, “And is still your favorite, even after–”

“–after I found out I am quirkless? Yes. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Mmmh,” was his simple answer.

The shift ended peacefully and on time, which both of you were grateful for, considering what the following day was.

When the shift was over, you waited a considerate couple of minutes. Minutes it would take the heroes to come back from their shift to the company. Then, you got inside the elevator but instead of going down, you went one floor up.

Your phone rang with a notification.

Bakugou K.: You asked her yet?

You rolled your eyes. So impatient.

You: No, I'm about to. I'm on your floor.

Bakugou K.: Slow ass.

You still wanted to punch him, sometimes.

You put your phone back inside your bag as you walked towards the girls’ wing of the floor, completely avoiding even looking at the boys' wing way. You knocked two times before Ochako opened the door slightly to look who it was.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Hi!”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“HI BABY!!”

All the girls present that shift greeted you cheerfully, especially Mina. You greeted back while entering the room and closing the door behind you.

You chatted with all of them here and there as they got changed, not an ounce of shyness between all of you. You were friends with almost all of them, having already worked with the majority of the girls and hung out with them many times. You knew almost all about them. Their sleep faces, their ugly cries, their drunk personalities. All of it. And they knew you too. That's why you didn't need to be subtle at all when you said, “I actually need to speak with Jirou for a moment”. Everyone understood and took it nicely as they hurried a bit their way into their clothes and grabbed their stuff before leaving you two alone.

All of them knew you and Jirou had a special friendship, a close one. She was the one you always went to when you really needed to confide in someone with something deep within you. The same thing was for Jirou. You were actually the first one of all to know when Denki confessed his feelings to her, and even talked her through her own ‘secret’ feelings for him.

“What's up, buddy?” She straddled one of the benches and sat, patting the place in front of her for you to follow.

You sat in front of her crossing your legs under you, your bag actually forgotten on the floor down the bench.

“I'm going to tell you something, but I need you to keep an open mind and listen to it all before you say anything.”

She jerked her head back a bit, already feeling confused, “You're scaring me already.”

“You have no idea…” You sighed and began the tell-tale.

Her eyes kept opening wider and wider with each thing you told her about what had been happening with you and Bakugou these last days.

What it felt like probably an hour later, you finished with, “So, that's why… we are going to get married tomorrow.”

Jirou fastly stood up, almost jumping a few steps back, and pointed a finger at you.

“That's it! That's why you have been so civil to each other! I knew something was up with– WAIT,” oh yeah, you thought she hadn't quite listened to what you just said. But then it came, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Y/N!! YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING.”

You shook your head, “No, I'm not.” The calmness and firm tone in which you answered made her sidetrack tons in her own reaction, as she sat back down in front of you and took your hands in hers.

“Honey, it isn't your obligation to do any of this. You know that, right?”

You smiled, the clear worry in Jirou's eyes warming your little heart. You had such a good friend.

“I do. But I want to do this. For him.” You were sincere, and you knew Jirou could see it in your eyes too.

“Even though you don’t like each other??”

“Even though we don’t like each other.”

You repeated, but your tone was decisive. Jirou looked at you silently for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

“Okay… Whatever you choose, I'm here for and with you.” Your arms immediately surrounded her neck in a hug. She returned it gladly, patting your back in reassurance. “And if he hurts you, just tell me. I'll make him pay.”

You laughed amusingly. “I know you will. But this isn't the only thing I'm here for.”

She groaned, “There's more?! I don't know how much my heart can take...”

“Well, will it survive if I ask you to be my witness tomorrow?”

Jirou's eyes filled with tears before it was her turn to surround your neck in a tight hug.

“I'll take that as a yes,” you both giggled, hugging each other tight.

Twenty minutes later you were both leaving the building of the company and you walked her towards the motorcycle parking lot where she had hers.

“I'll text you the location in the morning.”

“Alright, I can't wait for it!” She said excitedly, but then, she looked more intently at you. “I just want to say, this thing you're doing is beyond heroic. You're literally being a Hero right now.”

Her words touched something inside you that made you want to cry like a baby. Something so deep it made you feel like floating away with the harsh galloping your heart made against your chest. It didn't make sense, yet it actually did.

You gulped looking down at your feet, strongly holding back the cry that threatened to be released right in your throat.

“You need a ride back home?” She asked, completely ignoring –for your sake and out of respect– your glassy eyes.

“I'll take her home,” Bakugou's voice in the distance surprised both of you, yet you had been expecting something like this to happen. Something told you he would be waiting you after his shift.

Jirou looked at you waiting for your approval, and when you nodded, she put on her helmet and turned on her bike. You walked towards where Bakugou was standing with Jirou riding next to you, and when she was next to him, she said, “You better take care of my friend, or I'll come for your ass, don't care you're my friend too.”

Bakugou snorted, “I know you will, Ears.” He smiled, pulling down her face shield to annoy her. She punched him friendly on the shoulder before waving and driving away.

“She said yes then.”

You both began walking towards what you thought he had parked his car. “Yep. What did Izuku say?”

He rolled his eyes, “You know he said yes.”

You smiled, “I know, I was just being friendly and asked.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I am really going to punch you again, don't tempt me.”

“Yeah… If that one punch could be considered a punch, it would be ‘again’.”

“Oh, so you do want me to…”

You tried to reach his shoulder, but this time he was fast enough to dodge it expertly. “You really are slow, huh?” He mocked walking backwards and smirking.

“You want slow, asshole…”

He laughed, turning around and running away as you ran towards him trying to catch him.

He was a stupidly fast idiot.

So now, it is Friday, and you sit right next to Bakugou Katsuki. Both of you are in front of a judge who is officially marrying you. Jirou sits on your left, while Izuku sits on Bakugou's right. And you have just finished writing your signature where the bride's one goes. Bakugou has already signed his. It isn't until you put the pen down on the table that Bakugou stops bouncing his leg and breathes in deep.

You want to laugh, finding his nerves quite funny. But you get it. This means more than just marriage to him.

It's freedom.

And you can't even imagine how nerve-racking that must feel for him. After all these years that he had to follow his mother's command and will just so he could follow his own dream, now he would be free.

That in itself brings you such a happy feeling for him.

If anyone would have ever told you that you would be doing this for none other than Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki, you would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Immediately.

Fate is a strange thing.

After the turn for the witnesses to sign, the judge says boringly, “By the authority vested in me by the government of Tokyo, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

He doesn't even wait nor expect the newlyweds to kiss or exchange rings as he closes the book and gives Bakugou the previous enrollment you both signed.

And that is it. You are officially married to Bakugou Katsuki.

“Who are you with on today's shift? What time are you out?”

His questions make you come back to reality after a quiet drive toward the company in his car, which you spend looking at the golden ring that now adorns your left hand. When you look up, the shining of the golden ring on his left hand catches your attention as he circles the steering wheel so the car turns on a corner, the company appearing in your view in the distance.

“Umm, I'm with Izuku. If everything goes well, at 3 a.m.”

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Bakugou, it’s okay, I can walk home,” you insist for the nth time.

“Bullshit–”

“–Besides, you have morning patrol tomorrow,” you continue, completely ignoring his dirty mouth, “You can’t interrupt your sleep like this every time I have this shift. You need to be awake for your job.”

He grunts, muttering something that you can’t quite decipher what he said. You roll your eyes, thinking he acts like a petulant child sometimes.

A moment later, Bakugou enters the parking lot with his car, to which you look confused at him. Why is he entering the company on his day off?

He answers even before you can articulate your words, “I need to pick up some unfinished reports I have to turn in tomorrow.”

You pull up an eyebrow, untying the seatbelt and getting out of his car once he finally parks, “Wow. Dynamight is lacking on his paperwork?”

“Shut up, short-legs.”

You snort at his lighthearted insult as you walk together inside the company. But right when you both cross the big doors, Bakugou stops and looks at you. You frown confused, he then motions down with his head and you see his hand open, waiting. Oh, right.

Item n°2: Act like we are in a real relationship. The lawyers for the companies always investigate deeper into each hero, so that their status and validation of mental sanity are correlated.

You put your hand over his, both closing on each other, its warmth making those damn tingles run up your arm. But neither of you says anything as you walk through the lobby of the company holding hands.

Everyone who looks opens their eyes wide, one of the receptionists even spills her coffee drink out of shock. You hold yourself from laughing. Another of the receptionists looks you up and down, a clear disgusted expression on her face. Ops. Well, it’s not like you liked her either.

However, both you and Bakugou walk with your heads held high. You know how shocking and out of character the image of you both holding hands like a couple looks. And fast, everything happened so fast. You can already hear the gossip about whatever this is that you might have with Bakugou is way too fast. But you haven’t done everything you did for them. It is for him. As surprising as that sounds, even for you.

He walks with you towards the clock where you have to mark your entrance, never dropping your hand as you do. Then, you walk together to the elevator waiting for it to arrive. As you wait and look down at your shoes, you feel before you actually see his other hand moving, fingers brushing against your ear when he tugs a strand of your hair that had been over your face. Surprised, you look up at him but still smile in thanks.

Bakugou retracts his hand quickly and puts it inside the pocket of his jacket, looking back at the elevator. You would tease him for the little blush his cheeks are showing, but you decide it’s not the moment, considering how all eyes are on you two.

When it arrives and you get in, standing very close to each other while watching how everyone tries to peep inside to see if you’re still holding hands or if anything else happens between you two, you both jolt a bit when a wild and hurried Izuku suddenly enters the elevator, jacket half off and hair disheveled. He also looks in surprise at you two, eyes traveling down at your connected hands. A shit-eating grin appears on his face as the doors of the elevator close.

“Shut up.”

Bakugou and you speak at the same time.

Izuku snorts, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Wasn’t going to say anything…”

“I sense a ‘but’...” You roll your eyes, and Bakugou hums in agreement.

The greenette smiles wider, “But I understand now why everyone was looking like they saw All Might in person.”

Bakugou insults him, just because he always wants to have the final say, making Izuku laugh out loud amused. You decide to ignore both of them until the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Don’t blow up the elevator,” you warn them both after Izuku answers back at Bakugou, just to spite him. Your hand gives Bakugou one last squeeze in goodbye before walking out, “I’m with you today, Izuku.”

“Oh, cool! I’ll get connected in a bit.” You nod in his direction and look at Bakugou one last time, smiling and waving.

The doors close and you don’t get to see him smile back at you.

The shift, as always with Pro Hero Deku, is not calm or chill. It’s hectic and dangerous, and it keeps demanding all your focus and senses on alert.

“You know, sometimes I believe you have a magnet for trouble stuck up in your ass…” you hear Izuku spill the drink he must have been probably about to swallow. You chuckle devilishly. Wow, two times in a day you make someone spill their drink, that must be a record.

“Damn. Not twenty-four hours of being married to him, and you are already influenced.”

“Oh, shut it,” you both laugh amicably.

Again, the pip-ing of alert sounds in your computer. You sigh, “Deku, another threat five streets down where you’re at now.”

“On my way!”

“See? A magnet in your ass…” Izuku laughs.

You both don’t get to chat about another thing that is not your job again for the rest of the shift.

At exactly 3:10 a.m. you let out a tired sigh, stretching your arms above you and moving your body from side to side as gentle cracks sound from your backbone. After Deku pushes a villain inside a police car and looks at it drive away for a moment, his yawn that you hear through the earbuds passed on to you as you involuntarily copy the action.

“That was the last one. I’m going back,” you agree with him as you press the option on the system that notifies everyone on the shift that your hero is coming back to headquarters.

“Done.”

“Thanks, Y/N, great work today!”

“You did it all, buddy.”

“Oh, no! None of us heroes could do it without you. All of you, really.”

You frown, a bit surprised. I mean, Izuku is always polite and thanks you after every shift, but today feels different. Like he is purposely saying that, as if he knew someone important was listening to their connection.

“You are… welcome?” You actually don’t know what to say. He simply chuckles.

By orders from your area, you can't leave until Deku’s entered the company back again, so you use that time to finish gathering your things and closing the system.

“I'm back. Wait for me, Y/N. I'll take you home,” not longer than five minutes later Izuku says through the earbuds.

“Oh. You don't have–”

“Kacchan asked me to.”

His words shut you up. But he doesn't wait for your answer as he finally disconnects the communication.

And you're left there, frozen for a moment, assimilating his words. Bakugou asked Izuku to take you home. He asked his best friend to take care of you, even when he knew Izuku would do it or offer on his own. Izuku always rode you home when you had night shifts together. Bakugou surely knows that. Then, why even mention it to his friend? Why personally ask Izuku to help you? Because… Bakugou didn't enter the company only for his unfinished paperwork. He did it to talk to Izuku. Was this… Bakugou taking care of you because you were married? Or because he wanted to?

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celestie0 · 3 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it.

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home.

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide.

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child.

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing.

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses.

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation.

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed.

Sana’s room, you think to yourself.

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own.

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too.

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end.

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought.

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side.

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was.

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger.

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too.

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005.

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture?

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room.

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful.

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see.

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.”

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face.

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you.

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual.

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.”

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her.

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties.

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in.

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair.

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand.

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak.

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away.

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use.

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you.

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up.

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.”

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch.

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges.

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge.

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him.

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way?

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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viastro · 2 years ago

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to live again | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?

ミ★ genre: time travel!au, childhood friends to lovers!au, slow burn, angst, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, and brief(?) major character death

ミ★ word count: 38,765 (what in gods name.)

ミ★ pairings: jeonghan x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: omg hey... long time no see haha .... okay i’m sorry for not posting for five months it’s my fault but uh this was supposed to be my three year anniversary gift and then i failed as a human being KSHGRKDHK i’m so sorry it’s so hard balancing writing and university :,)) but i’m offering my longest oneshot ever as both a peace offering and a three year anniversary gift! i hope you guys enjoy this one, and PLEASE make sure to read the warnings! i love you all, thank you for your endless support even tho i’m not as active anymore </333

ミ★ update 6/22/23: here is the sequel of to live again, dear dream

You’re sitting at the table, a small smile on your face as your friends sing you a happy birthday. You glance at each of their faces, from Dokyeom’s bright smile, to Seungcheol breaking out into laughter, there’s nothing but joy around you in the celebration of your birth.

“Happy birthday to you~” Seungkwan sings loudly, making sure to prolong the last note as you grin softly. Chan leans over and nudges him in the ribs, making the blonde cough as he falls back into his seat. The brunette gestures to you after patting Seungkwan on the back as an apology, “Make a wish, yn.”

You bite your bottom lip at his words, glancing at all of them as the one wish you’ve made every year since you turned 18 comes to mind. You turn your head towards the chair in front of you, letting out a breath when you see the blonde haired boy sitting there, staring at you with a small smile as he waits for you to blow out the candle.

Closing your eyes, you quietly wish,

I wish for Yoon Jeonghan to have a second chance.

You open your eyes and gently blow out the candle, glancing back up at the chair across from you, seeing it now empty as your friends around you cheer loudly.

Ah, that’s right, you think to yourself when Jun pulls out the cake knife to start cutting slices for everyone. You swallow the lump in your throat and bow your head as a thank you when Wonwoo hands you your cake, eyes still trained on the empty chair as you hear the chatter of your friends around you.

Jeonghan’s dead.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?” You look up from your phone to see Minghao walking over to you from the bathroom, drying his wet hair with his towel as he plops down beside you on the couch. Nodding your head, you give him a small smile, “Yeah, it was fun seeing everyone again.”

Minghao snorts, “You say that like we don’t see them every other week.”

“Is it a crime to miss my friends?” You ask with a laugh, to which your roommate just gently nudges your head with his before pulling out his phone. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, the sound of Minghao ruffling his hair with the towel heard occasionally as he scrolls through his phone. However, you’re too occupied with your own thoughts to watch videos with him as you stare aimlessly at the wall.

You and Jeonghan were born in the same year, something you learned the moment you two met as children.

You turned 21 today.

But Yoon Jeonghan will always be 5 months and 14 days away from turning 19 years old.

“Yn, are you thinking about him?” You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Minghao’s voice chimes from beside you, and you turn to see him looking at you with a concerned gaze. You press your lips into a thin line and turn away, nodding your head in response.

He lets out a breath from beside you, “You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for his death.”

“I could’ve done more. I could’ve spoke to him, invited him to eat lunch with me, offered to be his partner in group projects–”

“None of those things would’ve stopped him from making the decision that he did that day.” Minghao interjects, and you shake your head. “You’re wrong.”

“Yn–”

“I can’t help but constantly think that maybe if I had acted earlier, then he would’ve come to my birthday instead of ending his life. He would’ve still been here.” You mutter, and the black haired beauty just stares at you quietly as you swallow the lump that’s growing in your throat. Biting your bottom lip, you stand up from the couch and walk towards your bedroom without another word, leaving Minghao by himself in the living room.

You shut the door behind you and lean your back against it, shutting your eyes tightly as you slowly slide down until you’re sitting on your bedroom floor. You raise your hands up to your face, letting out a shaky breath as you remember that day.

You’re staring at that familiar head of blonde hair, the envelope sitting inside your desk as your teacher continues to ramble on about the quadratic formula. You blink when you feel a tap on your back, and you glance back to see your friend looking at you with a mischievous smile.

“Want to buy snacks with me during lunch?” Yeji asks, and the corner of your lips curls upwards. Nodding your head, you quickly whisper back, “I just need to do something really quick before we go.”

She gives you the okay! sign, and you grin before turning back towards the front. The sound of the bell is heard soon afterwards, and almost all of your classmates immediately stand up to start running to the cafeteria for lunch. You take out the envelope and turn back, peering over the top of everyone’s heads, and let out a breath when you see a flash of blonde.

Nervously, you walk over towards the front of the class, the feeling of your classmates’ eyes on you as you do so. You come to a stop when you’re standing beside his desk, staring at the top of his head as he quietly draws in his journal. He halts his movement when he senses someone standing beside him, and he slowly glances up until his eyes are locked on yours.

You don’t fail to notice the confusion that immediately floods his face, with you being the last person he’d expect to come and talk to him.

He blinks, “Yn?”

“Jeonghan, hi.” You say with a small smile, one that he doesn’t return due to the fact that he is still very confused as to why you’re talking to him. Biting the inside of your cheek at the feeling of all the eyes on you and the pretty boy, you finally hold out the envelope in his direction.

He slowly takes it from your grasp, almost as if he thinks it’s just a prank. You watch as he opens it up and takes out the card that’s inside, and he blinks down at the invitation.

“Come to my birthday party this Saturday. It’s just a small gathering of my family and a couple of friends. You can even invite your family to come since our parents have known each other for a long time.” You explain, feeling your face grow hotter the longer he stays quiet. He finally looks back up at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes, and you internally wonder what’s going through his head.

“We haven’t hung out since we were kids, why are you suddenly inviting me?” Jeonghan asks in a quiet voice, and you let out a small smile.

“Because I want you to come.”

The blonde haired boy stares at you for a moment longer, letting your answer sink in as the two of you stand in silence. You watch as he finally looks down at his journal, a hint of a smile appearing over his pretty features as he finally responds,

“Okay, I’ll make sure to be there.”

You let out a sigh and slowly lower your hands from your face, blinking slowly as you remember the small smile he had on his face when you left the classroom to go get lunch. You rest your head back against the door, about to close your eyes when the sound of something sliding on the floor catches your attention.

You glance down beside you, just to bite the inside of your cheek when you see a birthday card sitting there. The sound of Minghao’s soft voice rings out from behind your door as you lift up the card,

“Happy birthday, yn.”

You open up the card once you hear Minghao disappear off to his room, and a quiet chuckle escapes past your lips when you see the numerous small paragraphs written from each of your friends inside. From heartfelt messages like Chan’s, to short but sweet messages like Jihoon’s, you feel a bit of your heart mend itself together as you stare at the electronically lit candle on your card.

Ever since you met the 12 of them in university, they have come to learn of the guilt you feel whenever your birthday season rolls around. They never tried to ridicule you for it, or try to belittle your feelings like others have. Instead, they do their best to make sure you always smile on your birthday.

Your eyes fall onto your alarm clock, seeing the bright red numbers stare back at you in the darkness of your room.

11:59 PM

Your gaze trails back down to your birthday card, and you let out a dry chuckle at the shining birthday candle drawing. Your eyes linger on the one empty space that doesn’t have any writing from the 12 boys, and you press your lips into a thin line.

Glancing at the battery operated candle on your card, you close your eyes and quietly whisper to yourself,

“I wish for Yoon Jeonghan to have a second chance.”

Opening your eyes, you blow on the candle seconds before the clock strikes midnight. You watch as the candle turns dark, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards at the cute birthday card. A yawn escapes past your lips a moment afterwards, a sign that it’s time for you to go to bed.

Standing up from the floor, you walk over to your bed and place the birthday card onto your bedside table. You bellyflop onto the covers, rolling over so that you’re staring up at the ceiling with tired eyes. Your thoughts are all over the place as fatigue slowly takes over, but a single tear escapes past your eye as the memory of Jeonghan’s blonde hair walking down the halls comes to mind right before everything turns black.

You’re startled awake by the sound of your alarm going off, and you let out a groan as you quickly reach your hand out and slam it down on the clock to silence it. Rolling over onto your side once the ringing stops, you can already feel yourself beginning to fall back asleep when your bedroom door suddenly slams open.

You let out a groan, “Minghao, I swear to God–”

“Minghao? Who the hell is Minghao?!” Your eyes snap open at the sound of your mother’s voice, and you quickly sit up in bed and turn towards her. “Mom? What are you doing in my apartment…”

Your voice trails off when you quickly realize that you, in fact, are not in your apartment. You’re in your childhood bedroom, except it’s different from when you moved out. It doesn’t have the same decorations it used to have. The polaroids that used to adorn the walls are replaced with posters of the kpop group you liked in high school, as well as old family photos.

“What the fuck?” You mutter with wide eyes as you gaze around your room, only to get whacked in the face by a pillow.

“Language! Now get up from bed or else you’ll be late for school again.” Your mom tells you, and you can only blink at her as she steps out of your room. Once the door shuts behind her, you immediately raise your hand up and slap yourself in the face.

The sound resonates through your room, and as you rub your cheek to soothe the stinging sensation, you find the pit in your stomach growing when it slowly starts to sink in that this isn’t a dream. You’re in your childhood bedroom, with your mom shouting at you to get ready for school—something she hasn’t done since you graduated high school.

“Wait.” You murmur once the thought comes to mind, and you reach out to grab your phone off your night stand. Turning it on, you stare at your lock screen as the date flashes in your eyes.

January 15, 2019

Your phone falls from your hands and lands onto the floor with a loud thud, but you pay no mind to it as you quickly get up from bed and walk to your closet. You yank out your school uniform and hurriedly start to strip out of your pajamas and into your school uniform, needing to get to school to see for yourself if this is really happening.

If you really came back in time.

“Yn! Great job at the final game on Friday!”

“Your hair looks so cute today, yn!”

“Yn!”

You ignore all the calls of your name as you walk through the hallways of your high school, the sound of your heart beating against your chest is the only thing you can hear as you head straight towards your classroom.

You had forgotten how well known you were in high school.

Just when you’re about to turn the corner towards your classroom, a hand reaches out and grasps your wrist, spinning you around so that you’re face to face with them.

You find yourself staring into the eyes of the guy who had the biggest crush on you throughout the entirety of your senior year, and you watch as the corner of his lips quirks upwards.

“Hi, yn.”

“Jaehyun, I’m a bit busy right now. I’ll talk to you later.” You say with an apologetic smile, before gently removing your hand from his grip. You quickly turn around and run towards your classroom, feeling the eyes of everyone around you as you leave the school’s heartthrob standing alone in the hallway.

Once the sight of your classroom’s sliding door comes into view, you immediately reach out and slam it open. The sound resonates throughout the room, gaining the attention of your classmates as they all turn in your direction with surprised expressions on their faces.

“Yn, you good?” Yeji asks from your desk, but you pay her no mind as you frantically search the classroom for that blonde head of hair. Your heart falls when you don’t see him anywhere, and you reach down to pull your phone out of your pocket, checking the date again to make sure.

“It’s January, where is he?” You mutter to yourself, and you quickly move to turn around to search for him again, only to almost immediately slam into the person behind you.

“I’m so sorry—” The rest of the apology dies in your throat when your eyes latch onto the person’s name tag. You blink at the sight, before your eyes trail down to their hands that are resting on your arms as a way to steady you. Hearing your own heartbeat against your ears, you slowly look up until you’ve locked eyes with the boy you’ve missed most in the last three years.

Jeonghan is staring into your eyes with an inquisitive gaze, his pretty blonde hair resting softly over his forehead. You remember the day he had dyed his hair, having made him stick out among the crowd due to the brightness of the color. While others around you may have giggled or whispered about it, you had stayed quiet about how beautiful he looked with blonde hair.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asks in a quiet voice, but you can only stare at him in disbelief as tears prick the back of your eyes at the sound of his voice. You watch as concern floods his gaze when you don’t give him an answer, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you lower your head towards the floor to hide your glassy eyes.

“I-I’m okay.”

He continues to look at you for a moment longer, before nodding his head and letting go of your arms. You slowly tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him again, only to pause when you see how uncomfortable he appears as he glances around the room behind you.

You turn around to find the eyes of all your classmates trained on you and Jeonghan, with expressions ranging from shock to genuine confusion. Frowning slightly, you turn back towards the blonde haired boy, just for him to avert his gaze to the floor as he steps around you.

“Glad to know you’re okay.” He mutters, before walking over to his desk without another word. You watch him with a dazed look in your eyes, still unable to believe that this is happening as Yeji rushes over to you and grabs your arm.

“Yn! Everyone’s staring, let’s go to our desks.” She hurriedly whispers to you as she grabs your arm and drags you to your seats. You plop down in your chair, unable to ignore all the eyes on you as you glance over in the direction of the pretty boy. He’s staring down at his journal, foot tapping against the floor while listening to your teacher explain the lesson plan for the day.

A small smile takes over your features, even though you know this is far from over, or that this could be a dream. You allow yourself to feel the slightest bit of relief at the fact that he’s here, the boy you’ve missed all these years.

Your eyes trail over to the calendar pinned to the wall beside the whiteboard, staring at today’s date as you drown out the lecture your high school teacher is teaching.

January 15, 2019

Three months. That’s how long you have to prevent Jeonghan from doing what he did.

You let out a shaky breath, before pulling out your journal and pencil to start jotting down a plan. You fail to notice the blonde haired boy shooting a glance towards you, silently wondering what’s going on in your mind as you vigorously write into your notebook.

“Okay, yn. What was that earlier?” You glance up from your lunch tray to see Yeji placing her food down in front of you and sitting down. You place a piece of pickled radish into your mouth, chewing it as Yeji waits for you to answer. Once you swallow the vegetable, you simply shrug your shoulders as you look around the cafeteria, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You and Yeji aren’t that close in the present time, the consequence of going to different universities after graduating high school. There’s still the occasional texts greeting each other happy birthday! or asking how the other has been, but it never progresses past that.

Your gaze trails back to your high school best friend when she reaches out and smacks your arm, and a small smile forms on your face at the fact that you get to experience this again. She squints at the grin on your lips, and she lightly hits your arm again, making you pull away with a slight frown.

“Why do you keep hitting me? I’m just trying to eat my lunch!”

“Because you’re trying to act all coy! Now tell me why you ran into the classroom looking like a crazy person, and what you were aggressively writing in your notebook for all of math?” Yeji asks, picking up a piece of pickled radish and shoving it into your mouth because she knows it's your favorite. You chew the vegetable, feeling your heart warm a bit from the small act of kindness shown from your friend even though she’s annoyed with you.

Maybe I’ll get the chance to make sure we don’t drift apart in the future as well, you think to yourself as you swallow the pickled radish. You just wave a hand at her, “I just had a weird morning, thought I was going to be late to class.”

“That doesn’t explain how violently you were writing in your notebook.” Yeji points out with a raised eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. “What if I wanted to write notes because I thought the lecture was interesting?”

“Your memory is insane. You hardly ever write notes.”

“I heard that writing notes helps you retain information even better, so I decided to start taking notes.” You tell her with ease, gazing around the cafeteria in hopes that you’ll find that bright head of blonde hair. Yeji presses her lips into a thin line at your answer, before sighing in defeat as she gently kicks your shin to get your attention. “You know that I worry about you easily.”

“I know, but don’t worry. I’m just trying to make sure I look competitive for the universities that I apply to.” You say with a small smile, to which the brunette returns. Feeling like you’re in the clear, you shove the last of the rice into your mouth and stand up from the table. Chewing on the last bite of food, you gesture over towards the exit, “I’m going to start heading to class. I want to study a bit.”

Yeji wrinkles her nose at you talking with your mouth full, and waves you away with her hand. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

With one last smile, you wave at her and walk over towards the doors. Placing your tray where the dirty dishes are, you hurriedly step out of the cafeteria and head in the direction of your classroom.

While eating lunch with Yeji, you came to the realization that Jeonghan was nowhere to be found. When you started thinking back on memories of lunch at school, you quickly came to the conclusion that you never actually saw the pretty boy eat in the cafeteria. You only ever saw him in class and in the hallways when you’d pass each other, but nowhere else at school.

You stop by the vending machine outside of your classroom and slip in a coin, before inputting the code to the coffee. You bounce from foot to foot while you wait for the drink to come out, and you quickly snatch the can out of the dispenser before hurrying to your classroom.

You slide the door open once you’ve made it outside of the class, only to blink when you find the room to be empty. You slowly walk up to Jeonghan’s desk, finding no lunch box in sight. Letting out a breath, you glance up at the time to see that there’s only around 15 minutes left of lunch.

“Where could he have gone?” You murmur to yourself, looking down at the canned coffee you bought for him. You roll it in your hands, before pressing your lips into a thin line and stepping out of the classroom. Walking down the hallway, you hold the coffee close to your chest as you think of the possible places Jeonghan could go to have lunch.

“There’s the field, but the weather isn’t that nice today. I don’t think he’d eat in the library, either.” You mutter to yourself as you sneak a peek into each room you walk past to see if he’s in one of them. Clutching the can of coffee, you’re about to turn back and head to the classroom when you freeze at the sound of a song coming from the stairwell.

You blink at the soft voice you hear, and slowly start to walk towards the stairwell. Your heart thumps against your chest when you begin to recognize the angelic voice, having not heard it since you were a child.

Taking quiet steps into the stairwell, you stop when you see the back of that bright blonde head of hair. You watch in silence as he sings an unfamiliar song, a small smile beginning to play on your features when you see him tapping his foot to the beat. He doesn’t appear to notice you at the entrance, his headset blocking his sense of hearing to the outside world.

You don’t mind, though. You can see how content he looks sitting by himself, singing softly to a song that he likes while he waits for lunch to be over.

It’s only when he stops singing that you finally take a few steps towards him and sit down beside him on the step, promptly scaring the shit out of him when he shouts.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Jeonghan exclaims when you plop down beside him, hand clutching his chest as his heart beats loudly against his ears from the scare. You give him an apologetic smile while trying to stop the laughter that threatens to escape your lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sucks in a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down, even patting his chest to try and make his heart stop beating so loudly. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he turns back to you, “Did you want to sit here? I can leave.”

You shake your head immediately, making him blink in confusion. Giving him a small smile, you hold the canned coffee out towards him, which he just glances at before looking back up at you. You wiggle the drink in your hand a bit, signaling him to take it from your grasp. He takes one more hesitant glance at the coffee, before reaching out and taking it from you.

“Why did you get me this?” He asks quietly, now back to the closed off Jeonghan you remembered from the past. You shrug your shoulders, resting your cheek on the top of your knees as you face him, “Just thought about you when I was getting a drink at the vending machine.”

He blinks at you, a habit of his that you’ve quickly come to notice. Biting the inside of his cheek, he turns away from you and stares down at the canned coffee you bought for him. You turn away as well, being reminded of the days you sat at the top of the stairs for months after he passed.

Back then, you had no idea that this was where he’d spend lunch.

Silence falls over the two of you, with sounds of your classmates’ conversations and the occasional laugh ringing from afar. You don’t find it to be suffocating like you would with anyone else though. There’s something about the silence between you two that’s comforting.

It’s only a moment later when Jeonghan finally speaks, a single word that’s spoken so softly you almost miss it.

“Thanks.”

You glance at the pretty boy beside you, watching as he pops open the can and takes a long sip of the coffee you bought for him. You’re unable to fight the smile that takes over your features at the sight, and you just nod your head as you murmur in response,

“Of course, Jeonghan.”

“Yn! Are you going to the group dinner tonight?” You shut your locker to find your teammate, Chaewon, looking at you with an inquisitive expression on her face. Giving her an apologetic smile, you shake your head, “No, sorry! I’m busy after school—I already made sure to let the others know.”

“What? How come I missed your text? That doesn’t matter, yn! I want you to be there for our celebratory dinner after wrapping up the season!” Chaewon whines, wrapping her arms around you in an attempt to convince you. You chuckle at her theatrics and pat the top of her head, “I’m sorry, Chae. I promise I’ll be at the next one, and I’ll make sure to sit beside you.”

Chaewon pouts at you in a last ditch attempt, but you remain strong and just stare at her quietly. She lets out a huff of defeat and removes her arms from around you, to which you just smile and pat the top of her head again.

“Alright, but you promised! You can’t break it!” She says while pointing at you, and you laugh with a nod of your head. You gesture down the hallway, “Go, you don’t want to be late.”

Your friend lets out a breath and nods her head, sending you a wave before hurrying down the hallway. You watch as her short hair sways back and forth in time with each step she takes, and you press your lips into a thin line before turning away.

“Time to find Jeonghan—”

“Yn!” You turn your head to find Jaehyun walking up to you with a grin on his face, and you give him a small smile in return. “Hi, Jae. How was class?”

“It was alright. It was kinda nice to learn how to properly create a resume.” He tells you, and you chuckle with a nod of your head, remembering how genuinely helpful that class was for you in the future. He leans against the locker, a warm look in his eyes as he asks, “Do you want to go to the arcade with me? I heard from Yeji how you’ve been trying to win that Snorlax plushie from the claw machine.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the reminder of your obsession of trying to get your favorite pokémon from the rigged claw machines at the arcade, having completely forgotten about it when you grew older. In the past, you agreed to go with Jaehyun since he offered to help you get Snorlax, but you both just ended up losing $30 to the claw machine and got boba instead.

But you didn’t come back in time to entertain Jaehyun and waste your time trying to win a plushie at the arcade.

You came back in time to save Yoon Jeonghan.

Giving the brunette an apologetic smile, you gesture towards the hallway behind you, “Sorry, Jae. I promised my mom that I’d help her clean up our garden after school.”

You don’t fail to notice the slight disappointment that washes over Jaehyun’s face at your answer, and you almost feel bad for turning him down because of this. He quickly puts on a small smile, his dimple appearing as he waves his hand at you, “It’s okay, yn. No worries, we can just go some other time.”

Not giving him a response, you just send him a smile and a wave, before turning around and hurrying towards the exit of the school. Stepping through the doors, you look around at all of the students leaving campus, trying to find that familiar blonde head of hair.

Your eyes widen when you finally spot the blonde, and you practically run after him. Calling out his name once you’re close enough, you let out a huff when you see that he has an airpod in each ear, and take a few more steps until you’re walking right beside him.

He blinks when he notices something in his peripheral vision, and right when he’s about to turn his head, you pop forward so that he’s staring directly into your eyes. He practically chokes on a scream and rips out an earbud, hand resting over his chest as he looks at you.

“Hi!”

“You scared the fucking shit out of me!” Jeonghan exclaims as he takes out his other airpod and puts it into its case. You give him an apologetic smile and shrug your shoulders, “You were listening to music so you didn’t hear me shouting after you almost a block away.”

“Is your way of greeting me to scare the shit out of me? First you jumpscared me in the stairwell yesterday, and now you pop out of nowhere like a jack in the box. I am not a fan of this technique.” Jeonghan tells you as he runs a hand through his hair, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again while you follow after him. Nudging his shoulder with yours, you chuckle, “Maybe if you didn’t listen to music at full blast then you’d be able to hear my presence when I’m nearby.”

“I’m just used to listening to music like that.”

“Why? So you can ruin your hearing and have similar hearing to an elderly man at the ripe age of 17?”

“No one ever really talks to me, so I don’t see a reason to not wear my headphones unless I’m in class.” Jeonghan says with a light laugh, when what he said is something that shouldn’t be laughed about. You feel your heart weigh with guilt at the jokes you were making, and look down at the pavement as the two of you walk.

“I’m sorry.”

Jeonghan shrugs his shoulders, “No need to apologize.”

“Well. Try not to blast your music that loudly from now on, okay?” You say, turning to him to gauge his reaction. You watch as the blonde blinks in confusion, turning to you with a curious gaze as he tilts his head, “Why?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a warm smile, “Because I want you to be able to hear me when I talk to you.”

With that, you turn away and start looking up at the sky as silence falls over the both of you. You can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on you for a moment longer, before he turns away to look down at the sidewalk as the two of you continue to walk home.

It’s a few minutes later, when he finally responds,

“Okay.”

“Yn, this is Jeonghan. He’s the son of your favorite auntie—your mommy’s best friend, remember?” You look inquisitively at the small boy in front of you, staring into his big eyes in silence as the two of you make each other out.

“The two of you are both 6 years old, why not be friends?” Your mom says with a big smile, reaching out to pull Jeonghan a step closer to you. You look up to see your auntie giggling to herself at your mom’s attempts to make you and her son friends, and your gaze falls on the sleeping baby strapped to her chest.

“When’s your birthday?” You finally ask once you turn back towards him, and the boy before you tilts his head. “October 4th.”

You blink at his answer, before crossing your arms with a pout on your face. His round cheeks puff up a bit at your reaction, wondering what this could mean as you let out a sigh. He watches as your mom nudges you lightly with a quiet laugh, before she turns to him with a smile, “Yn’s just reacting like this because you’re a couple months older than them. Their birthday is on April 20.”

Jeonghan turns back to you, and you don’t fail to notice the hint of mischief in his gaze at this newfound information. He gives you a small smile and reaches out to grasp your hand, making your mom hold back a quiet squeal at the rapid development of your guys’ relationship. Your auntie gently slaps your mom’s shoulder with a smile, telling her to be quiet so that she doesn’t wake up the baby.

“Do you want to play games with me? My mommy recently bought the new GameCube.”

Your gaze lowers from the grown-ups and down to his small hand holding your own, before looking back up into his big eyes as he anticipates your answer. You wonder whether or not you should trust him when you remember the look in his eyes when he discovered he was older than you.

You don’t like it when people are older than you.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you decide to test him. Tilting your head, you ask, “Does that mean we’re friends?”

Jeonghan blinks at your question, before nodding his head with a big smile as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world, “Of course!”

Deciding to let go of your grudge at the sight of his pretty smile, you grin widely and nod your head.

“Okay, then let’s play!”

You smile fondly at the memory as you mindlessly doodle in your journal, completely ignoring the lesson that’s being taught on the whiteboard since you’ve already learned it before. You’re about to work on drawing a flower when you suddenly get a sharp nudge to the ribs, eliciting a squeak out of you as you turn to Yeji with wide eyes.

“What the fu—”

“Yn, care to solve this problem on the board?” Your head snaps towards the front of the room, seeing your teacher looking at you with an expectant look on her face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you realize that she noticed you were not paying any attention to what was being taught.

You do a quick look over the board, seeing the calculus formula written on it. Clenching your fist as you try to come up with the answer in your head, you stand up from your desk and slowly walk towards the front of the room.

Your heart is thudding against your chest, growing more anxious at the feeling of all the eyes on your back. In high school, you were known for being the smartest in your grade. You studied hard to get to that point. After every soccer practice you’d go and do homework until the early hours of the morning before finally going to sleep.

But it’s been years since you last had to solve a calculus problem.

You take a step past that blonde head of hair, and you press your lips into a thin line at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of him when you ultimately end up with the wrong answer.

“4/3.”

You blink at the voice that whispers behind you as you reach out and take the piece of chalk that your teacher was holding out to you. Stepping up to the board, you turn your head to find Jeonghan scribbling in his notebook. You watch as he slowly lifts up his head and locks eyes with you, and he gestures towards the board before glancing back down towards his journal.

Biting back the smile that threatens to take over your features, you turn back towards the board and look at the problem presented before you. You stare at it for a moment, trying to see how Jeonghan got to that answer when it suddenly clicks.

You immediately begin to solve the problem on the board once you remember how to get to the answer, and you let out a breath of relief when you get the answer that Jeonghan told you. Setting down the piece of chalk, you glance at your teacher as she gives you a proud grin and nods her head at you.

“Great job, yn. You can go back to your seat now.”

Bowing your head towards her, you turn and walk back to your desk. Not without locking eyes with the blonde as you step past him, making sure to give him a small smile of gratitude. He just glances back down at his journal at the sight, and you’re practically beaming when you make it back to your seat.

“How did you manage to solve that problem when you weren’t even paying attention? I can’t even solve it and I’ve been writing notes!” Yeji whisper-shouts to you once you sit down, and you just giggle quietly and shrug your shoulders at her as your gaze makes its way back onto that blonde head of hair.

“Guess an angel wanted to help me today.”

You shut your locker with a small smile on your face, looking forward to walking home with Jeonghan again like you did on Friday. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you turn and start walking down the hallway towards the entrance, only for your small smile to widen when you see the back of that blonde head of hair glowing from the sunlight shining in through the windows.

“Yoon Jeonghan!” You call out, and your heart thumps against your chest when he immediately pauses at the sound of his name. He reaches up and removes an airpod from his ear, turning around and looking up from the floor so that his bright eyes lock onto yours. He blinks in recognition, and he puts his hands into his pockets while he waits for you to run over to him.

“You heard me this time.” You say with a smile when you finally catch up to him, and he shrugs his shoulders as the two of you start walking together. “I thought you wanted me to hear you.”

You nod your head, “I do, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear me.”

Jeonghan just scoffs at this, but you can tell he’s not actually annoyed based on the relaxed expression on his face. He pushes open the door, and you grin and walk out with him following after you. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the world around you being all that you listen to as you walk down the street.

You press your lips into a thin line when you think of your conversation with Jaehyun the other day, and a lightbulb pops off in your head when you suddenly come up with an idea. You stop walking and grasp Jeonghan’s wrist, making him stop and turn to you with growing confusion on his face.

“Yn? Are you okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and gesture towards the bus stop on the opposite side of the street, “Do you want to go to the arcade before we walk home? I’ve been trying to win this Snorlax plushie in the claw machines for a week or so now, and I have a really good feeling about trying again today.”

Jeonghan lets out a breath and glances towards the direction of your guys’ houses, “I don’t know, yn. I kind of just want to go–”

“Pretty please? I’ll pay for our meal if you come with me.” You try again, hope flooding your chest as you await his response. You watch as he looks down at the sidewalk for a moment, trying to think of his answer as you wait expectantly.

Running a hand through his hair, he finally turns to you and nods his head. He points towards the bus stop, “Okay. Let’s go to the arcade.”

You can’t help the big smile that takes over your features at his answer, and you immediately adjust your hold on his wrist and run towards the bus stop. A surprised noise escapes Jeonghan’s lips from your quick action, but he follows after you without complaint.

You fail to notice the way Jeonghan’s eyes trail up from your hand on his wrist, to the back of your head with a hint of wonder in his gaze.

“GOD DAMN IT!” You shout when Snorlax falls from the claw for the fifth time, and you slam your fist on the board where the controls lay. You bite your bottom lip in frustration, running a hand through your hair as you turn to Jeonghan. You see him trying to hold back the small smile that threatens to take over his features as he looks down at the floor, and you shoot him a glare.

“I see you.”

“See what?” Jeonghan asks, immediately covering up the grin by releasing a cough into his elbow. You squint at him and point to the game, “If you think my failure is so funny, then you win Snorlax for me.”

Jeonghan scoffs at this, and puts his phone into his pocket. He waves his hand at you to make you move to the side, and you bite back a laugh. Stepping away, you allow him to step forward so that he can play the claw machine.

“Watch and learn, yn.” The blonde tells you, and you let out a chuckle and gesture towards the claw machine. “Get me my Snorlax then, Yoon Jeonghan.”

You watch as the game begins to start, and the claw immediately moves towards the big pokemon plush that you’ve been wanting. Your eyes trail to Jeonghan’s face, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards when you see the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.

“Don’t laugh, you’re ruining my concentration.” Jeonghan finally speaks, and you blink at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“I didn’t even laugh!”

“I saw you smile out of the corner of my eye.”

“That is not the same as laughing–”

“Yn, I’m trying to concentrate…” The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when Snorlax falls from the claw, and the two of you can only stare at the big plush as it lands on its back. Jeonghan presses his lips into a thin line at the sight, before glancing down at the board to see that that was the final attempt.

He clenches his jaw, and reaches into his pocket to grab another dollar bill to try again. Your eyes widen, “Jeonghan! It’s okay–”

“I’m going to get him this time. I only failed because someone was distracting me.” Jeonghan says with a pointed glare in your direction, making you let out a startled laugh as you point to yourself. “Me?! I didn’t even do anything!”

“Shh! I’m going to get him on the first try, just watch.” The blonde tells you after inserting his money into the slot. You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him let out a breath, before reaching for the knob to try again.

It’s three attempts later when you watch Snorlax fall to his doom for the third and final time, that you look back at Jeonghan to see him staring at the pokemon with a defeated expression on his face. Holding back the laugh that threatens to escape, you reach out and pat his shoulder, “It’s okay. I’ll still pay for our meal.”

Jeonghan’s lips form into a bit of a pout the longer he stares at the pokemon, and he squints his eyes and presses his finger into the glass to point at Snorlax.

“I’ll get you next time, Snorlax.”

With that, he turns and walks away from the claw machine. You let out a loud laugh from behind him, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you hurry to catch up with him. Reaching out, you grasp onto his wrist when you finally catch up, and he glances down at the contact before looking back up at you.

“I didn’t expect you to be so passionate about the claw machine.” You say with a giggle as the two of you step outside, and Jeonghan ignores the way your eyes sparkle at him by choosing to turn away. He shrugs his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant as he responds, “I just hate capitalism.”

You stop walking at his answer, causing him to stop as well. He glances back at you to see your lips pressed together tightly in an attempt to stop the laugh from escaping. He raises his arms up to ask why you’re laughing, which makes you shut your eyes to try and calm down.

“There’s no way it’s that funny.” Jeonghan says lightly, no malice in his voice as he awaits your reaction. You shake your head, sucking in a deep breath and squeezing his wrist, “No, I’ve just never seen someone say claw machines are a form of capitalism.”

Jeonghan gawks at you, “Yn! How have you not heard about that? It’s too real. Do you realize that we’re literally victims of capitalism right now? That’s how they get you–”

Jeonghan’s tangent is cut off by you bursting into laughter, the sound of your light and pretty voice ringing through the night. The blonde feels the corners of his lips quirk upwards at the sight of your smile, and he turns away when you look back at him while starting to walk towards the bbq restaurant again.

“So you’re saying that by us playing the claw machine, we’re directly feeding into capitalism?” You ask through your giggles, feeling warmth flood your heart at the fact that this is the first time he’s spoken so much. It’s almost as if the first layer of the walls he’s built around himself is beginning to crumble, and you want to keep going. Jeonghan shoots you a glance, turning away as he asks, “Do you genuinely want to know?”

You smile softly, “Of course, Jeonghan.”

The blonde bites the inside of his cheek, before beginning to explain how claw machines are the ultimate form of capitalism and can even feed into the start of a gambling addiction. The both of you know that it’s a silly form of knowledge that he knows, but Jeonghan can’t help but notice the pure awe in your eyes as he talks.

It makes him want to keep speaking.

And so, the conversation continues all the way to the restaurant. The two of you seem to talk about everything and anything until you both make it back home, where you’re forced to end the conversation.

“Yn, honey! It’s time to sing Happy Birthday!” You hear your mom call from downstairs, and you turn to Jeonghan with an excited grin and nudge his shoulder. “Did you hear that? It’s time for cake!”

The pretty boy beside you presses pause on the game the both of you were playing on your Wii console, and he turns to you, a big toothy smile forming on his lips at the sight of your own excitement. He nods his head and stands up from the floor, before making a run for the stairs.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” He calls, and you let out a squeal, standing up and hurrying after him. The two of you sprint past your family members, and you feel a rush of adrenaline flow through you when you see him start to slow down near the kitchen table. Taking your chance, you quickly shoot past him and jump into the chair that’s placed in front of your birthday cake.

“I win! You’re the rotten egg, Hannie!” You cheer, laughing happily as your best friend moves to sit down right beside you. He nods his head with a small smile, “I’ll be the rotten egg since it’s your 8th birthday today, but remember to be the rotten egg when it’s my 9th birthday.”

You pout at the reminder that he’s older than you, but it quickly disappears when your mom lights the candles on the cake placed before you. Your dad smiles and holds up the camera, already taking a video of you as everyone begins to sing happy birthday.

You smile happily as you look at everyone around you, before turning to look at Jeonghan, who is singing quietly while gently clapping his hands and looking at you. You bite the inside of your cheek when the song comes to an end, and you glance at your mom who gestures towards the cake.

“Okay yn, it’s time to make a wish.”

You let out an excited giggle and nod your head. Quietly thinking to yourself on what you want to wish for, you slowly turn your head so that you’re looking at Jeonghan, who’s watching you expectantly. He gives you a smile and points to your cake, as if to remind you that you still need to blow out your candles.

A smile takes over your features at the sight, and you turn back towards the cake and suck in a deep breath. Closing your eyes, you think to yourself,

I wish to always have Jeonghan by my side, even if he may be older than me.

Opening your eyes, you lean into the table and blow out the candles.

You slowly awaken to the light pouring in through your curtains, and you let out a quiet groan as you roll over onto your side. Your heart is warm from the dream, remembering that day like it was yesterday.

Who would’ve known that years down the road, you’d be regretting not keeping Jeonghan by your side when you entered high school. Stretching your arms above your head, you roll over and pick up your phone, and the date appears before your eyes.

January 28, 2019

“Two months. Around two more months to convince him.” You mutter to yourself, before unlocking your phone and going to your messaging app. Tapping on your messages with the blonde, you send him a quick text, and a small smile forms on your face when you receive a response moments later.

you: good morning jeonghan ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

jeonghannie: morning

Letting out a breath, you set your phone by your side and sit up in bed. You open your curtains, allowing the sunlight to shine into your bedroom as you look at the pretty Winter weather.

“I’ll make my wishes come true, Yoon Jeonghan.” You murmur to yourself, before finally getting out of bed to start preparing for school.

You’re standing in front of the vending machines, quietly wondering to yourself whether or not to buy Jeonghan a canned coffee or banana milk. Tilting your head, you finally decide to get him the canned coffee since you’ve come to notice the dark bags under his eyes.

“Yn!” You turn at the call of your name, only to blink when you find Jaehyun waving bye to his group of friends before jogging over to you. You give him a small smile and say hello in greeting as you reach down to grab the two canned coffees from the vending machine slot.

“I haven’t been able to talk to you in like, two weeks. You’ve been so busy.” Jaehyun says with a grin, and you let out a light laugh and nod your head. “Well, it is college application season. I’ve been busy trying to perfect my apps.”

The brunette nods his head in agreement as you start to walk in the direction of your classroom. He follows after you, taking note of the two cans of coffee in your hands. Clearing his throat, he lets out a chuckle and points at the drinks in your hands, “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

You shake your head at his statement with a kind grin, coming to a stop in front of your class as you turn to the handsome boy in front of you. You already know that Jaehyun has a crush on you, it was obvious from the moment the both of you were first paired up in biology together in your freshman year.

You never felt that way towards him, which he came to learn at the start of university. However, Jaehyun has always been kind. He was just glad to have you as a friend, and you hope it stays that way, considering the fact that you’ve been ignoring him completely since you came back in time.

“I slept okay.” You say, and he raises an eyebrow at your answer. “So why two coffees?”

You just give him a smile and raise a hand up towards him as goodbye, before turning around and entering your classroom. Feeling everyone’s eyes follow you as you walk away from Jaehyun, you step over to your desk and rest one of the cans on top. Ignoring everyone’s stares, you turn to find Jeonghan sitting at his seat in the front of the room, head resting on his desk as he tries to catch some extra sleep.

Grinning at the pretty sight, you call out, “Yoon Jeonghan!”

You watch as the blonde’s eyes slowly flutter open at the call of his name, and he sits up from the table. Rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand, he takes out one of his earbuds and turns towards the back to find you standing by your desk. He lowers his arm to his side, and you raise up his can of coffee with a bright smile on your face.

The corner of his lips quirks upwards when you wiggle the drink in his direction, signaling for him to take it from you. He raises up a hand and waves for you to come over, to which you groan but quickly oblige. His eyes follow you as you quickly make your way over, but he feels a shiver rise up the back of his neck, and he slowly becomes aware of all the eyes on him.

Jeonghan raises a hand up to the back of his neck, almost as if to hide the goosebumps from view as he slightly turns his head, only to make eye contact with a majority of his classmates. He blinks at all of them, not used to all the attention being on him when he suddenly hears,

“I bought you coffee out of the goodness of my heart, and you still want me to deliver it to you?”

Jeonghan slowly looks up to find you jokingly complaining about how he must view you as a glucose parent while you place the canned coffee down onto his desk. A bright smile forms on your face as you let out a soft laugh at the jokes you’re making, and he feels himself relax at the visual.

You turn to the blonde to find him staring up at you, a content look beginning to appear in his eyes as he does so. Feeling happy at the sight, you decide to point at the can and crack another joke, “What? Do you want me to open it for you too?”

Jeonghan blinks out of his trance, and rolls his eyes teasingly as he reaches out to grab the can. “I can open it by myself, you know. I also do not view you as a glucose parent—especially when we consider the fact that your card declined on the meal you were treating me to.”

You gasp at the mention of that, reaching out and gently slapping his shoulder in retaliation. He chuckles to himself at that, and he takes a sip of coffee as you start to complain about the fact that he promised to never speak of that instance again.

Glancing around the room as you rant to him, you squint at some of your classmates who are still choosing to stare at the two of you. You knew he suddenly realized everyone’s eyes were on him, and you tried your best to distract him—which thankfully worked. Your eyes trail over towards the doorway to the classroom, and you let out a breath of relief when you don’t find Jaehyun standing by the door anymore.

Looking back into Jeonghan’s eyes, you raise an eyebrow, “How would you feel if I just blatantly stated that you punched the claw machi–”

“Okay! Okay, I understand. I’ll never speak of it again.” Jeonghan cuts off immediately, and you let out a laugh at the fact that that was all you needed to mention for him to butt in. He rolls his eyes and opens his coffee, raising it up towards you slightly, “Thank you, yn.”

You shrug your shoulders with a teasing smile, “Of course, Jeonghan. I know you’re fighting to stay awake everyday during class.”

The blonde nods his head at this and takes a sip of his coffee, before placing it down on the desk. He’s about to talk to you more, only to stop when the sound of your teacher’s voice rings throughout the room. You stand up from his desk to see your teacher entering the room while discussing the lesson plan for the day, and you quickly wave bye to Jeonghan before rushing over to your seat.

You greet Yeji as you sit down, and she wiggles her eyebrows at you in response. Tilting your head at her greeting, she just nudges you in the ribs and gestures over towards the front of the room. You squint at her, wondering what she’s trying to say as you whisper, “What?”

She nudges you again, and you swat her elbow away with a frown growing on your face. Your friend giggles at your annoyance, before whispering, “What is going on between you and the pretty boy over there?”

You roll your eyes, “His name is Jeonghan.”

“Ah, how’d you already know I was talking about Jeonghan?” You pause at the question, internally cursing at the fact that she caught you. Turning to face Yeji, you let out a sigh when you see the smug expression on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows at you again. Without a word, you reach out and slap her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her that captures the attention of your teacher.

“Yn and Yeji, either be quiet and listen to the lecture or spend an extra hour cleaning the classroom after school.”

You and Yeji quickly turn to face the front of the room, and you move to pull out your journal and pencil case from your bag. Seemingly satisfied, your teacher nods her head and turns back towards the board to continue the lesson. Looking up from your bag, you end up locking eyes with Jeonghan, and you squint when you see the mirth in his gaze.

Face the front, you mouth to him, to which the corner of his lips just quirks upwards in response. He turns back around in his seat, and you look back down at your journal and open it up to a new page. A hand darts out and scribbles a note on the top left corner of the page, and you bite back a laugh at the message Yeji had written.

This conversation isn’t over! We’re talking about it at lunch!

A hard slam of a lunch tray being placed in front of you makes you jump up in your seat, looking up to find Yeji standing across from you, a cheshire-like smile on her face as she moves to sit in the chair. You let out a groan at the fact that the conversation really wasn’t over like you were wishing it was.

“Now we can get down to business. Tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in the quietest boy in school?” Yeji asks, and you choke on your saliva, coughing into your arm to try and calm down. You reach out and desperately chug some water, before slamming the metal cup onto the table while shooting your friend a glare. “You really wasted no time, huh?”

Yeji shrugs, “I’m not the type to beat around the bush—you of all people know that.”

“You got me there.” You say, deciding to pick up your chopsticks to eat more of your lunch before adding, “Jeonghan and I were best friends when we were kids, and I wanted to rekindle that before we start applying to college.”

“You guys were friends? I can’t imagine you being friends with someone that quiet.” Yeji says through a mouthful of rice. You roll your eyes, pointing at her with your chopsticks, “Don’t speak with your mouth full! And why not? Some people are just quiet before you get to know them.”

Yeji hums in agreement with this, taking a sip of her water as she gazes around the cafeteria. After she finishes chewing the food in her mouth, she turns back to you, “Yeah, but Jeonghan is quiet. He doesn’t have any friends in this school, nor any social media for that matter. He’s practically a ghost—a handsome one, though. No one’s been able to get through to him since sophomore year, so this is the first time we’ve seen him talk to someone.”

You just shove a spoonful of rice into your mouth, feeling yourself growing more annoyed the longer the conversation goes on. Is this how your classmates viewed Jeonghan? It’s almost as if no one sees him as a human being, but some strange entity just because he’s quiet.

“I mean, you’d think with a face as beautiful as his, he’d be going around confidently like Jaehyun, or something. I remember him not being this quiet in freshman year, but something must’ve happened over that summer leading into sophomore year to make him so closed off.” Yeji recounts, looking off to the side in thought as she tries to remember more about Jeonghan. Your ears perk up at the mention of sophomore year, and your eyebrows furrow as you try to search your memories of the blonde.

Yeji claps her hands suddenly, making you look at her with raised eyebrows as she points at you with her spoon. “He bleached his hair suddenly in sophomore year too! I almost thought he was a trainee for an idol group, but I guess he just wanted to become blonde. He definitely captured a lot of peoples’ attention afterwards though, but everyone became uninterested when they found out how quiet he is.”

You tilt your head at this, suddenly remembering when you saw his bright head of blonde hair in the hallways for the first time. You may be a bit annoyed by how Yeji’s been speaking of him, but you were given some more insight into when Jeonghan first started to change.

Looking off to the side, you press your lips into a thin line and stand up from the table. Yeji looks up at you with a curious gaze, wondering why you’re attempting to leave lunch already. You gesture towards the exit, “I forgot that I need to talk to the teacher about my college essay. I’ll see you in class.”

Giving her a small smile, you turn around and walk away without hearing her response. You bite the inside of your cheek once you leave the cafeteria, feeling a bit guilty at how you definitely showed your annoyance towards the conversation with the way you abruptly left.

You’re frustrated. How could your classmates talk about Jeonghan like this when they don’t even know him? They don’t know what he’s going through, or if something’s wrong because they never reached out to ask. They just decided to make up stories and outcast him, which led to that fateful day…

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the floor as guilt washes over you.

You’re not frustrated at your classmates for gossiping instead of reaching out to Jeonghan when he needed someone the most, no.

You’re mad at yourself, because you were one of them.

You saw all the signs, you knew something had changed in your childhood best friend. Yet, you never reached out.

You only tried when it was too late.

A pained chuckle escapes you as you tilt your head up towards the ceiling, and you run a hand over your face as you mutter, “I’m such a hypocrite.”

Biting your bottom lip, you look down towards the ground.

This is no time for self-hatred, you think to yourself as you begin to head towards the classroom again. You came back for a reason. You wished every year since you turned 18 for Jeonghan to get a second chance, and you'd be damned if he didn’t get that because you started to focus too much on blaming yourself.

“I can do this.” You murmur as you turn the corner and enter the classroom, and you feel your heart stop within your chest at the sight before you.

Jeonghan is sitting on the windowsill, the sunlight peering in through the curtains and hitting his face as he stares out the window. His blonde hair glows underneath the light, making him look more ethereal than usual. However, above all else, he looks tired. From the dark bags under his eyes, to the look of pure exhaustion in his gaze as he looks out at the soccer field.

You quietly wonder how long he must’ve felt like this in the past, and how you just chose to overlook it. You haven’t seen this side of him since you started to commence your plan, but it makes you question what goes on in his head when the two of you aren’t together. Biting the inside of your cheek, you lightly knock on the desk to capture his attention.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, and you let out a small smile when the two of you lock eyes. You watch as an indecipherable emotion flashes past his eyes, and he raises his hand up to wave at you as he stands up from the windowsill.

“Did you eat?” You ask as you make your way over to him, and he nods his head while glancing out the window again. Slipping in-between the desks, you step over and sit on the windowsill right beside him, turning to see what he might be looking at.

You see a group of students playing soccer on the field, with your other classmates sitting on the bleachers either chatting or watching the impromptu game that happens during lunch every time the weather is nice. Leaning your head against the window, you turn back towards Jeonghan to see him looking at you instead, and you fight back the urge to suck in a breath from surprise.

“Yn, are you still bad at soccer?” Jeonghan asks suddenly, and your initial surprise turns into annoyance as you roll your eyes at the question. You notice the corner of his lips quirk upward at your reaction, and he rests his temple against the window like you.

“You know that I play forward in our school’s soccer team, right?” You respond with a raised eyebrow, and he just shrugs his shoulders. “All I can remember is you falling backwards when you attempted to kick a soccer ball for the first time.”

“I was ten! Ten years old! And I was just trying to prove you wrong since you were acting all cocky cause you joined the soccer team then!” You argue, eliciting a grin from the blonde as he waves a hand at you. You scowl at him, turning back towards the window to watch as some of your classmates dribble the ball down the field.

“I was cocky for good reason. You know that I was good when we were younger.” Jeonghan says, and you glance at him with a slight pout to your lips. There’s a sense of nostalgia from his expression as he watches the soccer game occurring on the field, and maybe even a bit of longing?

Does he miss playing soccer?

“I bet I’m better than you now.” You taunt, and he snorts, turning to you with an amused expression on his face. “Yeah?”

You nod your head, feeling a bit relieved that your method of challenging him might be working. Acting nonchalant, you shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, you don’t know how well I play now. Who knows? Maybe I can beat you if we play a match.”

The blonde stares into your eyes for a moment, before leaning in a bit more, and you instantaneously suck in a breath at the sudden close proximity. The corner of his lips quirks upwards,

“Alright. Let’s play 1v1 after school.”

And a victorious smile spreads over your face as you nod your head in agreement right as the bell rings, signaling that lunch is over.

“Get ready to lose, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“What the fuck. There’s no way… there’s no way you’re winning right now.” You pant, hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath while Jeonghan chugs water beside you. He lets out a satisfied breath after gulping the water, popping the lid back on as he turns to look at you with a grin on his face.

“Maybe you can pull a Praise Marty or something, I don’t remember the name.”

“Hail Mary, Jeonghan.”

The blonde lets out an, ah!, and snaps his fingers after you correct him. He nods his head and points at you, “That’s right! Wow, how could I forget?”

You roll your eyes jokingly and stand back up at your full height, stretching your arms over your head as you stare at Jeonghan’s goalpost. You turn towards the pretty man beside you and shoot him a glare as your arms lower back to your sides, “You’re being cocky again. What if I manage to get two points ahead of you and win the game? Then I get the right to be a cocky bastard.”

Jeonghan shrugs his shoulders and starts to head back towards the middle of the field, “You can try your best, cause I’m not going to make that an easy feat for you.”

“I’d be offended if you were being easy on me, so good.” You tell him, a chuckle escaping past his lips from that. Following him, you stand on the other side of the soccer ball, the two of you staring each other down with the competitive spirit clear in his gaze.

“You know if I make another goal then I win, right?” Jeonghan asks with a small smile ghosting his features, and you nod your head while feigning being hurt from his teasing. “Yoon Jeonghan, you’re damaging my pride by not knowing that I’m one of the best players on our school’s soccer team.”

“Maybe I just wanted to humble you.” The blonde replies, and you tilt your head at him.

Smiling, you say, “I think you’re the one that needs to be humbled.” before stepping past him and stealing the ball. You dribble the ball down the field, with Jeonghan following closely behind you to try and steal it back. You’re insanely focused on the game, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through you as you relish in the feeling of playing your beloved sport again.

After Jeonghan died, you quit playing altogether.

Right when you’re about to make an attempt to kick the ball into the net, you let out a shriek when Jeonghan suddenly steals the ball from you and runs down the field with it. You quickly follow after him, trying to run past him to take it back when he suddenly makes a long range kick.

And it hits the top left corner of the net.

“YES!” Jeonghan exclaims, raising his arms up in victory as he cheers. You rest your hands on your knees to catch your breath as he celebrates, awe flooding you at the fact that he was able to make such a shot when he hasn’t played the sport in years.

“Jesus Christ, Jeonghan. Why aren’t you on the soccer team? Our school would’ve had twice as many trophies with you on the team!” You say with wide eyes, and the sweaty blonde just shrugs his shoulders as he lifts up his shirt to wipe the sweat dripping down his face.

“I’m not that interested in soccer anymore.” Jeonghan answers tiredly, and you turn to see the faraway look in his eyes at that answer. Biting the inside of your cheek, you let out a loud groan and raise your arms up to stretch.

“Maybe you don’t need to be humbled then. Maybe the smugness is deserved.” You joke in an attempt to distract him from his thoughts, and he snorts. He turns to you, eyes now filled with humor as he responds, “I told you so.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hotshot. Since you won this game of soccer, why don’t you go and fetch my soccer ball and then I’ll prepare our bags.” You say with a grin, and the blonde chuckles.

“You don’t want to walk all the way to the goal, do you?”

“Nope. My legs feel like they’re about to collapse, so you’re in charge of getting my soccer ball.”

Jeonghan just rolls his eyes jokingly at your teasing, but jogs over to the net to get the soccer ball. The corner of your lips quirks upward, before turning and heading over to the benches and picking up your guys’ stuff. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you snatch Jeonghan’s bag and sweatshirt and walk over to the exit of the field where he’s waiting for you.

“You want your sweatshirt? You’re looking pretty cold now that we’re not running around.” You ask as the two of you walk off the field, and the blonde nods his head as he places the soccer ball into your bag. You extend your arm and hand over his sweatshirt, which he gratefully takes and throws on. After he puts his arms through the sleeves, he takes his bag from your grasp and puts it on, before taking your bag off and throwing it over his shoulder.

Blinking in surprise, you point to your bag, “I can carry it—”

“I got it, don’t worry.”

Warmth floods your face at the act of kindness, and you can’t help the small smile that forms on your face as you turn away to look at your surroundings. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you head in the direction of your homes, with the sound of dried leaves flying across the pavement and cars driving by filling the silence.

“You know, you’re really good at soccer. I was struggling a bit playing against you.” Jeonghan tells you after a moment, and you let out a smile at the compliment. “It feels great to hear you say that, especially when you’re like, my biggest inspiration behind starting the sport.”

The blonde tilts his head at this, having not known this piece of information as he glances at you with a raised eyebrow, “Why am I your biggest inspiration when all I did was make fun of you for falling backwards while trying to kick a soccer ball?”

You scoff at the mention of your origin with the sport, and he chuckles at your reaction. He waits patiently for you to answer his question, looking at you expectantly as the two of you walk slowly underneath the night sky.

“I thought you were so cool when we were younger, I wanted to do whatever you did.” You begin, a small smile playing on your lips as you think of all the hobbies you picked up because of Jeonghan. He listens intently, waiting for you to continue as you let out a breath. “Whether it be Pokémon, WiiSports, or even you eating more vegetables cause you wanted to be healthier. I wanted to do it all, but when I went to your first soccer game when we were 10, I thought you were so cool.”

Jeonghan blinks at your honesty, watching as your eyes practically sparkle as the memory plays inside your head. He remembers that day too, all the way down to the bright red jersey of his you were wearing, and the flowers you were holding. The corner of his lips quirks upwards when he remembers you handing him the flowers, apologizing for how they looked since they lost all their petals because of how much you were jumping and cheering for him.

It’s one of the memories he cherishes most.

“I had never seen you more in your element than I did watching you play soccer. You were the coolest guy ever to me, and I was so inspired that I immediately asked my mom to sign me up for soccer lessons behind your back to surprise you.” You explain, and the blonde chuckles lightly as he turns to you with a teasing grin on his face.

“You don’t think I’m cool anymore?”

“Jeonghan,” You begin, and the blonde feels his heart stutter slightly in his chest at how serious you look after his question. Reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, you give him a small smile,

“I think you’re the coolest person ever.”

Jeonghan stares at you in silence, and you watch as an indecipherable emotion flashes past his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek after a moment, and turns away as he lets out a small cough into his elbow. You quietly wonder to yourself if that was too much all at once, or if you made him uncomfortable as the two of you start to walk in silence again.

Oh no, we’ve been making so much progress too, you think to yourself as you turn away. Your worries disappear shortly after, however, when Jeonghan finally mutters,

“Thank you, yn.”

And you smile softly to yourself when you glance at the blonde to see the tinge of red painting his cheeks as he tries to hide his appearance from you. Letting out a quiet giggle, you nod your head and glance back up towards the night sky, seeing the moon shine down onto the both of you,

“Always, Jeonghan.”

“Yn, do you think you can help me out this weekend?” You turn to Jeonghan with wide eyes as you lower the banana milk from your lips, blinking slowly as you let his question sink in.

This is the first time he suggested we hang out in the month that we’ve been getting close, you think to yourself as the blonde suddenly becomes very interested in the metal railings of the staircase. Realizing you haven’t answered him yet, you quickly swallow the milk, “W-With what?”

I stuttered. I fucking stuttered, you internally curse as Jeonghan shoots you a glance with a nervous grin. Running a hand through his hair, he points to his head, and you raise an eyebrow at what he’s trying to insinuate.

Your mouth suddenly drops open when a thought comes to mind, and you raise a hand to your mouth as you let out a loud gasp. Jeonghan blinks at you, and you point to him with your mouth agape, “Are you enlisting already?!”

The blonde sputters at your question, and chugs some of his canned coffee before violently shaking his head. With wide eyes he wipes the back of his mouth and points at you, “No! How did you even come to that conclusion?!”

“Because you just suddenly pointed to your head! I thought you were going to ask me to shave your head for you.” You say as you cover your mouth, feeling relief and a bit of embarrassment flood you as you stare at the pretty man before you. He lets out a sigh and nudges your knee with his, “I was going to ask you to help retouch my roots and color my hair, doofus.”

You blink, ignoring the name he called you to ask, “Color your hair?”

Jeonghan nods his head as he looks down the staircase, “Yeah, just a temporary hair color. I only need it for this weekend.”

“Is that good for your hair?” You joke, and the blonde nudges your knee with his again. He leans his head towards your face, and you feel warmth flood your cheeks when the faint scent of strawberries registers in your senses. He pats the top of his head, “You can feel my hair. I think it still feels pretty soft for someone who’s been bleaching it for the last two years.”

You snort at his statement, before tentatively lifting up your hand and patting the top of his head. He’s not wrong in what he said. His hair still feels quite soft for the amount of chemicals he’s used on his hair, but it definitely isn’t at its healthiest state either.

Too focused on your own thoughts, you failed to notice that you’ve been silently stroking his hair instead of just patting it a couple of times. Jeonghan slowly lifts up his head until he’s looking into your eyes, ready to tease you for initially thinking his hair wasn’t soft, only to freeze. Your hand stops its movement on top of his head as well when the two of you lock eyes, the sound of your heartbeat becoming the only thing you can hear.

You never failed to notice how ethereal Jeonghan is, it was something you knew since the two of you were children. And yet, you still find yourself in a state of awe whenever you end up looking at him from this close-up.

“Pretty.” You whisper subconsciously, and Jeonghan blinks at you in shock as heat immediately rises to his face. You blink as well, only to let out a quiet gasp and retract your hand. You scoot over a bit and grab your banana milk, practically chugging the whole drink to try and soothe your fast beating heart.

Setting the container down onto the step, you let out a cough into your elbow before standing up from the step abruptly. Jeonghan’s turned away from you, cheeks flushed pink at what just occurred. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you point towards the direction of the classroom,

“Just text me the details for this weekend. I’ll be, uh, taking my leave.”

Rushing up the steps, you walk down the hallway and repeatedly slap your forehead while cursing yourself out for letting that slip.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would you say that out loud? And who the fuck says I’ll be taking my leave?! Stupid!”

While Jeonghan remains on the step, blinking as the moment replays in his head on loop as warmth rushes up his face.

Jeonghan can practically hear his own heartbeat in his ears with how loudly it’s beating against his chest. He didn’t realize how close the two of you were to each other, but for some reason, he doesn’t want to pull away just yet.

Their eyes are so bright, he thinks to himself as his eyes gaze into yours. It’s something he’s noticed since he was a child. You always seemed to shine whenever he saw you, a characteristic that seemed to have stuck with you to this point.

He swallows the growing lump in his throat, staring at you as the cruel reminder floats into his mind.

Your light, he doesn’t want to take that from you.

Clenching his fist, he moves to scoot back when one word escapes past your lips, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Pretty.”

Jeonghan slowly raises his hands to cup his hot face, and the smallest of smiles forms on his face at the memory.

The warmth in his heart lingers until it’s nighttime and he’s laying in bed, staring up at the night sky out the window as he compares whether the billions of stars in the sky are brighter than your eyes.

As he finally succumbs to sleep, he finds that the answer is you.

You’re brighter than all the stars in the sky combined.

February 9, 2019

You place your phone back onto your bedside table with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as you silently think to yourself, two more months.

You have two more months to convince Jeonghan to stay, that he is more precious than he could ever imagine.

“I think I’m making progress.” You mutter to yourself as you sit up in your bed, scratching the back of your neck as you climb off the mattress and walk out of your bedroom. In the first month you and Jeonghan have been hanging out, it’s only ever been you asking him to do things and him obliging (with a little bit of encouragement from you).

Him asking you to hangout today is a big step in your eyes, because it’s something that he planned.

Picking up your toothbrush, you apply toothpaste onto the bristles and start brushing your teeth while making sure to send the blonde a good morning text like you always do. A small smile forms on your face when Jeonghan’s text comes in a moment later, and you set your phone down to continue getting ready.

you: good morning jeonghan ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

jeonghannie: morning yn

₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎

You ring the doorbell to Jeonghan’s home, letting out a breath to try and rid yourself of the anxiety you feel as you stand on his doorstep. You know his house better than the back of your hand, and he’s the same with yours. The two of you always hungout at each other’s houses when you were younger, so you shouldn’t feel so nervous.

Except, the last time you went to Jeonghan’s house was after he died.

Before your thoughts could go any further, the front door opens, and you find yourself staring into the pretty brown eyes of the boy you came back in time for. His long blonde hair is a bit messy on his head, and he’s wearing an old oversized shirt that has numerous colors painted on it from previous hair dyes. The corners of his lips quirk upwards slightly at the sight of you, and you raise your hand up to give him a timid wave.

“Hi.”

The two of you stand there for a second longer, before Jeonghan steps to the side and gestures towards the inside of his house. “Come in. I was preparing the bleach already.”

Nodding your head, you slip off your shoes and step inside the house. You put on the fuzzy slippers that he placed on the floor for you, and follow him down the hallway as you gaze around at your surroundings.

Almost everything is the same in the house from when you last visited in the past, but the atmosphere is different.

After Jeonghan passed, the air was thick within the space. The curtains were drawn so there was no natural light entering through the windows. All the photos with Jeonghan that were hung up on the walls were too painful to look at, and one glance would send someone into tears.

So you tried not to look.

But the one photo you were forced to see was the large framed picture of him taken from the funeral home. It was placed in the living room, a candle on each side of it with sticks of incense you could light placed before him.

It was a sight that made your heart stop, because you quickly came to the realization that he had taken this photo only days prior from the sight of his retouched roots.

“Yn.” Your head snaps away from the living room and towards the blonde in the kitchen. His eyes are filled with a bit of concern, and you quickly realize that he must’ve been calling your name for the last minute or so.

“Oh, sorry. I spaced out there, what was the question?” You ask as you hurry over to him, and he opens his fridge and pulls out a carton of banana milk. Waving it in front of your face, he asks, “You want some?”

He watches as your eyes brighten from the sight of the drink, and he holds back a chuckle when you slowly nod your head with a growing smile on your face. Handing you the drink, he gestures over towards the stairs, “We’ll bleach my hair in the upstairs bathroom. My mom doesn’t want me to use the downstairs bathroom in case I make a mess.”

Popping the straw through the seal, you take a sip of the drink and nod your head at what he said, “I mean, it makes sense since guests would use that bathroom the most.”

Jeonghan nods as the two of you start making your way upstairs, and he steps into the bathroom with you following after him. You crinkle your nose when the strong scent of bleach floods your sense of smell, and the blonde grins at your obvious disgust as he mixes the concoction.

“I know, the smell is too strong right?” Jeonghan asks, and you nod your head while giving him an apologetic smile. He gestures over towards the drawer, “I put a mask in there for you cause I felt like you’d want to wear it while doing my hair. I know that you don’t like strong scents like this.”

Lowering the banana milk from your lips, you feel your heart thump against your chest at the fact that he remembered something as small as that. Biting back a smile, you open the drawer and take out the mask, putting it on without a second to waste.

Setting your drink down onto the counter, you reach past him and take the pair of gloves that he laid out for you. Putting them on your hands, you wiggle your fingers around to get used to the feeling of the tight plastic, before looking at Jeonghan in the mirror.

He’s busy adding things to the mixture with a concentrated look on his face. Leaning against the counter, you take note of his hair being long enough to start curling around the back of his neck. Your gaze trails up his features, from the slight pout to his lips, to his pointed nose, and to the black roots of his hair beginning to appear on the top of his head.

His eyes glance up in the mirror and lock with yours, catching you staring at him. You blink out of your daze, and immediately turn away to point towards the chair behind Jeonghan, “Sit down so that I can start bleaching your hair!”

The blonde chuckles at you avoiding eye contact, and nods his head as he sits on the chair in front of the mirror. Sucking in a deep breath, you rest your hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders and look at him in the mirror, “You know that I charge $100 per hour, right?”

“Ah, your card is still declining, huh?”

You bite your lip at his joke, slapping his shoulder before reaching out and grabbing the bowl of bleach. He lets out a giggle at your reaction, before beginning to tell you that you have to clip up his hair in layers and apply the bleach from the bottom layer to the top.

“I should just bleach your eyebrows for that joke you made.” You say as you run your hands through his hair to start sectioning the layers. You watch as he looks down to hide his smile, and you reach under his chin to tilt his face up towards the mirror. He blinks at you, seeing the warm look on your face as you tell him, “Your smile is pretty, don’t hide it from me.”

Feeling warmth flood up his face, he turns away and picks up another hair clip for you. He places it in your hand without a response, and pulls out his phone as his cheeks begin to turn a pretty shade of pink at your comment.

Smiling to yourself, you put the last clip in his hair and pick up the bowl and brush again. Dipping the brush in the bleach, you start to place it on the roots of Jeonghan’s hair as a comfortable silence falls over the two of you. As you move through each section, you watch as the blonde plays a niche game on his phone while you occasionally ask a question about the game.

“So, essentially, you’re just a gorilla flying through trying to avoid the obstacles.”

“Mhm.”

“And you can’t hit the ducks, but you can hit the pigs. However, it’s better to avoid the pigs cause you don’t think you actually gain anything when you fly through the pigs.”

“Yup.”

“And you found out about this game where?”

“I got an ad for it online and thought it looked funny.” Jeonghan replies with a sigh after he accidentally flies into the duck. He looks up into his reflection when an ad begins to play on his screen, already seeing his roots turning into that initial orange color before the toner. You chuckle, silently thinking that that is a very Jeonghan thing to do as you start on the last layer of his hair.

“Why do you bleach your hair? I think your hair might need a bit of a break.” You ask as you place the chemicals on his roots, and you watch as his thumb freezes over his screen, causing the gorilla to fly into an obstacle. You let out a low whistle when his score pops up, seeing that he was close to beating his record before you asked the question.

“That’s my bad. That’s my bad for real.” Jeonghan lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, placing his phone down onto the counter so that he can look at his hair in the mirror. As you finish placing the bleach on his roots, you sneak a glance into your reflection to see a faraway look in his eyes as he stares down at the counter.

It’s the same look you noticed that day during lunch, when he was sitting on the windowsill staring out at the field.

“Do you remember my younger sister? How she always used to bother us when you came over because she wanted to do whatever we were doing?” Jeonghan asks in a soft voice, causing you to pause and look up at him in the mirror. A small smile graces your features as you remember his baby sister, and you nod your head. “How could I ever forget about Jisoo? She was the cutest baby I’ve ever seen! How is she doing now? I didn’t see her when I came in.”

The corner of the blonde’s lips quirks upwards at your questions, but there’s no hint of humor or happiness in his eyes. He fiddles with his hands as he quietly begins, “When Jisoo was younger, she always dreamed of becoming a hairstylist one day. My parents wanted her to strive to be a doctor or a teacher, but she was always more passionate about hair.”

He smiles softly at the memory, and you slowly begin to dread what he could possibly say as the smile begins to fall from his face. Biting the inside of his cheek, he confesses,

“She was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia when she was 12 years old.”

You feel your throat tighten up at the news, disbelief flooding you as you silently wonder how you never knew of this before. Your parents and Jeonghan’s parents were still friends back then and in the present, how could you have not known of this?

Jeonghan presses his lips into a thin line, letting out a sigh as he gestures towards his hair, “When the doctors told us that the treatment wasn’t working and to prepare for the worst, I bleached my hair and started to grow it out. Since she lost her hair, I thought that the least I could do is become her canvas. Help her with her passion before…”

You watch as the blonde trails off, coughing into his elbow and shrugging his shoulders. The both of you know what he was going to say, but neither of you can bring yourselves to voice it out either.

Jeonghan scratches the back of his neck as he quietly adds, “It’s why I quit playing soccer. My family isn’t well off, but we make enough to be comfortable. I knew that soccer was an expensive sport, so I decided to give it up in order to help fund Jisoo’s treatment.”

You feel tears pricking the back of your eyes at his confession, the pieces of the puzzle slowly beginning to come together in your head.

All of the signs that you noticed but failed to acknowledge in the past. From his sudden blonde hair, to the slow descent of closing himself off to the rest of the world, to the pure exhaustion in his eyes whenever you saw him. It all must’ve gone downhill when Jisoo was diagnosed.

And you never thought to check in with him, only making an attempt when it was far too late.

“I-I didn’t know.” You choke out, your vision beginning to blur as you try to hide your emotions by burying yourself into bleaching Jeonghan’s hair. The blonde just shrugs again, an action you noticed he does often when he��s trying to act like everything is fine. “I didn’t tell anyone, and my parents have only told a few family members as well. Jisoo wanted it to be kept quiet, and I know if she was older, she definitely would’ve kept it from us.”

“Why do you think she’d do that?” You ask, reaching up to wipe away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek, a faraway look in his eyes as he quietly replies,

“It’s easier to let everyone think you’re fine in your last moments, rather than have them feel pain and worry.”

You’re unable to stop the tears from escaping your eyes at his words, and you quickly place the bleach concoction down onto the counter as you turn away from the blonde. Jeonghan glances up at you in the mirror, seeing you quickly wiping at your eyes and adjusting the mask over your face.

“Yn? Are you okay–”

“I-I’m fine.” You speak, and he feels part of himself crumble when he sees your red eyes and the wet marks on your mask. “Yn, you’re crying.”

Shaking your head, you raise your hands up to cover your face as you turn towards the wall when you hear the blonde stand up from the stool.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be crying when you’re the one who’s going through a hard time.” You say through your tears, wiping at your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. You’re overwhelmed by all the emotions you’re feeling, the ones that you kept at bay in order to stay focused on Jeonghan flooding to the surface from his one sentence alone.

How much pain must he have felt before going through with what he did?

“I’m so sorry, Jeonghan.” You cry out, feeling the sobs beginning to bubble up in your chest, refusing to turn and look at him as you try to calm down. Jeonghan feels like his own heart is breaking as he watches you cry, unsure as to why you’re apologizing as he tentatively reaches out and rests a hand on your shoulder.

“Yn, come here.”

You shake your head, reaching up and covering your face as you make an attempt to suck in deep breaths. The blonde bites the inside of his cheek, before he finally just reaches out and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, yn. You didn’t know.” Jeonghan whispers as he rubs your shoulders, trying to calm you down. You suck in a shaky breath at his words, feeling more guilt flood you as the tears continue to fall past your eyes.

With shaky hands, you reach up and rest them over his arms wrapped around you. You shut your eyes tightly as you feel his chest rise and fall from behind you, trying to match his breathing as he holds you.

You don’t know how you came back in time, or how this is even possible. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to even care about finding out the answers to those questions.

You’re standing here in this bathroom that reeks of bleach, being held by an 18 year old Jeonghan while tears slowly descend down your face. As the feeling of his breath hits your neck with the rise and fall of his chest from behind you, you allow yourself to soak in this moment of just how alive he is.

You slowly open your eyes and stare up at the ceiling, only one thought on your mind as you slightly squeeze his arms that are in your grasp.

Jeonghan is going to live. Whatever it takes.

“Are you sure she’d be comfortable enough to see me again? I know you said that you kept this within the family.” You ask the blonde as the two of you walk down the hallway of the hospital, feeling your heart beat a bit faster the closer you get to the room.

After you calmed down from your breakdown, you helped Jeonghan rinse and tone his hair. It was when you were combing through his hair that he had asked you if you wanted to come visit Jisoo with him, and you almost immediately said yes.

Now you’re feeling a bit anxious about having agreed.

“She always considered you as an older sibling when we were younger. I think she’d be surprised, but she’ll be happy to see you.” Jeonghan answers once the two of you stop in front of a room with a closed door. You bite your bottom lip, and turn to glance into the small window, just to feel your heart thump against your chest at the sight of Jisoo laying in the hospital bed.

Her once long beautiful hair that used to go down to her waist is all gone, now replaced with a warm beanie resting atop her head. She’s obviously grown up since you last saw her when she was a child, with the way she’s matured into her features. The exhaustion is evident on her face, one that reminds you of Jeonghan.

Except, the stars in her eyes when she was younger are still present now when she turns her head towards the two of you at the sound of the hospital door opening.

A look of surprise appears on her face when she makes eye contact with you, only to almost immediately be replaced by a bright smile as she shouts your name in excitement.

Relief and heartache floods you all at once at the pure joy on her face, and you quickly step away from Jeonghan to meet her halfway when she practically leaps off the bed to rush over to you.

You feel her frail arms wrap around your middle as you gently catch her in your arms. She’s practically shaking from joy at the fact that you’re here, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeonghan as the blonde walks past the two of you with a small grin on his face.

“It’s been so long! Oh my gosh, you got so pretty.” Jisoo says as she gazes up at you with a look of awe on her face. You feel warmth flood your face at the sudden compliment, and wave her off with your hand as a giggle escapes you, “Oh, please. I know when you were younger you always wanted to be a princess, but I think you’ve really grown to be as beautiful as one.”

The biggest smile forms on Jisoo’s face at your compliment, and you feel your heart pang against your chest as you gently pat the top of her head. You’re full of admiration for the youngest, the silent question of how she’s able to be so positive with her current situation floating at the back of your mind.

“Alright, Jisoo. You haven’t seen your older brother in ten million years and you won’t even give him the time of day. I see how it is.” Jeonghan jokes from the chair he’s resting on as he stares at you and Jisoo with an indecipherable emotion in his gaze. Jisoo chuckles and turns towards her brother with a raised eyebrow, “I saw you yesterday, Yoon Jeonghan. Yn? I haven’t seen them in years. I think it’s clear who I’d go to first.”

“Your coldness hurts, my dear sister. I should at least be receiving a thank you for bringing yn.”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me when I’m the one who told you to talk–”

Jisoo’s quickly pulled away from you and towards Jeonghan, who immediately places his hand over her mouth and shoots you a sheepish grin as he gestures over towards the bag of temporary hair dye the two of you bought. “Yn, can you go grab the stuff? I need to have a word with my sweet sister.”

You bite back a laugh and nod your head, before stepping over towards the chairs, hearing the sound of Jisoo fighting back against the blonde’s hold. Reaching into the bag, you pull out the bottle of pink hair dye, before glancing back to find the two siblings arguing in hushed voices.

It’s a sight you haven’t seen in years, and one that you thought you’d never see again in this lifetime. There’s a warm smile forming on Jeonghan’s face as he reaches out and playfully shakes his younger sister in his arms, with Jisoo’s pretty laugh ringing in the air as she tries to swat his hands away.

You find your gaze locked on the genuine smile adorning Jeonghan’s features, one that you haven’t seen during the time you’ve been spending time with him. You fail to notice the shy smile on your face as you watch the two interact, only realizing it when the blonde’s eyes suddenly trail back to you, and you quickly blink at the fact that you got caught staring.

“Jisoo, let’s dye Jeonghan’s hair.” You say as you head towards the bathroom, warmth flooding your face when you can still feel the blonde’s eyes on you.

Jisoo bites back a sly smile at the way Jeonghan’s gaze follows you until you disappear into the bathroom, and she nudges her brother in the stomach before following after you wordlessly. While Jeonghan stands there for a moment longer, listening to the sound of yours and Jisoo’s giggles begin to fill the room as you prepare the hair dye together.

“Yoon Jeonghan! Come here, it’s time to make you really look like an idol.” Jisoo calls out from the bathroom, gloves on her hands as she shoots him an excited smile. He’s about to scoff at her joke when your head suddenly pops out from behind her, a smile playing on your lips as you gesture for him to hurry up. Letting out a sigh, he shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and walks over to the two of you.

It’s half an hour later when you and Jisoo are working on the last layer of his hair that he finally glances up into the mirror to look at the both of you. He feels the corner of his lips quirk upwards at the sound of your laughter pouring out when his younger sister explains the story of her dying his hair for the first time, his eyes flooding with an indecipherable emotion as he stares at you.

He looks back down at his phone when you suddenly glance up into the mirror and make eye contact with him, ignoring the way his heart thumps against his chest. He presses on the power button of his phone, silently staring at the date that flashes back at him.

February 9, 2019

Jeonghan could argue that Winter is his least favorite season. He decided on that cold January evening three years ago when the news of Jisoo’s illness reached him. However, as he sits in this hospital bathroom, laughing with you and Jisoo at old childhood stories, he can’t help but wonder why he feels so warm during what’s supposed to be the coldest season of the year.

“Yn, do you think you can pass this to Jeonghan for me?” You glare down at the fifth box of chocolates that’s been given to you today, and you boredly look up at the random student that’s not even in your class. Waving a hand at the hopeful looking girl, you gesture behind you, “I’ll make sure he gets them.”

“Oh my God, thank you so much!” You give the girl a half hearted wave, watching as she runs away soon after she bids you goodbye. Letting out a loud sigh, you turn around and walk over to your best friend’s desk, feeling bitter at the number of chocolates he had received today.

It’s not even close to the end of the day!

“Here.” You grumble, placing the fifth box of chocolates you’ve received onto the table next to the other dozens of chocolates he had received from those who are a bit more brave about their feelings. Jeonghan lifts his head up from the desk and runs a hand through his wavy black hair, lifting up the new box of chocolates to inspect the package while you move to sit atop the table.

You never would’ve thought that Jeonghan would become so popular when you both reached middle school, let alone the fact that he was going to have such an insane glow-up as well. Both happened though, much to your surprise. You didn’t have a particular instance when you looked at your friend and gasped at the realization that he’s gorgeous.

You had only learned on Valentine’s Day last year, when he had received over 15 chocolates from 15 different people, that your best friend is rather beautiful.

“Mm, here.” You glance down to see Jeonghan holding out the box of chocolates to you, and you scoff as you push his hand away. “I am not going to take your pity chocolates!”

“You know that I’m not even going to eat all of these anyways, just take one box.” Jeonghan tells you, placing the box of chocolates onto your lap instead as he moves to rest his head on his desk. You quickly shove the box of chocolates under his head before he reaches the desk, and he lets out a grunt at the crinkly surface.

He lifts his head back up and raises an eyebrow at you, “You know, you look awfully jealous for someone who says they don’t celebrate Valentine’s day.”

“And you look awfully lonely for someone who got so many chocolates.” You counter, to which your best friend sighs and opens up the box of chocolates. You watch as he tosses one into his mouth, a grimace appearing on his face as he chews the sweet treat. You fight back a smile at his expression, quickly realizing that the person must’ve gifted him with milk chocolate instead of dark chocolate. He takes a sip of water to wash down the chocolate, before grabbing another piece and holding it out for you to take. Glaring at him, he waves his hand in your face for you to take it, and you sigh before leaning forward and letting him feed it to you.

He stares at the furrow forming between your eyebrows as you chew on the sweet treat, and he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, “You don’t like chocolate?”

You shrug, “It’s alright.”

“What would you want instead of chocolates on White day?” Jeonghan asks as he sits up in his seat, reaching up and gently rubbing the furrow between your eyebrows until you relax your features. You shrug your shoulders again, glancing out the window as you murmur, “I’d much rather get a plushie or something.”

“Oh? Is my one and only child confessing to someone on Valentine’s Day?” You’re snapped out of the fond memory at the sound of your mom’s teasing voice coming from behind you. Feeling warmth flood your face immediately, you turn towards your birth giver and squint at her, “Shouldn’t you be heading to work, my precious mother?”

“I can spare a minute to tease my wonderful child that’s been single for almost 18 years of their life.”

Ouch.

“That was so unprovoked, and for that reason, I will not be giving you any leftover chocolates.” You say with a glare, before turning back to remove the dark chocolates from the heart and bear shaped molds you bought. The corner of your lips curls upwards when you see that the chocolates look perfect, and you start to carefully place the chocolates into their wrappers.

“You’re not even going to give me a name of who you’re confessing to?” Your mom asks with a grin as she reaches out and takes the chocolate you held out to her. You place the lid onto the box of chocolates and gently tie the bow, before turning to look at your mom, “Does it taste good?”

Your mom chuckles, “They taste perfect, honey. Now can I get a name?”

Your eyes trail over to the clock on the microwave, and you quickly step past your mom when you see that you have 25 minutes before school starts. Placing the box of chocolates into your bag, you quickly put on the straps of your backpack and wave to your mother.

“Bye mom! I’ll text you when I make it to school!”

“Can you at least tell me what letter their name starts with?!” Your mom calls out to you from the kitchen table, to which you just smile and shut the front door.

You can’t be late to school on Valentine’s Day.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, yn!”

“Happy love day!”

“Did you greet Jaehyun happy birthday?”

You just bow your head kindly at all of the greetings, deciding not to answer the last question that was thrown at you as you walk down the hall. You’re determined to get to your classroom to surprise Jeonghan with the chocolates you made, but you seem to have forgotten how many people would want to greet you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” You practically jump back at the sudden greeting, and glance at the person who had thrusted their box of chocolates out towards you. A small smile takes over your features when you see the rising blush to her face as she waits for you to take them, and you take notice of the way the box is slightly shaking in her hands. You gently take it from her grasp and bow your head at her, “Thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day to you as well.”

With that, you start heading towards your classroom again, but not without hearing the girl squeal excitedly with her friends. A quiet giggle escapes past your lips at that, already imagining how Jeonghan would react when you tell him about it later.

With a skip to your step, you hurry over and open the door to your classroom, a smile forming on your face when you catch sight of that blonde head of hair at the front of the class. You’re about to walk over to Jeonghan when a warm hand grasps your wrist, and you quickly turn to find yourself staring at those familiar dimples of Jung Jaehyun.

“Jae, hi. Happy birthday.” You greet with a friendly smile, and he lets his hand fall to his side once he has your attention on him. He smiles back and leans against your classroom’s door frame, “Thank you, yn. Wow, did you make those chocolates or did you get confessed to?”

You glance down at the box of chocolates that were given to you in the hallway, and you let out a laugh and shake your head at him. “Nono, an underclassman just gave them to me a few minutes ago. She was really happy when I took them.”

“What’s your answer to her confession?” Jaehyun asks with a knowing smile, and you shrug your shoulders. “I’m not interested, but I’m very flattered that she gave me chocolates.”

“Oh? Has someone captured the heart of arguably one of the most popular people in school?”

The question has warmth flooding your face, unable to bring yourself to answer who is supposedly the school’s heartthrob. In the past, you would’ve played into Jaehyun’s flirting, especially since the two of you had a lot in common.

However, you find your eyes trailing over to the front of the class. Jeonghan’s head is still resting on the table, eyes closed as the morning sunlight shines into the classroom, casting a faint glow over the angel’s features as he sleeps.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You murmur, a small smile forming on your face as you stare at the pretty blonde. You fail to notice the bit of surprise on Jaehyun’s face at your answer, and he follows the direction of your eyes. A sad smile forms on his face when he sees Yoon Jeonghan fast asleep on his desk, and that’s when he realizes that he doesn’t stand a chance with you anymore.

“Well, I won’t keep you from delivering your chocolates then.” Jaehyun tells you, and you blink, turning to him with wide eyes. “How’d you know I made chocolates?”

“From the look in your eyes, I think anyone can tell that you’re planning to confess. Whoever it is, they better realize how lucky they are.” The brunette says with a smile, and you giggle back and nod your head. You watch as he raises a hand up to wave at you, “I need to head off to class, but good luck. They’ll love the chocolates.”

You grin, “Thank you, Jaehyun.”

“Of course, yn. See you around.”

Once Jaehyun turns and walks away, you turn around and walk over to your desk. You feel Yeji’s eyes on you, but you choose to ignore the mischievous expression on her face as you place your bag down onto your desk.

“So, did Valentine boy confess to you?” Yeji teases, to which you just unzip your bag in response.

“Come on, yn. You don’t need to hide it, you literally have a box of chocolates on your desk.”

“An underclassman gave them to me in the hallway, not Jae.” You answer as you reach into your bag and pull out the carefully wrapped box of chocolates you made. Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight, and she lets out a big smile, “Oh my God. Are you confessing to Jaehyun?!”

You don’t respond, and instead walk over to the front of the classroom without another word even though she hisses out your name. Once you find yourself standing in front of Jeonghan’s desk, you bite back a chuckle at the traces of pink still in his hair.

“Yoon Jeonghan.” You state, and you feel your heart flutter within your chest when the blonde’s eyes slowly open from the sound of your voice. He blinks tiredly, and sits up from his desk while rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the exhaustion.

“Now why’d you bring out the full government name?” He asks with a teasing smile, and you suck in a deep breath to try and calm your crazy heart. Squeezing the box of chocolates you’re hiding behind your back, you sway from side to side as you try to muster the courage to hand them to him. “Just cause I knew it’d wake you up.”

“You already know that you can say or do anything and it’d wake me up.” Jeonghan tells you with a chuckle as he takes a sip of water, and you quietly count to five in your head before thrusting out the box of chocolates you had made for him.

“W-What’s this?” The blonde asks with wide eyes, and you gently shake the box for emphasis. “You know damn well what it is considering your track record for this capitalistic holiday in middle school.”

Jeonghan stares at the box in shock, before looking back up into your eyes. He takes note of the way you can’t seem to stand still out of nervousness, an emotion he’s hardly seen in you during the years he’s known you. He bites the inside of his cheek when he sees the hope in your gaze, the genuinity pouring from your eyes as you wait for him to take the box from you.

He tentatively reaches up and takes the box from your grasp after a moment, and he carefully takes off the lid. A breath escapes him when he sees the beautiful chocolates sitting in the box, shapes ranging from the standard square to teddy bears and hearts.

“They’re dark chocolate, I remembered that you weren’t much of a fan of milk chocolate when we were younger.” You murmur, silently cursing yourself for feeling so shy as heat floods your face the longer you stand in front of the blonde. You watch in silence as Jeonghan stares down at the chocolates, an indecipherable emotion in his eyes as he stays quiet.

He hates them, you think to yourself with embarrassment slowly flooding you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you move to tell him he doesn’t have to accept them when he finally looks back up into your eyes. You’re rendered speechless at the sight of his warm smile that you haven’t seen in years, and your heart thumps against your chest when he says in a soft voice,

“Thank you, yn. I love them.”

You’re unable to control the smile that takes over your features, and you shrug your shoulders to try and appear nonchalant. However, the bright smile on your face betrays you, clearly showing that you’re ecstatic by the blonde’s reaction.

“I’m glad. Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoon Jeonghan.” You greet him warmly, and Jeonghan lets out a soft giggle that makes your heart swell within your chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, yn.”

You lay on your bedroom floor, recounting the events of today with a small smile on your face.

After you gave Jeonghan the chocolates, your teacher came in shortly after and started going over the lessons for the day. You were unable to concentrate though, due to both the sight of Jeonghan’s content reaction at the taste of the chocolates you had made for him, and Yeji aggressively nudging you with her shoulder out of excitement and curiosity of the budding relationship between you and the blonde.

It was only at lunch when Yeji was finally able to grill you on why you suddenly became close with Jeonghan, and when you started liking him.

“Yn, answer this honestly. Why did you suddenly start talking to Jeonghan?”

A small chuckle escapes you as you place the spoonful of rice into your mouth, and you glance back up to see your friend waiting expectantly for your answer. Grinning, you shrug your shoulders and rest your chin on the palm of your hand, the sight of Jeonghan’s warm smile burned into the back of your eyes as you murmur,

“To fulfill my wish.”

Letting out a breath, you roll over onto your side and shut your eyes to try and ingrain every single detail of Jeonghan’s smile into your brain so that you won’t forget the memory. It’s something too precious for you to ever forget.

Just as you’re about to roll over onto your back again, the sound of your doorbell ringing throughout your house makes you sit up from the floor. Blinking confusedly, you get up from the floor and walk out of your room.

It’s a moment later when you’re standing in front of your door, that you slowly open it to find the blonde standing on your doorstep. His long blonde hair is tied back into a short ponytail, his frame covered by an oversized beige sweatshirt and black sweatpants. You raise an eyebrow at his hands placed strategically behind his back, and you glance up at him with a growing smile forming on your lips.

“Jeonghan, what are you hiding?”

“Wow, so you’re not even going to invite me in?” The blonde teases, to which you roll your eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t come in here like you own the place every other time.”

“This is true.” Jeonghan states, eliciting a giggle from you as you lean against the doorframe.

The two of you stare at each other as a comfortable silence fills the air. You’re staring at his hands behind his back, watching as he shuffles from foot to foot as he looks at you with a shy grin on his face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you’re about to ask him what he’s doing here when suddenly, a big tan and teal ball is blocking your vision.

Blinking your eyes to adjust, you let out a loud gasp when you realize Jeonghan’s holding out the big Snorlax plushie you were trying to win a month ago. You immediately take it from his grasp as you squeal excitedly, not feeling the least bit embarrassed by your reaction while you hold the Pokémon tight within your arms.

“Jeonghan! When?! How!?!” You’re unable to form a full sentence from how ecstatic you are over the Pokémon, and the blonde can’t help but giggle at you as he shrugs his shoulders to try and appear nonchalant. “After school today, I went to the arcade to win Snorlax. I got him in three tries.”

You smile brightly at him, warmth flooding your face at the fact that he went out of his way to win you the beloved Pokémon. Hugging the plushie close to your chest, you lean forward to tease him, “So you decided to feed into capitalism, your sworn enemy?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and leans against the railing of your porch as he stares into your pretty eyes, “So you’re telling me you don’t want your precious Snorlax?”

“No!” You exclaim, holding the Pokémon tighter to your chest when he reaches to take it away from you. He smiles at your reaction, before reaching out and patting the top of your head, making you halt. You stare at him with wide eyes, warmth flooding your face as Jeonghan slowly lets his hand fall back to his side as he murmurs,

“I thought I could feed into capitalism just this once if it meant I could see your reaction to finally holding Snorlax in your arms.”

You can only blink at the blonde as he grins at you, your mouth slightly agape as you try to process what just happened. Jeonghan chuckles, and raises his hand up to shoot you a wave as he moves to step off your porch, “Happy Valentine’s Day, yn. Thank you for the chocolates.”

And you slowly raise your hand to wave back at him, trying to fight back the dumb smile that’s fighting its way onto your face as you whisper back,

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Yn, you don’t need to bring me a gift every time you visit. You don’t even have a job!”

“Okay. First, that was unprovoked. Second, this gift is different from the others!” You tell Jisoo with a small smile, and she squints at you. A giggle escapes you as you gesture for her to cover her eyes, and her frown deepens. A sigh leaves your lips as you mutter, “It’s times like this where you remind me of your brother.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true.” You tell her, before gesturing for her to cover her eyes again. She huffs, before closing her eyes and raising her hands up to shield her vision.

It’s currently one in the afternoon on Sunday, and you came to visit Jisoo without the blonde. Jeonghan doesn’t even know that you’ve come to visit his younger sister, but this also isn’t the first time you’ve visited her without the blonde’s knowledge.

This time, however, is special. From the times you’ve come with Jeonghan on the weekends to help Jisoo dye the blonde’s hair to whatever color she requests, you quickly came to notice the slight sadness to her gaze whenever her hands raked through his long hair. With this, you saved up some of your allowance from your parents to buy Jisoo a wig.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reach out and slowly take off the beanie that rests over Jisoo’s head. You take the wig of long brown hair out of the gift bag afterwards, and gently place it on top of Jisoo’s head. You take your time adjusting it to make sure that the bangs are perfectly placed, before taking a step back.

Reaching out to grab her bedside mirror, you hold it out towards her as you tell her to open her eyes. You watch with bated breath as her eyes that resemble that of her older brother’s slowly open, and a small smile forms on your face when you see her eyes fill with surprise at the sight before her.

“I know you like doing Jeonghan’s hair, but I thought you’d also like to do your own hair sometimes.” You tell her softly, watching as Jisoo raises her shaky hands up to trail her fingers through the brown hair. Tears flood the brunette’s eyes as she strokes her hair, before she looks up at you with a bright smile on her face.

“Yn, thank you.” Jisoo says with a shaky voice, and you nod your head. She bites her bottom lip, before stepping out of her bed and throwing her frail arms around you tightly.

“Thank you so much, for everything. For coming to visit me, bringing me gifts, and for taking care of my brother. Thank you, yn.” Jisoo tells you earnestly, and you blink away the tears flooding your eyes at her sweet words. Wrapping your arms around the youngest, you hold her tightly within your embrace as you stroke her back.

“Of course, Jisoo.”

After a moment, the brunette loosens her hold on you to take a step back and look up into your eyes. You reach up and cup her face to gently wipe away the tears on her cheeks, while she gives you a small smile. You smile back at her when she reaches up to wipe away tears of your own, but your smile almost immediately falls when she quietly says,

“I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

You blink at her words, trying to comprehend what she just said when the door to the hospital room suddenly opens up from behind the two of you.

“Jisoo~ I got you your favorite food–yn?”

You glance back to find Jeonghan staring at you in surprise, a bag filled with takeout in his hand. You watch as his gaze trails over to Jisoo, and you feel your heart squeeze in your chest when you see numerous emotions flood his eyes at the sight of his younger sister with long brown hair.

Jisoo takes a step back from you and quickly wipes the tears from her eyes, before giving her older brother a shy smile, “Jeonghan, how do I look?”

The blonde stares at Jisoo with a warm look in his eyes, and he sets the bag of takeout down onto the table. He walks up to the two of you, and gently pats the top of his sister’s head as he murmurs,

“You look pretty. You always look pretty, because you look just like your older brother.”

Jisoo immediately groans with a roll of her eyes, slapping his hand away as she walks over to the bag of takeout on the table. Jeonghan lets out a laugh at her reaction, and you attempt to smile as well, but you’re still a bit shaken by what Jisoo had told you right before the blonde entered the room.

“I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

You’re quickly snapped out of your daze, however, when a warm hand reaches out and grasps your own. You look up to find Jeonghan staring at you with a small smile, and he gives your hand a squeeze as he whispers,

“Thank you, yn.”

You nod your head, smiling back at him as you rub your thumb on the back of his hand. The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, unspoken words being said through your gazes alone.

“Alright, lovebirds. I’m going to eat all of this fried chicken if you guys want to keep being in love, or whatever.” Jisoo calls out from the table, and the two of you immediately let your hands fall to your sides as you turn to the youngest. She just gives you both a mischievous smile, and Jeonghan shoots her a glare as he walks over to her.

You watch quietly for a moment as the two siblings start to bicker, a sight that would usually bring you amusement, but you’re left with a slight feeling of dread as Jisoo’s confession continues to ring in the back of your mind.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

You giggle at your loved ones as they sing loudly around you, raising a hand up to your face as you feel warmth flood your face slightly. You’ve lived through the Happy Birthday song for 18 years now, but you still feel a bit shy whenever anyone sings it to you.

“Happy birthday dear yn, happy birthday to you!”

“Okay honey, make a wish.” Your mom says with a big smile, her phone held up towards you as she takes a video. You grin, glancing around the room to see Yeji and some of your soccer friends waiting for you to blow out the candles. You grip your knees underneath the table when you turn to look towards the front door, still having the smallest bit of hope that Jeonghan will come.

Sucking in a deep breath, you close your eyes and think to yourself,

I wish to celebrate my birthday with Yoon Jeonghan.

Opening your eyes, you blow out the candle, with cheers of your friends and family erupting around you. A small smile forms on your face as you look at everyone, but you can’t help but feel your gaze trail over to the front door again.

You waited a long time for him to come. It was only when everyone left and it was just you waiting by the window of your front door, that you accepted that he had never planned to show up in the first place.

You blink out of the memory at the sound of a notification dinging from your phone, and you glance down to find a new text from Yeji.

yeji: streets are saying that they’re serving katsu for lunch…

and by streets i mean the weekly school lunch menu on the bulletin board

You snort at the text, quickly replying that you’ll go have lunch with her today before putting your phone down on your dresser. Biting the inside of your cheek, you blink to rid your eyes of the tears that managed to pool on your waterline from the distinct memory that appeared in your mind.

It’s been close to a month since the day you and Jeonghan exchanged Valentine’s day gifts, and with each day that passes, you’ve slowly been starting to forget the reason that you’ve come back in time.

You and Jeonghan’s friendship has only been growing stronger each day, with him beginning to open up more, and you bringing him everywhere you go. Almost every weekend, you go with Jeonghan to visit Jisoo in the hospital, while continuing to “secretly” visit her by yourself. Whereas almost everyday after classes, you drag the blonde to go out to eat or play soccer together until your parents are both calling you to come home for dinner.

It’s like the two of you have fallen back into your old childhood routine, spending everyday together until your parents have to physically separate you in order to fulfill your basic needs.

You’ve even noticed more people trying to talk to the blonde in school, and it always brings a smile to your face when you see him reciprocating the attention. He’s even managed to bring attention to his soccer skills during P.E. when you sneakily instigated a soccer tournament with him knowing very well that he can’t just drop a competition.

The ping of your phone gets your attention as you’re throwing your backpack over your shoulders, and a small smile forms on your face when you read the text.

jeonghannie: good morning yn ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

“Yn!” Your head lifts up at the sudden exclamation of your name from behind you, and you turn to see Yeji looking at you with a mischievous smile on her face.

The seating arrangement in your class changed for the new month, with Yeji now sitting behind you and Jeonghan still sitting in the front row. Yeji was obviously a bit upset that the two of you were now separated, but she quickly got over it when she realized she could throw tiny paper balls at the back of your head.

At first it was annoying, now it’s just routine.

“Katsu.” You state, to which Yeji’s smile widens as she nods her head in response. Chuckling, the two of you both stand up from your desks to get started towards the cafeteria. As you’re about to pass through the door, you glance back to see the blonde getting up from his desk as he rubs his tired eyes.

He looks up and locks eyes with you, and the two of you share a secretive smile as you point towards the stairwell. He nods and shoots you a quick thumbs up, and you quickly send him the OK sign before hurrying after Yeji.

“You and Jeonghan talk in code now too, huh?” She teases when you catch up to her, and you quickly reach out to slap her arm. She lets out a squeak and rubs her arm, shooting you a glare, “Bitch?!”

“Mind your own, or else I’ll take your katsu.” You threaten, and she presses her lips into a thin line before shaking her head at you with a small smile beginning to form on her face. She lets out a sigh and wraps her arm around you, “When will you and blondie start dating? Everyone already knows you’re in love.”

You roll your eyes, internally cursing yourself for the warmth flooding your face at the idea of you and Jeonghan appearing in the back of your mind.

“I have other priorities right now.”

“How can anything be more important than you finally realizing your feelings for the man?” Yeji asks as the two of you enter the cafeteria, standing at the back of the lunch line. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and appear nonchalant, even adding a shrug.

“I need to make my wish come true first.”

You quietly walk into the stairwell to find Jeonghan sitting at the top step with his back against the railing, the sunlight from the window resting over his angelic features. His eyes are closed, airpod in each ear as he quietly listens to music. A smile forms on your face at the pretty sight, and you try to ingrain every detail of his beauty in your mind before making your presence known.

“Hi sleeping beauty.”

Jeonghan’s eyes slowly open at the sound of your voice through his music, and the corner of his lips quirks upwards when he locks eyes with you. He takes out an airpod with a grin forming on his face when you step forward and sit down across from him, back resting against the wall as the two of you stare at each other.

“So you think I’m beautiful?” Jeonghan teases, to which you roll your eyes as you hand him the can of coffee you had bought from the vending machine. He nods his thanks while still keeping his gaze on you, and you squint your eyes when you see the mirth lingering behind those pretty brown irises. Breaking eye contact first, you glance out the window to stare at the sun shining in through the window, with delicate white clouds floating past in the bright blue sky.

“What a beautiful day.” You murmur quietly, to which the blonde follows your gaze and stares out the window. He lets out a breath of content at the sight, “Yeah, it is.”

“Do you want to play soccer tonight?” You ask, turning to look at Jeonghan to gauge his reaction. He lets out a snort, taking a sip of the coffee as he continues to stare out the window. “You must really enjoy getting humbled, huh?”

You scoff and gently kick his foot, eliciting a chuckle from him as he finally turns to look at you. He shakes his head, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Never expected you to say no to soccer.”

“That’s because I already planned an outing for us tonight.” Jeonghan says in a quiet voice, and you blink. Then you blink again.

“You… you planned what?” You ask, clearly in shock by what he said. The blonde grins at your surprise, feeling satisfied at how he had managed to plan it all secretly. The bell rings before you can ask another question, signaling the end of your lunch break.

He lets out a sigh and stands up from the step, reaching out and gently patting the top of your head with a small smile on his face,

“You’ll find out the plan for tonight after class.”

With that, he turns around and coolly walks away towards your classroom. You watch his back as he walks away, still in a slight state of shock, before the tiniest of smiles begins to form on your face. Running a hand through your hair, you stand up from the step and slowly start to follow after him with a slight pep to your step.

“Our parents are going to kill us, Yoon Jeonghan!” You exclaim when he pulls you onto the bus that will surely take you two hours away from home. The blonde just waves a hand at you to signal that it’s fine as he pulls you into the seat beside him.

“You’re taking me to a place that’s two hours away from home on a school night. You know damn well our parents are going to murder us when we get back.” You say with wide eyes, and Jeonghan nods his head in silent agreement as he takes a sip from his water bottle. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you lean your head back against the chair and shut your eyes.

When did I start thinking like a 17 year old again? You silently think to yourself as you open your eyes, biting back a laugh at the fact that you’re worried about your mother’s wrath.

“It’ll be fun, don’t worry.” Jeonghan tells you as he puts in an earbud, taking the other and gently placing it into your ear. You chuckle, “I have no doubt that it’ll be fun, I’m just worried about the consequences of our actions after the fun.”

The blonde grins and shuffles his playlist, before leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes like you did earlier as the soft tune of a piano begins to play through his earbuds. Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes and adjust your position so that your head now rests on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

After a moment, you feel the blonde gently rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“Yn Yln, you know that it’s a school night! Where the hell are you going?!” You wince at the familiar sound of your mother’s screech, pulling the phone away from your ear as she starts to complain about you. You send an apologetic glance towards Jeonghan after the two of you hop off the bus, and he just chuckles at the sound of your mother’s voice.

“I’ll be home soon, I swear!” You whine, only for your mother to start shouting even more.

“Home soon my ass! Always going out after school, but it’s never to a cram school. Didn’t I teach you to try hard in your studies so that you can get to a good college?! I don’t ask for you to be first in school, just to have good grades!”

You roll your eyes at your mother’s nagging, and Jeonghan bites back a smile as he nods in agreement with what your mom’s saying. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to slap the blonde’s shoulder at his teasing. He grins, before reaching out and taking the phone from you.

“Hi auntie, it’s Jeonghan.”

You almost let out a shout of indignance when you hear the immediate change to your mother’s initial anger after Jeonghan takes the phone from you, to which he just shoots you a wink. You cross your arms in annoyance and look around as the blonde talks to your mother, and you feel your breath get taken away when the bus drives away, revealing the sunset beginning to fall beneath the sea.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to the sea, having gotten so used to the city life that you and your friends almost forgot to plan hangouts that venture outside of downtown Seoul. Biting back a sad smile, you find yourself missing your future friends for the first time since you’ve traveled back in time.

Oh, how Seungcheol would be so offended if he were to find out you only missed them now.

“Yes auntie, don’t worry. Yes, my mom knows that I planned this for today and knew she couldn’t talk me out of it.” Jeonghan says, and you turn away from the view before you to see the blonde let out a chuckle at something your mom must’ve said. Running a hand through his hair, he ends with, “I’ll have them home safe by 11. Yes, yes, I’ll also make sure to come visit you soon. I missed you too. See you soon, auntie!”

He hangs up the call and hands you your phone back, to which you raise an eyebrow at him. He simply shrugs his shoulders with a coy smile, “What can I say? Your mom’s always called me the son she never had.”

“She has never once said that!” You exclaim with a laugh, and Jeonghan gives you a look.

“She said it all the time, yn. Wow, that selective hearing of yours is impressive.” He teases as he starts walking towards the beach, and you roll your eyes before following after him. You adjust your bag over your shoulder as the two of you start walking along the sand, gazing at the sunset and the different groups of people mingling on the beach.

Since it’s a school day, it’s pretty empty. However, there are still some families with their young kids playing in the sand, as well as some couples taking walks along the beach.

“What did you even say to my mom to make her calm down?” You ask after a moment of silence has passed between the two of you, and Jeonghan laughs. “I was joking earlier, but your selective hearing is impressive. How did you completely tune out our whole conversation?”

You reach out and slap his shoulder at the teasing, eliciting a hiss from him as the two of you walk closer to the water. “I was busy admiring the view! I didn’t mean to tune out your conversation on purpose.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Jeonghan jokes once the two of you are standing in front of the water, with the waves crashing onto the shore almost reaching your guys’ shoes. You roll your eyes, before a mischievous grin takes over your features. As the blonde begins to talk about where the two of you should eat dinner, you wait for the waves to come crashing onto the sand.

“There’s a corndog place nearby, or we could have ramen…”

Jeonghan’s voice tunes out when the waves finally make an appearance, and you quickly shove the blonde into the water, to which he shouts in shock at the cold water against his ankles. Maniacal laughter pours out of you at the astonished expression on Jeonghan’s face as he stands frozen in place, before his eyes slowly trail up towards you.

He blinks at the sight of you laughing at his demise, with the orange light cast onto you by the sun setting behind him. He almost forgets the position he’s in because of you, with the ice cold water from the ocean soaking his shoes and pants. However, the sound of your sudden snort breaks him out of his trance, and he feels a smirk form on his face as he raises his arm up and points at you, mirth pooling his gaze when he sees your laughter begin to die down.

“You better run bitch.”

You squeak and immediately turn around to begin sprinting down the beach, screaming apologies with Jeonghan quickly following after you, shouting expletives at you for his now soaked pants.

As the sun starts to disappear behind the vast expanse of the sea, it’s almost as if time seems to stop for you and Jeonghan as the two of you run around on the beach. Not a care or worry in the world as the two of you play in the sand like you once did when you were children.

You sit on the sand, corndog in hand as you watch a few people down the beach shoot fireworks up into the sky. There seems to be a permanent smile on your face as you scarf down the last of your food, the sound of Jeonghan’s bright laughter while the two of you were fighting to push the other into the sea ringing in your ears.

The memory is halted when a hand is suddenly in front of your face, causing you to lean back to see the blonde standing beside you, two firework sticks in hand. You let out a quiet gasp and quickly stand up from the sand, “You bought fireworks for us? I thought you were just going to the bathroom!”

“I made a quick pit stop when I saw you staring at the fireworks shooting up into the sky.” Jeonghan tells you with a grin as he places the firework into your hand. Warmth floods your face at the fact that he had noticed your longing stare at the people playing with fireworks on the beach, and you gently nudge his shoulder with yours. “Thank you, Jeonghan.”

“Of course, yn. Now come on, let’s go shoot these fireworks before we head back.”

The two of you walk towards the edge of the beach, stopping where the waves meet the sand. You stare off into the dark water, quietly wondering why you hadn’t gone to the beach more often in the future. The sea was one of your favorite places to visit growing up, partly due to your summers spent here with Jeonghan, but also because you just love the smell of the salty waters, the feel of the sand beneath your feet.

The memories that were made here at this beach have always been timeless.

“Yn, hold yours out.” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Jeonghan striking the match on the box, a flame immediately igniting as he turns to you and lights your firework. He reaches out and adjusts your hand on the firework, making sure it’s aimed upwards towards the sky. You jump slightly when the firework shoots out, eliciting a laugh from the blonde that makes you gently nudge him in the stomach.

A smile forms on your face at the sight of his beautiful smile, warmth flooding you at the fact that you’ve been blessed by some God out there to see it again.

“Thank you.” You murmur, and Jeonghan looks away from the fireworks shooting into the sky, just to find you staring at him with an indecipherable emotion in your gaze. He feels the corner of his lips quirk upward, and he tilts his head at you, “For what?”

“For being here with me.”

And you watch as something flickers past Jeonghan’s eyes at your answer, before slightly shaking his head and turning back to the fireworks. You grin and follow suit, watching in awe as the last of your firework explodes into numerous colors in the night sky.

“I missed you.” Jeonghan says quietly as he prepares to light his firework, making your head snap towards him. You reach up and stretch your earlobes, unsure if you heard him correctly as he focuses on striking the match. It’s only when the flame ignites on the match, and he lights his firework, that he turns back to you as the first firework shoots into the sky.

“I took you to the beach because I missed you.” The blonde tells you, and you can only stare at him in shock as a small smile appears on his face. “Every once in a while, I found myself suddenly remembering the times we were brought to the beach as children. From the sandcastles we built, to us running into the sea and accidentally inhaling some salt water—I thought of it all. And I missed it, I missed you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at his confession, watching as Jeonghan turns away to look up towards the night sky while the fireworks go off. His face is illuminated by the numerous colors exploding in the sky. From red, to orange, to purple, an iridescence of colors are cast onto him.

“So thank you, yn. Thank you for letting me experience this memory with you again.” Jeonghan whispers, his voice so quiet that you almost miss it by the sound of his fireworks exploding in the air. Feeling tears flood your eyes, you already know that your voice will crack if you even try to answer him with words.

So, you respond silently.

You reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, hearing the faint sound of his breath hitching at the sudden skinship. Without looking, you step closer and rest your head on his shoulder, staring upwards as the last of his fireworks shoots up into the sky.

It’s only when the final firework explodes in the darkness that you quietly whisper,

“Always.”

You walk into school with a furrow between your eyebrows, fists clenched as you head towards your classroom. There’s numerous people greeting you as you make your way down the hallway, some giving a belated birthday greeting. You can only nod at them, though, because you have to talk to someone.

Yoon Jeonghan didn’t come to your birthday party on Saturday, even though he had promised he would.

Once your classroom comes into view, you pick up the pace and immediately slide open the door. You do a quick onceover of the people inside the class, just for your frown to deepen when you see Jeonghan’s seat is left empty.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you walk over and plop down into your desk. You don’t know why you’re so upset over him not coming to your birthday, it’s not like the two of you are as close as you used to be.

You reach up to rub the back of your neck at your petty thoughts, knowing deep down that you are guilty for your guys’ dwindling friendship.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t come, you think to yourself. It would make sense, he might’ve thought that you were just joking when you invited him. You couldn’t blame him, the two of you haven’t had an actual conversation since the beginning of Freshman year. If the roles were swapped, and Jeonghan was the one who suddenly invited you to his birthday, you also would’ve thought it was a joke.

You bite the inside of your cheek when the memory of his smile appears in your mind, his promise to be at your birthday ringing in your ears as well. Clenching your fist at your side, you look up when you hear your teacher’s voice entering the room.

“Class, before I get into the lecture, I have some news to share with all of you.”

You feel a foot kick the back of your chair, and you glance back to find Yeji raising an eyebrow at you. You shrug your shoulders at her, unsure of what the announcement could be either. Hearing the sound of your teacher clearing his throat, you turn back to see him looking a bit uncomfortable about what he’s going to say next.

“Your classmate, Yoon Jeonghan, sadly passed away on Saturday, April 20th. His family have requested to keep the information private, but have extended an invitation to his funeral. If any of you need to go to the counselor’s office…”

The rest of his words get tuned out by the sound of a sharp ringing in your ears, and your eyes slowly trail over towards the empty desk in the front of the classroom. Feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest, your hand slowly crawls up to your neck as it starts to get harder to breathe.

This can’t be. It can’t be real.

You gasp for air as you clutch onto the front of your shirt, abruptly standing up from your desk in the middle of your teacher’s speech about your childhood best friend. Everyone’s eyes are on you as you struggle to breathe, and you quickly look over towards the exit and step away from your desk. Yeji is looking at you with concern pooled in her eyes, and she reaches out to grasp your hand, but you flinch out of her reach and stagger out of the classroom without being excused.

You stumble down the hallway and to the stairwell, trying to suck in a breath as you slam your back against the wall to gain balance. Raising your hands up to your hair, you clutch your head as you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. Slowly sliding down the wall until you’re on the floor, your eyes are wide as you stare down at your shoes, unable to believe what is happening as you struggle for air.

Your hands reach over to cover your face, and you pull back after they make contact, just to see the wetness to them from the tears you didn’t realize were escaping. You reach up to aggressively wipe away the tears falling from your eyes, but it just results in a sob escaping your lips as you curl up into a ball. Your hands grab at your hair, feeling a raw scream rip its way out of your throat as black dots begin to cloud your vision.

“Yn? Yn! Yeji, please go and call yn’s parents. Yn, breathe.” A familiar deep voice rings through your ears, hands resting on your shoulders to try and get you to look at him, but you’re unable to listen as you struggle to suck in a breath. You punch your chest in an attempt to get yourself to breathe properly, but you can only feel another sob escape you as you shake your head at Jaehyun.

“Yn? YN!”

Jaehyun’s frantic shout of your name goes unheard as the world around you finally turns black.

You gasp awake, sweat dripping down your back as you stare up at the ceiling with wide eyes. You reach up and wipe your face, only to pause when you feel the wetness to your cheeks. A shaky breath escapes you as your vision blurs, and you blink your eyes, feeling tears trail down the sides of your face.

“Jeonghan’s alive. It’s okay.” You murmur to yourself, before reaching out and grabbing your phone to check the time. You press your lips into a thin line when you see that you don’t have to be awake for another 4 hours, and you sigh as you place your phone back down onto your dresser.

You wonder why your brain decided to remind you of such a tragic memory after having such a beautiful day with Jeonghan. Is it because deep down, you’re still afraid? Is it to remind you that you still have a wish to accomplish?

You let out a huff and shake your head as if to rid yourself of your thoughts, knowing that overthinking the dream won’t do you any good.

“I need to sleep.”

Rolling over onto your side, the date flashes in the back of your mind as you slowly begin to drift back to sleep.

March 11, 2019

One more month.

You walk into the school with a pep to your step, a small smile on your face as you think of the possible ideas of what you and Jeonghan can do once classes are over. You’re greeted by some of your classmates in the hallways, to which you just shoot them a smile and wave in response, before continuing on towards the classroom.

You look forward to talking to Jeonghan in the mornings.

Stepping into the classroom, your eyes immediately zone in on Jeonghan’s desk, only for you to halt your movements.

His seat is empty, with no sign of him even being there.

You walk over to your seat and place your bag down, unzipping your bag to take out the canned coffee you had bought him on your way to school. You step over to his desk, and your grip on the beverage tightens when you don’t see his backpack or jacket on his seat.

“Yn!” Your head snaps up towards the doorway, and you lock eyes with a happy looking Yeji. Walking over towards her, you plop down in your seat as she sits on her desk behind you, “Good morning, yn.”

“Morning Yeji, have you seen Jeonghan?” You ask, and the brunette shakes her head as she spares a glance towards his desk. She shrugs her shoulders, “I haven’t seen him this morning, maybe he’s late? Him and I don’t really talk anyways, though.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you pull out your phone and open up your messages, and your heart falls when you see no response to your good morning message.

“Yn, are you okay?” Yeji asks, and you glance up to find concern in her gaze as she looks at you. Pouting her lips, she reaches out and rests her thumb between your eyebrows, smoothing out the crease you didn’t know was there. “You’ve been frowning since I got here.”

“I’m just… I’m just a bit worried that Jeonghan’s ruining his perfect attendance record.” You lie, and the brunette just stares, seeing right through your fib. Yet she doesn’t push it, and for that, you’re grateful for her.

“I’m sure he’s just making sure that you win that perfect attendance award since he knows how hard you’ve been trying to win that when we graduate.” Yeji tells you, squeezing your arm as a means to comfort you. You let out a shaky breath, and give her a small smile, “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

The brunette is about to comfort you more when your teacher enters the classroom, and you immediately turn towards the front of the class. You watch anxiously as he unpacks his textbook and notes for the lecture, trying to analyze his facial features to see if there’s a trace of sadness or discomfort. You clench your fists when he finally looks up at the class, opening his mouth to say,

“Alright class, open up your textbooks to page 88…”

You feel yourself letting out the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, immediately tuning out his directions as you rest your head in your hands. You try to do a breathing exercise to calm down your beating heart, but the unease is still present as you look up to see Jeonghan’s empty desk.

Sweat drips down your face as you run, but you can’t allow yourself to slow down even a little. Your heart is beating hard against your chest, and you’re practically gasping for air, but you’re so close to home already.

As soon as the bell rang signaling that school was over, you threw your backpack over your shoulder and sprinted out of there.

Jeonghan never answered your text.

Now you’re running home so that you can run up to Jeonghan’s door and aggressively ring the doorbell. You don’t care if you’ll annoy him or be a nuisance, as long as he answers.

That’s all that matters.

You gasp for air when you make it into your neighborhood, and you push yourself to run a bit faster as you turn the corner and end up in your driveway. You practically fall onto your knees as you practically dry heave, letting your backpack fall to the ground.

You’re about to get ready to stand up and rush to Jeonghan’s house across the street, only to pause when you see your parents stepping out of the house, dressed in all black. Your heart immediately plummets when you see the pained look in your mother’s eyes when she looks up at you.

“Mom, what are you—“

“Yn, honey, I need you to freshen up and then put on a formal black outfit.” Your mom tells you in as soft of a voice she can muster, and you feel your breathing turn more rigid at how familiar this all is.

This can’t be… I still have a month left, you think to yourself as you clench your fists.

“Mom. What are you trying to say?” You ask quietly, feeling your hands begin to shake at your sides as your father walks up to you and picks up your bag from the ground. He gently reaches out and grasps your shaking hand, giving it a squeeze, and you turn to look at him.

“Jisoo passed away in the night. Her and Jeonghan’s parents called to let us know while you were in school.”

You blink at your father, his words slowly starting to sink in until they hit you all at once like a train. Stumbling backwards, you flinch away from your father’s grasp, tears flooding your vision as you stare at the ground with wide eyes.

“T-This can’t be… I don’t remember this.” You whisper to yourself, your hands reaching up to grip at your hair as you try to recall any old memories of Jisoo’s passing. You feel your parents reaching out to you, making an attempt to bring you inside your home, but you can only step away from them as you search your brain for anything you could’ve missed.

But you can’t. You don’t remember hearing anything of Jisoo’s death before Jeonghan passed.

“Yn, we have to attend the funeral. We don’t want to be late.” Your mother tells you softly, grasping your arm and leading you into your home. You just let her bring you inside, sucking in shaky breaths as the tears continue to fall from your eyes.

How could I not have known? You think to yourself as you’re brought into the bathroom, with your mother promising to bring in your formal black attire to put on after you shower. Numbly, you strip out of your sweat soaked clothes, and step into the shower. As the hot water falls onto your body, you swallow the lump in your throat as guilt flows through you.

How could you have lived so ignorantly back then?

You and your parents step into the funeral home, and you take notice of a few people around Jisoo’s age sitting at the tables, eating small meals. Sucking in a shaky breath, you tighten your grip around your mother’s hand as she guides you to the room.

The three of you turn the corner and step into the room, where tears immediately build up in your eyes when you see Jisoo’s smiling face in the center of all the flowers. Your bottom lip quivers as you try to keep your emotions at bay as the three of you bow to Jisoo twice.

You slowly turn in place to face Jeonghan’s family, and you feel your heart break within your chest when you see the blonde standing before you. He’s staring down at the floor with an empty look in his eyes, not even realizing you’re here. The dark eyebags that had slowly started to disappear are now back on his face, and his lips are incredibly chapped.

Your family bows to Jeonghan’s, which they reciprocate. When you stand back at your full height, your parents immediately start to give their condolences to Jeonghan’s parents. While you take a step closer to Jeonghan, who is still staring down at the floor with a lifeless look in his gaze.

“Jeonghan.” You murmur, and you see the blonde stir slightly at the sound of your voice. He slowly turns and looks up at you, and you feel your heart break within your chest at how empty he looks. You haven’t seen him look like this since that one day a couple of months ago, when you caught him sitting on the ledge of the window, staring out at the field.

Jeonghan blinks when the two of you make eye contact, almost as if he’s just realized that you’re here. You manage to give him a small smile in greeting, and from the sight alone, tears immediately flood his eyes.

The blonde steps forward and wraps his arms around you without a word, tears falling past his eyes when your arms wrap around his waist. He nuzzles his face into your neck, the sobs that he tried to keep inside beginning to pour out as you hold him tightly within your embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Jeonghan.” You whisper, tears falling past your eyes at the sound of his sobs.

And all you can do is hold him tighter as he cries, trying to offer him the comfort that you tried to give too late in the past.

“I knew she was getting weaker as the days went on.” Jeonghan murmurs quietly, his eyes bloodshot and face swollen from crying. The two of you are sitting at the back of the room, staring at Jisoo’s smiling face while both of your parents speak with the guests outside. You sniffle and take a sip of water, knowing that your own face probably matches his from the tears that you shed.

“But she just kept acting like nothing was wrong, like she wasn’t living on borrowed time.”

“That’s Jisoo for you.” You tell him softly, and the blonde glances at you with curiosity. You wipe your nose, a small smile forming on your face at the memories flooding your mind, “Ever since she was a baby, she was always so positive. The only times I saw her frown was when you would trick her.”

The corner of the blonde’s lips quirks upwards at this, before his expression turns solemn again.

“If I had known yesterday was her last day, I would’ve stayed by her side.”

“Jeonghan, it’s not your fault.” You interject immediately, but the blonde just runs a hand through his hair in silence. He lets out a choked laugh as he shakes his head, “She was the one who told me not to come visit after classes were done. She told me to do something for myself instead of going to visit her, and she was very insistent on it.”

“Jeonghan…”

“I tried to argue with her, even tried to bribe her by saying I’d bring you, but she just kept telling me that I looked silly wanting to spend all my freetime with my baby sister instead of you. I still went to visit her for a little bit when we got back, and I–” Jeonghan chokes up at the thought, and swallows the lump in his throat to continue.

“I saw how tired she looked. I tried to play it off as if the treatment from the day before really took a toll on her, but it wasn’t that, and Jisoo knew it. She knew it was almost time, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. If I had known… I would’ve done everything differently. I would’ve argued back more. I would’ve spent the night at the hospital. I would’ve—“

“Jeonghan, you know how happy she must’ve been when you came to visit her last night and heard about your day even for that short span of time? You know your happiness is her happiness, and vice versa.” You say, watching as the blonde’s bottom lip quivers as tears begin to flood his eyes again. You reach out and rest your hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze as you murmur, “Jisoo doesn’t blame you for anything, she wanted you to be able to live happily even if she wasn’t there. Her wishes were answered when she saw you before she went to sleep last night.”

Jeonghan chokes on a sob, reaching up and resting a hand over his eyes as the second wave of tears cascade down his cheeks.

“She was too young, too precious.” Jeonghan whispers through his tears, moving his hand so that he can look at Jisoo’s smiling face again. You squeeze his hand again, feeling your eyes water as you swallow the growing lump in your throat. Nodding your head, you mutter, “She, of all people, deserved a full life.”

Jeonghan stares at Jisoo’s framed picture in silence for a moment, before muttering, “I don’t know what to do without her.”

You suck in a shaky breath at his words, silently realizing that this must’ve been it. This was his breaking point back then. He had almost no support system, having already isolated himself from others when Jisoo was diagnosed in sophomore year. No one except his family knew what he must have been feeling, and even they must’ve not known the extent of his depression.

And then there was you. The only other person in this world who knew Jeonghan from the inside and out, who didn’t decide to reach out until your 18th birthday.

You knew that something was off, that he wasn’t himself. Yet you stood idly by, only sparing him a few glances before going back to your other friends because you didn’t think you were close enough to reach out anymore. It wasn’t until it was too late that you tried to be there for him, and it wasn’t enough.

Turning your head to glance at the blonde, you stare at his angelic features that were shared with his beautiful sister. From his long eyelashes, to the slope of his nose, and to the pretty mole on his cheek. You feel your heart seize in your chest when a single tear slowly trails down his cheek as he stares at the photo of Jisoo, and you can’t help but think of how exhausted he looks. It almost feels like a punch in the gut when you realize how similar it is to how he looked right before he died.

As the days went on in March back then, the bags under his eyes became darker, his complexion slowly losing that warm glow, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes, the pure exhaustion that dripped from his gaze whenever you looked at him in class.

Jeonghan was alive, but he was an empty shell of who he used to be.

How could I have just ignored all the signs? You silently wonder to yourself as you stare at the broken boy beside you, feeling your heart break at the sight of the grief on his face. Turning away from the blonde, you quietly tell him,

“You live.” You feel Jeonghan turn his head to glance at you, and you whisper, “You live for her, for Jisoo.”

After the words leave your lips, you turn to look at the blonde right when the tears fall from his eyes. He presses his lips into a thin line, before a heartbreaking smile slowly takes over his features as he chokes out, “I don’t know if I can.”

Jisoo’s words to you from a month ago suddenly ring in your ears, “I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tentatively raise your hand up towards his face, and without breaking eye contact, you rest it against his cheek. Wiping away his tears with the pad of your thumb, you return his smile with your own tears falling past your eyes, “That’s okay, because she and I know that you will.”

At this, Jeonghan bites his bottom lip to try and fight the next wave of sobs that threaten to pour out, turning away from you to hide his tears. However, you reach out and wrap your arms around him, pulling the blonde towards you until his face is hidden in your shoulder. You rest your cheek on the back of his head, gently rubbing his back as you hold back sobs of your own.

You slowly enter the funeral home with your parents on either side of you, your heartbeat loud against your ears as you look at all of the people sitting at the tables sharing a meal and a drink. You recognize a few as Jeonghan’s relatives, having met them before at family parties.

You come to a stop when you’re about to turn to enter the room, and your mother gives you a glance, “Yn, we have to.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you shake your head, “This can’t be real. None of this can be real.”

“Come on, honey.” Your father tells you, and without another word, your parents gently push you forward.

The three of you slip off your shoes and step up into the room, and a shaky breath escapes your lips when you see Jeonghan’s smiling face among the flowers surrounding the picture frame. You turn your head to see Jeonghan’s parents standing off to the side as your family steps up to the altar. You clench your fists when you see the dried tear tracks on his mother’s face, and the tired expression on his father’s as he stares at the floor.

The three of you light a stick of incense beside Jeonghan’s portrait, before bowing towards him. You feel numb each time you look up at his face, unable to believe that this is real.

That Jeonghan is dead.

When your family is done, you turn towards Jeonghan’s parents, and your bottom lip begins to quiver when you bow towards them. It’s when you’re standing back at your full height that you finally lock eyes with Jeonghan’s mother, and an overwhelming feeling of guilt floods you as a tear trails down her face.

She tentatively steps towards you, and with shaky hands, cups your face. You raise your hands up and rest them over hers, and her thumbs wipe underneath your eyes. The act brings you to the realization that you’ve been crying this whole time.

She attempts to give you a smile, and you bite back a sob as she murmurs, “You’re so grown up now, dear.”

Without another word, you step forward and wrap your arms around her, crying out your apologies as she holds you in her warm embrace. You feel her shaking her head at your apologies as she mutters that it’s not your fault, that no one knew this would happen.

But the grief overwhelms you as you hug her tighter, shaking within her hold as you shake your head at her. All you can do is sob, continuing to cry out apologies as you hear Jeonghan’s father start to cry beside you.

Eventually, Jeonghan’s mother can only hold you silently, knowing that no words of reassurance can relieve you of the guilt you feel.

“Yn.” You turn your head at the sound of your name being called, just for a small smile to form on your face when you see the blonde dribbling the soccer ball towards you. You twist on the cap of the water bottle, and rest it on the bleachers beside you, “Mm?”

Jeonghan kicks the ball over to you, and you stop it with your foot. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, and you notice how much his roots have grown.

It’s been almost three weeks since Jisoo passed, and it’s been a rough journey to get to where the two of you are now. Jeonghan didn’t attend classes for a week, opting to either just stay in bed or sit in the corner of Jisoo’s bedroom and hold her favorite plushie. Everyday after school, you’d go over to his house with a copy of your notes that you took during class, and either coax him out of bed or feed him his meals.

The second week, he was able to go to school. However, he didn’t talk much, and that was okay with you. You would either put on your favorite show and have him watch it from beside you, or tell him about anything and everything you could think of to distract him. After classes were over, you would drag him to the field and have him play soccer with you.

You found that the sport is what would bring the most relief to the blonde.

“What’s your opinion on mullets?” The blonde asks as he gestures towards the water bottle beside you, and you snort at the random question. Tossing the bottle to him, you reply, “I think they’re nice. Only some people can rock it, though. Oh! It also has to be a specific type of mullet.”

Jeonghan gulps down some water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with an amused expression on his face. You raise an eyebrow, “What?”

“Didn’t know you had a PhD in mullets.” The blonde jokes, and you roll your eyes jokingly. Shrugging your shoulders, you remember how in the future, you meet one of the only people you know who looks amazing with a mullet.

“I kinda miss Minghao.” You whisper to yourself as you remember your roommate, having almost forgotten about the wonderful friend group you made once you got to college. You silently wonder if you’ll still be able to meet them after you change the past, or if your actions now are changing everything about your future.

Then again, you always did think that your group of 13 was missing someone.

“Yn.” Jeonghan calls out, and you look up at the blonde, just for him to gesture towards the sky behind you. Blinking, you turn around, and feel your breath get taken away by the sight of the sunset. The sun is a bright orange, with the sky painted in different pinks and purples. The clouds resemble that of cotton candy—delicate and soft.

“Didn’t think you’d want to miss it.” Jeonghan says as he sits beside you on the bleachers. You let out a small smile and spare him a glance, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

How can someone be more ethereal than the sky? You silently question as you stare at your best friend beside you. The light from the setting sun casts an orange glow over his features, highlighting his soft eyes and pretty cheekbones. Your gaze trails down to the dark circles under his eyes, and you press your lips into a thin line as you think that they might’ve gotten a bit lighter as the days went on.

Letting out a breath, you turn away to look up at the pretty sky again. As the two of you sit in silence watching the sunset beneath the horizon, you quietly murmur, “Thank you for another beautiful day, Jisoo.”

You hear Jeonghan’s breath hitch slightly from beside you at the mention of his sister, and you glance at him right when a single tear escapes past his eye as he stares at the sky. Biting your bottom lip, you turn away from the vulnerable sight, already knowing that he doesn’t want you to acknowledge his grief.

After a moment, you hear Jeonghan whisper,

“Thank you, yn.”

You stare at the calendar taped to your locker, eyes stuck on the current date.

Friday, April 12th

“Yn!” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the call of your name, and quickly shut your locker, just to turn and find yourself face to face with Jaehyun. A smile takes over your features, and you raise your hand up to wave to the brunette, “Hi Jae.”

Since Valentine’s Day, Jaehyun got the hint that you weren’t interested and immediately stopped trying to win your affections. Except for the occasional greeting when you two cross paths, or the small talk you guys have when you’re at lunch, you haven’t really spoken in a while.

“I need to ask you a question, but the question isn’t about you.” Jaehyun breathes out, and you squint at the dimpled man suspiciously. “Is this going to lead into a your mom joke? If so, I won’t hesitate to punch you in the dick.”

Jaehyun blinks at you, and you don’t fail to notice him lowering his books over his private area, making you bite back a laugh. He shakes his head, “It definitely isn’t leading into a your mom joke, but I’ll remember that threat just in case I ever do want to pull a your mom joke on you.”

You grin, and the brunette chuckles. He gestures down the hallway towards your class, “Can I walk you to class while we talk?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you misjudged him and he’s actually still motivated to win your affections. He can sense your hesitation, however, and waves a hand at you, “This is about Jeonghan, not me trying to get you to fall in love with me.”

Warmth floods your face at the bluntness of his statement, feeling embarrassed for assuming right away. Holding your books closer to your chest, you shrug your shoulders awkwardly, “Oh.”

The two of you start walking slowly down the hallway together, before Jaehyun jokes,

“Unless you want me to.”

You nudge him in the ribs for it, and he laughs loudly at your reaction. Shaking your head at him, a smile forms on your lips as you think about how grateful you are for Jaehyun’s kindness. You really hope that you can maintain this friendship in the future, especially since Jaehyun has always been a constant in your high school career.

“So what did you want to ask me about, dimple boy?” You ask, and the brunette smiles at the use of his nickname. He glances at you, “I saw you and Jeonghan playing soccer the other day.”

Your head snaps towards him in surprise, and Jaehyun chuckles at how quickly you reacted. He nudges your shoulder with his own, “He’s really good. It looked like you were fighting for your life every time you had the ball.”

“Woah, woah woah.” You interrupt, and Jaehyun laughs loudly at your quick defense. You wave your hands at him, “I was not fighting for my life. I’d say each side was equally struggling.”

Jaehyun smiles and nods his head at your words, showing that he’s agreeing with you. You know he doesn’t believe what you’re saying though, but that’s okay, because you’re lying.

Jeonghan is a fantastic soccer player.

“Well,” Jaehyun begins as the two of you stop in front of the entrance of your classroom. He leans against the wall as he looks at you, and you tilt your head at him to continue. He glances into your classroom to find Jeonghan fast asleep on his desk, before looking back at you, “It’s too late for him to join the school’s soccer team since it’s our senior year, but if he’s interested in trying out for SNU’s soccer team, then tell him to text me.”

A thrum of excitement floods you at the thought of Jeonghan playing the sport competitively. It’s something that he gave up for Jisoo, which didn’t go unnoticed by her, but you know she wanted him to get back into it again. All of you knew that he was fantastic at the sport, but his talent went unrecognized for years because he left it behind.

Now is his chance to play to his full potential.

“Really? Would they even try to scout him if he wasn’t on the high school team?” You ask, and Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders with a mischievous smile. “I can sneak him into tryouts.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re making Jeonghan a nepo baby?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in disbelief at your words, before he breaks out into laughter at your joke. You bite back a smile of your own as you turn away, looking into the classroom to see the blonde beginning to stir on his desk. Glancing back at Jaehyun, you reach out and pat his shoulder, “I’ll talk to him and let you know.”

The brunette smiles and gives you a thumbs up, before stepping away and beginning to walk down the hallway. Letting out a breath, you turn and walk into the classroom, and place your books down on top of your desk. You glance behind you to see Yeji looking at you with a mysterious grin on her face from her seat, and you squint.

“What?”

She wiggles her eyebrows, “So, you back with Valentine boy?”

You let out a sigh, before reaching out and slapping her shoulder, eliciting a squeak out of the brunette. She rubs her shoulder with a pout to her lips, “That hurt!”

“If you focused on your studies more than my love life, then maybe you’d have a higher rank in our grade.” You tell her, and her jaw drops. She reaches out to slap you back, but you quickly dodge and stick your tongue out at her.

“Yn!”

“Repent. You already know how I feel.” You say with a glare, and a cheshire smile quickly forms on Yeji’s face at your almost confession. She points at you and then the front of the classroom, which you already guess is her pointing at Jeonghan.

You just shrug your shoulders at her and sit down in your seat, turning around to find your eyes locked on Jeonghan’s. You blink in surprise at the eye contact, having thought the blonde was fast asleep atop his desk like usual.

He looks at you with a sleepy gaze, and raises his hand up to send you a tiny wave, a small smile on his face to match. Your lips curl upwards almost immediately at the sight, and you wave back at him as you mouth the words, Good morning, Jeonghan!

He smiles softly, before turning back around in his seat to rest his head on top of his desk again. Biting the inside of your cheek, you open your journal to begin doodling when you feel something small hit the square of your back. An amused smile takes over your features when you quickly realize who it is, and you glance back to see Yeji holding up a sticky note towards you. The message immediately rips a laugh out of you, no room in your heart to make you even the slightest bit annoyed at what your friend had quickly scribbled down,

YOON JEONGHAN ♡ YN YLN

You let out a victory screech when you kick the soccer ball into the goal, and Jeonghan huffs out a good shot as he practically dry heaves from beside you. You suck in tired breaths of your own, feeling like you’re trying to gulp the air as you rest your hands on your knees.

The blonde glances at you, and lets out a laugh when he sees your exhausted state. He gently pats your back, before walking over to go and get the soccer ball. Feeling your heart rate slowly begin to go back to normal, you stand up at your full height as you watch the blonde dribble the soccer ball over to you. Some pieces of his hair stick to his forehead from sweat, and his shirt clings to him a bit as well due to how long the two of you have been playing.

While that would be the moment during your soccer matches where you would start to feel uncomfortable from the feeling of your wet shirt, and the exhaustion beginning to sink in—you don’t see a trace of that in Jeonghan’s face. There’s a small smile on his lips as he does a few kick tricks with the soccer ball as he makes his way over, and his eyes are full of content when he looks up at you.

“Jeonghan.” You say when he’s finally standing in front of you, soccer ball resting at your feet as he runs a hand through his long hair. He tilts his head with a grin, “Yn.”

The corner of your lips quirk upwards as you softly nudge the soccer ball towards his foot, and he stops it with a raised eyebrow. You point to the soccer ball, “What if you tried out for SNU’s soccer team?”

You watch as a frown immediately forms on his face, before amusement floods his eyes. He shakes his head at you with a grin as he starts to dribble the soccer ball towards the middle of the field, “Good joke. Is this your way of trying to flatter me out of playing another round?”

You bite your bottom lip, having not thought that he would think you were joking when you asked him the question. Pressing your hands together, you take a step towards him, “I’m not kidding, Jeonghan.”

The blonde physically pauses, resting his foot on top of the soccer ball to stop it as well. He glances back at you with a furrow to his brows, and you give him a hopeful smile.

“Jaehyun spoke to me this morning.” You begin, and Jeonghan blinks at the name, waiting for you to continue. Squeezing your hands, you shrug your shoulders, “He told me he saw us playing the other day, and he said you were really good. He said that if you were interested in trying out for SNU’s soccer team for next year, then let him know and he can help out.”

Silence falls between the two of you after you explain what happened. You wait with bated breath as you stare at the blonde in front of you, watching as conflicting emotions flood his face at what you had just offered. After a moment, he turns to you with a serious expression.

“No.”

You blink at his answer, before a frown takes over your own features, “Did you just say no?”

“Yeah, my answer is no.” Jeonghan tells you, and turns around to start dribbling the soccer ball again. You blink again, before hurrying over and grabbing his arm to stop him from avoiding you. “W-Why? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Jeonghan–”

“Yn!” Jeonghan exclaims, making you jump slightly at the rise in his voice. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, and that’s when you notice the grief and anger deep in his brown eyes as he stares at you. “I don’t care if it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’m not interested.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, and he rips his arm out of your grasp to start kicking the soccer ball again. Clenching your fists at your side, you reach out and grab his arm again, ignoring the sigh he lets out at your persistence.

“You’re not interested?” You begin, anger slowly rising in you as the blonde refuses to look at you. Glaring at the back of his head, you hold his arm tightly as you continue, “I know that’s bullshit, Yoon Jeonghan, and you do too! Playing this fucking sport is almost like water and oxygen for you, it’s something that you love! You think I don’t see the longing in your eyes whenever you’re watching the soccer team practice outside on the field during class? Or the pure excitement in your gaze whenever I suggest that we play soccer after school?”

Jeonghan stays silent at your words, continuing to stare down at the ground as he keeps his back to you. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you gently pull his arm to try and get him to look at you.

“Jeonghan, I know that you want to get back into playing soccer competitively. This is your chance, why don’t you take it–”

“Once in a lifetime opportunity.” Jeonghan cuts you off in a quiet voice, and you suck in a breath when he finally turns to look at you, and you see the tears trailing down his face. He tilts his head at you, “Do you really think that it’s fair for me to take this chance, when Jisoo didn’t even get a chance to have a once in a lifetime opportunity?”

Your bottom lip quivers at the mention of his younger sister, and you quietly murmur, “Jeonghan…”

“Jisoo didn’t even get a chance to live out the rest of her life, and you expect me to believe that it’s fair for me to do that for her? For me to take all of these chances, and do all of these things, when she spent the remainder of her life inside of a hospital room? How is that fair?” Jeonghan rants, tears falling past his eyes as he stares at you.

He shakes his head as he sucks in a shaky breath, “Even… even when she was alive, I…” The blonde trails off, looking up at the sky as he tries to swallow the lump that’s forming in his throat. He looks back down at you with red eyes, “Even when Jisoo was alive, I wasn’t. I was waking up everyday, and living my life full of hate. I had so much hate and anger towards the world for what they did to my sister, and I was so fucking exhausted of living. I was in so much pain, but I tried to act strong for her, for Jisoo. I was a shell of who I used to be, and the only time I felt whole, was when I was with her.”

Tears flood your eyes at his words, finally hearing of the pain and suffering that Jeonghan’s been dealing with by himself.

“And yet, Jisoo was so full of life! Even with her diagnosis, she still smiled and laughed, still saw the good in this world no matter how much pain she was in from the illness the world bestowed upon her. She was so precious, too kind for this world. As the days went on, I watched her get weaker, and I felt so useless because I couldn’t do anything to protect her from it, but Jisoo was strong. I thought I was acting strong for her, when in reality, she was acting strong for the both of us. And there I was, her beloved older brother that she idolized, secretly planning his own death if the world decided to be cruel to Jisoo one last time.”

Jeonghan lets out a tired breath after the confession leaves his lips, and he tilts his head at you, “So tell me, yn. Tell me how it’s fair for me to live my life happily when my sister, who deserved it more than me, didn’t get the chance to?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, silence falling over the two of you as you simply shake your head at him. At this, he reaches up and wipes away the tears in his eyes, tilting his head up towards the sky as he sucks in deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

“It’s not fair that Jisoo’s life got taken away from her when she was so young, and had so many hopes and dreams.” You whisper, and the blonde turns to you. He stares in silence as you gently squeeze his arm, “But Jisoo left this world with one last dream she sought to fulfill... and it was for you to live your life to its full potential, even if she couldn’t be there to see it.”

You watch as tears flood Jeonghan’s eyes again, and you feel tears of your own begin to cascade down your face as you give him a heartbreaking smile,

“A few weeks before she died, Jisoo told me this, I can die happy knowing that Jeonghan has someone like you to love him for all that he is, and all that he will be.”

You watch as the last of Jeonghan’s will to appear strong completely crumbles at your words, and he lets out a sob as the tears fall from his eyes immediately. He rips his arm out of your grasp again and takes a few steps away from you, and you cover your mouth to silence your cries as you watch him let out an anguished scream up towards the sky.

He runs his hands through his hair as he cries out to the sky, and you cry quietly when he flings himself down onto the grass of the field. It’s after a few minutes when the two of you begin to calm down, that you walk over and lay down right beside him. The two of you stare up at the stars in silence, gaze stuck on a particularly bright star shining down onto the both of you.

“Yn.” Jeonghan mutters, voice hoarse from the screams he let out. You blink tiredly, and turn to look at him as you say, “Hm?”

The blonde blinks up at the bright star, and he raises his hand up towards it as if he’s trying to reach it. You watch in silence as his delicate fingers reach for the star, until he whispers,

“I think it’s time to get rid of the blonde.”

It’s hours later in the evening, after a quick trip to the convenience store to buy hair dye and gloves, that you spend the rest of the night with Jeonghan in your bathroom as you color his blonde hair while the two of you quietly talk about all of your memories of Jisoo.

It’s in the wee hours of the morning when the two of you finish, and you fall asleep on the floor of your bedroom beside a newly dyed Jeonghan.

The early morning sun that peeks through your curtains shines down onto the sleeping Jeonghan, highlighting his hair that’s now dyed a vibrant lilac, in honor of Jisoo’s favorite color.

“Jung Jaehyun!” You call out from the end of the hallway, and you watch as the brunette looks up, just for his eyes to widen slightly at the sight of Jeonghan’s bright purple hair. You giggle at the sight, and Jeonghan lets out a breath from beside you as you give his hand a squeeze, before making him walk faster.

“Dude, your hair looks sick. How does it still look so healthy too?” Jaehyun asks with an awestruck expression on his face, and you turn to see Jeonghan’s ears turning a bit red at the compliment, making you laugh quietly to yourself. The man at your side shrugs his shoulders, squeezing your hand as he replies, “I make sure to use good hair conditioning products.”

Jaehyun lets out a quiet, ah, that makes sense, before turning to you with a grin. You return the smile and nudge Jeonghan’s shoulder with your own, “He said he’s interested in trying out.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in excitement at your words, and you watch as the two begin to converse excitedly about the sport and how the brunette will help Jeonghan get into try-outs.

You glance down at your phone to check the time, and your eyes linger on the date that flashes into your eyes.

Monday, April 15

Five more days until your birthday.

On this day in the past, is when you gave Jeonghan the invitation.

The same invitation that’s in your backpack that is at the forefront of your mind as you watch Jeonghan and Jaehyun converse, and you feel your heart warm at the sight of Jeonghan’s smile. It was a sight that was so rare only a few months ago, but is now a view that you’re blessed to see everyday.

Jeonghan’s changed in the months since you’ve traveled back in time, and you think that you were able to change the past. However, you don’t know for sure until Saturday comes.

You bite the inside of your cheek, knowing that you’re not contributing to anything that’s going on in Jeonghan and Jaehyun’s conversation. Yet, you’re awkwardly standing there, holding Jeonghan’s hand as you just watch them converse.

“I feel like a third wheel.” You murmur to yourself, and decide to take a step back and slowly remove your hand from Jeonghan’s grasp. As you do so, however, your heart thumps in your chest when he suddenly re-adjusts his grip on your hand so that his fingers intertwine with yours. You look up from your interlocked hands to find him smiling softly to himself, and you bite back a smile when he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to update you when I get more information.” Jaehyun tells Jeonghan with an excited grin, and Jeonghan nods his head in agreement. The brunette turns to you, and you blink in surprise when he pouts.

“Why is Valentine Boy pouting at me?”

“Because you never invite me when you and Jeonghan play soccer together. This is the first time he and I have properly spoken, and he immediately invited me to the next time you guys play! You and I have been friends since Freshman year!” Jaehyun complains, and you teasingly roll your eyes, reaching out to gently push his shoulder. He chuckles and pats your head as he steps past you, “I’ll see you both tomorrow for our soccer date~”

“You wish it was a date!” You call out to him with a laugh, and he turns around to point towards yours and Jeonghan’s interlocked hands.

“I know when I’m a thirdwheel, yn.” Jaehyun tells you with a wink, and warmth immediately floods your face at the fact that he pointed out your public display of affection. He grins and waves his hand at you both, “See you!”

And with that, the two of you watch as Jaehyun disappears among the crowd of students. You let out a breath, before turning towards Jeonghan with a smile,

“So… are you excited to be the star soccer player at Seoul National University?!”

Jeonghan chuckles with a roll of his eyes, and just drags you to the classroom without answering your question.

“Are you and Jeonghan dating now or…” You give Yeji a look, and she raises her hands up, clearly exasperated by your expression. “What?! I feel like it’s a totally valid question to ask since the two of you came into class today holding hands!”

You snort at her desperation, and she lets out a whine as she reaches out to grasp your hands and shake them. Smiling at your friend, you give her hand a squeeze before standing up from the lunch table. Yeji whines even louder as she watches you stand, and you laugh as you pick up your lunch tray.

“Yn! Please, you have to tell me.”

You simply shrug your shoulders with a small smile, “Jeonghan and I are just… us. We’re Jeonghan and yn, yn and Jeonghan. That’s all.”

With that last remark, you turn around and walk over towards the garbage area to put away your lunch tray. You reach your hands up to cup your face when you exit the cafeteria, feeling the warmth to your cheeks as you head in the direction of the stairwell.

“Gosh, that girl. She should focus on her own love life instead of hounding me about mine.” You murmur embarrassedly, but the shy smile that threatens to appear on your lips shows that you’re anything but annoyed by your sweet friend.

Sucking in a deep breath after you enter the hallway, you reach into the pocket of your jacket and take out the envelope that holds Jeonghan’s invitation to your birthday party. Holding it behind your back, you walk over to the stairwell and stand at the entrance, watching as the lilac haired beauty quietly eats his lunch with his airpods in.

“You know, you could eat lunch with me and Yeji in the cafeteria instead of in the stairwell everyday.” You state, making your presence known. Jeonghan takes out an airpod and turns to find you standing there with a small smile, and the corner of his lips quirk upwards as he pats the spot on the step beside him. “It’s too loud in there. I enjoy my quiet lunches here.”

You chuckle and plop down beside him, hiding the invitation at your side as you watch him pick up a piece of kimbap with his chopsticks. You blink when he suddenly turns to you, an expectant look on his face as he gestures towards your mouth.

“Say ahh~” Jeonghan says in a singsong voice, and you roll your eyes but comply, allowing him to feed you the kimbap his mother made. You chew on the yummy food, having always loved his mother’s cooking since you were kids.

“So, has anyone confessed to you yet? I think the lilac hair makes you stand out more than the blonde did.” You tease, and Jeonghan scoffs as he places a piece of kimchi into his mouth. He points at you with his chopsticks, “Would you be jealous if I said yes?”

You squint, “No.”

“Well then, I’ll tell you that three people left me love letters in my desk—”

“THREE?!” You exclaim, and warmth immediately floods your face when the pretty boy in front of you starts to guffaw at your reaction. You bite your bottom lip and lean back, fixing your hair as you quietly correct yourself, “I-I mean, woah! Three people?”

Jeonghan continues to laugh at you, the beautiful sound ringing throughout the stairwell as you complain about him making fun of you. He just shakes his head as his laughter begins to die down, looking at you with an indecipherable emotion in his eyes as he reaches out and pats your head.

“Don’t worry, I turned them down.”

You press your lips into a thin line and turn away from Jeonghan, but he doesn’t fail to notice the small smile playing on your lips as you stare out the window behind you both. He grins and looks out the window as well, watching as the birds fly past the school in the bright blue sky.

You spare a glance at the pretty boy, and you feel your heart thump in your chest when you see the look of content on his face as he stares out the window. Biting the inside of your cheek, you reach for the invitation at your side, and softly say his name.

“Mm?” Jeonghan murmurs, continuing to stare out the window as his eyes follow the cloud that’s shaped like a flower. Smiling to yourself, you reach out and place the invitation on his lap, and he’s snapped out of his daze to glance down at what you’ve given him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as he puts his lunch down beside him in order to pick up the envelope, “What’s this?”

You shrug your shoulders and gesture towards it, “You have to open it to find out.”

Jeonghan squints at you, then proceeds to gently open up the envelope. You watch in anticipation as he opens up the card, your heart thumping against your chest as he takes a second to look it over. He glances up at you after a moment, “I almost forgot that you aren’t eighteen yet.”

Relief washes over you almost immediately at his teasing response, and you reach out to slap his shoulder. He lets out a hiss and rubs the tender area while shooting you a playful glare, “Is this how you try to get people to come to your birthday parties? If so, this tactic is not good.”

You chuckle and nudge him with your knee, feeling a bit more serious as you ask, “Will you come, Jeonghan?”

“Do you want me there?” Jeonghan asks in response, and you feel your heart leap in your chest at the question. It reminds you too much of the past, when he didn’t believe that you would suddenly want him back in your life.

“Always.” You whisper, and the two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. It’s almost like that day in the hospital when you were caught secretly surprising Jisoo, where all these unsaid words were spoken through your gazes alone.

Jeonghan’s the first to break eye contact, and he safely tucks away your invitation into the pocket of his jacket. It’s when he’s sure that your invitation is safe in his pocket that he finally looks back up at you, and a smile takes over your features when he softly says,

“Then I’ll be there.”

“Yn! Come on, we’re about to bring out the cake!” You hear your mom call out to you, but your gaze is locked on your front door as you wait for Jeonghan to come. Yeji squeezes your knee from beside you, and you turn to look at her, just to see a reassuring smile on her face as she tells you, “I’m sure he’s on his way, don’t worry.”

“He promised he’d come.” You choke out, feeling panic rise in your chest as all the possibilities flood your thoughts.

Maybe you were wrong all this time and you weren’t truly helping Jeonghan. What if he was just acting? Like he was just pretending to be okay in front of you so that you wouldn’t worry? What if you couldn’t change his mind after all?

What if I couldn’t change the past? You think to yourself, feeling a lump form in your throat as you contemplate leaving your own birthday party to go and find Jeonghan.

It’s when you’re about to jump up from the couch to sprint out the door that you see the knob of your front door turn, and tears immediately flood your eyes when you see that familiar head of lilac colored hair enter your house. You quickly stand up from the couch and run over to him, “Yoon Jeonghan!”

The man in question gives you a sheepish smile as he holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand, “I’m sorry I’m late! I was having a hard time picking out what flowers to give you, so I had to get my mom to come with me and—”

His words are cut off when you suddenly throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, and he can only blink in shock when you let out a shaky breath into the side of his neck. He slowly wraps his arms around your frame, “Does this mean you’re not mad?”

You shake your head as you try to stop the tears from falling past your eyes when you tell him, “No, never. As long as you’re here, that’s all that matters to me.”

When you finally pull away, you take the bouquet of flowers from his grasp with a small smile. He watches fondly as you lean down to smell the petals, and he chuckles when your eyes widen in surprise at the smell.

“Oh my God, they actually smell really good! Usually flowers just smell like… earth.” You say, and he nods his head. “I remembered that you had a sensitive nose, so I wanted to get you a bouquet that actually smelled nice.”

Your heart thumps against your chest at the fact that he remembered such a small detail about you, and you smile widely at him. You’re about to ask him if he wants to help you pick out a vase to put the flowers in when you suddenly hear,

“Yn! It’s cake time!”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen when he sees your parents beginning to light the candles on your birthday cake, and he quickly grasps your hand and pulls you towards the table where all your loved ones are gathered. You let out a laugh as he places you in the seat directly in front of the birthday cake while taking the bouquet of flowers and placing it on the kitchen counter.

You watch as he moves awkwardly to stand beside your mother on the other side of the table, and you have to hold back your laughter when she fusses over him and makes the pretty boy sit in the seat directly across from you. The two of you look into each other’s eyes, and he pretends to move to blow out your candles, to which you shoot him a glare.

“Okay, time to sing happy birthday!” Your father announces, and you shyly smile as everyone around you begins to sing you happy birthday.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

You giggle at your loved ones as they sing loudly around you, and you raise a hand up to your face as you feel warmth flood your face. Yeji wraps her arms around you from the seat beside you, and you rest your head on top of hers as you clap your hands to the beat of everyone’s singing. Your gaze falls on Jeonghan, and you smile softly when you see the look of warmth in his eyes as he sings directly to you.

“Happy birthday dear yn, happy birthday to you!”

“Okay honey, make a wish.” Your mom says with a big smile, her phone held up towards you as she takes a video. Yeji releases you from her embrace, and you fix your posture as you look into the camera with a grin. You glance around the room to see all your loved ones waiting with excited smiles on their faces for you to blow out the candles, and you feel nothing but happiness when your gaze trails over to Jeonghan sitting in front of you.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and you silently thank everything in this world for allowing you to have this moment. This chance to change the past and bring back the person that means the most to you in this world. The chance for Yoon Jeonghan to live out the rest of his beautiful life.

He gives you a warm smile and gestures towards the candles that are burning on top of your cake, ready to be wished upon. The corners of your lips quirk upwards at the sight, and you close your eyes as you silently wish,

I wish for Yoon Jeonghan to live a long and happy life.

And with that, you open your eyes and blow out the candles.

You tiptoe down the hallway and press your ear to your parents’ bedroom door, confirming whether or not they’re fast asleep. A grin forms on your face when you can hear the loud sound of your father’s snores, and you turn back down the hallway to shoot Jeonghan a thumbs up.

You sneak the pretty boy into your room, and quietly shut your bedroom door while Jeonghan grabs a pillow off your bed and plops down onto the floor. A smile forms on your lips at the sight of Jeonghan laying on your floor dressed in a pair of sweats and your old oversized middle school gym shirt.

“Damn, your parents fall asleep early.” Jeonghan murmurs from your floor, and you snort as you step over to your bed and pull off the throw blanket. “Tell me about it. They’re like an elderly couple who sleeps at 6 pm.”

You toss the blanket onto Jeonghan’s frame, and he gives you his thanks as he unfolds it and lays it over himself. Letting out a sigh, you take your other pillow off your bed and toss it down on the empty space beside Jeonghan’s head.

You plop yourself down onto the floor alongside the pretty boy, and he immediately adjusts the blanket so that it’s covering you as well. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as the moonlight shines in through your bedroom window, illuminating your room in a soft light.

“How do you feel being 18?” Jeonghan asks after a moment, with the two of you staring up at your white ceiling.

“It feels great.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’ve been 18 for months already, so I would know.” Jeonghan teases, and you roll your eyes. You gently nudge him in the ribs after a moment, eliciting a laugh from the pretty boy beside you.

“What did you wish for? It looked like you were really concentrating.” Jeonghan asks, and you turn your head to find him already staring at you. Warmth floods your face immediately at the close proximity between the two of you, while Jeonghan just smiles.

“Hi.”

“Now that we’ve got our greetings out of the way, tell me what you wished for.” He says, rolling onto his side so that he’s facing you. You chuckle and turn your gaze back up towards the ceiling, “You’re a nosy bastard. You know that saying whatever you wished for does not come true.”

“Well, if you just say one word of what you wished for, then it’s technically not saying the whole wish.”

“What if your wish was just one word?”

“Then that’s a lame wish.” You let out a laugh at his fast response, making a warm smile form on Jeonghan’s lips. Turning to him, you see him waiting expectantly for you to tell him your wish, and you let out a breath as you turn your head back up towards the ceiling.

You blink up at the white ceiling, before finally whispering,

“You.”

“Hm?”

“I wished for you.” You murmur quietly, turning your head so that you’re facing Jeonghan again. He blinks at your words, and a small smile forms on his lips.

Jeonghan’s different now. There’s little sight of the exhaustion that used to heavily weigh him down when you first traveled back in time—from the dark bags under his eyes, to the emptiness in his gaze whenever he had looked at you. Instead, there’s a sparkle to his eyes that you’ve never seen before, a sight that you can almost get lost in if you look for too long.

And there’s that emotion in his gaze whenever he stares into your eyes, the one you haven’t been able to make out for the last three months.

You feel your heart stop in your chest when Jeonghan slowly leans in after a moment, and you let your eyelids flutter shut when he presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead. You open your eyes to find him staring at you with a content smile on his face after he pulls back, and your heart soars when you finally decipher the emotion that was in Jeonghan’s eyes all this time.

Love. It was love.

“Happy Birthday, yn.” Jeonghan whispers as his eyes begin to close, and you watch as he lets his battle with sleep win. You smile softly as you reach out and tuck a strand of his lilac hair behind his ear, allowing yourself to drink in this beautiful sight.

“I love you, Yoon Jeonghan.” You murmur, your eyelids becoming droopier by the second as you stare at the precious boy sleeping beside you.

The last thing you see before the heavy blanket of sleep pulls you under, is the sight of Jeonghan sitting in front of you as you softly blow out your birthday candle.

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the sunlight shines onto your eyes through your curtains, and you let out a groan at the sight, turning over so that you can hide your face from the light. You feel your blood run cold, however, when you realize that the curtains you saw weren’t the pink ones from your childhood bedroom, but the blackout curtains from your apartment.

You sit up in your bed with wide eyes, frantically looking around your room as you realize that you’re back in your apartment bedroom. Blinking away the exhaustion in your eyes, you reach out and grab your phone from your bedside table, tears immediately flooding your eyes when you see the present date shine back up at you.

April 21st, 2022

It’s the day after your 21st birthday.

Tears fall from your eyes as you set your phone down, and you cover your face with your hands as sobs begin to wrack through your whole body at the fact that it was a dream. It was all just a drunken dream you had.

But it was real. It all felt too real for it to just be a dream.

You let out a pained laugh as you wipe away the tears falling from your eyes, hugging your knees close to your chest as grief floods you. You wonder if this was Jeonghan’s way of trying to give you closure after you’ve been wishing for him on every birthday of yours for years.

“It feels like I’m going through the five stages of grief again, though.” You murmur as you glance at your bedside table and see the birthday card your 12 friends gave you last night. Letting out a shaky breath, you reach out and pick it up, your eyes trailing over the birthday messages they had written for you.

A sad smile escapes you as you stare at the dark birthday candle drawing, no longer lit up like it was the night before. You silently wonder if the batteries have already died while reaching your hands up in an attempt to wipe your wet cheeks. However, the tears continue to slowly trail down your face, the overwhelming feeling of grief consuming you. Letting out a shaky breath, you're about to close the card when your eyes land on the once empty space in the top corner of the card.

You blink, then blink again as you reread the message written.

Happy 21st Birthday, yn. You can finally legally drink with me instead of me having to buy you alcohol, cause, you know, I’m older than you ;)

Here’s to many more birthdays by each other’s side. I love you.

Love, Jeonghan

Your heart begins to pound against your chest as you stare down at the birthday message in complete and utter disbelief. You’re about to rub your eyes to see if your exhausted brain is just messing with you, when you pause at the sound of Minghao’s voice coming from outside of your bedroom.

“They’re still asleep? Maybe we went too crazy at karaoke.”

Your head snaps up when you hear a familiar pretty laugh in response to Minghao’s joke, and you practically fall off your bed when you hear his voice reply, “I’m not surprised. Seungcheol was going crazy with the drinking games.”

When your hand reaches the doorknob, you throw open the door with teary eyes, and you suck in a breath when you find yourself face to face with a surprised Minghao and a 21 year old Jeonghan.

His pretty, long blonde hair that he adorned in high school is now back to its natural shade of black. It’s cut a bit shorter, but it’s still long enough to cover his eyes slightly. His eyes are bright as they stare into yours, albeit laced with some surprise at your outburst.

A warm smile forms on his face when he sees your bedhead, and his soft voice calls out, “Honey, you’re finally awake—”

The rest of his sentence is cut off when you rush over and jump into his arms, clinging onto him tightly as he blinks in surprise. Tears fall from your eyes when you feel his arms wrap around you, his hand reaching up to rest on the back of your neck as he lets out a soft laugh.

“Good morning to you too, yn.”

You pull back with a light laugh, and his eyes lace with concern when he sees the tears falling from your eyes as you look at him. His hands trail up and cup your face, wiping away the tears on your cheeks as you just stare at him in awe.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Jeonghan asks worriedly, and he shoots a worried glance at Minghao as your friend steps away to go and get you a box of tissues.

You just smile brightly at him as you wipe away the tears in your eyes so that you can see the love of your life standing before you clearly. Your heart thumps against your chest at the sight of his beautiful brown eyes, so full of life and adoration as they bore into yours. You giggle and shrug your shoulders, reaching up and tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yn?” Jeonghan asks, the concern beginning to melt away when he sees the pure happiness in your gaze as you look at him. He chuckles in amusement, and leans into your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist as he murmurs, “Are you still drunk? Or just happy to see me?”

And you feel warmth flood your face as you whisper,

“I’m just happy to see that all my wishes have finally come true.”

ミ★ taglist: @sunlightwoo @aurenvoire @dreamerhaos @brinnalaine @minluvly @wonunuu @suhfluffy @shuajeong @kuromieiie @seoulbinz @minghao-will-be-the-death-of-me @miruac @jaeyuni @sunflowergyeomie @cheolliehugs @smileyjimvn @sukisdeliveryservice @a-vian @kodzumo @dwcljh @hanniehaeism @taeguk-munchkin @w8nuzone @jeonncafe @semicolorn @haonysus @adoreateez @anissanightyoung @serenadesvt @linhyyboo12 @junjungsunwoo @kthpurplesyou @vibecheckvernon @changbinworld @xupiire @sonje78 @mybbtaeyong4thewin @chwesbaby @soobin-chois @bibinnieposts @laylasbunbunny

ミ★ sequel: dear dream

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