#Han angst

[4linos]

takeout and true love.

han jisung x gn!reader

synopsis: jisung’s cooking mistake leads to an unexpected christmas dinner of takeout, but an honest conversation helps clear the air, reminding both of you what truly matters.

wc: 1338

part 4/8 holiday series. 🎄

It had been a long day, filled with both anticipation and unspoken stress. You'd spent hours in the kitchen, carefully planning and cooking the perfect Christmas dinner. You knew how much this meant to both of you, especially Jisung, who had never experienced Christmas in this way before. The idea of making a particular memory for him, the two of you together on this special day, filled your heart with both joy and anxiety.

You had everything planned out, from the appetizers, main dish, and side dishes, all perfectly planned. The main dish was a golden-brown roasted turkey stuffed with herbs and spices and gleaming with a rich glaze that would undoubtedly impress. The table was set, candles flickered, and Christmas music played quietly in the background. You could already envision Jisung's eyes lighting up as he saw the feast you had prepared for him.

But, as excited as you were about the dinner, there was also a sense of stress. You wanted everything to be perfect, and the pressure to get it perfectly began to weigh hard on you. This wasn't just about the food, you realized; it was about showing Jisung how much you cared, how valuable the relationship was to you, and how much you wanted this Christmas to be memorable.

As you worked in the kitchen, Jisung entered, eyes wide and full of eagerness. He smiled, as he often did when he was excited to help, his enthusiasm palpable. “Can I help with anything?” he asked, his voice hopeful. You’d hesitated at first. You loved him, but you also liked doing things yourself, especially when it was something you cared so deeply about.

Still, his persistent offers and puppy-like eyes made you relent.

Maybe this is something we can do together,

you thought, feeling a bit guilty for trying to handle it all on your own.

You assigned him a few easy tasks, but as you continued to juggle the various dishes, you couldn't help but notice that Jisung, despite his best intentions, seemed to be too enthusiastic and careless with things. When it came time for him to help with the turkey, you reminded him to be cautious, this was the main course, after all. But, eager to prove himself, he ignored the time, the heat, and the careful steps you had had mapped out.

And that was when it happened: the smell of burnt meat filled the air, choking out the savory aromas that had once made you feel so proud. You felt your stomach drop. Whipping around, you saw Jisung’s panicked expression as smoke wafted out from the oven. He fumbled with the mitts, pulling out a charred, unrecognizable mess that had once been your perfectly seasoned turkey. It was ruined.

“I—uh—” he stammered, his voice laced with guilt. “I think I turned the wrong knob…”

It wasn't only the food that felt ruined; the entire evening. The stress that had been building up all day suddenly erupted. You couldn't hold it in any longer. All of the little irritations you had been suppressing, the pressure to make everything perfect, and the dread that everything would fail to meet expectations, came rushing out. “Why didn’t you just leave it alone?!” you snapped, “I told you I’d handle it! I’ve been working on this all day, and now it’s completely ruined!”

The words came out sharper than you intended, cutting into him, and the look on his face told you everything. He wasn’t angry. He was just… hurt. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, his eyes faltering. It was like you’d slapped him without meaning to.

You felt a rush of guilt hit you almost immediately. You knew that this wasn't his fault. He was just trying to help. Instead of recognizing his gesture, you unleashed your frustration and disappointment on him.

Eventually you decided to give up on the ruined dinner completely. There was no purpose in recovering something that couldn't be repaired. You ordered takeout, nothing extravagant, just something to fill the void where a grand dinner should have been. It did not seem right, but it seemed like the only option.

As you both sat in front of the dazzling Christmas lights, the room was now illuminated solely by their soft glow, and the image was distant from what you had imagined. The lights, which should have been the finishing touch, now appeared to mock you. Instead of warmth, they heightened the tension in the air, the discomfort hanging between you two like a heavy curtain. The dinner, while good, didn't give any consolation. It was only a diversion. You could not concentrate on it. The taste of sorrow stayed in your mouth longer than the food did. You felt ashamed of your reaction. This was not the night you had hoped for, and you were aware that you had ruined it.

You couldn’t stay silent anymore. The guilt gnawed at you, and you knew you needed to make things right. This was supposed to be special. You couldn’t let it end on this note.

You turned to him, your heart heavy, and spoke softly. “Jisung… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the day with my attitude. I… I’ve been so stressed trying to make everything perfect, and when it all went wrong, I didn’t know how to handle it. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just trying to help, and I snapped at you. I feel terrible.”

For a moment, Jisung said nothing. He simply looked at you, his hand laying on the table, fingers nervously tapping. Then he carefully grasped your hand into his. The warmth of his touch caused your heart to throb even more. "It's okay," he said calmly. His voice was soft and compassionate, not angry. He smiled, but it was gentle, mournful, and full of something deeper. "The food isn't important. "You're what makes Christmas special for me."

His words hit you harder than you expected. You had been so caught up in the idea of perfection, in the little details, that you had forgotten the most important thing of all: he was here, with you, and that was enough.

The dinner didn’t need to be perfect for it to be meaningful. What mattered was the time you spent together, the way you cared for each other, and the love you shared.

You realized, suddenly, that everything you had worked so hard for, the flawless meal, the immaculate decorations, the perfect Christmas wasn’t what made the holiday special. It was the connection you had with Jisung. It was the way he showed up for you, even when things weren’t perfect. It was how he loved you, even when you were stressed or frustrated or snapped at him.

“You’re right,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you looked at him. “I got so caught up in trying to make everything perfect that I forgot about what actually matters. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. You make Christmas special, not anything on this table.”

Jisung squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a calming gesture. “And you make my Christmas perfect, no matter what happens.”

Jisung pulled you onto his lap and wrapped you in his arms as the Christmas lights shed a warm glow over the room. "I love you," you said softly, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "I love you, too," he said, laying a kiss on your temple. "Even if you yell at me over burned food." You drew back to swat him lightly, but the laughter that bubbled between you felt like the greatest gift of all. Christmas may not have gone exactly as planned, but as you sat in Jisung's arms, you realized it didn't matter. You already had him, so that was enough.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt2

Warnings: Cursing, Mentionings of Death, Mentioning of Needles in a Medical sense

Pt1 Pt3 Hyungline  (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

"Please leave your message after the tone."

Jisung sat on the couch, his leg shaking anxiously. Minho sat next to him and tried calming his friend, as Felix walked in with a cup of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of Han.

"I'm sure its just the silent treatment." Minho comments, leaning back into the couch. "See one time I told my wife she talked to much and so she had the audacity to stay silent the entire week...she would only talk to the cats." He said. "I'm sure it's probably the same thing."

Changbin walks into the room and joins in the conversation. "Yah! You got it all wrong! She's probably crying because of her hand and can't come to the phone."

Hyunjin pipes in, poking his head up from the couch where he was trying to take a nap. "Yeah! So that means you have to go apologize. Grovel Jisung. GROVEL!!!"

Jisung's leg is still shaking, and he starts to gnaw on his thumb nail. "Somethings not right..." He mumbles. "I can feel it...it's a different type of anxiety...something...something isn't right."

Chan comes into the room and his face is pale. "Jisung...come here for a moment?"

The boba eyed boy felt a pit drop to his stomach as he walked towards his hyung.

"What's the make and model of Y/N's car?" He asked quietly.

"It's...it's a foreign car...Lin...Lincoln...its...blue. Why? Why are you asking."

Chan licked his lips nervously. "Jisung...they could be wrong but a staff member said they had seen...there was...its..."

"What? They saw what!" Jisung's right hand found his other, and he started twisting his finger, picking at himself anxiously. "They saw what hyung?!"

The aussie boy's face was grim as he spoke. "There was a pretty bad accident near the hospital. The staff member had said they weren't sure but thought they saw Y/N's car. They were pretty certain since there aren't a ton of cars that look like her's..."

"Sh-she's not..." Jisung mumbled.

"I'm gonna go grab the car." Chan said quietly, walking past the rest of the members, who stared into the kitchen with confusion.

"Hyung...?" Jeongin called out quietly sounding like a lost kid as he watched his leader walk to the key dish. He looked back at Jisung who looked as if a little piece of him just broke off. He looked numb. Jeongin turned to the rest of the members who were all watching in concern as well.

Minho walked up to Chan and asked him something lowly, his posture straightening in shock when he heard the news. Minho looked at Jisung who was silently sliding on his shoes.

He motioned for the rest of the members to leave the room and he followed suit right after, too scared himself to look at his younger friend as he walked by; afraid he would see his heart break even further every second that passed.

"Hyung...what's going on?" Seungmin asked when Minho entered in the living room. He sighed and waited to answer until he heard Chan's car drive off.

(////////////////////)

The smell of the bleached floors and sterilized surfaces were the only thing keeping Jisung grounded in the present moment when him and Chris walked into the lobby of the hospital.

"Excuse me, is there a Y/N L/N here?" Jisung tried to block out the quakiness in Chan's voiced. He viewed you as family as much as everyone else in the group. And if Jisung gaslit himself into believing that Chan wasn't scared - then he could easily gaslight himself into believing that you were safe and sound. The receptionist looked through the system and shook his head.

"My apologies but I don't see a Y/N...L...L-L...L/N..." While struggled to pronounce your name; Jisung felt his mind go down all the worst possible scenarios.

What if Y/N is at the morgue. What if on impact she- what if she...

"Excuse me but do you have an unidentified foreigner?" Chan asks. "From a car accident."

The receptionist immediately perked up in understanding. "Yes! There was a lady she was pulled from a blue foreign car! They were trying to find her point of contact. She was brought to that win-"

He was interrupted by a small group of nurses and a doctor running down the hallway and a scream down the hall.

"She's flatlining!" Jisung couldn't even comprehend his feet moving as he followed the team of medical professionals down the hall- even though Chris called out for him to wait.

He pushed his way through the crowd of people into the room and couldn't even hear the monitor give one long continuous over the thumping of his heart as numerous nurses and doctors tried to revive the lonely patient on the bed. You had left to give him distance. Something he had asked for.

It was his fault. His fault entirely.

He couldn't breathe and as one doctor announced time of death another turned to see the chubby cheeked boy stumbling back and falling onto his floor from shock. The doctor rushing over to tend to him as he started to black out.

No...No. She's not. She can't be. God, no. Please. Please. It's my fault. I asked her to leave. She can't be gone. I asked her to leave. I only meant a minute, not for the rest of my life. Please...please.

I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sorry.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

"I shouldn't have yelled at her." Felix mumbled to himself as he turned into the dorm days later. 3 days to be exact.

He had felt frustrated after work due to arguing with Hyunjin over something he couldn't even pinpoint now. And it was even more stupid because Hyunjin didn't even remember, and they agreed to amount it to the stress they were facing with some rumors and controversy started up by toxic netizens as they reached closer and closer to their comeback day.

They had to play so much damage control that all Felix could do - and any of the members really - was think about how to keep things in control until the higher ups could completely clear everything before things got out of hand.

"Yeesh!" He groaned banging his head against the headrest in front of him, the driver shooting a concerned look in the rearview mirror before parking the car and unlocking the doors.

Felix nodded his head in thanks and walked inside immediately going to his room with his belongings, ignoring the "welcome home"'s and "your back's from the other members.

He closed his door, and poured out the contents of his shopping bags.

He had gotten the replacements he needed for his gaming setup.

And head also gotten you a ton of gifts.

He placed out five different plushies, one white teddy bear with a black and gold bow, a baby chicken plushie, a toddler sized stuff lamb that was also rather coquette, and plushy of a smiling taco and lastly one of a green and blue boba.

Which one would she like best...all of them maybe?

He then started sorting out all your favorite treats, some self-care products you liked a lot, the collector's edition of your favorite book and movies series, a gift card to your favorite coffee shop, a couple of notebooks and other little miscellaneous items you liked. He had also been able to persuade your bias from another group to give him a rare pc of them since he had heard you mention it before.

Should I just give them all to her?

He groaned again as Seungmin walked in looking for him.

"Passing a kidney stone or something hyung?" He asked as he closed the door behind him.

"No...just trying to figure out how to apologize after I insulted my girlfriend's intelligence and mental development, yelled at her, cursed at her, mocked her, and dismissed her genuine care and concern for me in under thirty minutes of me walking into her home." Seungmin's eyes widened and he looked to see keyboards new keyboard sitting neatly in an amazon box.

"Over a game? Damn, I didn't know the stereotypes were accurate." He said, arranging some of Felix's gifts into the basket he had gotten to transport them to you.

"I'm sure Y/N-ie is feeling rather hurt though...but you've been acting off ever since you left her house earlier this week. And usually you're a sensitive overthinker when it comes to her. I would have assumed you'd have been at her door crying within the hour after it happened."

Felix sighed. Why do you think I had a puffy face at practice the next day?" He mumbled. "I went back a couple hours later because I was mean Min...she...I haven't seen Y/N look so scared before. I was scared. That maybe it had made her see me differently. So I waited a couple hours to make sure everyone was calm but when I went in she wasn't there... she wasn't there."

Felix sat down on the bed and played with the end of the ribbon on one of the plushies.

"To be honest...I found a bunch of rags in the trash. I could have sworn she had bought them last time we went shopping which wasn't too long ago...but they were frayed and almost to the point they were just a loose thread. I mean...she took varnish off the table Seungmin..."

His voice began to wobble.

"I got so frustrated that I yelled at her. And she had never heard me like that before so it scared her into manic frenzy?" He let all the tears he had been holding back stream down his face. "I horrible Seungmin. How could I do anything like that to someone I love?"

T?he puppy like boy wrapped his arms around his usually bubbly hyung and sighed. It only made Felix cry harder because he knew that physical affection wasn't something he normally got from Seungmin.

"It'll be okay. Y/N loves you. You'll be forgiven. This is the first time. The first major fight is always hard. You just have to recognize it won't be the last. And you have to figure out how to pull through."

Felix nodded as Seungmin pulled away. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, we're brothers." He said, patting Felix on the head twice.

"And it is my brotherly duty to tell you that Chan- Hyung asked for you to do the dishes, but that I'll do them so you can go see Y/N in exchange for you cleaning the bathrooms for me later."

He had a devious smirk on his lips and Felix didn't even hesitate to take that offer.

He'd take any offer, make any deal, in order to lead him to making things right with you.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

It was getting to the point that Stays were noticing it.

Seungmin didn't have that life in him that he usually did on stage and the fans easily surmised it to be because him and you were fighting.

It was a simply thing to deduce really when no one spotted you at the concert - but you were still the only other account Seungmin followed minus those of his members and the band as a whole.

And with the way you and Seungmin's chemistry was almost palpable, the fans were more than assured that you guys hadn't broken broken up do to his mood being low but not rock bottom.

Well...they were almost assured. But it seemed to be growing less and less by the day due to you not being sighted anywhere.

Due to you wanting to be petty, and hurt Seungmin, even just the tiniest bit.

Which completley backfired.

Seungmin was onstage and the atmosphere was electric. He silently applauded his members and the crew since the sixth show was an absolute success. But the minute the blaring music, the bright lights and the scream of fans died down as Chan spoke to the audience he couldn't hold it back anymore.

The thoughts that had been flooding his mind in the quiet hours of the night had surfaced and he couldn't help but break down right then and there.

Changbin walked over, simply thinking Seungmin was crying from the overwhelming sense of love and joy he felt for his fans- but immediately identified it as something else when his younger friend squatted down, pulling his arms straight out in front of him and ducking his head as he cried.

He immediately bent down with Seungmin and he looked up as he cried desperately.

"H-Hyung p-please don't let her leave me alone...I'm lonely without her...Please...I don't wanna be alone..." Changbin shielded the boy from the prying eyes of fans, and Hyunjin catching the drift came over as well, while the other members did things to keep the audience from wondering why Seungmin was wailing with a brokenness many of them were fortunate enough to not understand.

You on the other hand were rotting away on your bed.

You had been replaying the interaction you had with Seungmin over and over.

You felt like being petty and purchased a ticket to a group Seungmin was well aware of you stanning long before Stray Kids.

The same group which contained a member you biased long before you even set eyes on Seungmin.

A member which made Seungmin somewhat self-concious. While you always called him beautiful, and gorgeous, and intimate names that held the same deep feeling as you held for him; he couldn't help but watch you giggle over a guy that wasn't necessarily what you would consider beautiful - but was evidently dripping in sex appeal.

It had always worried him that you didn't find him desirable in that way, but just romantically. Even if you assured him countless times that it would only ever be him that you were interested in, and he fully believed you he couldn't just shake that seed that had planted itself there.

The concert was on the day of their last destination. And you felt like it would be the perfect jab at him for dismissing your complete adoration for you to a "burden".

But the more you sat at home thinking about it the more you realized you never wanted to hurt Seungmin purposefully.

That even if he hurt you a thousand times over you would still run back to him because he was both the pain and cure.

And deep down you knew he loved you just as much - if not more - than you loved him.

He loved you enough to risk his entire career to ask you out, when you hadn't known each other very long and there was a high chance of you saying no.

But you could never say no to Seungmin.

You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes to stop the tears you had in your eyes but it did nothing but rub the eyeliner you had on into your eyes causing a painful irritation.

"Shit," You mumbled grabbing your phone to use the cameras as a mirror. But as you were picking you nail scratched your eye. "Fuck! Ahhhhh!" You whined feeling another rush of tears coming.

You tried seeing if your eye was okay when you got a notification on instagram.

It was soon followed by a bunch more and a bunch of message requests.

You clicked to see what the post was and nearly felt your heart sink as you watched your boyfriend breaking down on stage.

You had never seen him so distraught; nor did you know him as one to cry much.

You immediately sat up in bed, ignoring the pain from earlier and watching the screen intently.

I hurt him. You thought to yourself.

I hurt him. I got back at him...didn't I want this? For him to feel what I felt that night?

You looked through the countless messages, all asking if you and Seungmin had broken up.

Some stays even pleading with you to not hurt their precious idol.

But it was much too late for that.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

"Hyung can you drive faster?"

Jeongin anxiously bounced his leg up and down in the back seat.

He had been crippled with anxiety for the past six days as he had waited to return from filming their boys trip.

Especially after Changbin had informed him that you had been put in the hospital.

Although no matter how hard he begged the staff that had accompanied them for filming refused to let him leave due to the "importance of this specific filming venture".

He had called you over 100 times by now he was sure of it. Each of his calls deflected.

He had called the ITZY girls on numerous different occasions as well to see if you were doing okay, if they could tell him what was wrong.

But each time the conversation was cut short due to a strange reason, without much detail given other than-

"Y/N is fine."

"We haven't been able to visit since our staff won't let us rearrange the schedule. But she's fine."

"She's fine, just resting."

Fine. What the hell is fine supposed to mean? They sounded guarded; as if they knew something and just refused to tell me.

The minute Jeongin started seeing lots of foot and automotive traffic he felt his heart quicken.

"Hyung just drop me off at Y/N's house first."

"Shouldn't you go change? And maybe by a few gufts as an apology? You were an ass." Changbin comments as he scrolls through Amazon looking at different protein powders.

"I just want to see her." Jeongin said gripping onto the head rest that was behind Hyunjin's head.

Chan mumbled in the back, stirring from his sleep. "Just drop Innie off...it'll help soother his anxiety." He said turning back towards the window and putting his head against it for a couple more minutes to nap.

Hyunjin typed your address into the GPS, and redirected his route to head over to your place.

Jeongin settled back into his seat, his knee still jumping up and down until Chris put his hand on it squeezing it gently to get the maknae to stop.

"It's okay..." He murmured sleepily. "She's okay...just be there for her...I bet its hard." His cheek pressed against the window and he started to doze off again.

The hidden meaning of Chan's words was something that Jeongin wasn't able to interpret, but it just made him want to see you more.

To get down on his knees and beg you to forgive him for being so careless.

So heartless and insensitive.

You had reaached out to him for help, and maybe if he would have helped you in the moment - instead of tearing you down then everything would have been okay right now.

He could only imagine you laying sick in your bed. Cold and lonely.

He wanted to run to you, comfort you and be able to hold you as you cried into his arms.

He wanted to be the boyfriend he usually was, the one you could easily embrace. The type of boyfriend who would go to the ends of the Earth to protect you; or to find someone who hurt you.

He wanted to be enough.

But in order to do that he had to apologize first.

So as he stood at your door, tyoing in your passcode (your guys anniversary), he ran through all the things he would do to apologize.

Do I apologize before I hug her? Or do I hug her first...she might be crying since she's so sick maybe I should-

When he opened the door, he was not expecting to see you lounging on the couch with a bowl of assorted candy in your lap as you watched a 24 minute long compilation of Gojo edits.

You looked at Jeongin with wide eyes, an airhead mid bite in your mouth.

If it were any other cirucumstance Jeongin would have laughed at the oddity of the situation.

But instead his chin started to tremble and he began to cry.

You instantly rushed over to him, because no matter how petty you wanted to be you couldn't stand seeing the adorable man you loved so much cry.

"Innie- why..."

"I thought- I thought you were..." He couldn't even finish his sentence for the next few minutes as he just sat in your foyer crying.

You rubbed his back, even though you still felt a little annoyed by his antics of the previous week. And that he had interrupted your you time.

Which reminded you of something.

"I'll be right back Innie." You said as you headed towards your bathroom.

But with the amount of anxiety Jeongin had dealt with for the past week he couldn't stop himself from following you moments after.

You didn't notice that he had, so you proceeeded to do as you had been doing ever since you got home from the hospital.

With the click of a button, a small needle pricked your middle finger, and ruby red blood pooled from the small space.

Then a much lengthier needle pierced its way through the insulin bottle you had kept in your medicine cabinet and you pulled up the length of your shorts up to inject the liquid into the fattier part of your leg.

You winced in slight pain, still trying to get used to this new change in pace; in lifestyle.

When you took the needle out, putting it in the makeshift biohazard bin you had made, all the other needles clearly visible, you heard a soft little sniff.

You turned around to see Jeongin, staring at you, his brows furrowed and twitching slightly as he watched you with concern, the slightest hint of betrayal, disappointment and pain in his face.

"Jagiya?"

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@sleeping143 @artist2181 @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

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[astraystayyh]

Volcano

pairing : han x reader. enemies to lovers. slow burn.

summary : you've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.

"I'll take care of you. It's rotten work. Not to me, not if it's you."

cw : depiction of a panic attack, minor injury, both reader and han say mean shit to each other, cursing, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 13.2k

a.n: highly recommend listening to "Let the light in" by Lana when Han starts playing it in the fic hehe feedback is highly appreciated as always <3

skz quotes series masterlist.

You remember being seven years old, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, while your mom brushed your hair. It was a late July night, a cold breeze swaying your white curtains, akin to the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. Your eyes were slightly puffy, delicate red veins protruding the white of them. You had just finished watching a Disney movie- the Lion King; heavy sobs escaping your lips when Mufasa died.

There were still faint hiccups coursing through you, a slight shake in your hands as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Your mom brought you to her chest, her chin resting on your small shoulder blade. "You’re sensitive, my sweet girl" she had uttered, rubbing your arms soothingly.

It was the first time someone described you as such. You didn’t know what ‘sensitive’ entailed exactly, but it contained the word ‘sense’, so you assumed it was something good, a quality to be proud of you. You could sense, maybe more than others, maybe too deeply. That’s why you cried when you didn’t get a good grade, or when your friends left you alone in the park.

But you didn't mind back then. What was your heart made for if not to feel?

You should’ve paid more attention to the way your mom spoke, to the bittersweetness lingering in her tone. As if she knew exactly what it entailed to be sensitive- to have your heart overflow with delicate feelings for the rest of your life, with no safe destination to guard them in.

☄༄

You’ve forgotten the last time you cried in.

The tears are lodged inside your throat- you can clearly feel them, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your vocal cords, rendering them impossible to use.

You used to cry, freely, so much that you lost count of how much it happened. But you realized that every tear that escaped your eyes, made you vulnerable, weaker, in the hands of the people around you. Every tear that washed over you, only rendered you more transparent for everyone to peer at how they wounded your soul. 

So, you conditioned yourself to stop feeling as deeply, or at least to stop showing it. The sadness, the hurt, the anger were all stored within you; but your face remained placid, not betraying how you truly felt. You were like a pond, tranquil at the surface, raging from within.

But on days like this one, you miss the person you were. When the implications of being sensitive still haven’t weighed down on you. When you could get rid of your feelings in the essence of your tears. When you didn’t yet feel bad for feeling.

Chan's eyes are on you, as you type furiously on your laptop. Your vision is so blurry that you can no longer see your lit screen. But you’re afraid that if you pause then Chan would ask if you were okay, and you hated that question. Because you never truly knew the answer to it. Yes, you were okay. But you haven’t cried in six months and your friend didn’t greet you back this morning and you suddenly feel very small in a very large library.

"Hey," Chan taps your hand with his pen and you suck in a slight breath, before raising your head to meet his eyes. "Are you-" he starts but you’re quick to cut him off, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Did you answer question five? I’m stuck on what formula to use."

Chan raises a brow at you, and you blink repeatedly. His eyes travel to your feet tapping furiously against the floor, and he understands.

 "I'm still at number four," he finally says and you nod in relief. You’ve been close friends for a year and Chan has come to know you- he’s dropping the subject.

"Oh, and are you coming to the party tonight?" Chan asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s hosting it and there is hope twinkling in his eyes. You feel bad because you’re about to crush it.

"No, need to revise more for the upcoming test."

"Of course, you’ll still be buried in your books," a sarcastic voice quips up, and you stiffen inwardly. Han- one-third of 3racha, Chan’s self-made producing group, and the bane of your existence. You never liked who you were around Han, he brought out the worst in you. Made all your insecurities roar forward, plastered across your body in neon red.

He was friends with Chan, long before you came into the picture, back into their high school days when Han skipped a class and ended up in the same one as Chan’s. A genius, as everyone around you liked to call him. And they were right- excelling came easily to Han, in everything he ever did. Even tapping into each one of your tender nooks and crannies.

He knew how to expertly push your buttons, how to make his tone sound mocking, and taunting, but only to you. Because you were sensitive, and he knew it, finding it almost amusing to toy with you. 

You decide to stay silent because nothing good ever comes out of talking back to him. So, you bite your tongue, turning back to look at your screen. But Han’s elbow grazes your arm, as he leans a bit further into your face. "Come on, live a little, y/n. You’re missing out on the college experience," he makes a big show of opening his arms wide, a single red pen spinning between his fingers. "Quit being stuck up for one night." And it spins, and it spins, and it spins and something ugly inside you crumbles.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t born with a golden spoon shoved down my throat and I actually have to work for my future."

Han’s eyes widen at the raw animosity in your voice, before narrowing down promptly. He’s leaning onto your face again, and his tone is low and cold when he speaks again. "What did you just say to me?"

"Is it so hard to grasp that not everyone is as privileged as you? We can’t all afford to get wasted every fucking night and call it a life."

You’re being mean. This is the rudest you’ve ever been to someone else. You know that your reaction is disproportionate to what he said. But it isn’t just about this instant. It’s an amalgam of every moment Han made you feel small in, because you don’t go out as much as him, because you don’t understand as quickly as him. Taunts thrown your way under the guise of teasing, but you know better.

Still, guilt eats at you as your eyes lock with Chan’s. You should’ve stayed silent, as you’ve been diligently doing for the past year.

"How do you stand being her friend Chan? Is it out of pity?" Han muses, a pout pulling at his lips. You stare ahead as Han tsks lightly, before tapping your cheek with his pen, bringing your face back to him. "I think it is. Because isn’t she so fucking boring?"

Being near Han always makes you hyper-aware of things you never noticed before. Like how a breath has to travel from the depths of your body so you’d be able to release it, and how excruciatingly long it takes for you to draw in a new one. Because Han’s words are never harmless, no, they settle on the confines of your lungs, crushing down any bit of oxygen willing to leave you.

You've had enough.

"When you’re eighty, on your deathbed, and all alone. I hope you know that there is no one around to blame but yourself."

"Don’t cross the line, yn," Chan finally speaks and you scoff, as you get up to grab your things.

"What fucking line, Chan? So, he can insult me all day but as soon as I do it there is a line? Why are you taking his side?"

Chan stays silent and you chuckle dryly. "Of course, you are. You’re only friends with me out of pity after all."

"That’s not true-"

"Well, you didn’t deny it, did you Chan?"

"Yn, I-"

"Save it."

Han’s eyes are glossy as you take one final glance at him. But your heart’s bleeding too much for you to care about his minor cut.

☄༄

For how much time can a conversation haunt someone? Seventeen days, for your case. And you're still counting.

You have nit-picked your fight with Han in the library so much that it's driving you insane. His voice is drilled into your head- the coldness of it as he reeled back from the shock of your words, and then, the pure venom dripping from his tone, as he attacked you where it hurt the most. Chan.

Han chose his words carefully, stitched up the sentence perfectly to hurt you, to stick to your flesh like burnt skin, one that you peeled over and over, each time it threatened to scar.

You haven't talked to Chan in seventeen days. He tried to stop you; on your way out of class, in the line of your campus cafeteria, on the doorsteps of your dorm. But you always fleet away. His eyes were also imprinted into your brain- the disappointment in them when you clapped back at Han.

What about him? You wanted to yell. Why are you only disappointed in me?

But the tears in your pillow have dried. Then fallen again. Then dried once more. And you found the answer to question five. And you miss Chan, terribly so.

That's why you're pacing around his dorm, at 10 pm, when it's also terribly cold outside. Your fingers have gone numb from the ministrations of the wind, but you don't move from your place. You know that the chances of seeing Han- the second person you’ve been avoiding like the plague- would be higher here. But you didn't care anymore.

Your thumb hovers over the call button and you bite your lip harshly. Would Chan pick up? Would he hang up? Was he really your friend out of pity?

"Yn?" a voice calls out, and you startle, turning around to see who it is. Changbin, carrying two bags of groceries in his hand. He's Chan’s friend as well, the final member of 3racha. You like Changbin. He's always being very kind to you. You've grown much closer to him than to Han in the past few months; not that the latter has ever wanted a friendship with you. From the day you met and his eyes narrowed promptly each time you talked. You should’ve known from the start.

"Why are you out here in the cold?" Changbin asks gently, stepping cautiously towards you.

"Chan," you say simply and he nods, understanding what you mean.

"He's not here now, but he'll come home soon. Let's go inside, okay?" he smiles tentatively at you and you hum in reply.

Changbin opens the door and you follow inside. You help him take out the groceries silently, stacking them in their fridge and shelves. Lots of protein powder, and chicken packets. You'd laugh about it if you weren't so sad.

"Chan misses you," Changbin speaks up suddenly, and your heartbeat quickens at his words.

"I miss him too."

"Then you'll be okay."

You try to remember Changbin’s reassuring smile when Chan finally opens the door to the dorm, an hour later. He finds you sitting on the stool in the kitchen. His eyes light up once they settle on you.

And you unravel at the sight.

You're crying, sobs rippling from you as he brings you to his chest. He's patting your head and whispering that it's okay. And you know his shirt is all crumpled from clutching it in your hands. But he doesn't mind. He only hugs you tighter.

"I'm sorry, yn. So, so, sorry. I should've stopped him before, I just... You two are my best friends and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by talking and-"

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm the one who should apologize for ghosting you."

"I understand why you did it. I fucked up but I missed you so much. Can we please never do this again?”

“Yes please,” you giggle, but the sound withers as the door opens once again.

"What is she doing here?" a cold voice breaks you and Chan apart, as your eyes land on Han. His gaze sucks the breath out of you, and the warmth in your heart fizzles out. Your hold on Chan’s shirt tightens and he takes an unconscious step in front of your body. Han doesn't miss the protective gesture.

"Get out, yn."

"You don't get to kick my friends out of my house," Chan is angry. And you regret ever coming here.

"Last I checked it's my house too." Han doesn't even bother looking at you. He's holding Chan’s gaze as if they're silently communicating. "You know damn well what she said why-" he takes a deep breath, running a hand angrily through his hair. "Fuck this. If she's not leaving then I am."

And with that he storms out, slamming the door behind him. You flinch at the sound.

Chan’s eyebrows are knitted as he stares at where Han stood seconds ago as if trying to conjure him up once again. You never wanted to strain their friendship. You knew how much Han cared for Chan, even if he didn't bear the same sentiment for you.

"Chan, I’ll leave. Call Han and tell him I'm gone."

"You don't have to."

"I know," you reassure, placing your hand on his forearm. "We'll talk more later, okay? It's cold and he has nowhere to go. Just call him, please."

"Fine," Chan concedes. "Call me when you get home, alright?" his eyes finally soften and you squeeze his hand in reply, before heading out as well.

The walk from Chan’s dorm to yours is fairly short, but tonight, it seems like kilometers are separating you from the safety of your bed. There is a heavy weight crushing your bones, most of it being guilt at what just transpired between Chan and Han.

That's what comes with being sensitive- you bear the weight of your feelings and the one of those surrounding you.

Were you out of place with what you said to Han? Yes. Was it eating you inside to see the consequences of your words? Yes. But he was also to blame, you repeated in your head. He was also to blame. Please. You plead, you don't know to whom, maybe to the voice in your head to stop being so mean. 'But none of this would've happened if you weren't so sensitive. So easy to bruise' the voice mocks and you stumble on your feet.

It happens so suddenly it takes you off guard- the way the breath is knocked out of you. You pause, chest heaving as you bend down slightly. Your hand is on your heart as you try to breathe again, but it's shaking so much. Your legs give out under you, and you plop down on the floor, eyes tightly shut. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to pass out.

"Yn, what-" A hand rests on your shoulder but you shake it off. You don't want to be touched. Not by him.

"Let me help-" Han speaks again, and you scramble away from him, as best as you can anyway. You end up kneeling on the ground once again, your back to him. "Get-get away."

"I know you're mad but you aren't okay and I know how horrib-"

"You aren't helping!" you shout through tears, as your heart threatens to spill out of your throat. "You’ve hurt me e-enough already."

You don't remember how you got home that night, how you managed to open the door or cross the road leading to your dorm. But you remember Han leaving you on the cold ground, just like you wanted. You remember the ache in your bones as you laid on your bed; the burning desire to stop feeling for a night, to cut your chest open and tear off your bleeding heart.

☄༄

One month later

If there's one thing you've always complained to Chan about, it's the fact that his building had an elevator in it, unlike yours.

Today, you’ve come to regret this fact. Tremendously.

You’ve been avoiding going to Chan’s dorm for the past weeks since the last thing you wanted was to see Han. But, he insisted on you coming over, reassuring you that it would only be him and Changbin at home since Han supposedly had other plans.

Well, Chan was wrong. Because Han just walked into the elevator you are in, mere moments before its doors closed.

Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock on yours. He looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it, opting for sighing loudly instead, before pressing the button leading to the fourth floor, rather harshly.

Your need to flee has never been this strong.

You watch anxiously as the numbers slowly go up. 1… 2… 3… Then a loud voice startles you and the elevator starts to shake in place. The door is suddenly opened and you are met with a cement wall, blocking your exit.

"What the fuck?" Han groans as you press the emergency button repeatedly, hoping that the elevator will resume its course and this nightmare will be forgotten.

It doesn’t.

"You’re going to break the goddamn button," Han pushes your hand away and you stumble away from him.

"Can you shut up? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit."

"Does it look like I’m happy to be here?" Han scoffs, as a ringtone plays in the elevator, cutting you off before you could respond. 

"Hey guys, this happens from time to time, so no need to worry. Is everyone alright?" Someone speaks and you assume it's the worker charged with the maintenance of the elevator.

"Yes," you both reply at the same time.

"Great. We’ve contacted the mechanics but they said there’s a lot of traffic, so it might take a bit longer for them to get here."

"How long?" Han asks the question that’s on your mind as well.

"Two hours, at most, for you to get out."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you groan, as hot tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. This is the last thing you needed today- to be stuck in a cramped-up space with the one person who sucks the oxygen out of any room you’re in.

"Thanks, man," Han sighs and you turn your back to him, facing the wall. You’ve had a horrible day, scratch that, a horrible week. Hanging out with Chan and Changbin was the one thing you were looking forward to, only for the worst possible scenario to happen- being stuck in the same place with Han. You feel an urgent need to sob but you can’t cry in front of him. Not when he’s all claws and your skin is tender.

"Wait, are you claustrophobic?" He suddenly asks, seemingly inches away from your body.

"As if you’d fucking care," you scoff, before heading to a corner of the elevator and settling down.

"I'm not a monster, you know," he mutters in an almost sad tone, one that forces you to look up at him. His hands are deep into his pockets, eyebrows knitted as he gazes down at you. "Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?"

"Yes," you reply instantly, before staring forward again. The hurt that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does, ever so faintly, like the last wave that grazes your feet as you get out of the ocean. "I’m not claustrophobic," you add after a while and Han finally sits on the opposite side from you.

It’s hot and stuffy in the elevator, and it’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. You’ve never really liked silence for too long, it made the small voice in your head only grow bolder, louder, impossible to ignore.

Thirty-five excruciatingly long minutes go by and the tension only grows more suffocating. It’s simmering, barely beneath the surface, waiting for the person who will finally make it explode. 

It’s Han.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Come on, we have nothing else to do.”

“Have you tried being silent?”

"Yn," he says sternly and you begrudgingly concede. "Fine. Ask me."

You imagine him smirking slightly, the way he does each time he manages to push you over the edge.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“We’re not doing this right now,” you shake your head, tone adamant.

"When’s a better time for it? We’re literally never in the same place."

“And whose fault that is?” You smile too sarcastically and he frowns. “So, I’m the only one to blame?”

“Can’t you see how full of yourself you are? Fuck, Han, this is exactly what I hate about you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You’re so immature, you never sit back to think of how your words might impact someone.”

"What words yn? I was teasing you!" his voice grows louder and so does yours. "You were hurting me!" you yell, chest heaving. There is something utterly terrifying in this confession- to let someone know how easy it was for them to get to you.

"But I didn’t mean to," he drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's not my fault you felt that way."

An ironic chuckle leaves your lips, as you point at him. "See, you're doing it again! You're blaming me for my reaction instead of evaluating how your actions might have caused it."

"Look, yn," he scrambles to you until there are only a few centimeters separating your bodies. "I really wanna fix this, okay? Can we stop screaming?"

"Why are you so hellbent on fixing it?" you question, as you lean further away from him. He notices and takes a step back, giving you space.

"Because although I don't care about you, I care about Chan. And this is hurting him. So, I want to be civil with you."

The mention of Chan feels like a cold bucket of water dousing the fire within you. You know he’s struggling to be in the middle of two people he loves. He doesn’t deserve that.

"Fine," you sigh softly. “You talk. I’ll listen.”

"I didn't... I didn't know that my words would hurt you. In truth, it looked like you weren't affected at all. That's why I kept pushing you because… God Yn you're so perfect it maddens me."

Your eyebrows knit together at his words- the last thing you expected to stumble out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"You never get sad, never get angry. Your emotions are always in check. You're always smiling, always laughing. Have everything figured out from how you want to be now to where you want to be in the future. And you know yourself, you never step out of order. And this is selfish and stupid but it irked me. Because I am the opposite of you. I'm a mess and too human it terrifies me, so I wanted to see if you had a breaking point. But each time I taunted you, you remained placid. So, I kept pushing to see if you'd break one day because, selfishly enough, that would make me feel better about how broken I am."

"Han, you're so stupid. Aren't you a literal genius? You excel in everything you do and you have fun on top of it, every single night. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"

"Do you really believe I find joy in being wasted and not even remembering what happened that night? I do that because I'm in my mind most of the days and it isn't the best place to be in. So, I like to forget."

“Why do you think I always bury myself in my studies? Because it's safe and it makes me forget too. Did you really think I didn’t feel? I feel too much and that’s the problem.”

Han remains silent as you curse under your breath. "Do you even realize how selfish this is? To test a human's breaking point? All because what? I didn't shove my struggles down your nose? Would you go around and do this to everyone who looked fine to you?"

"I know, I know, I was just in a bad place, and this isn't an excuse but I... I felt as if you were just showing me everything that was wrong with me."

"That is how I felt around you," you chuckle bitterly and he hangs his head low. He’s much quieter when he speaks again. “I guess we’re more similar than I thought.”

"Doesn't excuse what you did. You targeted me and made me feel insane because no one was hearing the hostility in your tone like I did."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I never thought it'd get this bad and I deserve every name you called me."

"You do." You close your eyes, as Han’s words wash over you. There is so much more you want to say, so much you want to spit out in his face because of his selfish coping mechanism. But you also want peace, for Chan’s sake. So, you try to bury your resentment, just like you do with every other feeling. One day it’ll turn into indifference. You’ll make sure of it.

You bite your lip, before clearing your throat. Your tone is softer when you speak again. "I'm sorry for what I told you in the library. About you dying alone and whatnot. That wasn't nice of me."

"You really hit the nail with that one," Han chuckles quietly, and guilt floods your heart at the expression on his face. "And I'm sorry for calling you boring. You aren't. And for everything I said before that."

"Okay. It's okay." You reassure, a tiny smile drawn on your lips.

He nods before a sly grin grows on his face. "Should we hug it out?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow at you and you stare pointedly at him. "Don't push your luck."

"Yes, ma'am."

An hour later, the mechanics finally manage to get the elevator going, which in turn allows you both to get out. Han opens the door to the dorm, and you find Chan lying on the couch, scrolling down his phone.

"Han? I thought you would..." he starts before trailing off as he looks up. "Yn? Where were you, I’ve been calling you for the past two hours."

"I didn't have signal."

"Why where were-" Chan goes to question before stopping once again. He hurriedly stands up and walks toward you.

"You... Are standing next to one another."

"We are," Han replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

"And you aren't... Fighting?" his statement comes out more like a question, which makes both you and Han chuckle.

"We aren't."

"We talked it out, in the elevator which we were both just stuck in," you add and Chan’s eyes grow wide, as a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.

"Oh my god. Finally. We'll talk about the elevator bit later but it's been so hard trying not to be in the same place as the both of you."

"We know. We're sorry," you both pout in sync and Chan shakes his head, before opening his arms wide. You giggle, before walking to him and sinking into his embrace. Han follows you shortly after, and your eyes meet behind Chan’s back. He shoots you a tiny thumbs up.

Is this how a dandelion feels, you wonder, when someone blows on it in the hopes it'll grant their selfish wishes. Only to be tossed away afterward, lifeless.

You drown out the thought before smiling back at Han. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

☄༄

Befriending two-thirds of 3racha holds within it a lot of privileges. The first one is listening to unreleased music, the second is having exclusive insight into their upcoming performances.

Their gigs don't happen as often as they'd like, because they're still students who unfortunately have lots of assignments. But when a window of free time materializes, they unveil their latest productions at vibrant parties, dimly lit bars, or even the occasional club. Which attracts a lot of people, some even coming from neighboring towns to listen to them play.

Everyone can recognize raw talent, even if rap doesn't happen to be their favorite genre.

This is how you know that they'll be performing Heyday, their latest creation, at Seungmin’s party. You've met him in passing, and Chan insisted that you'd come. Not that you needed much convincing anyway, you fell in love with this song the minute you heard it.

There is an exhilarating energy in Seungmin’s mansion, a palpable anticipation preceding 3racha’s performance, as you all gaze at the makeshift stage. The place is packed, bodies pressed tightly to one another. You feel slightly uncomfortable but you swallow it down. You're here to support Chan first and foremost, you can leave if things become too much for you.

The introductory chords materialize abruptly, and 3racha takes the stage. Chan is clad in a white shirt with huge gaps on his sides, revealing glimpses of his chest each time he bends down. Changbin, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is wearing a tightly fitted black shirt, hugging each muscle of his to perfection. Han, the last one to walk in, sports a loose black shirt, with a low neckline. His nails are painted to match the color of his attire, you notice.

The song kicks off with Changbin's incendiary rap as deafening cheers ring all around you. You make sure to scream on top of your lungs too, as Changbin’s loud voice commands the attention of everyone in the room. You’ve always held a penchant for his rap style- how powerful he sounds, and how addicted you quickly become to hearing him on stage. You remember once telling him that any song that starts with his rapping is a successful hit. He playfully nudged your shoulder but his appreciative smile was hard to miss.

Chan’s part is next and you try to rap along, as best as you can anyway due to your fleeting memory. It sounds mostly like gibberish but you don’t mind, especially when your eyes meet Chan’s and he grins at you, before morphing into the mesmerizing stage persona that's peculiar to him. You clearly remember the first time you witnessed him on stage, and how enthralled you were by the sheer power he exuded. His destiny was intertwined with music, no one could deny that. 

A bed squeaking sound comes next, followed by the knocking on the door and you giggle against your will. That was Han’s ingenious touch, as Chan had shared when you'd raised a quizzical brow at him while listening. “Is this based on a real-life experience?” You asked, a knowing smirk etched upon your features, and he pretended to zip his mouth, earlobes turning a vibrant shade of crimson.

Han finally starts rapping in his inimitable style, exuding an effortless, laid-back aura. Your gazes meet at the "let's go play" line, and he tilts his head quizzically at you as he utters his confused "huh?". You raise one eyebrow at him prompting a sly smirk from him, before redirecting his attention to the opposite side of the stage. Yet, your eyes remain on him throughout his entire part.

The boys step off the stage, and you watch from the corner of the room with a wide grin as a swarm of people surrounds them. Congratulations and praise fill the air, and you can tell that 3racha thrives on this moment- it's what they live for, what makes their souls rise up from the ashes. 

Chan catches your eye, and you applaud enthusiastically, letting out a happy giggle. He blows you a kiss, and you playfully pretend to catch it, eliciting a small shake of his head. Changbin, who's standing near him, catches the exchange and winks at you from a distance, to which you respond with two thumbs up.

Even though you're a bit far from them, you're certain the boys can sense the pride radiating from you in waves. There's something truly magical about humans existing in their element, particularly people you care about.

Your gaze shifts to Han, and your smile falters slightly. He's also glowing, but signs of discomfort are starting to creep onto his face. You recognize them fairly well, as you've felt them too at times when emotions become overwhelming. So, after a brief internal debate, you decide to act and begin making your way toward him, pushing through the crowd despite the rising complaints behind you.

They fall on deaf ears.

You grab Han's forearm, pulling him with you through the sea of bodies toward the bathroom. He doesn't fight, following diligently behind you. You open the door and pull him inside, pausing as you realize you don't have a specific plan for bringing him here. This is also the first time you've been alone together since the elevator conversation.

"Thank you," Han whispers, and you nod, your eyes softening. "I'm okay, I love performing, I just needed a breather," he quickly adds, as if feeling guilty for being overwhelmed. 

"That's completely understandable. You are running on a lot of adrenaline, and the room is so crowded," you say with a smile, turning to the mirror to touch up your makeup.

Han remains silent for a while as you powder your face, before reapplying your cherry lip gloss. You can hear him taking in deep breaths, and you avoid looking at him, worried he might feel embarrassed.

"What did you think of the performance?" he finally asks, and you raise your head slightly. You lock eyes with him through the mirror, as he leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. His black t-shirt falls a bit, revealing more of his bare skin, and your eyes trail down for a moment.

"It was really good. I think this song might be my favorite of all yours."

"Really?" Han grins, his words filled with an excitement that warms your heart despite yourself. He's just received heaps of compliments from hundreds of people, yet your words still seem to affect him deeply.

"Yes. I loved your rap, how it started in a laid-back manner, and then you cleared your throat and picked up the pace. It added a unique edge to the song."

"Thank you, really," his smile is genuine, and you giggle softly, shaking your head.

"What's funny?" he asks, walking up to you. You're still facing the mirror, and he's now only inches away from you.

"I didn't imagine you'd appreciate my compliment this much."

"It feels sincere," he shrugs and you nod, finally turning around and leaning against the sink.

"It is sincere."

"Good."

You hold his gaze, eyes only trailing down to go across his face. He looks far different from how he did on stage. Shier, more eager for praise.

"You have..." he steps up until the scent of his cologne tickles your nose. His hand raises ever so slowly to your face, and you hold your breath, as he picks up something from your cheek. His hands are warm.

"An eyelash fell. Make a wish."

A surprised chuckle escapes your lips. "You wish on fallen lashes?"

"You wish on everything when you need hope." his voice is low, a timber so foreign to your ears it sends shivers down your spine. So, you close your eyes, wishing for your heart to quit beating so fast.

"Done," you whisper and he blows the single lash away, his gaze still on you.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course. I had to support Chan and Changbin." It slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and Han slightly recoils from your words.

"Right, them. Yeah. Of course," he finally backs away, and oxygen fills your lungs once again. "I'm good now. Should we go out?"

"After you," you nod tightly and he walks ahead first, his perfume trailing after him and pulling you into a dizzying dance. 

☄༄

The party Seungmin hosted was your last time having fun for a while. Your preparation for midterm exams began soon after, and you found yourself swarmed with assignments left and right. Thankfully, you and Chan were going through it at the same time, which meant you met at the library each day, revising silently near one another.

Except this time, you were joined by Han.

Goosebumps ran across your skin as he pulled the chair next to you, not the good kind of shivers. You were reminded of the fight you had right here, three months ago. Which still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You don't hate Han anymore. He's actually funny, and you enjoy listening to his ramblings when you go over to Chan's dorm. He's also really different in his home, much quieter, and softer. Much more like you.

But you're also human, and there is still a part of your brain sending off warning signals at his presence. Maybe because the hurt was never buried properly. You just brushed it off under the carpet after your elevator conversation. Most of it was spent shouting anyway.

"Hey," he greets and you just nod in reply. You can feel his gaze linger on you a bit after that, and a pang of guilt twists in your heart. "Hi," you finally reply, but you tune out his response. Why is it that you're sensitive to everyone's emotions but your own?

Twenty minutes go by, then forty, and you can no longer take the uncomfortable feeling clinging to your skin. So, you excuse yourself, hurriedly stepping out of the library.

Han follows you; you can tell it’s him because someone's chair scraped loudly against the floor as soon as you stood up, and that couldn't be Chan because he is always careful with the silence in the library. So, you put on your headphones and walk faster.

This is childish, surely it is, but you can't control your emotions. You've apologized and so did he, you talk from time to time and you even held his arm and took him to a quiet bathroom. So where is all this bitterness coming from?

"Dammit, yn, how are you so fast?" Han grabs your arm pausing you. He's panting slightly and you just blankly stare as he takes in a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks and you nod, turning around to walk away. He stops you again.

"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?" he asks quietly, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead wearily.

"You didn't do anything, I just... Being in that library reminded me of certain things."

"I know. Me too. Can we please talk?"

"We are talking," you raise your brows and he stares pointedly at you. "Come on you know what I mean."

"Fine," you giggle, "we can talk."

"I didn't apologize properly to you in the elevator. Truth is, I did it because Chan was mad at me and I couldn't stand it anymore."

The bitterness- you understand where it comes from now.

"But I am sorry. Truly sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and this will sound like a joke, but I hate hurting people. I really do. I was just too wrapped up in my problems that I didn't realize how it would affect you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I also shouldn't have tried to kick you out that day, but dying alone is my biggest fear, and seeing you in my home made me want to lose my mind because I couldn't get what you said out of my head, but it was so cold outside and again I shouldn't have told you to go out and I am so sorry-"

"Han, breathe," you smile, cutting him off and Han sucks in a deep breath, chest slightly heaving from talking uninterrupted for a minute straight.

"I'm sorry I just wanted to apologize, properly this time. I'm doing it because I'm guilty, not because of Chan. Nothing excuses my behavior, I know. And I wish I could turn back in time and actually get to know you because you're really cool and very nice, but I can't. All I can do is apologize. So I'm sorry, Yn. I really am."

"I appreciate it," you smile, and Han exhales a little from relief. "I didn't know that was your biggest fear, but even if it wasn't, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said something so mean. So, I'm sorry for it too. But I'm not apologizing for being mad, you deserved that."

"I did, I did, I know." He's quick to agree. "I don't want us to be awkward around one another. I'm not telling you that you have to be my best friend but, we can be friends, right? But you also don't have to. It's enough if you forgive me and... You know what? Never mind forget I said anything, I'm just nervous and-"

"Okay."

"Okay?" he repeats.

"We can be friends. I accept your truthful apology."

"Actually?"

"Yes."

"Like we can start over?" he grins and you chuckle at the excitement in his face. "Yes."

"Can we hug it out?"

"Too soon," you pout and he nods, a faint blush dusting his cheek.

"Right. Should we go back to the library? I saw that you were stuck on a question. I can help you."

"You won't make any comments?"

"No. Pinky promise." he outstretches his pinky towards you and you muse over it for a bit, before wrapping your finger around his. You grin at Han- your first genuine smile since he's known you. His hold on your pinky falters.

"Okay. I'm in."

.☄༄

Five weeks later- 1:13 a.m.

You were still slightly cautious near Han as if you were both threading along an invisible line. You could talk, but not too much, afraid any old animosity would shine through. And you could stay together, but not too long, in case it gets awkward and you wouldn't know what to do. So, you never mixed, just like water and oil, each of you knowing their place, away from the other.

But you still didn't want to miss out on outings with your friends. So, when Chan invites you for a movie night with Han, and Changbin, you don't say no.

The night runs smoothly, the warm beer you had easing your nerves bit by bit. It was also easier to forget that you once hated Han when he brought tears to your eyes from laughing so hard.

2:56 a.m.

An unbearable heat suddenly envelopes you, your very blood boiling from within. You hesitantly look down, to find your entire body bathed in red, as if your skin had melted away, exposing you to the scorching heat embracing your tender flesh.

You are in the heart of a volcano, with lava bubbling dangerously below. Hanging by a frail thread, you dangle over the edge of death.

And then, you plummet. 

You startle awake, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand clutching it tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, and it takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe, far from the inside of the volcano that had threatened to consume you.

You glance at your phone- 3:43 a.m. You read. It's only been a mere hour since you went to sleep. You don't think you could drift back into slumber. 

Dragging a hand tiredly across your face, you walk into the pitch-black kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of water, hoping that the icy drink will cool you down. You are safe.

"What are you-" you startle, dropping the glass and spinning around, hand pressed to your heart.

"Han, fuck, you scared me," you sigh, tugging at your hair slightly and he's quick to your side, a string of hushed apologies tumbling from his lips.

"I'm sorry, here let me clean it up," he kneels and you follow suit, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "No, I dropped it, let me clean," you reassure, but your hands are trembling as you pick up the shards of glass, any bit of logic clouded by your racing thoughts.

Your heartbeat's ringing loudly in your ears, you barely register the glass cutting your skin until an uncharacteristic warmth oozes from your hand. Blood.

"Shit," you curse lowly and Han illuminates the place with his phone flashlight. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks and you shake your head, walking over to the sink.

"It's nothing, don't worry."

"Yn, let me see," he's standing behind you, the ghost of his breath grazing your exposed neck.

"Han, really it's-" he cuts you off, grabbing your forearm and walking you over to the couch. He finally turns on the lights before crouching down in front of you.

"Show me?" he asks gently and you're too tired to fight him. You open your palm tentatively, taking a look at your cut for the first time as well. It's not too deep, it won't require stitches. But it's also not shallow, blood oozing from it at a steady rhythm.

Han simply frowns upon gazing at your wound, before walking over to his room. You don't move from your spot, gaze lost into the space before you. What would happen if you never woke up? Would you feel your flesh burning? Bones melting as the searing lava-

"Here," he gently holds your wrist, as his eyes meet yours. "This will hurt a bit. Hold my arm as tight as you want and tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"

"Okay," you simply nod.

He dabs up your cut with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. You hiss softly, as the liquid burns your open skin. Han abruptly stops at the sound. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just-"

"It's okay," you smile reassuringly, "I can handle it."

Han nods, resuming his treatment. He's even softer this time, if that is even possible. He's careful when he rubs a soothing gel on your cut, before wrapping your palm in a gauze. He can't find a pair of scissors so he cuts it with his teeth, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. You account the warmth you're suddenly feeling to the aftermath of your nightmare.

"Why are you even up?" he finally asks as he settles next to you on the couch, eyes looking up to the ceiling.

"Nightmare."

"You’re okay?" he asks gently and he sounds truly concerned for your well-being. You aren't used to this. To Han acting like a friend to you. But it feels nice to be cared for, so you don't mind him blurring the lines tonight.

"I'm still a little bit scared," you admit sheepishly and Han's eyes soften under the dim moonlight.

"It passed. You're okay now."

"Am I?" you drag a hand tiredly across your face and Han frowns, inching closer to you.

"Is it a recurring dream?"

"Mm. It tires me out."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just want to forget." 'Help me forget' you want to add, but you decide against it. "Why were you up, anyway?"

"I got inspiration for lyrics so I had to write it down."

"Can you share some with me?" you ask, tone a tad too hopeful. Han catches it and smiles warmly at you.

"Sure. This is probably going to be in the chorus..." he pulls out his phone, heading to his notes app. "This is what I have so far... I let my frustrated screams out hoping that they’d be washed away in the rain. I send it off with a smiling face, down to the last drops left on my fingertips." he pauses, scrolling down a bit more. "I also wrote this; I think it'll be nice in a verse... I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."

"You're such a talented lyricist Han," you whisper in awe, and Han’s cheeks warm up at your words, reminiscent of a setting sun. "But I also wish it was as easy as this. To let out all the emotions you bottle inside and for them to wash away with the rain." You bite your lip, as Han’s words echo in your head. "I think... I think that's why I get this nightmare. I don't free my emotions anymore, and they show up in my dreams to torment me."

You don't know where these bouts of honesty are coming from. Maybe because you're too weary to keep up a happy facade. Or maybe because you know that the person who wrote these lyrics must understand exactly how you feel.

"Well... It's raining." Han whispers after a while and you look at him, confusion plastered across your features.

"And?"

"Should we test it out?"

"Test what?"

"Screaming under the rain," he says as if it's the most evident thing in the world.

"What? That's insane, Han we will get sick and..." You pause, as the words dissolve in your mouth like the seafoam meeting the shore. "You know what? Let's do it!"

"Really?" he asks incredulously, a huge grin on his face.

"Yes!"

"Okay, let's go!"

You both abruptly stand up, still only clad in your pajamas. You quickly slip your shoes on before running outside. The rain envelops you in a cold hug as soon as you step outside, rain droplets trickling down your clothes. You don't mind, you have lots of bottled-up feelings to free. 

"This needs music," Han smiles as he takes out his phone, putting his playlist on shuffle. 'Let The Light In' starts playing, and you shoot him a thumbs-up.

"It fits the rainy mood," you grin and he nods, squinting his eyes to be able to look at you.

"I think if we scream here, we'll scare the neighbors."

"I know!" you chuckle, wiping away the rain droplets on your forehead. "Where should we go?"

"The empty parking lot!" Han shouts so you'll hear him over the growing rain and you nod. He takes off running and you chase after him. You're both completely drenched once you're a bit far away from the house. But you don't care. Not when there is pure adrenaline rushing through you.

You finally stop, loud giggles escaping your mouth at the thrill of what you're doing. "You should start!" you yell excitedly and Han nods, taking in deep steadying breaths.

"Okay, I'm ready!"

"On the count of three! One... Two... Three!" and Han shouts at the top of his lungs, his screams getting lost in the rain. An incredulous smile breaks out on his face as you giggle loudly, the sound of it ringing out in the downpour.

"You looked insane!"

"I feel insane!" He yells honestly and a fit of laughter takes over you both. You hold his arm to steady yourself. 

"You should try it now!" Han urges and you nod, willing yourself to calm down. 

"Okay, will you count down for me?" 

"Yes," he assures and you clap excitedly. Han can't help but smile at the excitement on your face.

"One... Two... Three!" And you shout, continuous screams spilling from the depths of your soul. Han wasn't wrong- your pain, your fear, your anger are all dripping along the rain droplets, from your bruised heart to the tip of your fingers.

You've never felt this free before.

The two of you don't notice the passage of time, the rain acting as a cathartic release to all your pent-up emotions. It was as if your pain intertwined with each rain droplet, and you were letting go of everything that had held you down. Each scream acted as a break from the burdens of the past, and the worries of the future. 

As you finally stopped, panting and soaked to the bone, you looked at each other with raw exhilaration in your eyes.

"So, how was it?" Han yells over the rain and you break out in a relieved smile. "I don't think I’ve ever been this happy my entire life," you beam at him and the sight makes the rain feel less colder to Han. 

He watches, a small smile on his face as you twirl around, face looking up toward the sky, a deluge of rain grazing your cheeks like a lover's tender touch. The smile doesn't leave your face as you spin around, happy chuckles leaving your mouth from time to time.

You look... free. As if there was an invisible weight on your shoulders that the rain washed away. A heavy burden that you carried within you, like a secret secret. He likes the sound of that. Maybe that's what he'll name his song. 

Han slightly shakes his head as he watches you skip around, clothes completely soaked. You are now standing a bit far away, right beside a street lamp.

Ooh, let the light in

Its light shines on you alone.

Time seems to slow down, as Han’s steps falter. You're smiling, not at him, but at the universe. A happiness so raw filling you that it needs to come out, even if no one's watching.

You're spinning around, delighted giggles spilling from you like the most mesmerizing chorus. Something is building up inside Han, begging for a release. It refuses to come out in a scream- violently. It's tender and soft. He thinks that if you held his hand right now, you'd be able to free it.

Look at us, you and I back at it again

Is it possible to feel something other than an emotion? Because right now, weirdly, all he feels is you.

Cause I love to love to love to love you

I hate to hate to hate to hate you

Your eyes land on Han and there is pure joy dancing in your pupils. He's glad you no longer despise him. He doesn't think he can stomach it anymore.

Cause I want to want to want to want you

You run to him, holding his hand before twirling him around.

I need to need to need to need you

Han can't believe he ever thought you weren't human enough. You are a mosaic of every feeling that makes one human. There are lyrics writing themselves in his head and they're all about you.

Ooh, let the light in

You clasp both his hands, before crossing them over. And then you're both spinning around until the world around you blurs. All he sees is you, and the light surrounding you alone.

Ooh, turn your light on

He thinks he might, if the light is you.

5:22 a.m

"There is a heater in my room, you should come," Han offers as you dry your hair with the blue towel he just handed you.

"It's okay I’ll stay here," you point to the couch but he shakes his head adamantly. "You'll die from hypothermia. Do you know how mad Chan will be if I let you pass away?" he whispers in fear, a hand clutching his heart.

"So dramatic," you giggle, before following him into his room. He goes on his bed first before tapping the spot beside him. You sigh before lying next to him, snuggling further into the hoodie he gave you to change.

"You're still shivering," he remarks, as your teeth clink together.

"It's okay."

"You shouldn't have gone out with just a t-shirt."

"I didn't exactly plan on this, you know," you smile sarcastically and Han chuckles before tapping your shoulder softly.

"Come closer."

You debate for a second before complying, the cold tuning out all the rational thoughts in your head. 

Your arm brushes against his and you can't breathe once again. But it's a different type of deprivation. Han always seems to steal the oxygen from your lungs, but for once, you don't mind. Red embers are burning within you and their flames keep you alive. You press your chest to his back, as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Maybe he'll turn you to ashes. Will you rise from them?

"You're so cold," his hand reaches behind to rub your arms soothingly, an earnest attempt to warm you up.

"I’ll be fine, go to sleep. Don't worry about me."

"I can't control it."

In the dark room, Han can't see you curling your hand into a tight fist at his words. 

"If you stay quiet then I’ll sleep," you say after a while and Han giggles softly.

"That's the goal. You need to rest."

"You should sleep too."

"I will."

"Okay. Good night, Han."

"Good night, Yn."

You think he's fallen asleep when you speak up again. "Hey, Han."

"Yes, Yn?" He replies instantly, voice slightly hoarse. 

"Can you repeat that lyric to me, about the flowers blooming again?" You ask quietly, and you feel him nodding against your chest.

"I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."

His warm voice vibrates within your body. "That's a nice lyric."

"I hope you'll dream of it instead."

☄༄

Against Han’s strong belief, he's the one who fell sick after your rain-soaked outing. 

You knew of it from Chan, who texted you saying that Han caught a nasty cold, and then got food poisoning, which meant he couldn't be there for their highly anticipated meeting—after their electrifying Heyday performance, a record label expressed strong interest in signing them. 

"Can you come over and stay with Han?" Chan implores as soon as he answers your call.

“That bad?” You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.

"I don't want to leave him alone. He's been really sick for the past week now, and… it's partly your fault"

"I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me into coming," you chuckle even though you know he is right. Han wouldn’t have gotten out in the rain if it wasn’t for you.

"I'm sorry it’s just I don't think he's been good, apart from the illness. And I’m worried, and I don’t know I thought maybe you could talk to him. He reminds me of you, in his sadness, so you might understand what's wrong more than me."

You think it over for a second before rising up from your bed.

"I'm coming"

As soon as you step inside their dorm, Chan pulls you for a side hug, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, clearly grateful that you agreed to come. It worries you even more for Han.

“No problem. You can go, I’ll be with him.”

“Thank you, Yn” Changbin smiles before hastily pulling Chan outside the door. You wave them both goodbye.

You cautiously crack open the door to Han’s room, to find it completely engulfed in darkness. The stream of light from the door falls upon Han, who squints his eyes, trying to see who disrupted his fragile peace.

"Hi," you speak softly, finding it a bit odd to raise your voice in such a still room. Han attempts to sit up, before doubling over, hand tightly clutched around his stomach.

You rush to his side, kneeling beside his bed. It's the only lit-up part of the room.

"Still hurts?" you ask, your hand moving in soothing circles on his back. He nods, eyes squeezed shut, and you feel your heart crack at the sight.

"Have you taken any medicine?"

"A few hours ago. I need to eat something before I can take more, but I can't get up to the kitchen."

"Why didn't you tell the boys?"

"Didn't want to be a burden."

"You aren't. I'll make you something to eat. Okay? Try to sleep meanwhile."

"You don't have to," Han shakes his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I know," you smile softly, before exiting the room.

Minutes later, you're back in the room, a bowl of sliced fruit in your hands.

"Do you guys live off protein powder and frozen chicken?" you ask, earning a quiet laugh from Han as he lays his back against the headboard.

"We do. Please save me," he jokes and you laugh, shaking your head. "Good thing I grabbed some fruit before leaving."

"Thank you," he grins, eyes slightly squinting closed. 

"Here," you grab a strawberry, bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows raise up in surprise, a sheen layer of sweat coating them. "What? Look at how tightly you're clutching the comforter," you point to his hands and Han sighs, before parting his lips slightly.

His mouth brushes against your fingertips, igniting a cascade of emotions in you. You'll think about what it means later.

You grab a green grape next, feeding it to him gently. A drop of water trickles down the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your finger.

"I can- I can do it," Han mumbles, voice wavering like an unpredictable storm. His trembling hands reach for the bowl, but they struggle to hold it right.

"Han, it's okay, I don't mind," you try to keep your voice gentle, sensing that there is an impending doom awaiting just below the surface.

"No, I- I need to do it. Just let me-" A tear falls into the fruit bowl. "Let me do it, please. I can- I can do it, I’m not useless, I…"

The floodgate opens.

A stream of tears escapes Han's eyes as he looks down at the bowl between his hands. He's crying, eyes tightly shut and the small whimpers escaping his lips feel like a dagger piercing your heart.

"You're sick. Let me take care of you."

"It's horrible horrible work." His voice cracks as his eyes finally lock on yours, and you can tell that his anguish isn't about his illness. These are the words of the shadows threatening to swallow him whole. You have to fight them off with the light.

"I will do it."

As Han lays on his bed, the sound of you washing the dishes resonating from the kitchen, your voice bounces off the dark walls in his head. You didn't try to convince him that it was easy work, you told him you'll do it, even if it's horrible. You'll do it because you want to, not because you can, not because it's accessible. The thought sends a warmth in his chest. It's faint, like a flickering candle trying its best to withstand the wind. But it's there. He holds on to it. He'll shield it with his cupped hands so it wouldn't fizzle out. 

"Hannie, you’re okay?" you peer into the room. Hannie- the candle's flame grows higher.

"Mm," he hums, too weak to turn and look at you.

"You're shivering," you remark, and he tightens the blanket around his body. "It'll pass."

You stay silent, and he thinks you've left the room. But then he feels the left side of the bed dip, with you climbing tentatively on it.

"This worked last time when I was cold," you smile softly at him, before bringing his head to your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He feels frail and fragile in your embrace. You hug him tighter to you.

"Warming up?" you ask and he nods against your chest. He's burning.

"Try to sleep," you urge quietly, your hand moving to pat his back. "It will pass."

"What if it doesn't?" Han asks faintly. Please don't let the candle die, he wants to plead.

"There is always light at the end of the tunnel."

"What if the tunnel is closed?"

"Then you go back to the start and find a new one," you respond.

"Can I find it later? I'm so tired tonight." His voice is drowsy, sleep already clinging to his achy bones. 

"Just rest for now. You did well," you scratch his back lightly, as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck. 

There was never a candle to begin with- you were the light.

☄༄

Had someone told you five months ago that you'd be lying on Han's bed, watching "Howl's Moving Castle" at 2 a.m., you would've thought they were utterly delusional.

Yet, here you are now.

A lot of things had changed since your rainy outing with Han, as if the universe had shifted into alignment, two stars in the sky finally colliding and making way for something new. You saw him under a different light, understanding that no one picks up a dandelion unless they desperately need the solace it provides.

You've grown to care for him, in the course of the past two months. And funnily enough, you've started to like who you were next to him- just yourself, with no pressure of making conversation, or catering to his expectations of you.

He saw you at your worst anyway, and so did you, there was no use in filtering things anymore.

You've been there through the entire process of writing, composing, and producing Secret Secret- the song whose lyrics had captured your heart. You didn't expect him to ask you to be there with him, he just shot you a text, three days after you came over to his house. 'Wanna be there while I work on the song? I know you liked the lyrics.' It was an offer you couldn't pass up on.

You weren't, in your opinion, much help. Han was gifted in the music realm and song-making flowed naturally from him. But he noticed how interested you were in music, so he called you over each time he worked on the song, even asking for your input at times.

That's why, when the song was finally done and released on 3racha's Spotify account, you decided to celebrate by baking him a cake. You may have dropped an eggshell in the batter (you recovered it later on), and the icing's color turned out less vibrant than what you hoped for. But you managed to adorn it with a garden of little flowers, and with store-bought icing, you wrote the words "after the rain flowers will bloom again."

You showed up to the dorm and Changbin pointed you to Han's room, where he had apparently been holed up all day. You shot him a grateful smile, before pushing the door open with your foot.

"What are you doing here?" Han asked, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

"Surprise!" you grinned, pushing the cake his way. "Congrats on making Secret Secret."

"Are you serious?" he chuckled, jumping out of his bed. He peered at the cake, eyes softening as he gazed down at the design.

"You drew a little garden..." he whispered in awe and you nodded, a faint blush creeping up your face.

"I'm glad you recognized what it was. I'm not the best baker," you admit a bit shyly but he shook his head. "It's perfect. I can't believe you did this to celebrate our baby!"

"Your baby," you corrected, although the use of 'our' warmed up your chest, weirdly enough.

"You were here with me every step of the way. She's ours."

"It's a she?" you giggled, and he smiled proudly.

"Mm. Do you accept being her mother?" he mused; hands clasped in front of his heart like he was praying you'd say yes.

"It would be my greatest honor," you nodded solemnly, and he let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing the cake from your hands and setting it on his bed.

"Should we hug it out?" he teased, arms stretched wide but you merely stared at him, unimpressed.

"Come on," he whined, "you can't reject me for the third time. And, in front of our child. On her birthday!" his tone grew louder and you couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage.

"Try harder."

"Our child won't know what a loving parent relationship is and then she'll seek out unhealthy love from the ones around her and-" you cut him off by finally wrapping your arms around him.

You've always known that being near Han left you breathless, but this time, it felt as though he was breathing life into you. You close your eyes instinctively, as his hold tightens on you. He smells immensely nice, like pinewood and soap. You should've hugged him sooner.

"Thank you," he said quietly, forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.

"You did well," you whisper back.

"We did. She's our child, remember?" he reprimanded and you laughed faintly.

"Yeah, ours."

Hours later, the movie's credits finally roll down, and the finished cake sits idly by Han's desk.

"I should go," you rub your eyes tiredly, and Han stares at you as if you are out of your mind.

"At this hour? Do you want our kid to lose her mom?"

"Han," you drawl, hitting his head with the pillow next to you. "You can't hold me hostage."

"I can, as your husband."

"Since when are we married?"

"Since you agreed to be Secret's mother." Another playful hit to his face.

"Stop attacking my face, how will I get laid then?"

"So, you are cheating on me?" you ask, feigning outrage.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby you're the only one I want." You falter at the nickname before hitting him even harder, matching the tempo of your quickening heartbeat.

"You're crazy," he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you onto the bed. He's hovering over you, eyes hooded with a tender intensity as he gazes down at you.

"Will you stay, please?"

"The couch is uncomfortable," you reply, avoiding his eyes. He lets go of one wrist before holding your chin gently, urging you to look at him.

"You can sleep here. We've done it before."

"You were freezing both times. That's why I did it."

"I'm very cold tonight," he pouts, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.

"Are you now?"

"Very much so."

"Fine. Only because I don't want you to die from hypothermia."

"Thank you!" he grins excitedly, finally letting go of your wrist. You bring a hand to your flushed cheeks, as he tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in your direction.

"Get changed! There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet."

You make sure to groan theatrically, before heading into the bathroom, where you splash your face repeatedly with water. You aren't used to this- being a blushy mess, because of Han, nonetheless. It was dizzying you, how things took the complete opposite turn between you and him.

At least, back then you weren't alone in your hate, you couldn't stand being alone in your affection.

So, you'd stop this, whatever feeling that's coursing through you. Tomorrow, you will firmly close the door on the blooming feelings within you. But tonight, you’d both lay on the same bed, arms brushing against one another. It's completely dark and quiet, but there is an entire symphony playing within you.

"Thank you for today," he whispers, turning around and tucking his arm under his head, this way he's facing you.

You mirror his actions, and your fingertips brush against one another. You can't see him but you can feel him. He's everywhere, wrapping around all your senses. 

"Thank you for making this song. It's very comforting to me."

"Why is that?" he questions, inching closer to you, you can feel his minty breath fan all over your face.

"I’ve always felt like I carried too many emotions within me. Like a volcano, bubbling over until the day I explode. I never liked feeling this way, so I tried to hide it," you confess softly.

"Like a secret secret."

"Like a secret secret," you repeat, glad that he understands.

"You don't have to hide with me," he says after a few silent beats, and you swallow nervously.

"I know." you lick your lips as the music inside you grows louder. "Still cold?"

"A little."

"Come closer," you beckon, and he complies instantly, wrapping his arm behind your back and drawing your chest close to his. Your legs entangle with one another, as your face lays on the crook of his neck. It's intimate, far more than any time you've done it before. You don't want to sink in his hold in fear of never resurfacing again.

"Good?" he asks, voice tinged with a newfound raspiness. 

"Mm," you hum, and he releases a relieved sigh.

You've once read that everything in this universe sings. Every atom's vibration creates a sound, contributing to a grand celestial chorus. It's an unscientific, but lovely thought, to wonder who our hearts sing for.

Right now, it's for Han.

☄༄

The music echoes through your being, an ever-present melody that refuses to fade into silence. Even with no audience to enjoy it.

Han always found his way back to your side, no matter how many times you've tried to distance yourself from him. And you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him, because you were friends, first and foremost. And friends don't abandon one another just because a mere glance at them sprouts a blush across your cheeks. 

That's how you find yourself on your way to Han's dorm, for the third time that week. Watching movies together has become your little tradition, for the past few months, and sometimes even Chan joins in. Although he mostly enjoys shooting you a knowing smile, to which you flip him off.

Your phone rings and Han's name illuminates your screen. You smile against your will.

"Can't wait to see me this much?" you singsong and Han's chuckle rings through the phone. It's rich and deep, causing you to tighten your hold on the device.

"Yes. And can you please go to the store? I'm out of snacks."

"What do I get out of it?" you muse, changing directions to the nearest convenience store.

"Snacks."

"Asshole," you giggle on your way to cross the road.

"And my eternal gratitude of course."

"Right, because I can't-" Loud tires screech right beside you and you startle, letting out a loud yelp as you drop your phone.

A hand on top of your heart, you bend down to pick up your fallen device, as the driver gets out of the car that grazed your body, mere inches away from hitting you. 

"Are you okay, miss? I'm sorry I didn't see you." The middle-aged man is quick to your side, and you glance at the small kid in his car, willing yourself to calm down for their sake.

"I'm fine. Just a bit startled. Drive more slowly, there is a kid with you."

"I know, I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his stressed features and you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Just pay more attention to the road, okay?"

"Thank you so much. Thank you," he clasps his hand in gratitude before getting back to his car and you wave him off, your heart still wildly beating in your chest.

You head into the convenience store, picking up the snacks you know Han loves before paying for them. But as soon as you step back outside, you spot a disheveled Han crossing the road, sprinting toward the store. His pace quickens upon spotting you.

"What are you..." your question is cut short as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest instantly. You can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart, and you're confused as he pulls away, hands cradling your cheeks and turning your face left and right.

"You're alright, nothing happened to you, right? You’re okay?" he inquires urgently and you let out a confused giggle, as you grab his arm to steady him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard the tires screech and you yelled and then you didn't pick up when I called and I thought-" his voice cracks. "I thought something happened to you."

"No, no. I'm okay. Nothing happened, I promise." you reassure, as he brings you to his chest once again, his hand smoothing the top of your hair.

"I was so scared," he kisses your temple, as his thumping heart resounds within your chest. "So terrified that something would happen to you. I thought I'd lose my mind."

"You don't mean that," you shake your head slowly, peeling yourself away from him.

"Can you really not see how much I care about you? How I crave being near you?" his voice raises a slight octave. The music in you picks up.

"How long do I have to pretend to be cold to have you nearby? For god's sake, I'm never cold around you, yn. When I see you, I ignite." He takes in a deep breath, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. "And I... I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you. I... You drive me crazy, Yn. When we became friends it felt like I was stepping inside a home for the first time, and yet I already knew each turn in it."

He grabs your arms, shaking you slightly as his chest heaves up and down. "My darkness recognizes yours and my light is you and you- you think I wouldn't care if anything happened to you?"

He shakes his head as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Has his music always been this loud, were you just not listening properly?

"I'm scared because we didn't start well and I understand if a part of your heart still resents me, I do. But I don't think I can pretend anymore. Not with you," his voice softens as his gaze locks on yours.

"Were you pretending too?" He asks, hope dripping from his tone. "Do you feel it too?"

A split second goes by. A candle flickering somewhere. A dandelion plucked from the ground. The shadow of a cloud passing over the sun- and you pick.

"I feel it too. So much that my heart feels like it’s singing for you, Han."

"I'll sing for it in return," he whispers, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hand slides up the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You drop the bags of groceries as you cradle his cheeks, feeling them warm up beneath your touch. You can't believe you've ever disliked your heart for feeling too much, not when the lovely emotions flowing in your heart threaten to burst it at the seams, submerging you in a warmth you've never known before- Han. 

Two months later

You have 3 new messages from: hannie

"kept this song a secret from you baby but i wrote it for you so you can't be mad"

"i don't know if you remember but you’ve once told me that you are a volcano. as if that’s something that’s supposed to put me off. well, some people dedicate their lives to studying volcanos. and i would dedicate mine to learning you."

"Volcano.mp3."

Light.

[jsabimi]

— BFF!Stray Kids "Fuck the Sadness Out of Me" After Math . Maknae Line

───────────♡̆̈─────────────

PAIRING : bff!stray kids maknae line x reader

GENRE : angst, fluff, smut - mdni !!!

WARNINGS : angst!, mentions about fucking, confessions, swearing, heartbreak :/, smutty/suggestive content

�� hyung line ⤷ stray kids masterlist

───────────♡̆̈─────────────

[0omillo0]

HAN X READER — JEALOUSY

angst, happy ending

synopsis: During Han’s tour, jealousy and misunderstandings strain his relationship with Y/N.

˚୨୧⋆｡♡˚⋆

You curled up in bed, pulling the covers tighter around your shoulders as the concert livestream played on your laptop. The screen glowed with bright lights and the screams of fans, their adoration for Han filling the room. Your heart swelled with pride as he stood on stage, pouring his soul into the performance. He looked electrified, alive in a way only music could make him.

Y/N: Knock ’em dead tonight! I’m so proud of you! I’ll be watching 💜

A second later, his reply came through.

Han: Thanks, babe. Thinking of you. Wish you could be here 😔

You smiled, feeling that pang of missing him mixed with gratitude. Watching him perform was almost enough to fill the space he’d left behind — almost.

The next song started, and you watched with a proud, content smile until something made your heart dip. The camera panned, catching Han as he made his way down the stage, engaging with fans along the barricades. He leaned close, flashing that signature smile that you knew all too well. And then, with one fan near the front row, he took her hand. He lingered, his expression soft as he chatted with her, giving her that devoted look he often gave you. Your stomach tightened.

The minutes stretched on, and you couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that had crept in. You told yourself that it was just fan service, that it was part of his job, but your mind refused to quiet. Why was he lingering so long? Why did it feel like more than just a quick interaction?

Before you could fully process it, your breathing had turned shallow, chest feeling like it was caving in. Panic coiled in your stomach, and your hands trembled as you clutched your phone. You needed to talk to someone, anyone. You thought for a while and after the show, you dialed Felix.

The phone barely rang before he answered.

Felix: “Y/N? Hey, what’s up?”

Your voice came out in shaky breaths, words stumbling over each other. “I—I’m sorry to call so late, I just… I’m freaking out.”

Felix: “Hey, hey, slow down. It’s okay, I’m here. What happened?”

You took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. “Han was… he was holding hands with a fan at the concert. I know it’s dumb, but… it just got to me. They looked so close.”

Felix: “Y/N… I get it, I do. You know he loves you, right? He’s just trying to connect with fans.”

Y/N: “I know, but… it hurt, Felix. He looked so… sincere.”

Felix: “I know it’s hard, but he’s doing it for the fans, not to hurt you. Just breathe, okay? You’re allowed to feel this way, but remember, his connection with you is real. You’re the one he calls every night, not anyone else.”

You exhaled shakily, feeling the tension start to ease. “Thanks, Felix. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Felix: “Anytime, Y/N. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know?”

As you hung up, a small part of you felt reassured, yet doubts lingered. But the comfort Felix provided was something to hold on to, at least for tonight.

Hours later, halfway across the world, Han stood in a quiet backstage hallway, trying to clear his head when he overheard his name. He stopped, listening as your voice, faint but unmistakable, carried through the phone. And then he heard Felix’s voice, soft and reassuring, comforting you. It stung — why hadn’t you come to him first?

When he finally got back to his hotel room, he saw your messages but didn’t open them right away. His thoughts swirled with emotions, jealousy the loudest among them. He opened his messages and began typing, fingers moving faster than his mind.

Han: Why did you go to Felix with this?

You replied almost instantly.

Y/N: I had a panic attack, Han. I didn’t know who else to call.

Han: But you could’ve waited. You could’ve… trusted me to handle this.

Y/N: Waited? Han, I needed someone in that moment. You weren’t there, and I was falling apart.

Han: You don’t think it hurts to hear you went to someone else with this?

Y/N: I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I just… I needed someone, and Felix was there.

Han: Well, maybe… maybe it’s better if you just don’t call me while I’m on tour. This is just too much.

Y/N: Han… are you serious right now?

Han: I’ll call you when I can handle this. But please, don’t message me for a while.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. You stared at the screen, disbelief mingling with a deep, piercing pain. With shaking hands, you set your phone down and shut your laptop. The hollow ache turned into an overwhelming emptiness.

Days passed in a blur of missed calls and unread messages. You’d turned off your phone, needing to escape the world that had once felt so full with him in it. Nights blurred into days, loneliness pressing in on you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

Across the world, Han felt every second of your silence, each one heavier than the last. His words replayed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He knew he had overreacted, let his jealousy get the best of him, but pride and guilt kept him from reaching out. It was Felix, eventually, who confronted him.

Felix: “You realize what you did, right?”

Han: “Felix, I was upset. I didn’t think—”

Felix: “No, you didn’t think. She called you, desperate, because she needed you. And you told her not to.”

Han ran a hand through his hair, guilt churning in his gut. “I just… I got jealous. She’s close to you, and I…”

Felix: “So you punished her for it. She’s been miserable, Han. Fix this.”

When Han finally gathered the courage, he knew words alone wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to show you how deeply he regretted his actions. He called a florist, ordering 500 roses, each one a silent plea for forgiveness. Alongside them, he sent a letter.

Y/N,

I was wrong. I’m sorry.

I let my own jealousy cloud my judgment and hurt you. You are the most important person in my life, and I can’t bear the thought of pushing you away. No amount of distance can lessen what I feel for you, and I was selfish to let my pride get in the way. Please give me a chance to make this right. I love you, and I’m so sorry for the pain I caused.

Love, Han

When the roses arrived, you stared at them, your heart pounding with a mixture of relief and hesitation. Each petal felt like an apology, each one carrying a whisper of the love you feared was lost.

With trembling fingers, you dialed his number. He answered on the first ring, his voice breathless.

Han: “Y/N…”

The silence stretched, filled with emotions neither of you knew how to express.

Y/N: “I don’t know why you would do that, Han. Why you’d make me feel like… like I didn’t deserve to feel those things. This was the first time I was jealous and I was scared to talk about it. Now I know I can’t do it.”

Han: “ No no no baby, you have to talk about it… I’m so sorry— I know I didn’t react well and I regret every second of it. I was angry… and I didn’t think about what you needed. Only what I felt.”

Y/N: “You really hurt me.”

Han: “I know, and if I could take back those words, I would. I’ll never make you feel that way again, I promise.”

A weight lifted, the ache in your chest easing as you listened to him, his voice full of genuine regret. You felt the love that had always been there, beneath the hurt and distance, waiting for you both to reach it again.

Y/N: “Just… don’t ever do that again. Don’t make me feel like I can’t come to you.”

Han: “I won’t. I swear. I love you, Y/N, and I’ll spend every day showing you that.”

A soft smile crept onto your face as you finally allowed yourself to forgive him. The hurt was real, but so was his love — and so was yours.

taglist

@hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[desi2go]

About the night two months ago

pairings: Jisung x reader

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, best friends to lovers, comfort and fluff

summary: You didn't plan on getting pregnant and not from a one-night-stand. And most definitely not from your best friend. Yet, here you are, pregnant, without a plan how your life will go on and how you will tell Jisung.

Since you were a little child, you had always planned your life because you always had a vision how your life would look like. You knew that you couldn't control everything in your life but the things you could influence were constantly orientated at your goals and dreams.

You gave your absolute best at school to get accepted at the best college even though you often felt exhausted and tired of learning until midnight. But you were determined to get the life you always wanted and dreamed of. And you wouldn't let any obstacles in your way that could put your goals at risk.

You avoided distractions as best as you could. However, you weren't a killjoy. You loved to expierence completely new things and to attend parties in college. Just because you're determined doesn't mean that you couldn't have fun.

Someone, who always strengthened your back and supported you, was Jisung. He was your best friend since high school and with him, you always had fun. After he spilt his juice all over your jacket in the first year of high school and invited you for an ice cream to apologise, you both were inseparable. He was your partner in crime.

However, something you couldn't predict were the two lines that stared back at you. You sat in your bathroom against your bathtub, holding a test strip that seemed to draw insurmountable line between your current life and the harsh reality that stared now at your face. Two unmistakable pink lines.

Your heart raced, your breath shallow and you felt the ground shift beneath your feet. These two fucking lines changed everything. From one moment to another, your whole life was upside down. Everything you had planned out was now on the edge of dying.

The realization slowly sank in after staring at the test for god knows how long. You were pregnant.

You didn't even know how that was possible. You always protected when you hooked up with somebody. There wasn't any chance that you could be with child. But still, you held that pregnancy test strip in your hand and it was still showing clearly two pink lines.

Then, it hit you.

"Two months..." you whispered to yourself, remembering what had happened two months ago after that one wild party. You and Jisung had ended up in bed together.

You couldn't retell everything that took place due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed that evening. But you could still remember standing outside the bar, laughing at some silly joke one of their friends made just shortly before the taxi had arrived to bring you and him back to your apartment.

The alcohol had made them both reckless and the ride was filled with carefree laughter and playful flirting.

The next thing you knew was that you woke up the next morning with a painful headache, totally naked and your best friend's arm draped loosely around you, also splinter fibre nude. And now, that one accident was now turning your life upside down.

Now here you were, two months later, with a truth that could no longer be ignored. You felt sick, but this time, it wasn't from a hangover. It felt as though the walls around you were closing in. How were you supposed to tell Jisung? How could you look him in the eye and explain that one night had consequences neither of you could have imagined.

And then, there was that other feeling, the one that took your breath away. A love that you had secretly harboured for years. Jisung was the person you had confided in about everything, except for this one secret.

You hated fate for putting you in this impossible situation. Why now? Why like this? It wasn't that you don't want to have children, no, but not now. This wasn't how your life was supposed to go. The irony was almost unbearable. That now, when you needed your best friend the most, you feared losing him more than ever.

One thing was clear, with the jumble of thoughts, you couldn't tell him anything about it yet. So, you waited some days to sort out your thoughts and get your mind straight. For a day, you played with the idea of aborting the child but even though it was definitely not planned, you already loved the little bean growing inside of you.

You knew that you couldn't avoid him forever. Usually, you met every day. It was a mirracle that he didn't already sensed that something was off when you didn't get in touch with him for some days.

You took a deep breath and reached for your phone as soon as you found the courage. Your fingers trembled as you dialed Jisung's number. The minute dragged on painfully and with each ring, your heart grew heavier. Finally, he picked up, his familiar, warm voice coming through the line.

"Hey, Y/n. Everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, signalling that he already sensed that something was off.

You swallowed hard. There was no easy way to say this.

"Ji, we need to talk"

"Are you okay?" He asked hesitantly. He wasn't used to you being so direct so he immediately worried.

A pause followed before you answered with a short yes.

"Please, I need to tell you something. Can we meet up tomorrow for lunch at our café?" You urged.

Fortunately, he agreed without further asking questions. You hated lying to him and you definitely weren't fine. You were terrified about what was about to come and how Jisung will react. But you wouldn't want to tell him over phone. He deserved to hear it from you face to face.

It sounded unimaginable and bizarre that he was the father of your child. However, you still regretted sleeping with him. This whole situation wouldn't happen if you just didn't drink that night. And you couldn't forget how he acted the morning after. Jisung acted like nothing had happened, like it was a completely normal thing. But it wasn't and the way he shrugged it off without mentioning it once after that, hurt you more than you had expected.

It was a mistake for him, clearly. Otherwise, he wouldn't act like that. And it showed you that he never saw you in that way. You were just his best friend, someone he loved like a sister. And it just hurt so bad that the guy you have been crushing over years, only perceived you as a family member.

Even if the situation you were in sucked, you now had someone by your side. The little bean growing inside of you. And you will love it no matter what.

You told yourself that over a thousand times til you entered the café the next day, anxiously looking around to see if Jisung was here. He wasn't and you sat down at your usual place by the big window. A waitress came and took you order. Normally, you would drink a coffee but you have read that caffeine was harmful for the baby so that you rather picked a tea and for Jisung an americano.

Just shortly after your drinks were placed on your table, Jisung sat down in front of you, giving you a small smile. After being his best friend for so long, you knew that he tried to judge why you where so serious and distant.

"Hey", he said, puffing air out and brushing a hand through his hair while the other one grabs his americano.

"Hey Ji", you mumbled, taking a deep breath. Now, there was no other way than telling him. You couldn't turn around anymore. Your hands wrapped around your hot tea, something you could cling on. The café was usually one of your favourite places, a cozy refuge filled with warm light and the comforting hum of quiet conversations. But today, the familiar setting only heightened your anxiety. Your foot tapped nervously under the table, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I was starting to think you were avoiding me" he stated and he wasn't wrong. You nearly dodged all of his texts and just answered shortly when calling.

Jisung looked at you closely, concern etched on his face. "Y/n, what's going on? You haven't been yourself lately. Is something wrong?"

Your hands trembled around your tea and you pressed them against the cup to stop it.

"Jisung, there's something I need to tell you", you began, voice shaky.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his whole attention drawn to you. You couldn't meet his gaze, your heart was racing and you felt like you might throw up.

"Do you remember that night two months ago? The night we ... we slept together?" you finally managed to say, your voice barely audible.

Jisung's expression shifted from concern to a mix of confusion and shock, his eyes widening as he processed your words.

"Yeah, I remember" It was the first time you spoke about that night. "What about it?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. This was it, there is no turning back now.

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Ji", you whispered, tears sparkeling in your eyes, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still and there was just this silence, no quiet conversations could be heard. It was like the whole world paused for one moment. Jisung just stared at you, as if he hadn't fully understood what you had said. His face was a mix of shock, confusion and something else you couldn't quite place.

"It's yours" you added slowly.

"You're... pregnant?", he repeated, as if saying the words out loud would make something change. "And it's mine?"

You nodded, eyes filled with tears. This was it, the end of your friendship. Every moment, he would just jump up and run away, leaving you alone in the mess both of you made.

Jisung leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process the bomb you just dropped on him. He looked away, out of the window, as if searching for some kind of clarity in the world outside.

"Y/n, I... I don't know what to say", he admitted, his voice strained. "This is... I mean, this changes everything"

You nodded, throat tight with the turmoil of emotion within you. "I know. I know it does. And I don't expect you to have all the answers right now. I just... I needed to tell you. It's your baby too and you deserved to know"

"We'll figure something out. I don't know how yet, but we will figure it out"

The weeks that followed your conversation in the café were a whirlwind of emotions and decisions. Jisung and you spent countless hours talking, sometimes late into the night, about what you are going to do and how you felt about everything. The initial shock began to give way to a deeper understanding and connection between you.

Jisung was there for the first doctor's appointment, holding your hand and reassuring you whenever fear threatened to overwhelm you. You spent more time together than before which was something you thought wasn't possible because you were always joined at your hips over the last years. But in those new moments of shared vulnerability, something began to shift between you.

Both of you agreed that you wouldn't get a abortion and you must admit that you fell in love with the little bean growing inside of you.

You laughed at one of his suggestions, shaking your head. "You seriously can't be proposing 'Rufus' for a girl's name."

Jisung grinned, a playful glint in his eye. "Hey! It's unique and she will never meet another Rufus in her life"

You rolled your eyey but there was a warmth in your gaze. "We'll keep it as a backup" you promised, smiling and mindlessly stroking over your still flat belly. A comfortable silence settled over you, and you found yourself studying his face, the familiar lines and expressions that had been a part of your life for so long. There was something different in the way he looked at you now, something deeper that you couldn’t quite put into words.

Your best friend noticed you observing him and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked softly.

You hesitated, your heart fluttering in your chest. "I've been thinking a lot lately... about us. About what all of this means"

His expressions softened and he shifted closer to you on the couch, his fanding yours. " I have been thinking about that too" he admitted, his voice low and serious.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what had been on your ind for so long. "I have always cared about you, Ji. But I think... no, I know... that it's more than that. I've been in love with you for a long time now. And I was so scared to lose you, I didn't know how to tell you"

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you worried that you said too much, too soon. But his hand squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice filled with an emotion you had never heard from him before. “I’ve always loved you too. I just never knew how to say it, or if you felt the same way. But now... now I know that I don’t want to go through this without you. I don’t want to miss out on what we could have together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were tears of relief and happiness. “Are you sure?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jisung nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m sure. I want us to be a family, Y/n. I want to be with you, not just because of the baby, but because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The words you had longed to hear finally fell from his lips, and the weight that had been pressing down on your chest lifted. Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, but it quickly deepened as years of unspoken feelings finally found their release.

When you pulled back, both of you were breathless, but there was a sense of certainty that had never been there before.

“We’ll figure this out together,” he said, his forehead resting against yours. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it as a team.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and hope for the future. “Together,” you echoed.

And as you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the path ahead no longer seemed as daunting. You both knew there would be challenges, but you also knew that you could face anything as long as you had each other.

[imfoive]

Loser Club

Jisung x Reader (fem.) Genre: High School au!/College au!, Best Friend! Jisung, Friends-to-Lovers, Love at First Sight, Romance, Angst, mutual pining Warnings: mentions of cursing, drinking, somewhat proofread WC: 9.7k A/N: I really thought I was gonna scrap this all those weeks ago, but finally the motivation struck and winter season really got me into completing it. I really hope you’ll like it as much as I enjoyed struggling with writing it 🫶 Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

──────────────────────── They say that watching the first snowfall of the year with the person you love, makes your love last forever.

A saying Han Jisung had heard on television the night before.

Just some random line from a drama his mother had been watching as he passed through the hall. Yet, for some reason, the words had lingered on his mind, and now, as he lay on the snow piled ground, they were still there, hovering through his thoughts.

The young boy stared up at the clear sky, watching the delicate snowflakes fall softly around him, his body pressed flush against the white sheets that covered the ground.

Although he wasn’t particularly attached to those words, and it wasn’t even the first snowfall of the year, Jisung found himself beginning to believe in them.

His wide eyes now focused on the girl who peered down at him, her figure bent in curiosity.

The shadow of her form that towered over him, shielded his gaze from the early morning sky, and Jisung could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

   “Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, her breath puffing in the cold air as she spoke.

The slightly stunned boy gulped, slowly sitting up. His fingers crunched through the soft snow that had cushioned his fall.

He had slipped, embarrassingly so.

But he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he gave a lie. A desperate attempt to sound cooler than “I fell on my ass.”

   “Just taking in the morning sun.” He muttered, and instantly regretted it.

There was a pause. Jisung mentally cursed himself, while the girl blinked at him, processing his words.

Then, to his surprise, she smiled. A bright, toothy grin that made his heart skip a beat.

   “Then, have you had your fill of the morning sun, or do you want to lay back down?” Her gaze drifted to the outline of his body still imprinted in the snow where he had fallen.

The question bewildered him even more, making him laugh, a gloved hand instinctively covering his mouth to stifle the sound. He shook his head.

The girl stuffed her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, her eyes glancing at the school uniform he wore, peeking out from his haphazardly zipped jacket. The same uniform she had on.

   “Are you a freshman?” She asked, her voice still soft, still sweet.

Jisung found it beautiful.

He mentally chided himself again and cleared his throat.

   “Yes. I’m-I’m Han Jisung.” He stammered, suddenly feeling shy.

Her smile widened.

   “Nice to meet you, Jisung. I’m Y/N.” She took out a gloveless hand from her pocket, pointing toward the direction of their school.

   “Also a freshman.”

Then her hand extended to him, hovering between them for a shake.

   “Let’s be friends.”

Her words made his heart skip another beat. Jisung stared at her awaiting hand before he looked at her and nodded almost eagerly, a little too quick to shake her hand.

Her giggle rang out, and Jisung couldn’t help but stare at her, fascinated. Captivated.

There was another saying that suddenly flashed through his mind.

One he hadn’t believed in. One he hadn’t ever had the chance to experience.

Yet.

But today, he felt it. Right here, right now, on the first day of school.

Love at first sight.

It was an instantaneous friendship, one might say. After the entrance assembly, Jisung found himself in the same class as Y/N. His steps faltered as he entered their homeroom, spotting her already seated by the window. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, and without hesitation, her hand shot up to wave, silently inviting him to sit next to her.

And he did.

It was the start of a friendship that, in time, Jisung would come to regret, slightly. Come to love, mostly.

They had stuck together through their freshman year, and now, as sophomores, they found themselves sitting next to each other again. Staring down at the club forms that needed to be filled out by the end of the day.

Jisung glanced over at Y/N, eyes tracing the contours of her concentrated expression, tucking back a strand of hair. A casual gesture that made his stomach flutter.

She finished scribbling something on her form, then looked up at him.

Caught off guard, he quickly blinked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed him staring.

   “You’re joining too right?” She raised a brow, eyes shooting to his blank form.

The boy next to her narrowed his gaze, glancing at her scribbles, the terrible handwriting he had surprisingly mastered to read over the past year and half.

   “Art?” He tilted his head, confused.

   “You don’t have a single artistic bone in your body.” He chuckled, pencil tapping loudly at the word she had written.

A remark that made her scoff, shoving him with her elbow, his figure swaying in his seat as he stifled a laugh.

   “So I’ll learn, stupid.” She muttered, then reached over to scribble something on his sheet before standing up to hand hers in.

Jisung leaned in to read what she had written and groaned.

Loser Club.

   “Y/N!” He muttered under his breath, watching as she made a taunting face at him, sticking her tongue out.

Immediately erasing the words, he quickly jotted down “Art”, before hurriedly following behind her.

Art Club was exactly how Jisung had pictured it. He watched his best friend struggle to draw even a decent stick figure, groaning in frustration when she couldn’t even manage a straight line with the help of a ruler.

But here was where Jisung discovered his unexpected talent. That without too much effort, he was able to draw precise shapes, straight lines and nearly perfect circles with ease. It stunned him every time, his lips forming a surprised pout as he glanced from his flawless circle to Y/N, who clapped in approval.

So, when their art teacher suggested he might want to consider a career where he could put his skill to use, Jisung quickly searched online and decided, just like that, he wanted to be an architect.

It was an anticlimactic decision, made in an instant, leaving both Y/N and their art teacher blinking at him with dumbfounded expressions.

And like that sophomore year ended.

The break between the new school years seemed to have flown by almost. And now as the best friends started school yet again, some things seemed to have changed.

Y/N had grown even prettier over the summer. And even though he saw her almost every other day during the vacation, except for the last three weeks when he visited his grandmother before school started, Y/N seemed to have blossomed almost overnight.

Her eyes sparkled as she waved at him from the front gates of the school on the first day. That same feeling he’d had the first time they met. The first time she looked down at him in the snow, washed over him again, only this time with much more intensity. It sucker-punched him straight in the chest.

It was during junior year of high school that he realized. Maybe he had unknowingly joined that Loser Club.

Because that’s when he understood. Jisung was crushing on Y/N. His best friend.

The girl who knew everything about him.

The girl who he knew everything about.

And, more painfully, knew that she didn’t like him back.

The best friends were always stuck at the hip. Like glue to paper, like gum to the bottom of a shoe.

Their classmates and teachers were never surprised to see them partner up. Eye rolls followed whenever one mentioned the other, as if they’d ever forget to take their names together. They even applied to the same college.

Then one day, a classmate asked,

   “Are you guys dating?”

Jisung stared at the taller boy, who wore glasses and tilted his head with a curious expression. They were seniors now, and Jisung wondered why this kid had decided to ask after all these years of them being inseparable.

But instead of answering, Jisung fell silent, his mind racing.

Should he tell the truth?

That he planned to confess before college started in the Fall.

That he wanted to be her boyfriend.

But the words wouldn’t come. The boy who asked groaned in frustration.

   “Why aren’t you answering?”

Jisung opened his mouth, but ultimately fell silent.

   “Why would you ask something stupid like that?”

Y/N’s voice cut through the tension, and Jisung flinched.

At the words that was worse than a rejection. Cutting deep.

Shattering the plans he’d built in his head. The imaginary dates, the dream of becoming a corny campus couple.

He thinned his lips into a smile as Y/N approached.

“Yeah. Can’t a guy and girl just be friends?” He tasted bitter with every word that came out of his mouth.

At his lie that slipped a little too easily, his attempts to mask his hurt.

Unbeknownst that Y/N’s fingers were clenched around the side of her skirt. That she had felt a sting from the moment Jisung hesitated in response to the boy’s question.

She had watched him pause, unsure of how to label their relationship, more than friends?

Or just a sibling-like bond, like someone had joked about a year ago? Putting the thought into her head ever since.

And now, it seemed the answer was clear. Just friends.

Just best friends.

And soon, the best friends were walking across the stage at graduation.

Their smiles were wide as they stood side by side, their parents snapping endless pictures after the ceremony.

   “Closer, closer—Jisung, hold the flowers between you two.” Her father instructed.

   “Y/N, your hair—fix that part. Okay, perfect” His mother gestured with a smile as she raised the camera.

Y/N grinned brightly, but Jisung’s gaze faltered on her, on the beautiful expression that made his heart tighten.

He knew he couldn’t confess today. He couldn’t tell her how much he liked her, how he wanted to be her boyfriend, to be hers.

Instead, he smiled widely, his arm slipping behind them to make a peace sign over her head as their parents snapped the photo.

High school was over, but the Loser Club seemingly persisted.

────────────────────────

   “Are you going to join any clubs?”

Y/N stared down at the flyer that one of these campus clubs’ members handed to her.

   “Taekwondo.” She read aloud, eyes scanning over the jumble of words before she looked over to Jisung.

The quiet man reached for the flyer, taking it away before she read too much into it and decided Taekwondo was something she wanted to do. He could already see her getting hurt attempting a high-kick or something.

The first semester of college had started earlier that week, and already, they were thrown into so much chaos. From the piling workload they’d already received to the extracurricular activities and clubs that seemed to be shoved down their throats, everything felt slightly overwhelming.

   “I barely have time to breathe.” He muttered with a sigh, his head shooting around all the club tents set up on this sunny afternoon.

There was a club for everyone, interests that drew them in. But truth be told, Jisung didn’t seem to find one that caught his attention. Attracted him to whatever they offered.

Especially after Y/N had begrudgingly accepted the fact that she wasn’t good at art, albeit four years too late, he didn’t feel the need to join anything else.

His eyes settled on his best friend. The girl titled her head as she took in his words, making a face in response.

Han Jisung was already in a club.

His own club, one that existed only in his mind. A club dedicated entirely to her.

A place where he could freely think of her, love her, and pine for her.

The Loser Club. The one she had unknowingly created all those years ago when she scribbled it on his form.

The Loser Club, where he was now the only member. The biggest loser, all by himself. And yet, he didn’t particularly hate it.

Around them, club representatives were calling out to freshmen, trying to recruit them into whatever they had to offer for the next four years. Their wide smiles and booming voices filled the air as Jisung and Y/N walked through the bustling scene.

   “You say that as if I have all the free time in the world.” Y/N scoffed at the words he had uttered, turning to glare at him.

Then she pointed a finger accusingly.

   “Are you trying to say being a communications major isn’t hard?”

Her dramatic leap to conclusions made him stumble in his step, before he broke into a breathy chuckle. His eyes landed on her slight pout, which only made her look even cuter. Without thinking, his hand reached out to tousle her hair, fingers combing through it just to mess it up a little.

   “It’s the hardest major out there.” He teased.

   “Even harder than Architecture—no, harder than pre-med.”

Before he could enjoy his sarcastic remark, the whacks she gave him, one for his words and another for messing up her hair, made him shout a loud “oof!” He quickly darted ahead to avoid another hit.

The two of them kept running, chasing each other.

Neither of them joined a club their freshman year.

────────────────────────

Jisung had started packing his things, the last of the students walking out of the lecture room after his professor.

He had been sitting next to his friend Lee Minho, an older guy who changed his major to architecture last semester. He had ended up befriending Jisung, who was one of the “brightest students” according to some of their professors, taking the older man under his guidance.

Though he was a good guy, he was quite smug. A attractive man who got stares from girls whenever they walked across campus together. Making Jisung wonder why he had changed his major from finance, he would have fit in so well there.

   “So your friend…” Minho’s voice had broken the silence.

Jisung froze, his fingers halting at the zipper of his backpack for a split second, before he shuts it close. Turning to face Minho.

   “What friend?”

Of course he knows who this man was referring to.

His only friend.

The one the two guys met this afternoon on their way to this class. She had stolen his bottle of juice as she and her roommate who had been with her, introduced themselves to Minho, the older man breaking into sheepish smiles as they exchanged greetings, his eyes lingering over Y/N.

His best friend.

The only one outside of this department that waltzed in and knocked on the door of the architectural studio almost every day. Bothering him at his workstation, while he attempted to get things done.

Of course he pretended to be irritated when she distracted him, of course he really wasn’t.

Just like he was pretending now. Staring at Minho with the most confused expression he could put on.

Minho hesitated for a moment, watching Jisung blink back at him

   “C’mon man. Your pretty friend. Y/N.”

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, his heart suddenly pounding against his ribs. He prayed that Minho was simply asking about her health or something innocent like that.

But of course, that wasn’t it.

   “Is she single?”

The question settled between them as Jisung processed it, his eyes blinking a few times, staring at Minho’s awaiting gaze.

He wanted to shove this man out of his chair.

He wanted to tell him that Y/N wasn’t single. She was, but not for him.

She would never be single, no matter who asked.

He wanted to swat away any potential suitors as swiftly as he could, as many times as he needed.

Y/N was pretty. A fact he had known since he was a freshman in high school. A painstaking fact that made him simmer in jealousy and bitterness whenever she got the attention of other wandering eyes.

And now his friend. This handsome hunk, this jackass that she had commented was cute before they parted ways earlier that afternoon, was asking about the same pretty Y/N.

His best friend, who was single. Had been single ever since he’d known her.

A fact he couldn’t lie about, even if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want her to miss out on the experiences of youth she claimed to want as they spoke about college that one evening, back in their senior year of high school.

His heart was not letting him lie, just because he was a loser who could never confess.

Instead of shoving Minho out of his seat, Jisung stood. Looking down at the guy who stared up at him slightly stunned, slightly confused.

   “She…she is...” He finally voiced out.

He watched as the seated man’s lips thinned into a grin, before he’s cheesing with a smile. One of the widest ones Jisung had seen. And suddenly he regretted it, clutching at his backpack as tightly as he could to calm himself down.

   “Good to know. Thanks!” Minho stood as well, grabbing his things before turning to the shorter man.

   “She’s visiting the studio later right?” He faltered at the door, turning to find a still Jisung rooted to his spot.

   “I don’t know.”

It was a lie.

She was going to visit later. Because Jisung would be at his workstation, and she absolutely loved wracking his brain, hushed mutters and grabby fingers touching all his materials as he attempted to work.

Even if he wasn’t particularly paying any attention to her. She still showed up. Pulling up a chair to oversee whatever he worked on as if she understood what he was doing.

He’d pretend like she was in the way. Often putting her to use by making her cut and score the board materials he was going to use in his 3D model.

And on days when he was really concentrated, really busy, she would pull out her own work, opening her textbook at the little corner of the table Jisung always left empty for her to scatter her things.

Minho let out a “hmmm” before he clicked his tongue.

   “I guess we’ll see in the evening. See you then.” He waved, his figure disappearing out the door of the lecture hall.

The rest of Jisung’s day had seemed to have gone in a blur. His mind slightly dazed, slightly distracted.

Then he received a text from her.

His pretty friend.

The one who was single. The one he was in love with. Too much of a coward to cross that almost forbidden line.

It was a casual text, asking him if he planned to “drown in his miseries after classes to work on his next project.”

It was her way of saying she would stop by. That she was probably going to bring him something quick to eat before he drifted into his frustrations.

Jisung found himself typing.

   Too busy. Don’t come please.

Then he waited, his legs slightly bouncing up and down as he stared at the screen.

He had never told her not to show up. Never used proper punctuation in their messages, something he looked back at with dread.

But to his surprise, she responded with an emoji. A thumbs up. Followed by properly punctuated messages. Mirroring his.

   Okay loser. Don’t overdo it.

It should have made him feel less anxious. That he had avoided her running into Minho later. But he felt shitty. For pulling such a stunt when he had basically told Minho to pursue her.

Sure he didn’t really tell that handsome friend of his to “go for it”, but he didn’t stop him either.

He didn’t put an end to whatever interests sparked in the older man’s eyes. He should have.

But Jisung was a coward.

And now he was stewing in guilt, in irritation. In his own pitiful situation.

   “—Hello, earth to loser!” Y/N exclaimed, fingers taking out the headphones that were in Jisung’s ears.

The seated boy looked up from his workstation, at his best friend who leaned against the edge of his desk, towering over his form.

Startled eyes taking in her sudden presence here.

Surprised that she was here. Even after she said she wouldn’t come.

   “How much longer?” She groaned, eyes glossing over his sketch pad, at the poor eraser that was much shorter than she saw the day before, its savings scattered to a designated corner.

The seated man’s eyes darted around the studio. At the empty workstations he swore he saw a few others working at, Minho working at. Only to find them empty. Then his brows furrowed as he glanced out the large glass windows.

The sun had set long, and he realized that he had been holed up here longer than usual. Until he was the last one left behind.

He had told her not to come today, and surprisingly she listened.

For the most part. Because she was here now, looking at him with her head tilted.

   “Sheesh, you really were busy huh?” Her eyes were back on his sketches, on the model he had started working on, trying to make heads or tails of it.

   “What is taking so long?” She muttered at the sight of it all, making her feel dumber by the moment as she stood straight.

   “I’ve texted you a hundred times.”

Her quiet best friend glanced at his phone.

   “…Ah, I muted notifications. Sorry about that.”

Y/N sensed something was off. Her eyes squinted as his explanation came a little too easily. At his wary gaze that kept looking towards the studio doors.

   “Let’s get something to eat, you’re clearly hungry.” She chalked it up to just that, sure he wouldn’t have even told her what seemed to bother him even if she pressed.

Maybe she would pull it out of him over food. Y/N doesn’t wait for his response, already grabbing his phone, his headphones and then stuffing them in his bag.

Jisung mirrored. Grabbing the things he needed before tidying his equipment. Leaving his model for the next day. The computer screen he had opened with the blueprint was powered off quickly.

The corridor outside the studio was mostly empty now, with only one or two students lingering in the lounge, absorbed in their laptops. Jisung grabbed his bag from Y/N, pulling the straps over his shoulders. Before he could ask what she wanted to eat, a voice calling his name made him freeze.

His hands stalled on his backpack straps, too afraid to turn around and face Minho.

The older man, one of the students who had been sitting in the lounge, looked surprised to see Y/N.

   “Hi, Y/N. Good to see you again.” Minho smiled, an awkward hand brushing the back of his neck before his gaze shifted to the suddenly tense Jisung.

   “Oh, hi.” Y/N’s voice was sweet and polite, the words pleasant, but they pricked at Jisung’s nerves.

Words that shouldn’t have had that effect, yet still did. Especially knowing that Minho was looking at her the same way he did.

Jisung watched as a smile spread across Y/N’s lips, her eyes fixed on the older man.

   “Are you leaving for the day?” Minho asked, though his gaze seemed to linger a little too long on Y/N.

Jisung struggled to find words, instead opting to nod as he cleared his throat, hoping it would make him speak.

   “We’re grabbing something to eat.” Y/N cut in, her eyes shifting from Jisung to Minho.

   “You should join us if you haven’t eaten yet.”

The invitation was polite, but Jisung could hear the overt sweetness in her tone. The kind that came from habit, a well-worn courtesy. He knew it well.

But still, it stung.

   “Ah! Could I? I haven’t eaten yet.” Minho’s grin widened, and he exchanged a knowing look with Jisung, who shot a sharp glance back.

Minho had devoured a burger only an hour ago in the studio, a sight Jisung had witnessed from his desk.

Y/N’s hand gently gripped his forearm, pulling him from his thoughts. But Jisung couldn’t tear his eyes away from Minho’s gaze. There was something pleading in it.

Unspoken words in the way he looked at her.

The kind of look guys gave their friends when they wanted alone time with a girl.

And Minho’s gaze screamed just that. He wanted time alone with her.

Jisung swallowed hard, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

   “Oh. I forgot. I can’t go.” He lied, the words coming out too quickly, and Y/N frowned, confused.

Minho raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a subtle smile as Jisung played his part.

   “What do you mean, can’t go?”

   “I have to submit something. I—You two have fun.” Jisung forced a smile, the first one she’d seen from him all evening, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

   “Suddenly?” She pressed, her grip tightening on his arm.

Jisung opened his mouth, perhaps to offer another excuse, but Minho cut in smoothly, his brows raised in mock surprise.

   “You didn’t submit Professor Kim’s physics assignment yet?”

Another lie. A good one, though. One that would clear the way for Minho to take Y/N to dinner.

Get her number. Share stories. Laugh.

Maybe things would go so well that Minho would walk her back to the dorms. Maybe they’d do it again. And again. Until Minho asked her out, until they’re walking around campus holding hands, grins plastered on their faces.

The scenarios piled up in Jisung’s mind, overwhelming him. His hands tightened on his backpack straps, trying to ground himself.

Y/N’s hand slipped away from his arm, her gaze flicking between him and Minho before she nodded, accepting their lies.

   “Are you sure you can’t spare even ten minutes to eat something?” His best friend’s voice softened, her eyes waiting for Jisung’s response, hoping he’d join them.

That he wouldn’t leave her alone with Minho.

But Jisung didn’t respond in the way she wanted. He shook his head, a silent “no.”

Y/N hesitated, then turned and walked ahead. Minho flashed Jisung a wide grin, raising a hand in a subtle thumbs-up before following her. Jisung stood frozen, clutching his backpack, rooted to the spot.

And that’s how it started.

The lies. The strained smiles. The excuses that always left her alone with Lee Minho.

The distance.

Her best friend had begun to pull away, convincing himself she needed to focus on a love life.

A love life she had confessed to wanting every time they drank a little too much, a little too openly, her desires spilling out, vulnerable and raw.

He remembered every word, it seemed. Yet he couldn’t see that everything she had wanted, all of it, was with him.

The feelings. The desires.

The love life she had dreamed of.

She wanted it with her best friend. The same one who was now distancing himself from her.

It was so obvious.

Han Jisung may have been a smartass, a genius, but when it came to lying to his best friend, he was shit at it. He couldn’t even fool her. Especially not now, when every word felt like another betrayal.

And every time she found herself alone with Lee Minho, that painful sting in her chest grew sharper. The two of them would sit together, laughing over dinner, or coincidentally bump into each other on their way to class, while Jisung gave every excuse under the sun to avoid them.

   “That fucker.” Y/N’s roommate muttered, watching as Y/N wiped away another tear.

   “Don’t call him that, Yura.” Y/N sniffled, her voice weak, though she still managed to shoot the girl next to her a defensive glare.

Yura, her roommate since freshman year, had figured out everything about Y/N’s feelings for Jisung long before Y/N had fully admitted them to her, herself. In fact, she had mistaken Jisung for her boyfriend during the first week after moving into the dorms. The way Y/N and Jisung interacted was so comfortable, so effortlessly entangled, that it seemed impossible they weren’t a couple. Their constant bickering, their casual closeness.

All spoke of something deeper.

So, when she eventually found out they weren’t together, she stared at them in shock, awkwardly clearing her throat as she pretended she hadn’t made such a blunder.

   “How can he be so blind?” Yura’s voice was incredulous, shaking her head.

Each time she thought about it, it only made less sense.

Yura didn’t know Jisung the way Y/N did, but even she could see it. The way they looked at each other, the things they said, the way they felt. But Y/N wouldn’t believe any of it, not unless Jisung himself said it out loud.

Maybe she too was a fool. A coward afraid to cross a line.

   “How can someone be so good at studies, but so bad at picking up context clues?” Yura muttered, handing Y/N another tissue that she accepted it numbly, wiping her eyes.

Yura paused, thinking for a moment, and then a mischievous smile curled at the corners of her lips.

   “Let’s try something.”

Y/N blinked at her, unsure of what was coming next, suddenly slightly worried.

────────────────────────

Han Jisung stared at Yura, who had cornered him in the library. The shorter girl had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him with a look that was hard to miss.

He wasn’t particularly close to Y/N’s roommate. He’d only seen her at both her and his best friend’s suite. Or at events that both of the roommates attended together, the ones Y/N dragged him along to.

But one thing was clear, Yura and Y/N were close. And sometimes it felt like this roommate of hers was gunning for the title of her “best friend,” although Jisung was sure she could never overtake him.

Lately however, it felt as if she could easily take that title.

With the way Jisung had been acting, distant, avoiding. Made him wonder if he could even call himself Y/N’s best friend anymore.

   “I’m hosting a party.” Yura said, breaking the silence as she reached into her bag, pulling out a makeshift invitation that looked hastily thrown together.

   “I thought you were a marketing major?” Jisung couldn’t help but judge as he took the crumpled invitation from her.

   “I’m in marketing, not design.” Yura groaned, crossing her arms again, returning to her defensive stance.

Jisung wasn’t that clueless. He knew his behavior had caught this aggressive roommate’s attention. Thus, her behavior here made sense. At least she wasn’t completely hostile.

   “Don’t even think about saying you can’t come. I swear, I’ll fight you if you do, Jisung.” Her words were sharp, preempting any excuses he might throw her way.

Jisung inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm.

   “What are you celebrating?” He asked, glancing at the invitation, which only had a date, time, and location.

Some snowflakes and clipart balloons dotted the page.

Truly a horrendous design.

   “Winter.” Yura said with a grin, her arms still crossed.

   “Winter?” Jisung repeated, clearly confused.

What was so special about this cold, miserable weather? Besides the snowflakes that caught your eyes ever one in a while maybe, nothing else about it was tolerable.

Yura nodded enthusiastically.

   “Yep. Winter. A reminder that the semester is finally coming to an end. Always worth celebrating.”

Jisung snorted, unable to suppress a laugh at her ridiculous reasoning.

   “Right. Winter. The end of classes, the start of finals.” He countered, words that earn him another sharp glare from Yura.

   “And that’s exactly why we’re having a party before we all drown in our miseries—God, Jisung, just be there. I have more invitations to hand out.” She groaned again, as if talking to him was the biggest inconvenience.

With a resigned sigh, Jisung finally gave in. He agreed to attend this “celebration of winter”. A party he was pretty sure he didn’t care about.

But he knew Y/N would be there. She’d always be there, supporting her friends. Something he was clearly not doing well.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to see Lee Minho.

Jisung blinked, his gaze snapping to the older man standing next to Y/N as they entered the private room reserved for Yura’s get-together.

He had arrived early, and seeing them walk in together, side by side, hit him harder than he’d expected.

Minho immediately approached him, going in for a greeting handshake, his eyes flicking between the best friends in a clueless, almost innocent way.

   “What are you doing here?” The words slipped from the younger man’s lips before he could stop them.

Minho’s smile widened.

   “Y/N invited me.” He chuckled.

But before he could add anything else, the door to the private room opened again.

Yura and three other friends entered, all familiar faces Jisung had recognized from previous gatherings. The room instantly filled with chatter as Yura shot a glance between the three of them, leaning toward Y/N, her eyes lingering on Minho’s handsome face. The one she’d only gotten a quick glimpse of when they’d bumped into the two architecture students on campus those weeks ago.

Conversations flowed casually. Somehow, Jisung ended up at the far end of the table, separated from Y/N. His best friend had tried to sit next to him, but Minho had already pulled out the chair beside him, and Y/N had politely slid into it.

Jisung felt a bitter twinge rise in his chest. He took a sip of water, trying to wash it away, but the taste lingered.

Small talk filled the space around him as more people trickled in. The food started arriving, and the room grew hotter with bodies and chatter. Jisung found himself retreating into the leather of his seat, trying to block out the noise.

His eyes, however, betrayed him. They kept darting back to Y/N and Minho. The two of them were talking and laughing, looking like they belonged together.

Jisung gulped, watching as Minho casually slipped off his cardigan and draped it over Y/N’s shoulders. The gesture was small but somehow enough to spark a flare of anger inside him.

He opted to take a sip of his beer this time, trying to numb the growing frustration. But his eyes still lingered on them, drawn to the sight of his best friend, now so at ease with the guy who was clearly interested in her.

And Jisung hated it.

He took another sip of beer, trying to keep the storm inside him under control.

The evening stretched on, the so-called celebration of Winter, a concept Yura had romanticized, seemed to elude Y/N’s best friend, who suddenly seemed to despise everything about the party. Jisung’s gaze flicked to the cardigan that still hung over Y/N’s shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully over her figure.

She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

His head dropped, eyes fixed on the tall glass of beer in front of him, pitying himself.

Wasn’t this what he had wanted?

For Y/N to find someone who wasn’t afraid to show how much he wanted to be with her?

For her to have lunch with him, go to dinner, or even just bump into him on campus so he could walk her to class?

A love life. The kind she’d always dreamed of.

Jisung’s thoughts shifted, twisting into a painful knot as he recalled his own desires. The ones he had shoved deep into some corner of his chest after she had practically made it clear she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend.

The plans he had, to tell her how he felt. The confession he had rehearsed over and over in his mind, wanting to say how much he longed for her. The fantasy of becoming the cringey campus couple everyone talked about.

Jisung inhaled sharply, the weight of his own thoughts suffocating him. His eyes glazed over the empty mugs of beer he had unknowingly downed while drowning in his pathetic self-loathing.

He couldn’t stay any longer.

Slowly, he slipped out of the room, his footsteps almost silent as he retreated from the crowd, from Y/N, from everything.

   “Well, it seems to be working.” Minho muttered, his gaze sweeping over Jisung at the other end of the table, his younger friend, who appeared lost in his own world.

Y/N glanced between her dazed best friend, a tinge of hurt crossing her expression, before turning back to Minho, who grinned at her.

Han Jisung’s best friend had come clean to him.

About how much she pined for the clueless architect major. The one who was the brightest of their department but terrible at reading her feelings, all the hints she had given him.

Y/N had drawn a line the moment Minho asked if she was okay with him pursuing her.

Sure, it stung a bit, being rejected so easily, so quickly, by a pretty girl.

But it made sense. For Y/N to be in love with Jisung, her best friend, who clearly felt the same but was too afraid to admit it.

And once Minho realized it, he was shocked by how he had missed it. He scolded himself for foolishly asking the man who was in love with her to help set him up.

He felt terrible. So when her roommate had somehow gotten ahold of his number, and had texted him, deviously laying out a ruse to make one of them admit their feelings, he was all in.

   “Project Jealousy”, Yura called it, a name that still made him chuckle. Yet, he knew he played the biggest part.

Throughout the evening, Minho had been doing everything he could to get Jisung’s attention. Gestures, subtle touches, lingering glances. Anything to get a reaction.

He did feel a twinge of guilt. On top of it all, keeping even Y/N in the dark felt wrong.

And after he draped his cardigan over her, she frowned at him, leaning in to tell him she had already made it clear she wasn’t interested in going out with him.

So, he came clean. He watched as Y/N’s eyes grew wide, darting from him to Yura, who suddenly refused to meet her gaze.

   “Don’t worry. He likes you, that I can confidently say.” Minho whispered to her in assurance.

The sight of Jisung drowning in his misery suddenly became a little amusing, and Minho made it his mission to get them together tonight.

He’d lock them in a room together if all else failed.

And when Y/N’s eyes followed Jisung as he slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind him, she turned to find Minho’s surprised gaze, blinking at the now-closed door. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that.

Panic surged through Y/N. Her eyes scanned the empty beer glasses Jisung had left behind, the sight of which only fueled her frustration and anger.

   “Go.” Minho urged gently, grabbing the cardigan she had forgotten about, which had already been slipping off her shoulders.

Jisung watched the snowflakes fluttering through the air. His gaze raking over the dark sight above him.

It was the first snowfall of the year. Yet here he stood, alone.

His eyes followed the flecks of ice drifting down from the night sky, disappearing into nothingness as it touched the ground, the fabric of his jacket, his hot skin.

His breath was visible in the cold air, fading almost instantly with every sigh he let out. He still felt flush out here in the cold, the evening winter breeze slightly biting, even if the flurries weren’t as severe.

He knew he overdid it, had more than he usually would before deciding he was done drinking. But he couldn't help it. Not when, all evening, he watched Minho leaning into Y/N, the older man’s lips parted in toothy grins as he whispered something into her ear, causing her to look back with an wide-eyed expression.

Jisung could tell she had gasped at whatever nonsense Minho had said. But that shock quickly turned to amusement, and she covered her mouth, stifling a laugh behind her fingers.

It was nonsense, he was sure of it.

And even though he was across the table, surrounded by the loud chatter of others, the clattering of utensils ringing in his ears, Jisung’s eyes kept finding their way back to her and Minho.

He took a sip of his beer. Another. One more. By the time he realized his head was spinning and his chest felt tight, he knew he had exceeded his limit.

He cursed under his breath.

And now, standing outside the restaurant, beneath the cold streetlights, he let the cool air settle over him, trying to calm the dizziness and the thumping of his erratic heartbeat. He sighed, trying to wash away the bitterness that lingered on his tongue.

From the beer, from the sight he had watched all evening.

He dropped his head back, leaning against the lamppost, shoving his hands deep into his sweater pockets. His eyes focused on the snow gathering on the ground, watching the snow pile, his eyes glued to his sneakers.

Then he saw the shadow. A figure approaching, standing just inches from him. His eyes settled on the familiar sight of the same matching sneakers on their feet just inches from his.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, staring back at Y/N who looked at him, her expression laced with a slight concern, a slight of something else.

Han Jisung didn’t think anyone would have noticed his absence. Especially not Y/N, his best friend who seemed to be busy entertaining Lee Minho. But here she was now, the only one who had followed behind him it seemed.

Or maybe she had come out with Minho, and seeing him here standing by himself like a sore loser, she came over.

Jisung’s head turned to look for the mentioned man, for the familiar sight of his cardigan that had once slung over Y/N.

   “What’re you doing out here?” Her voice was soft but tinged with concern, her teeth chattering slightly against the chill settling around them.

Maybe she should’ve kept on the thing. Minho’s cardigan.

A thought that made Jisung furrow his brows with irritation.

   “It’s cold.” He muttered instead, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing.

She tilted her head, awaiting for him to continue speaking.

He sighed, his head lolling back against the lamppost as he watched her, taking in the sight of her arms crossed tightly against her chest, a poor attempt to keep warm. The silence stretched on for a few seconds before Y/N sighed, breaking the silence.

   “You’re drunk aren’t you?”

Her hand naturally extended, palms resting against his face, fingers gently brushing against his skin to feel the warmth. The red flush of alcohol that seemed to color him.

Jisung hated it.

These touches.

The ones she so casually gave out, as if they meant nothing.

And suddenly he pictured her doing the same to Lee Minho.

The bitterness in his mouth seemed to grow stronger.

He jerked his head away from her touch, pushing her hand away slowly.

   “I’m not drunk.” His tone was a little sharper than intended.

Y/N blinked, slightly stunned by his reaction, something out of character for Han Jisung.

   “Head back inside. It’s cold.” His voice was quieter now, though it still carried a slight edge. The snow was falling faster, the air growing heavier.

Y/N crossed her arms again, but before she could retort with something sharp, Jisung spoke again, his gaze drifting toward the restaurant.

   “Minho is probably waiting for you.”

The words landed heavily between them.

And just like that, Y/N understood.

That the whole evening he was sulking in his corner, was because she was sitting next to Lee Minho.

That she was keeping him company as his seatmate, and her best friend didn’t seem to like it.

That Jisung was downing drinks, three pints from what she counted, because he was…jealous.

Just like Yura and Minho had wanted him to feel.

But Y/N wanted to tell him off.

Get angry at him for acting like this when he was the one that pushed her to Lee Minho’s side.

She wanted to berate him, wag a finger and ask why he was upset when he’s been playing wingman for weeks.

But she doesn’t say any of that.

Instead she sighed out loud once again. Her heart beating rapidly at the confirmation of his conflictions, at the feelings he still refused to admit.

Without another word, Y/N turned on her heels, her figure receding into the distance as she walked back inside.

Jisung stared at the footprints her sneakers left behind, on the concrete that already had a sheet of snow laying over. His lips part to let out a laugh. A pathetic sound under the light of the street lamp.

A few more minutes passed. And before Jisung decided he had enough fresh air, feeling rather cold now, before he made the choice to leave alone, his gaze once again faltered at her figure that approached.

This time staring wide at her approaching figure.

He didn’t think she would be back.

Didn’t think that she would be in her coat, throwing his padded jacket over him, already zipping it up.

   “Pain in the ass.” She muttered as she did so.

Then her narrowed gaze settled on him. His stunned expression relaxed as he processed the situation.

As he realized that she wasn’t going back inside, that she didn’t intend to linger behind.

That she didn’t care about Lee Minho or whatever nonsense he blabbered.

   “Let’s go.”

Her hand naturally reached down to find his, taking his wrist in her grip before tugging him along. The snow had piled up, slick and slippery beneath their sneakers, but she kept pulling him along, her hand now firmly wrapped around his as she led the way.

Jisung didn’t question where they were going. He wasn’t even sure if he cared. His eyes were fixed on the back of her figure as he followed, lost in the steady rhythm of her steps. The world around him seemed muted, the snow falling heavily now, but his focus remained on her.

It wasn’t until they reached the slope back to campus that Jisung finally returned from his thoughts.

Rather, he stumbled back to reality, slipping on the fresh snow that had piled up a good inch or so.

Before he could regain his balance, he tumbled into her, and the two of them crashed to the ground with loud groans and grunts as they hit the cold earth. The snow-covered grass offered little cushion, and their bodies slid together in an awkward heap.

As the initial shock wore off, Y/N groaned, sitting up slowly, her gaze falling on Jisung, still lying beside her. His eyes fluttered open, staring at the sky, cheeks flushed and the tip of his nose bright red from the cold. The snow continued to fall around them, some of it melting against his skin, leaving damp spots on his face and jacket.

He didn’t move. He just stared at the sky, the night dark and quiet around them, the chill stinging his cheeks.

And finally, finally Jisung had mustered up some courage.

   “I don’t want you to date him.”

The thoughts left his mouth in a low murmur, quiet but heavy. Thoughts that had clouded his mind ever since Minho had asked about her.

Ever since he lied, pretended that it didn’t bother him everytime he pushed her toward some other guy.

Finally spoken into words.

His confession made her stare down at him with wide eyes, darting between his gaze that remained on the white specks floating in the air. Too scared to face the kind of expression she made.

   “Why…” Her response was equally as quiet, a kind of whisper he hadn’t heard from her before.

The tense man opened his mouth, then fell silent.

How would he explain it?

The turmoil, the feelings.

The fact that he had been in love with her since the moment he saw her.

How could he jeopardize what they had now? A beautiful friendship that he never wanted to lose, never could imagine living without.

He wanted to tell her, he wanted to scream it out into the night.

But he was a coward.

Like he had been back then.

Like he was going to be now. His mouth closed, deciding to remain quiet.

He could hear her inhale sharply. A low mutter of something, a curse perhaps, before she glared down at him. A hot gaze he could feel burning into him.

   “Because you were jealous.”

The words came out, firm and certain. A statement, rather than a question.

Ones that make his eyes shoot to her, finally getting a proper look at her expression. At the irritated furrow of her brows, an unreadable glint in her gaze as she peered down at him, speaking nothing but the truth.

She ran her fingers through her hair, which was now wet from the melted snow, the icy strands slicking back against her scalp. Her face was still flushed from the cold, her eyes narrowed at him with something sharp, but there was a hint of something softer there too.

   “Are you sober?” Y/N’s voice cut through the silence.

Jisung blinked at her, bewildered by the question, his eyes wide as he stared up at her. Then, his lips tugged into that confused pout she had always hated, a sight that made her heart clench because of how adorable she found it.

He didn’t trust his voice, so instead he nodded.

   “Good.”

It took Jisung a moment to fully register what was happening.

The soft press of her lips against his was searing hot. A sharp contrast to the coldness around them, damp with the snow that had melted against his skin.

His eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling as he fully realized that she was kissing him.

Her lips felt soft and plush, moving gently against his.

And just like the snowflakes that dotted their skin, Jisung felt himself melt instantly. Into the kiss. Into her cold fingers that cradled his jaw, guiding him closer, pressing herself into him, deepening the kiss.

Driving him crazy.

Jisung wished it could be a moment that would last forever. But, alas, she pulled away. The tip of her nose was redder than before, from being pressed against his, and her breath came out in heavier puffs, fogging up the chilly air between them.

He swallowed hard, staring at her, frozen in place. He was afraid to move, afraid to sit up, afraid to kiss her properly. Most of all, he was terrified that she might slap a hand over her mouth, her face contorting into disgust, her eyes wide with regret.

Afraid she was going to tell him she hadn’t meant to kiss him at all.

   “You don’t want me to be with him. You want me to be with you.”

Her words cut through the chaos in his mind, shattering the doubts that had clouded his thoughts.

His gaze flickered between her eyes, trying to piece together what she was saying. It was a painfully true statement, and he wondered when she had figured it out.

When she had caught on.

To his lingering gazes, his almost forbidden thoughts.

Maybe he didn’t hide his jealousy as well as he thought.

   “Tell me. That you want me to be with you. That you want me too. I-I need to hear it, Jisung. Out loud.”

Y/N sat upright, her eyes boring into his, gleaming with a sudden anxiety that made his breath hitch.

She was asking for a sincere confession.

Something to ground her. To give her a validation, long overdue. To not have to guess whether his touches were just friendly or charged with something else.

If his intent gazes that she often caught him staring with, meant more than he claimed.

That he was hers.

And seeing that flicker of anxiety in her gaze, that fear of uncertainty, had Jisung scrambling to sit up.

The snow that had settled over his body scattered like dust. His hands moved instinctively, reaching for hers, fingers trembling as he took them in his.

   “I-I want you—I want you to be with me. I was jealous.” The words spilled from him, loud and raw, falling from his lips without hesitation.

Something desperate that he couldn’t hide.

His tone, tinged with eagerness.

It sounded like the first time she had asked him to be her friend. How he had eagerly nodded, his hand shaking hers instantly.

A response that she couldn’t help but break into a grin at. Both his confession and his suddenly awkward form, sitting on his knees soothing that prick that had been lingering in her heart, made this moment sweeter.

His hands, warming hers.

   “Good.” The word came out in a whispered repeat.

Her hands slipped from his, reaching for the material of his jacket. She tugged him toward her, pulling him into a kiss. A real kiss.

A proper kiss.

The kind that Jisung returned with equal fervor, his hands trailing over her face before sliding to the warmth of her neck, pulling her in closer. His cold fingers made her shiver, excitement buzzing in her veins as she parted her lips, desperate to deepen their entanglement.

And she did, their mouths working together in a way that made minds reel. Until, after what felt like forever, yet still not long enough, Jisung pulled away.

His breath came out in ragged gasps, his hands still cradling her neck, fingers entangled in her hair. He had been sitting up on his knees, his jeans wet, and cold. Yet all he felt was his skin burning, the feel of her against him, driving him crazy.

Jisung dropped his head in attempts to calm himself, closed eyes processing the whirlwind of emotions, taking deep, steadying breaths before looking back at her.

Her face was flushed, lips swollen from their kiss, wide eyes staring back at his equally flushed expression. Her lips still wet from their kiss. Her gaze awaited.

He gulped, his mouth parting as he finally grounded himself.

   “Yo-you can’t take it back.” He stammered almost, his serious gaze boring into her soul, searching for certainty.

   “You’re mine.” His tone softened to a whisper, a quiet confession that had been building inside him for far too long, finally free after being locked away in that tiny corner of his heart.

Her brows relax, gentle eyes trailing over his expression before she smiled.

   “I’ve always been yours, loser.” Y/N murmured, her voice teasing yet full of warmth, before leaning in to kiss him again.

Something she decided was the most amazing feeling in the world, something she realized she could not get enough of.

The Loser Club had been a two-member group from the start.

────────────────────────

The first days of school had always been intimidating. Especially the first day of high school.

A new school. A new environment. New faces.

For Y/N, the nerves hit harder. She had moved to this town the summer after middle school, knowing absolutely no one. She hadn’t gone to school here before, and the unknowns felt heavy on her chest.

She stood on the sidewalk, staring at the winter sky. The sun had peeked through the early morning haze, casting a pale light across the world, but the air was still bitterly cold.

Y/N shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets, trying to keep the chill from her fingers. The snow had piled up overnight, crunching under her shoes as she walked. She kicked at it absently as she neared the school, her heart pounding in her chest.

The streets were empty, quiet. The early morning stillness before everyone else began to rush to class. She glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar route, wondering how many times she would walk it in the next few years.

Then, her steps faltered. Her gaze locked onto a figure ahead.

A boy had slipped on the icy ground, his arms flailing as he tried to regain balance before falling backward.

The thud of his body hitting the soft snow was loud in the stillness of the morning. A sound that made Y/N’s gasp, her hand instinctively reaching out, as if she could somehow help from a distance.

But as she continued to watch, her confusion deepened.

The boy didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up. He just lay there, staring up at the sky as if he had all the time in the world. He didn’t even attempt to move, just blinking slowly, watching the snowflakes drifting down from above.

Y/N’s gaze followed his, lifting her eyes to the delicate white specks falling through the sky. It was a beautiful, calming moment, one that suddenly eased the tightness in her chest in a way she hadn’t expected.

The boy remained where he was, eyes still fixed on the sky, unbothered by the cold or the snow around him.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she walked closer. The snow crunched under her feet as she approached, her figure casting a shadow over him.

She tilted her head, studying him.

He was cute, she thought.

Suddenly, the boy blinked, his eyes widening as he looked up at her, startled. His mouth parted in surprise.

Her brows furrowed slightly in amusement.

   “Are you okay?”

Jisung’s eyes grew even wider, and for a brief, breathless moment, something shifted between them.

A flutter. An inexplicable pull.

That feeling. The one that surged in their chests at the same time it seemed.

Love at first sight. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[milkteabinniechan]

♡torturé pour l'éternité - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: author! Jisung x fem! reader

summary: you've been hired to clean for a tortured writer who never leaves his office. Angry and antisocial, can you find a way to soften his hardened heart?

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional

a/n: I decided to go a different way with the arranged marriage trope and I hope you guys like it!

Somewhere deep in the French countryside lived a man. A mysterious, troubled and misunderstood man. He often felt overwhelmed by even the most basic human interaction. So overwhelmed in fact that he isolated himself away from the world. The world that never seemed to want him.

Through his pain, he wrote. He built worlds with just the flick of his pen. Han Jisung.

You were hired just a week ago by Jisung's publisher to clean his home so he could “focus solely on his next novel” as she do elegantly put it. When you first started cleaning, you noticed that the house was a mess, not just your typical bachelor pad mess, but a mess of someone who had given up on life. Dishes piled up in the sink, clothes were thrown all over the floor, and ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts. You would clean for a few hours and leave. Once a day, every day. But you had still never seen him, the illusive author.

One day after a few hours of cleaning, you finally finish and decide to take a break, sitting down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. That's when you hear the creaking of the stairs as Jisung descends, his footsteps slow and heavy. He appears in the doorway, looking tired and worn out. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you. "You're still here," Jisung mutters, his voice dripping with displeasure as he looks at you sitting at the kitchen table. He enters the kitchen, his presence filling the room with a palpable tension. "I thought maids were supposed to be invisible.”

Your eyes take in the sight of a someone that was more ghost than man now. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand as his eyes scanned you up and down. “I'm sorry Mr. Jisung,” you started, “I'm almost done here. Would you want me to make you something to eat?”

Jisung scoffs at your suggestion, his eyes narrowing. "You think I need you to take care of me?" He pulls out a chair and sits down heavily, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've been taking care of myself just fine without you." He pauses, his jaw clenched.

You stir at his sharp words but swallow hard as you stand and make your way to the sink to continue washing the dishes.

Jisung watches you with hooded eyes, studying your movements in the kitchen. Despite his initial hostility, he seems unable to completely ignore you. After a moment of internal struggle, he speaks, his voice slightly slurred, “who hired you anyway?”

“Your publisher. She wants you to focus on your writing. How is the novel coming?”

Jisung's expression darkens at your question, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table. "It's fine," he bites out, clearly annoyed at the intrusion into his writing routine. He glances at you disdainfully, his eyes lingering on your appearance before looking away. You continue to scrub away at plates and cups. You have a kettle on the stove for tea and you had opened the window to let some fresh air inside. His curiosity piques as he observes you diligently washing the dishes, ignoring his rude behavior. He finds himself wondering why you're so insistent on taking care of things that aren't your responsibility. He swigs his glass of whiskey, his mind racing with unanswered questions. As you finish up the last plate, you wipe your hands clean and turn back towards Jisung still seated at the table. “I'm finished for the day, sir.”

He looks up at you, his eyes slightly unfocused from the alcohol, but there's a hint of something else there - confusion, perhaps even a flicker of interest. "You're... finished," he repeats, as if testing the words. He hesitates, the whiskey making him second-guess his usual cold demeanor. He opens his mouth to dismiss you, but instead finds himself asking, "Have you eaten?” You smile softly at Jisung's hint of kindness and turn towards the fridge. “I haven't eaten yet, but I made this turkey sandwich for you. We could split it?” You set the plated sandwich down on the table. Jisung's eyes widen slightly in surprise as you place the sandwich in front of him. No one has shown him this kind of consideration in a long time. He stares at the sandwich, then back at you, his expression unreadable. “Why... would you do that?”

“Because, everyone deserves kindness.” You answer gently. His eyes betray a brief flash of something raw and vulnerable - something that quickly turns into irritation as he covers it up. "Don't act like you actually care about me. You're just here to clean my house," he snaps, though there's less bite to his words than before. “Yes, sir.” You giggle softly to yourself as you grab one half of the sandwich and sit down at the table with him.

He finds himself sitting across from you, sharing a sandwich like it's the most normal thing in the world. He can't remember the last time he shared a meal with someone, let alone sit in silence without feeling uncomfortable. He steals glances at you as you eat, his mind racing.

The next day when you return, you start your cleaning routine in the living room first. A location that has not seen light or laughter in quite a few years. You work on during first, clearing cobwebs in every corner you can reach. The sound of cleaning downstairs disrupts Jisung's writing once again. He grits his teeth, annoyed at the interruption. A part of him wants to yell at you to be quiet, but another part is almost curious. He stands abruptly, stalking to the balcony overlooking the living room. You pause your cleaning for a moment as if sensible Jisung's presence in the room. You turn and look up at his slender frame pressed leisurely against the balcony railing. His eyes narrow as they meet yours, trying to maintain his usual cold demeanor despite the warm flicker in his chest at the sight of you. "Keep it down, will you?" he shoots back, but his voice lacks its usual venom. "When will you learn to be quieter?” You hold back another giggle as you too try to keep your composure. “Yes, sir. I'll be quieter.”

Jisung watches you clean and move around his house. A warmth to you that he's never experienced before. As days turned into weeks, he found himself sitting in the living room while you cleaned. He would read a book out loud to you while you wiped windowpanes and dusted the fireplace mantle. You would ask him about himself, where he grew up and what his favorite season was. It was all so simple. The two of you together was like love but Jisung knew that “I love you” could not properly portray what you had done for him. He would spend years writing the exact words to express to you what love truly was to him now. You had found him and save him. And he could never thank you enough for that. But he would spend each day telling you that you were, without question, his long awaited love.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt3

Warnings: Mentioning of needles in a medical sense, Cursing, Mentioning of death

Pt1 Pt2 Hyungline  (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

The room was bright, and everyone of Jisung's senses were clouded slightly when he woke up.

"Where-"

He looked up to see Chan looking at him concerned.

"You passed out and hit your head. You've been out for a minute. You worried us."

Jisung's face scrunched as he looked at Chan. "I didn't mean to...why did I..." The events of right before his fainting spell came to him at once and Chan watched as his face slowly crumpled.

"N-No no! Jisung don't cry please! She's okay! She's okay!"

Jisung's heart rate monitor kept hiking up. "St-Stop ly-lying to me! Sh-She's gone!" He wailed- his heart rate reaching extreme levels that spurred the appearance of three nurses.

They tried to calm him down and Chan talked to a nurse about giving him something to calm him down.

A subtle sedative was injected into one of Jisung's flailing limbs and within a few minutes he was calmed down enough to be considered safe.

Chris sat by Jisung's bed as he fell in and out of sleep, the exhaustion of the past day hit him.

He looked at his phone as Minho was calling him. He looked at the boba eyes boy, who's eyes were closed in what he was assumed was sleep.

"Hello...hey...yeah we're still here, Jisung passed out...yeah...she's okay...I've been splitting my time between his room and her's...both of her femurs are fractured and she's cut up and bruised, and her arm is broken but she'll be okay...I'm trying to wait until he's calm enough to bring him over...he won't even listen to me he's that distraught..." Chris sounded tired. "I hate to them both hurting...I'm going to cancel to schedules...no one should have to work after this...maybe apply for hiatus of Jisung..." Chan stood up and looked at Jisung who was staring back at him with wide eyes. "Minho I'll call you back."

Han sat up and looked at his elder. "Y/N...Y/N? Where is she-" He swung his feet over the bed, not even flinching at the frozen floor as they connected with his bare feet.

Chris guided Jisung by the shoulder and brought him to room a few halls down, nodding politely at the ladies at the desk; silently praying they wouldn't point out that it was past the time for any types of visitors. He led him in front of your door, and knocked lightly. "She might be asleep...I have to run back to the dorms real quick to grab you a change of clothes and update the boys they're worried sick."

Jisung nodded and looked at the bags under Chris's eyes and saw how dark and droopy they were. He looked like a tired dad, and that only hurt Jisung more.

Chris gave him a hug and gave him a peck on the head. "I'll be back soon, Jisung." As he walked away Jisung immediately walked into the room. His heart dropped when he saw you laying there on the bed- legs elevate and your arms as well, your eyes closed.

He almost couldn't recognize your face at first, with the purplish bruise and large cut on your cheek.

He walked over quietly and sat down in the chair next yo your bed, just quietly weeping next to you.

Tears of joy, relief, praise, sadness, pain, and heartbreak.

God thank you. Thank you. Thanl you.

He continued to weep quietly, as he reached for your hand on your uninjured arm to hold it.

He felt calloused and scabbed skin when he put his hand in it and looked down through his tear.

His index finger traced the dark scabbed that decorated your palm, and he felt a hollow pain in his heart. Despite all the other injuries this one hurt him the most, knowing that he was the direct cause for this specific one.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked over to see the love of your life crying over you hand.

"JiJi?" Your voice was raspy, and he instead of saying anything he started placing kisses on your palm in a silent apology.

"It's okay, love. I'm okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Y/N...it's my fault."

You shook your head viciously and winced with the neck pain; mentally kicking yourself for moving at all.

"Its not your fault Jisung. You weren't the one drunk driving. Nor were to the one distracted behind the wheel. Things like this happen in life; you just have to be grateful to be the ones that get through it." You swallowed and started blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I worried you so much-" You croaked. "Channie said you fainted and hit your head? Are you okay?" Your voice was heartbreakingly warm, and Jisung couldn't fathom why you were so kind to him at a time like this. When you were hurting so much physically, mentally and emotionally; you were still concerned about him.

He kissed your palm again and let out a shaky breath. "Stay with me."

You give out a small chuckle, but it hurts your chest so you decide just to smile.

"Sungie...I can't even walk." You joked. "My femurs are pretty messed up right now." Jisung continued to gently hold your hand as if it was something priceless; something extremely fragile and breakable. He rested his forehead against is and murmured.

"Then when you can walk again, don't leave. Stay. Cling to me. Walk towards me instead of away."

You smile. "Walk towards you dressed in white?" You joked.

"Yes." He said with 1000% seriousness in his voice. "I thought I lost you. That was a pain that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. If I ever lose you again...I don't know how I would deal with it...if I could...especially if I knew you left by choice..."

You felt your heart thump at a faster rate and cursed it quietly since it would bring the inevitable visit of a concerned nurse.

"I'm sorry. I truly am." He said, his eyes looking at you. They softly traced all the injuries, all though none of them compared to what he was feeling in his heart, what you were feeling in yours.

"I love you." You said quietly, those three simple words filled with so much that it quelled the negative feelings that were churning in his heart.

And even though he knew it wouldn't be something he could ever truly forgive himself for - even if you did - he was selfish enough to push that aside if it meant that he could be with you.

If it meant you would stay with him.

He kissed your palm once more, before laying his head near yours. His nose gently nuzzling your face.

"I love you more."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

When Felix walked into your home, he wasn't expecting you to be there.

But what he defintely was not expecting at all was you struggling to put together a new gaming station for him, looking at a super complicated instruction sheet for a chair and while sitting next to a bag filled with other electronics.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You turned as the rich and deep voice you loved so much reached your ears. It had been days since you had gotten to hear it.

"It-It was supposed to be a surprise." You said standing up, bracing yourself for him to yell at you, or scold you. "I'm sor-"

You almost had the wind knocked out of you as Felix threw himself into your arms, inhaling deeply.

You hugged him back, feeling just how much he needed it.

His breathing was shaking as you heard him apologize quietly.

He reached for your hands to see if they were red from cleaning so much.

"I'm sorry baby. But sorry doesn't fix it. So what can I do-"

"I love you." You said. "I understand you were angry...it's understandable. So I went to go fix it!"

You pulled away and Felix was in disbelief of how positive and sunshiny you were. He would consider you even more like sunshine than he was.

And with that he felt and overwhelming sense of love and appreciation to the one in front of him, as he watched you explain to him what you had been doing the past few days (odd freelance work for extra money) and how you had went to buy him replacements for all the things you had ruined by accident.

"I thought you'd like this one cause it was blue but I'm not sure..." You mumbled. "It wasn't as expensive as you last one so I'm sorry if it-"

You looked up to see Felix crying with a smile on his face as he bent down to look at you while you knelt on the ground organizing pieces.

"Lix, are you okay?"

He nodded, his freckles scrunching up as he smiled even more, reaching to cup you face with his cool hands.

"I'm more than okay, Y/N." He said. "More than okay."

You looked at him with wide eyes and he couldn't help but plant a bunch of kisses on your face as a musical giggle escaped the lips he soon captured in his own.

You looked up at him as he rolled over onto the ground next to you, grasping your hand in his.

"I bought replacements angel..." He said, a smile playing on his face. "So now that we have two... we can take my old PC from storage and I can teach you how to play...?"

You looked at him. "But isn't gaming time your you time? I thought thats why you were so upset, since I had ruined something that was giving you detox time..."

He shook his head. "I had gotten into an argument with Hyunjin..." He said rubbing his thumb across your hand. "And I didn't manage my anger well towards you. I'm sorry, again."

He turned to face you while resting on his elbow.

"You're too good you know?" He murmured quietly, moving a few strands of hair out of your face.

"Lixxie...you're entire fandom call you sunshine..." You say, feeling your face heat up.

"Well that's because they don't know you well enough. But once they do they'll realize that you're the true sunshine in the Stray Kids world. Since you're my world..." He said leaning over again, resting his elbows on either side of you as he connected his lips to yours again; both sets upturned into a smile.

"I could never be mad you love...how would it even be possible?" He asked as he continued to press his lips against your face in a cute, but chaste manner. "It is impossible."

You giggled as he blew raspberries on you and you got up and looked at the boy you loved so much, knowing that you meant just as much to him as he did to you.

And you knew that you could rest assured that you would be okay no matter what.

"Do you want to play games...or cuddle?" Felix asked, pulling you up, already reaching for the blanket you kept draped over your desk chair; knowing your answer would be exactly what he was hoping it would be.

"Cuddles." You said clinging to him. Intending to do that for the rest of the night.

And Felix intended to make sure you kept true to that promise.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

The crowd was static with a murmured excitement. The result of hundred of Stays conversing just before the group walked on stage.

You made your way to the front of the arena. After selling the ticket you had intended to use to get back at Seungmin; you had made quite a bit of money from the upsale and the desire of some crazed stan.

And you put that money towards flying across the world, to come to this concert, and surprise him.

Hopefully easing the growing rumors but mostly easing his heart.

You called the Kids manager, asking to get you in closer to the front, and was praying that Seungmin would be able to spot you. Or a fan would spot you and it would spark the little "Where's Waldo" game that would get back to him - or more importantly the camera men.

You just wanted Seungmin to be assured you weren't leaving him.

Rather you hoped after tonight it would be the complete opposite.

As security pushed their way through the crowd with you encircled in them people tried to peak through to see you.

When a few curious eyes met yours you waved, and those eyes widened in the ones who recognized you.

It was almost like they were relieved.

And just with that you could tell how much the fandom cared about the boy.

Almost as much as you cared about them while knowing all of them on a personal friend level. And an even more intimate level with Seungmin.

The crowd buzzed with energy up until the moments to boys ran out on stage. You were close enough to see just how tired Seungmin was; but he still put on a smile.

There was almost know build up as they immediately started performing, Seungmin on the complete opposite side of the stage. The crowd was extremely loud- so yelling out to the closet member to you - Hyunjin - wasn't going to do you any good, even if he could easily recognize the voice of one of his closest friends' significant others; he wouldn't be able to hear it over the sea of others voices and screams.

So you decided to head back towards the dressing room.

Seungmin returned to his dressing room after the show, his heart racing with excitement after the show. But he still had that underlying hurt.

Should I call her? I miss her so much I'm imagining her perfume...

He stopped and turned his nose upwards. Y/N?

He rushed into his dressing room and saw you standing up, folding one of his shirts.

He immediately ran into your arms, burying his head into your hair, a wet spot forming on the crown of your head.

"Baby...are you really here?" He whispered, the vibration of his voice tickling you slightly.

You nod and pull back; feeling a bit proud to straight out apologize so instead get to what you came here for.

He looked at you as you squared your shoulders and adjusted your dress so it covered you properly as you knelt down onto the ground.

"Jagiya...?" He said instinctively kneeling down with you reaching for you, but instead you motioned for him to stay standing.

He looked at you with confusion, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck to his exposed collar bone, making you even more nervous than you were a second ago.

You pulled a small box out of the pocket in your dress and noticed Seungmin's puppy eyes widening as you held it out to him with a shaky hand.

"Marry me, MinMin?"

His jaw twitched and he just stared at you in shock and you fumbled to open up the box, a simple deep gray colored band laying in there.

"Um...I mean will you marry me? Please...?" You rubbed your forehead feeling your face get warm at Seungmin's extended silence.

"No." You felt your heart nearly crumple in embarrassment until he corrected himself.

"I mean yes- like no as is in you - like - yes I want to marry you but- just get up from the floor Jagiya..."

You stood up and you held the box in your hands, and they were still trembling, and he wrapped his large hands around yours.

"I meant no as a reaction to you proposing instead of me. I wanted propose to you. I mean...I'm the man in the relationship and-"

"I'm breaking societal norms, Minnie. If we both love each other why does it matter?" You ask bluntly, earning a laugh from Seungmin.

"And I'm proud of you for that, even if it'll earn me relentless teasing from the guys." He laughed out, a few tears falling from his face in happiness, as he rested his forehead onto yours.

"These past few weeks," Seungmin started, "Have made me realize that it's me who is clingy to you." He says, kissing your nose, lightly. "I felt that I lost myself when the prospect of losing you was in front of me."

You looked at him and knew this was his apology.

"I don't want to leave you. And I don't ever want you to leave me. That's why I got this for you." You said taking the ring out. Seungmin pulled back and stepped into character, placing a hand over his mouth in mock shock and daintily putting his hand out for you to slide the ring onto his finger.

He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face as he watched your face be completely painted in a blinding happiness. He couldn't help but kiss the lips that were stretched so wide.

"Do I have permission to break the news to Stay via instagram post?" He hums. "They've been suspecting we broke up due to your concert absences..." He looked at you, his eyes wide and bright.

"Yes of course, as long as you tell the guys in person. I want to see their reaction. I'm sure both Stay and the guys will be amused that I proposed." You winked.

"Yeah," Seungmin chuckled as he looked at the ring with a deep admiration and love. "They will be...speaking of this though. You must have paid an unecessary fortune for flying here, buying the ticket, hotel stay...and you request off work during concert season so you aren't getting paid. Where did you get the money? If it was from your saving let me fill it up again." His top lip curled in as he waited for your answer.

"Uh...you could say I made a profit of sorts..." You mumbled, thinking about the slightly illegal act of scalping the ticket price.

Your fiancé tilted his head to the side, waiting for an explanation, but the deciding to forgo it with a chuckle and just kiss the woman he loved and missed so much. The one he'd spend the rest of his life clinging to.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

You stood there the needle in your hand as Jeongin slowly walked towards you.

"Y/N? What are you...?"

You disposed the needle and adjusted your shorts to cover up your thigh.

"I was taking insulin." You said walking past him out of the bathroom, to go grab a paper towel since the towel in your bathroom was in the wash.

You felt the presence of your boyfriend behind you.

And you could instantly tell he felt bad, so you turned to him, his dark eyes wandering over you as his lips turned into his recognizable pout.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Innie..." You said standing there. "It wasn't right for me to ignore your calls. Or blow up your phone in the first pla-"

"Stop." His voice was firm and missing the playful undertone it almost always had. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me."

He swallowed. "I was embarrassed because of the guys and their teasing. And I called you childish when it was really me who was being childish for caring so much about people recognizing how much we love each other. How much you love me..." He's within arms length and you can feel his cool breath hit your face. "How much I love you. I'm sorry."

For the rest of the day you and Jeongin lounged around your house, him taking a nap on you lap at one point due to the pent-up exhaustion of the previous week.

You had shake him awake gently when you realized it was time for you to inject youself once more since you had finished eating a while ago but pushed off medicating yourself so Jeongin could get some rest.

He opened his eyes and whined as he shut them again, burrowing further into you.

"Baby, I have to get up and take my medicine."

He immediately shot up and the expectant yet worried look on his faced caused you to grin.

"Do you wanna help?" His head bobbed up and down as you got up, pulling the mischievous eyed boy with you towards the bathroom.

As you got everything, he observed with a bubbling anxiety.

"You won't like...die from this or anything right?" His voice was soft, lacking the confidence it usually carried.

"No, Jeongin, I won't die from my diabetes." You laugh. "Do you think I would let it take me before I get married and have kids, and grandkids and live." You say this purposefully to hint to Jeongin that it was him you imagined this with. Hoping it solidified his assurance in your forgiveness; since he had been asking all day if he was truly forgiven.

As if its his fault I have diabetes... You laughed to yourself.

You placed the glucometer in his hand and held out the container of strips.

"Just place that in there." You instruct softly, and he does so showing it to you to double check.

"Okay, so now we have to put the lancet in...here..." You say, your boyfriend focusing on placing it in correctly.

He takes your hand in his and when he presses the button to prick you he winces rather than you.

"Are you okay?!" He frets, looking at the extremely miniscule - too miniscule - drop of blood on your ring finger.

"Mm. Squeeze a little more out?"

He gently squuezed enough blood out of your hand and tested you blood sugar - then measuring out the appropriate amount of insulin and pulling your shorts up slightly to give you your injection with gentle hands after cleaning the area.

You watched him focus on the task at hand so seriously; his brows furrowed, and tongue sticking out of his lip slightly. He was so close you could smell his shampoos and count his eyelashes if you wanted to. You felt a strange longing for him even though he was right here. You missed him even if his body was right here next to, gently making sure he didn't leave any marks.

And you couldn't deny how much you loved him. So much that you had to express it.

"I love you forever, Innie..." Through his lashes he studied your expression. Feeling the love exude from you.

"I love you, forever and even longer." He said, his face breaking out into a smile. "My beautiful princess."

You laugh and that causes Innie to laugh as well.

"You're too sweet, love." You said placing a kiss under his eye.

"Does that mean I need to get you another dose of insulin?" He asked, looking up at you with a devilish grin.

This time you place the kiss on his lips his eyelashes fluttering shut as he sighed with contenment.

"I think I can manage."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@sleeping143 @artist2181 @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

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[minhosbitterriver]

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[jsabimi]

— You Ask BFF!Stray Kids Who Has a Crush on You to Give Feedback on an Outfit You Picked for a Date . Maknae Line

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PAIRING : bff!stray kids maknae line x reader

GENRE : fluff, very minor angst

WARNINGS : swearing, pet names (angel), confessions, bad miscommunication, reader is kinda a bitch in jisung's :/

⤷ hyung line ⤷ stray kids masterlist

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[0omillo0]

Han x Reader … Hurt/Comfort

this is a vent post

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱

The argument had started over something trivial—maybe the dishes, or a canceled plan. You couldn’t even remember. But now it had escalated, words flying between you and Han like daggers, sharper than intended. The tension had been simmering for days, both of you stressed from work, from life, from everything that felt like it was pulling you in opposite directions.

Han stood a few feet away from you, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. You could see the frustration etched into his features, the way his brows furrowed in anger, and it made your chest tighten. The air felt heavy, oppressive, and the weight of it was pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

“I don’t get it, y/n. Why can’t you just—”

“Just what, Han?!” you cut him off, your voice rising in defense, tired of feeling like you were constantly falling short. “I’m trying! I’ve been trying, but nothing’s ever good enough, is it?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s not what I’m saying! You’re twisting my words.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline mixing with anxiety as you felt yourself being cornered. You had been here before. This exact feeling. You’d grown up in this kind of chaos, in the shouting, the accusations. In a home where every argument turned into a battlefield, and you had always been the one caught in the crossfire.

“I’m not twisting anything,” you shot back, but your voice trembled, betraying the fear you were trying to bury.

Han’s face was strained, his eyes dark with emotion. And then it happened—the moment he raised his voice, the moment his tone shifted. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even directed at you, but it was enough.

“Goddamn it, just listen to me for once!”

His words echoed in the room, louder than they needed to be, and in an instant, everything inside you collapsed. You froze. Your breath caught in your throat, and it was like you were transported back to a time when every raised voice had meant danger, meant pain.

Han saw it—saw the way your entire body went rigid, the way your eyes widened in fear. His face softened, his mouth opening as if to apologize, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You couldn’t be here. You needed to get out. Now.

“Y/n, wait—”

But you were already grabbing your jacket, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the zipper. Without another word, you turned on your heel and bolted for the door, your heart hammering in your chest. You barely heard Han calling after you, his voice muffled by the roaring in your ears as you sprinted down the street, the rain hitting your skin like icy needles.

---

You didn’t know how far you’d walked or how long it had been. The rain was relentless, coming down in heavy sheets that soaked through your clothes, plastering your hair to your face. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore; you were numb. Numb to everything except the pounding of your heart and the ringing of Han’s raised voice in your ears.

Eventually, you found yourself standing in front of a Seven-Eleven, the neon sign flickering like a dying heartbeat. It wasn’t much, but it was shelter. You pushed the door open, the warmth of the fluorescent lights washing over you as you stepped inside, dripping wet and shivering.

The clerk glanced at you with mild concern, but you ignored it, heading to the back of the store where the windows overlooked the storm outside. You sat down on a bench by the vending machines, curling into yourself, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you stared blankly at the rain pounding against the glass.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You felt stupid. Why had you run? Why had you let yourself fall apart over something so small? But it wasn’t small. It had never been small. The years of trauma, of living in a household that was a constant war zone—it had left you fragile in ways you hadn’t even realized until now.

Your phone buzzed again. And again. The screen lit up with Han’s name—ten missed calls, and the eleventh one ringing through.

On the twelfth, you finally answered, your voice barely a whisper. “What do you want, Han?”

His voice was breathless on the other end, tinged with desperation. “Y/n… thank God. I’ve been calling you. I was so worried. Please, just tell me where you are.”

You sniffed, wiping at your eyes though they were already wet from the rain. “I—I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. I know you’re not. Please, y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I swear. I—fuck, I didn’t realize… Please, let me come get you.”

Your throat tightened, the tears finally spilling over as you choked out a sob. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Tell me where you are. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“I’m at the Seven-Eleven on 4th Street.”

“I’m coming. Don’t move.”

---

He arrived quicker than you thought he would, his car screeching to a stop outside the store. You watched through the glass as he jumped out, his hair and clothes instantly drenched in the rain, but he didn’t seem to care. The moment he walked inside and saw you sitting there, his entire face crumbled with guilt.

He rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering near your arms but not touching you, as if he was afraid you’d pull away. “Y/n… I’m so, so sorry.”

You couldn’t even look at him, your gaze fixed on the wet floor beneath you. “Why did you yell at me, Han?”

His breath hitched, his voice low and raw with emotion. “I didn’t mean to. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. I—God, I’m such an idiot. I didn’t realize how much that would hurt you. I never wanted to scare you.”

The sincerity in his voice made you look up, and when you saw the anguish in his eyes, something in you softened, despite the pain still lingering in your chest.

“You don’t get it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I grew up with yelling. It wasn’t just yelling—it was—”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off gently, his hand finally reaching for yours. “I should’ve known. I should’ve been better for you, y/n. I never want to be like them. Please believe me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching with the weight of it all. You didn’t want to be afraid of him. You didn’t want to run from him.

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to be, but I was.”

His face crumbled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes. Just… please don’t shut me out.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the rain still beating against the windows like the storm between you was fading. Slowly, tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. He closed his eyes at the contact, leaning into your touch, as if it was the only thing grounding him.

“I don’t want to run from you,” you whispered.

He opened his eyes, locking onto yours. “Then don’t. Let me be your safe place.”

Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed, or desperate—it was an apology, a promise. When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, his fingers entwined with yours.

For the first time that night, you nodded, knowing that home wasn’t a place—it was him.

[dazed--xx]

Jisung! Fake Texts: He rejects you

Chan Minho Changbin Hyunjin Felix Seungmin Jeongin Masterlist

A/N: lol you can tell bought an android in the middle of writing this but ngl 🤣😅 LIVING for the new way MeMi looks lol I panicked thinking I was gonna need to buy a new app but nope THIS SHIT ON THE PLAY STORE 😍🥰 thank God I had the sound mind of exporting my info from the app on my iPhone cause I have all my old fake Texts 😅 but anyway I hope all like this

Taglist: @yangbbokari @lovesunshinefelix @threeopossumsinacoat @isabellah29 @hope-maine @minhwa @tr-mha-fan @whoa-jo @kibs-and-bits @your-favorite-pirate @summercoldstuff @bx-lov3

[kpop---scenarios]

Lose My Breath

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Warning: Smut, Mentions of Blood, Death, Gutwrenching Heartbreak, Angst [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

Word Count: 9k

Commissioned By: @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykids @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited

@silly250 @tsunderelino @1810cl @anskiiz @ayyonoona

@31maze13

“You're coming! And that's final!” Lisa yells at you, yanking your arm to pull you off the couch.

“I just got broken up with, Lisa.” You pout. “I wanna stay in my sweatpants, eating ice cream while I cry at sad movies.”

“Y/N… babe, you've been doing that for like a month now. I need my best friend back. I need you to get back out there and back on dicks, or whatever the saying is.” She smiles.

You can't help but laugh at her, she's such an idiot sometimes. You roll your eyes, pulling your arm away from her and head to your room. “Where are you going?” She yells worriedly.

“To get ready. Where else?” You yell back, slinking into your closet. So many options but none that you truly wanted to wear. You and Jaehyun had been together for over a year and you truly thought you were going to be with him forever, but he and his big dick apparently had other plans. Lisa was right, it had been over a month and you really did need to get out and stop sulking around the house. It wasn't doing you any good.

“Wear something sexy!” Lisa yells from the living room. You groan as you move over to your section of sexy dresses, deciding to go with a black one that hugged you just right, while also showing off the perfect amount of skin. You weren't planning to hook up with anyone tonight, but free drinks were always welcome. You quickly applied some light makeup before grabbing your shoes, leaving your hair alone to do its thing.

“Wow!” Lisa exclaims. “You look even hotter than usual.” She grins.

“Yeah, yeah. Let's go.” You chuckle, pulling her out of the house. Once the two of you arrived at the club, you were already ready to go home. You looked around the dance floor and it was filled with people. The place was absolutely packed. You and Lisa weave through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. Lisa orders a bunch of shots for the two of you, sliding four in front of you. She picks up one shot, grinning at you. “Bottoms up!” She yells. You clink your glasses together, downing the shot quickly. The liquor burns the back of your throat on the way down, but it's so good. You can already feel your buzz starting to kick in after your third shot, and then your fourth, you were ready to dance. You pull Lisa to the dance floor, the two of you dancing together, swaying your hips to the beat. You can feel the bass thumping through the floor as you let the alcohol take over your body. It was such a freeing feeling for you.

Lisa smiles at you as you feel a pair of hands slide onto your hips. “Mind if I dance with you?” Someone whispers in your ear. You turn your head, seeing one of the most handsomest men you have ever seen in your life. His dark brown hair, his brown eyes, his dazzling smile. You were hooked on him immediately and you didn't even know his name.

“I'd love that.” You say back, he moves his body closer to yours, pressing his crotch against your ass. He wraps his arms around you, the both of you moving perfectly to the music, it was like your bodies connected like a puzzle. You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck, he smiles at you, leaning in close to you, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Do you know who I am?” He whispers, pulling back so you can see his face again.

“Should I?” You ask, with a slight laugh.

“Nope.” He grins. “Wanna get a drink?”

You nod your head and he grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd of people. You look back seeing Lisa dancing with another guy, cheering you on. You felt so giddy as he sat beside you at the bar, his hand resting on your exposed thigh. He was so handsome, you were sure he had to be a movie star or something.

‘What would you like to drink?” He asks.

“Two shots of tequila, please!” You smile. He looks at the bartender, holding up four fingers. “Four shots of tequila.” He yells. The bartender nods his head, beginning to pour your shots.

“What's your name?” He asks you, his hand still resting on your thigh.

“Y/N.” You smile. “What's your name?” You ask.

“You really don't know?” He laughs. You shake your head. “I really don't.”

“Han Jisung.” He says, looking at you with one eyebrow raised, like he's waiting for something to click.

“It's nice to meet you, Han Jisung.” You giggle, leaning in a little closer.

“You can call me Han. Or Jisung. Whatever.” He says, also leaning in a little closer. Your eyes are locked to each other.

“Okay, Han.” You partially whisper, your eyes locked with his.

“Okay, Y/N.” He replies. The bartender sets the shots directly in front of you, but you just can't seem to tear your eyes away from his. You wanted him so fucking badly.

“You guys gonna take these shots?” The bartender asks.

You both come out of your almost spell, smiling at each other, you both grab a glass, clinking them together before taking your shot, and same with the last one. You set down your glass, Han stares at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks. Excitement fires up in your stomach as you eagerly nod your head. Han holds his hand out for yours. You grab onto it, searching for Lisa. You find her dancing but watching you. You mouth to her your leaving, she sends you two thumbs up before Han whisks you away and out of the club. He pulls you onto the sidewalk, it's dark, barely anyone else is out there. He pulls you in closely, his hand caressing your cheek as he leans in. He gently presses his lips to yours, making the kiss slow, passionate and meaningful. But you want more. You slip your tongue into his mouth, he welcomes the harshness of your lips against his. His hand moves to the back of your head, yanking a clump of hair, making you moan into his mouth.

You're so fucking horny, you needed him now. Han pulls away from you, catching his breath. “My hotel is 3 blocks away.” He points in the direction.

“Let's go.” You smile. Hand in hand the two of you quickly make your way to his hotel. You just knew this was going to be a night you were going to remember. The two of you scurry into the lobby of the hotel, sneaking past the front desk heading towards the elevator. Han presses the button and you both stand there in silence waiting for it to come down. Your body is jittery and needy as you wait, you just wanted him to rip your dress right off of you and do whatever he wanted. You let out a sigh of relief as the elevator doors open up, Han pulls you inside quickly pressing the 15th floor, urging the doors to close. When they do, he turns and smiles at you. It feels like the elevator is spinning but before you know it, you're being pulled towards his room. He puts his key against the lock, automatically unlocking the door. He pulls you inside, locking the deadbolt and top lock.

“You think someone is gonna break in?” You giggle as he turns back around to you.

“I just don't want to be interrupted.” He smiles, walking up to you. You back up, falling back onto the bed. You move yourself up further onto the bed.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks. You nod your head. “IUD.” You whisper.

“Good.” He smiles.

Han crawls on the bed, lifting up your dress. You help him, taking it off, tossing it to the floor. He slowly pulls your panties from your body, dropping them wherever. You help him out by discarding your bra, exposing your breasts. Han spreads your legs, memorizing every curve and crevice of your body. He licks his lips and smiles as he moves towards your open legs, your pussy already dripping wet. He lowers his head slowly, spreading your lips open with his fingers before licking a slow strip up your clit. He moves his tongue slightly, letting the tip give your clit a few small kitten licks. Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping it as you let out a loud moan.

“Fuck" you cry. It’s been too long since you’ve had a tongue down there.

He begins to move faster, your hips circling with his tongue, your body urging you to get off. You can't help but to grind yourself into his face.

“Shit that feels so fucking good" you cry. Han picks up his pace, moving his tongue in every direction, your orgasm building fast.

“Please don’t stop. Just like that” you scream. "Don't stop. Oh god."

Your breath hitches as his hands grip your thighs, fingers digging in as he steadies himself in-between your legs.

“I’m.. I’m gonna cum" you cry, your hands moving from his hair to the bed sheets, gripping them so tightly your knuckles turning white. You move your hips faster, needing your orgasm to take you over now. A few more licks from Han's delightful tongue and your orgasm rushed through your entire body. Han moves from between your legs, but you don’t move. You can't. You lay there attempting to catch your breath as your chest heaves up and down, no words or thoughts forming.

You barely manage to open your eyes enough to make eye contact with Han. He smiles at the sight of you. You watch him lick his lips, lapping up any of your excess fluids. “Do you need a few minutes or can I fuck you now?” He asks, a slight eagerness in his voice.

“Fuck me” you breathe.

You maintain eye contact as he strips his shirt off, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him. You feel yourself almost ready to drool, after Han takes off his pants and boxers, allowing his large, thick and veiny cock to spring free.

Han smirks as he looks down at his very erect cock before looking back at you. “It's not going to suck itself.” He says.

A wide grin appears on your face as you sit up and crawl towards him. You slide off the bed and directly onto your knees and open your mouth up widely, taking in as much of him as you could. He begins starting slowly, gently thrusting himself in and out of your mouth. With every pump, his thrusts become harder and faster as he snaps his hips harshly. Tears begin forming in your eyes as he rams his cock down your throat.

Almost as quickly as he began, he pulls himself out of your mouth, stumbling back while catching his breath.

"I can't cum yet." He says, pulling you up off the floor before pushing you back on the bed. He quickly grabs a condom, rolling it on his cock.

He spreads your legs before lining himself up with your entrance. Slowly he pushes his large cock inside you, stretching your walls. He gives you almost no time to adjust, as he begins slowly pumping in and out of you.

His thrusts are slow but powerful, making you shiver every time he thrusts himself in, hitting your G spot without a problem. Without a word, his pumps quicken as he consistently rams himself into your dripping pussy, fucking you harder.

Han places his hand in-between your legs, spreading your lips to place his thumb on the exact spot you needed it. He begins rubbing you as he continues to fuck you. After a few more thrusts and quick circles from his thumb, a quick and sudden orgasm washes over you, pulsating through your body, leaving you breathless.

Han slams himself into you, and a few hard, and fast thrusts later he cums into the condom. After milking himself dry, he half collapses on top of you, as you both try to catch your breath. He rolls off of you, offering the shower for you to go and clean yourself up. You happily take the offer, enjoying the large shower and different soaps.

“Come lay down.” Han says, patting the spot beside him. He tosses you a shirt to put on before you crawl into bed with him, and you both quickly doze off with his arm draped over you.

When you woke up, you glanced at the clock, 4:53 in the morning. You roll out of the bed, quietly grabbing your belongings as Han lays in bed, peacefully sleeping, sprawled out on the bed. You walk over to the desk, writing a small note, thanking him for an amazing night, and apologizing for having to leave before he wakes up. You quickly slip on your underwear, take off the shirt he gave you, and put your dress on instead. You're holding your shoes as you sneak out of the room, rushing down the hallway towards the elevator. You felt like a woman of the night, sneaking out of a hotel room in the early hours of the morning. But you didn't get any form of payment so technically, you weren't. The judgment you could feel from the front desk workers said otherwise though.

You walk out of the hotel, waving down a cab. You get in, telling him your address to head home. You had an amazing night, but the only thing you regret about the entire thing is that you didn't leave him your number, but if it's meant to be then you both would find your way back to each other. You arrived home, paying your fare and heading into your building. You go straight into the shower, scrubbing your body, washing your hair until you finally feel clean. You dry yourself off, slipping into your pj's before crawling into your bed, drifting off to sleep very easily.

Later on in the day, you wake up, unfortunately. You really wanted to sleep longer but you glanced at your phone, seeing it was already 1pm, and you had about a million messages from Lisa. You opened up your chat, seeing her asking about your night and begging you to tell her if you hooked up with the man from the club or not. She was so desperate for you to get over Jaehyun and get under someone else. You knew she was going to be proud of you for actually doing it. You pressed the call button, and you swore the phone didn't even ring before she answered it.

“What happened!?” She yells. “Did you hook up? Please tell me you hooked up with him.” She gasps.

“Jesus, hello to you too.” You chuckle. “Yes we hooked up.” You say, thankful she can't see the large smile on your face.

“Yes! You slut! I love it!” She screams. “Let's go for lunch.” She suggests.

“I'm so nauseous.” You laugh. “Too much tequila.”

“We need tacos.” She says.

“Oh fuck, yes. Let's meet at Las Palapas.” You say.

“See you there in 30 minutes.” She screeches, hanging up the phone. You groaned loudly. Why did you suggest that? You just wanted to lay in bed and die, but instead you got up and headed to your closet, putting on leggings and a shirt, throwing your hair up and slipping on some tennis shoes. You grab your bag, breathing through your nausea as you head out to meet Lisa.

The tacos and margaritas definitely helped your hangover, you felt better as you and Lisa headed back to your apartment. She was trying to convince you to go out again that night and you weren't sure if you were gonna be up for it.

“You said you wanted to run into him again! What if you do tonight?” She squeals.

“I don't think I can.” You laugh. “I need to go to bed. I feel like a bag of shit.” You groan.

“Okay okay. I get it. Let's go watch some movies and eat some treats? Mhm?” She grins.

“That's perfect.” You say, linking your arms with hers as you head back to your apartment with your best friend.

**

A few months later, you're sitting in your bathroom, your entire body shaking as you wait. You look at the timer on your phone, 30 seconds left. You had been so nauseous for months, cramping, tender breasts. You didn't get your period anymore with your IUD, but you and Han had used a condom as well, there's no way you could be… right? Your phone beeps, telling you the 3 minutes is up. You pick up the small stick, turning it over. Tears instantly fall down your cheeks as you see the two lines, clear as day on the test.

“How am I pregnant?” You cry, setting the test back on the counter. You drop your head into your hands, sobbing. How the fuck were you supposed to get into contact with Han to let him know? You grab your phone, still sobbing as you scroll through your contacts, looking for Lisa's number. Your brain was scrambled, you could barely think. You scroll down, seeing a name you recognized but didn't know you had in your phone.

“Han Jisung.” You whisper. You click on the contact, placing the phone up to your ear.

“Hey there stranger.” He laughs, answering the phone. “It's been months. Didn't you know I put my number in your phone?” He asks.

You sniffle. “Han.” You cry.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He asks.

“I'm-I'm pregnant.” You whisper.

The call is silent. Han doesn't say anything. “Are you there?” You ask.

“We used a condom. You said you had an IUD.” He partially yells. “Or did you lie to me?” He asks.

“I didn't lie to you.” You say. “I do have an IUD. I don't know how this happened.” You cry.

“Do you even know who I am? This will ruin my fucking life and my goddamn reputation!” He yells. “Fuck!”

“It's not my fault! Maybe your condom was faulty!” You snap back.

“Yeah well we'll get this shit taken care of.” He snaps, hanging up the phone. You sit there still crying and now shaking even harder. What did he mean about his reputation? You click on Google on your phone, searching his name.

“Han Jisung… member of popular k-pop group Stray Kids…” You murmur. “Oh fuck. He's really fucking famous.” You gasp.

What the hell were you gonna do?

You waited for days. You waited for something, anything really from Han. But nothing came. Until the fourth day, when you had a knock at your door. You open it, and the man standing there, shoves an envelope at you before walking away. He said absolutely nothing to you.

You closed the door, walking to your kitchen table to open it. Pulling out a letter practically demanding you to come to Korea to have your IUD safely removed, while also having a DNA test done on your unborn child. You emptied the rest of the contents, dropping a one way plane ticket onto the table.

One that left tomorrow. You truly did not have much time to make your decision but you absolutely wanted to prove to Han and his agency that he was the father of your child. You hadn't been with anyone else since Jaehyun and that timeline just doesn't fit.

You left the papers down on the table, heading to your bedroom. You went into your closet, pulling out your suitcase, packing anything and everything you could think of that you'd need. You didn't know how long you would be there but you were going to make damn sure that Han was present for everything for his child.

“I'm gonna miss you.” Lisa sighs, hugging you tightly. “If you need anything and I mean anything, call me. And I'll be on the first flight there.” She finishes, pulling away from you.

“Thank you. I'll keep you updated on the shit show that is my life.” You sigh, grabbing your luggage and passport, heading into the airport. You sit in your assigned seat, anxiously waiting for the plane to take off. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as it begins to move. It's only a 9 hour flight. You could do this. You got this.

And you did. You slept almost the entire flight except when it was time to eat. You ate your meals and snacks before dozing back off again. The flight definitely didn't feel like 9 hours, it really only felt like a quick few hour flight and before you knew it the plane touched down in Korea, and you were ready to prove you weren't lying about anything.

Once you were off the plane, You grabbed your checked bag and headed out towards the doors of the airport. You almost missed him, the man standing, smiling holding up a sign with your name on it.

“Hi.” You smile. He nods to you, reaching for your luggage, taking it from you while motioning you to follow him. You do, looking around at the beautiful building, and all the gorgeous people who surrounded you. The man leads you to a car, opening the door for you before he puts your luggage in the trunk and then gets into the driver's seat, taking you away from the airport and hopefully to a hotel, where you could shower and rest before getting into it with everyone. But apparently that was wishful thinking.

The driver pulls up outside of a hospital. You knew it. They wanted to try and prove you were lying immediately. Jokes on them though. You take a deep breath, walking inside the building and immediately you're swarmed by 3 or 4 nurses, dragging you towards the elevator, everyone talking at once so you can't understand anything that's being said. Once you're in the elevator, you're taken up to the 4th floor. The nurses get out of the elevator, making space for a man to walk to you. You step off the elevator, he extends his hand for you to shake.

“Hi Y/N.” A man says. “Welcome.”

“Are you… JYP?” You ask.

“I'm not. I'm his assistant, Joshua.” He says. “And I want to apologize on behalf of JYP for this. It may seem unnecessary to you but this cannot get out. It's important we have all the correct information to be able to spin it properly.” He says. He brings you to a hospital room, guiding you inside. “Please, change into this gown and the doctors will get started soon.”

You do as you're told, wandering into the bathroom to get changed. You come out, placing your clothes on a chair before climbing into the bed.

“Where's Han?” You ask, just as Joshua was leaving the room.

“Han will be involved if the paternity comes back as his child.” He says, getting on the elevator.

“Hi, Y/N. I'm doctor Kim. I'll be removing the IUD for you and Dr. Lee will be doing the paternity testing.”

A nurse comes over, beginning an IV in your arm. “What is this?” You ask.

“Just something to help keep you calm.” Dr. Kim smiles through his mask. “Don't worry, the baby will be perfectly safe.”

The nurse hooks you up to the machines, you can feel the drugs beginning to help. You're relaxed and feeling so good. You barely feel Dr. Kim doing what he needs to do, you actually doze off for a minute while he works on you. When he's finished, your body feels weird but before you can ask him anything about it, another doctor walks in, sith a large thin needle.

“Hello, Y/N. I'm Dr. Lee.” He smiles.

“What is that?” You ask, feeling a little anxious about the big needle.

“This is for paternity testing. What I'm going to do is insert this needle into your abdomen, and take out some amniotic fluid, for the testing. We've already collected Han’s sample to compare it. So we'll have your results in a few hours.” He explains.

You nod your head, closing your eyes tightly. “You're going to feel a little poke.” He murmurs, inserting the needle into your stomach. You gasp loudly, wanting, no, needing it to be over quickly. Seconds later he pulls the needle out of your stomach, leaving the room with your sample. You lay there, breathing. In a few hours, they would all find out the truth and you couldn't wait. Your eyes begin to get heavy. It had been a long and stressful day,especially with the time difference. It didn't take you long to doze off, peacefully. Unfortunately you only got to sleep for a few hours before the doctors came back into your room.

“We have some news.” Dr. Kim begins. “While taking out the IUD was successful, there seems to have been a few complications. Which means you'll need to be on bed rest.” He explains.

“For how long?” You whisper.

“At least 2 months. Maybe three.” He announces.

“I'm here alone! I don't know, like, anyone! How am I supposed to be on bed rest here?” You cry. “Just let me fly home and I'll be on bed rest, I promise.” You say.

“You can't fly, Y/N.” Dr. Kim states. “Complete bed rest. Only getting up to use the bathroom. That's it.”

“Will it be here?” You ask, nervously.

“No.” Joshua says, stepping into the room. “You'll be moved to Han's dorm, with his band mates.” He says.

“Does this mean…” You trail off.

“Han is the father, yes.” Joshua sighs. You could see it in his eyes that he hated the fact that it came back that Han is the father.

“A nurse will be coming by with a wheelchair shortly.” He murmurs, looking down at his phone. “I have to take this. But I'll be waiting downstairs for you.” He finishes walking away.

You breathe a sigh of relief. There. Now he would know that you weren't lying. This really was his child. You knew he was likely scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified. But you were going to figure it out because that's what you do. A few minutes later, a smiling nurse walks into your room, pushing a wheelchair. “Let's get you dressed and then you can be on your way.” She says, helping you off the bed and into the bathroom. You were very slow moving, your body was sore, you felt weak. You really just wanted to sleep. You were nervous to go to Han's dorm. He reacted poorly to the news of your pregnancy, but you hoped that now that he's had time to process the information, he would be more excited.

Joshua stands beside a car as the nurse wheels you up to him. You slowly get up, sliding into the back seat of the car as Joshua gets into the front to drive.

“What about my suitcase?” You ask, remembering the man who picked you up from the airport only hours ago.

“It's already at the dorm.” Joshua replies, his eyes staying on the road. You nod your head as you watch out the window, admiring the beautiful structures of the city, watching the people as he goes down each road. With every turn of the car, you got more nervous. Soon you'd be facing Han and you honestly had no idea what you were going to say to him.

Joshua stops the car in front of a building, coming around the side to open your door and help you out of the car. “Come on, you heard what the doctor said. You have to stay in bed.” He says, helping you up the stairs to the door. He opens the door, revealing seven men sitting in the living room talking. As soon as you walk in, the entire room goes silent. They all sit and stare at you, until one of them gets up, a large smile on his face.

“You must be Y/N.” He grins, pulling you in for a hug. “I'm Chan. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask.” He says.

“Yeah, yeah, we can do this later. She needs to be in bed.” Joshua grumbles, guiding you to a room. He opens the door, revealing a very plain room with a queen size bed in the middle. Your suitcase was emptied and put away, all your clothes either hung up in the closet or were put away in the drawers. Luckily you were still wearing comfy clothes, and had absolutely no ambition to change, so you crawled into bed, getting cozy under the blankets.

“I've left my number on your bedside table should you need anything. Or any of the boys know how to reach me. Don't hesitate to call.” He says, giving you a half smile before leaving the room.

You roll over facing the wall. You close your eyes, but before you can fall asleep the door creaks open. You turn your head to look and see Han standing there.

“Han.” You whisper, sitting up the best you can.

“Don't.” He harshly snaps. “I know you fucking planned this. You knew who I was didn't you? You're just some low class whore looking for a payday, huh?” He spits.

“I didn't know who you were!” You yell. You can feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You didn't want to cry. Not in front of him. “I swear to god, I didn't plan this.”

“Yeah, we'll see about that. I don't want this kid, so tomorrow I'll have someone take you to the clinic and get it taken care of. Then you can go back home and we can fucking forget about it all.” He says.

“What?” You gasp. “No, absolutely not. I'm not getting rid of our baby.” You whisper.

“Don't. Don't say our baby. It's not ours if I don't want it. 9am, tomorrow.” He says, walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him. You weren't sure how, but you were going to protect your child, no matter what.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You didn't want the next day to come. You didn't want Han to barge into the room demanding that you go to a clinic. So the next morning when there was a faint knock at your door, your stomach dropped and anxiety flowed through your entire body. The door opens, and Chan's head peeks around the corner.

“Hi.” He smiles. “Han has a schedule today, so he's not here. He said you wanted to go to the clinic today and asked me to take you.” He whispers.

You sit up in bed, shaking your head. “He wants me to go to the clinic today.” You say. “I don't want to.”

“He wants you to… get…” he trails off. You nod your head, crying again.

“I know you don't know me, but I know Han.” He says, walking into the room. “He's scared. He's terrified about what this means for the group and him as an artist. If it gets out it has the potential to ruin him. And I know he's not handling it very well. But if you need anything. One of us will always be home. Please just yell out if you need anything. Okay?” He says.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Chan leaves the room, and you curl back up in bed, feeling a little more relieved, and like someone finally has your back. A little bit later, you decide to get up and go to the bathroom. The only problem is, you weren't sure where the bathroom was. You were sure it wouldn't be an issue for you to get up and wander around to find the bathroom. You really need to stretch your legs, have a shower, and also eat something. You crawled out of bed, shuffling your feet to the dresser to grab some new clothes before heading to the door. You opened it a crack, peering out to see if anyone was there. But there was no one. You go into the hallway, walking slowly and carefully, looking in each door. All bedrooms.

“What are you doing?” You hear from behind you. You jump at the sound of the voice, turning around.

“I was just looking for the bathroom.” You whisper to the unknown man.

“Oh.” He smiles. “It's this way.” He says, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Thank you.” You say, walking towards him.

“I'm Changbin. It's nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiles.

“It's nice to meet you too. Thank you for your help.” You say.

“It's not a problem. Let me know if you need anything else.” He says, walking away. You walk into the bathroom, placing your clothes on the counter before you start the shower.

Once you were done, you felt so much better. You dried yourself off, got dressed and placed your clothes back into your room before heading towards where you thought the kitchen was.

You see Changbin again with another man, who looks at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing up? Bed rest means bed rest!” The man says, scolding you.

“I'm hungry.” You say. You felt embarrassed, even though you shouldn't. You couldn't help it.

“Here, on the couch. We'll order or make you something.” He says. “I'm Jeongin by the way.”

“Thank you.” You smile, settling down on the couch. Jeongin hands you the remote before heading back to the kitchen with Changbin. As you scrolled through shows you could hear them whispering about neither of them knowing how to cook.

“Let's just order her something.” Jeongin says. Changbin agrees.

You pick a show, settling in on the couch. 20 minutes later there's a knock at the door. Changbin rushes towards the door, answering it, grabbing a large bag of food from the delivery driver before paying him. He sets it down on the coffee table in front of you, grinning widely.

“Let's eat!” He exclaims as Jeongin comes to sit on the couch as well. The three of you eat your food, laughing at the TV show while enjoying your delicious food. You had almost forgotten about what Han had wanted you to do this morning. A few hours later the front door opens, and Han walks in.

He looks at you, Jeongin and Changbin hanging out and immediately looks displeased. “The fuck is going on?” He asks.

“We were just hanging out with her. She needed to eat.” Changbin says, shrugging her shoulders.b

“Did you do what I told you to do today?” Han asks you.

“No.” You whisper.

“What the fuck, Y/N!” He snaps. “I asked you to do one thing! And this one thing would take care of the whole fucking situation you got us into!” Han spits.

“Han…” Jeongin says. He ignores him.

“Last time I checked, it takes two to make a fucking baby.” You snap back. “I'm sorry you don't want it. I'm sorry that you think I'm purposefully trying to ruin your life, and I'm sorry that I had to come all the way here for this shit. Believe me I tried to get the doctors to let me go back home so I wouldn't be a burden to you but I can't. I'm stuck here, where I'm clearly unwanted, with a baby that's unwanted by its father. You don't think that's hard on me?” You scream.

Hans' face drops. He stares at the floor for a second before his hateful look is back. “Whatever. Just stay out of my way. You guys can look after her then.” He says, storming out of the living room.

The hormones are too strong. You begin to sob on the couch, and it was awkward. Changbin and Jeongin didn't know what to do. They look at each other, worried. Until the front door opens again, in walking more people you didn't recognize and Chan.

“Why's she crying?” Chan asks. “What happened?”

“Han happened.” Changbin sighs. “He's really fucking mean.”

“Y/N.” Chan sighs. “Don't listen to him.”

“Yeah, don't listen to him. He's an idiot.” Another one says. “I'm Felix. This is Hyunjin, Seungmin and Minho.” He says, introducing the rest of them.

You wipe away your tears, trying to force a smile, waving to them all.

“I know what we need.” Felix pipes up again. He looks at Changbin and smiles.

“Movie night.” They both speak at the same time. Seconds later everyone is rushing around, a few leaving to go get snacks, others debating on which movie to watch. They made you feel so included, asking you what movie you wanted, what snacks you wanted. They included you in conversations, even if you had no idea what they were talking about. They were all so fun and kind, and you were starting to feel better about the entire situation.

Everyday you were feeling better and better about where you were and who you were with. At least when Han wasn't around. One day Chan showed up at the dorm with a pen and a journal, to help you let out your anger and frustrations, especially since you couldn't do anything else. Over the next two months, your stomach grew, the baby started kicking and all the boys were so excited. Always touching your stomach to feel the kicks, they waited on you all the time, getting you whatever craving you were feeling that day. They were like the big brothers you never had but always wanted. You were happy, until Han came back home. And sometimes you were alone in the dorm when he was back and he was cold towards you, and if he spoke to you he was hurtful and rude.

Until one day he stopped saying mean things to you and he began being nicer. Everyday he came back home and smiled at you. He started helping you, even if you had asked one of the others to do it. He was present and different. It was like something suddenly changed. Han walked into the dorm, 3 months after you'd been there on bed rest, and he smiled at you. Like he had for the last few weeks and it was as gorgeous as ever.

“How um, how are you feeling?” He asks.

“I'm feeling okay.” You murmur.

“That's good. Oh, uh Joshua wanted me to let you know that you have an ultrasound next week. He said you can find out the sex of the baby.” He tells you.

You perk up. “Really? Oh I've been waiting for that.” You smile.

“Would I…be able to come?” He asks. “I'd like to find out too.”

“I thought you didn't want the baby.” You say. It still hurts to think about that. The fact that he so desperately wanted nothing to do with you or your child.

“I didn't… to be completely honest with you, I'm so fucking scared. I'm scared of what this means for me…for the group. I'm scared of everything. But I've been listening to the guys over the last few weeks, talking about you and the baby, gushing about what it's going to be like to have a baby at the dorm and how excited they are. So I started doing some research… and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I'm sorry for the way I handled everything. Being scared isn't an excuse, I'm sure you're scared but I didn't think about you or how my actions and words affected you.” He says.

You want to believe him. You wanted things to be okay between the two of you but how could you? He'd been so nasty towards you and suddenly he comes back home apologizing and wanting to be involved? That scared you. What happens if he gets scared again and turns back into the nasty man he had been before?

“Is that why you've been so nice lately?” You ask. He nods his head. “I appreciate you saying that. I'm terrified and this hasn't been easy. But if you want to be involved, I need to know you're in it for the long haul. And you're not gonna switch up on me.” You say.

“I am. Totally and 100% I am in it. I won't go back.” He urges.

“And it's gonna take time.” You tell him.

“Whatever it takes.” He smiles.

The next week, Han is helping you down the stairs of the dorm, heading to the car for your appointment. He opens the car door for you, before rushing around to the other side to sit next to you in the back. You both buckle in as the driver takes off to the clinic.

“What do you think it'll be?” You ask Han as you lay on the bed waiting for the tech.

“Honestly I think it's gonna be a girl.” He laughs.

“So do I!” You say. “A healthy baby is the goal.”

“Absolutely.” Han smiles. “I promise you, Y/N. I'm gonna love that baby with everything I have.”

The technician walks into the room, greeting you both before getting to work. After taking all the necessary pictures, she looks at the two of you. “Would you like to know the gender?” She asks.

“Yes!” You both say.

“Okay.” She giggles. “Well… it looks like you're having a healthy little…. Girl! Congratulations.” She says.

“A girl.” You whisper. You look up at Han with tears in your eyes.

“A healthy baby girl.” He responds, placing a kiss on your forehead.

A little while later the two of you head back inside the dorm. Han helps you up the stairs, helping to guide you into the dorm, where six men stand around, eagerly anticipating the news.

“What is it!?” Jeongin yells.

“What are we having!?” Changbin asks, making you and Han laugh.

“We are proud to announce…” You pause, glancing over at Han.

“We're having a healthy baby… girl!” Han yells. The living room erupts into cheers as they all rush towards the two of you, congratulating you both. Everyone was so happy, until Chan rushed into the dorm. You turn to tell him the good news but he looks worried.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“We've got a problem.” He sighs. “Somehow the news broke about Han becoming a dad. It's everywhere online. There's even pictures of the two of you.” He says, showing you both his phone. You see pictures of Han helping you to the car, your hand resting on your belly. Pictures of you both walking into the clinic, and walking out happy and excited.

“Who would do this?” You gasp.

“You'd be surprised how crazy fans get over their favs.” Felix mentions.

“What do we do?” You say, looking between Chan and Han.

Han looks at you and smiles. “It'll all be okay. I promise.” He says, squeezing your hand. You wanted to believe him, but you weren't sure if he even believed it.

Over the next few weeks, everything had gone downhill. Han was gone so much trying to figure out who leaked the story and how to handle everything. While you spent your days reading the comments online.

“What an ugly fucking bitch. How dare she trap hannie!”

“She must have drugged him! There's no way he'd willingly sleep with her.”

“She's totally just using him for his money. I bet the baby isn't even his!”

“If I see her out, I'll kill her myself!”

You spent your days crying over all the mean comments you kept receiving. You didn't know these people, how could they make such vile comments about you? They didn't know what really happened, not that they'd believe you anyways. Han constantly told you everyday to stay off the internet and not to read the comments. But you couldn't help it. You had never done anything to anyone, you couldn't wrap your head around what they were saying about you.

“Oh baby.” Han murmurs, walking into his room. He sees you sitting on his bed, tears in your eyes as you read the multiple death threats from the same person that managed to find your Instagram.

“This person wants me to die so badly.” You whimper.

“No baby, no. You can't be reading this stuff. Those people aren't fans. They're just people who can't be happy if we're happy.” He sighs.

“Are you happy?” You ask.

“Unbelievably happy. I promise you.” He smiles. “The reason I came in here was because I have good news.” He says, helping you and your belly out of the bed.

“What is it?” You sniffle.

“You are officially off bed rest!” He yells.

“Oh my god. Really!?” You exclaim. “Finally!” You were so happy, you were going fucking crazy being stuck in bed or on the couch for the last few months.

“So to celebrate, I thought we could go do some baby shopping?” He smiles. “We need a lot. And I didn't want to go get anything without you.”

“You're so sweet.” You pout. “Yes please! Let's go!” You say, ready to waddle out of the room. Han helps you slip on your comfiest shoes, before taking your hand in his, leading you out to the car.

The two of you head into the first store, where you pick out a crib, and a car seat. You walk down the street hand in hand, looking in the windows of other stores, cooing at the adorable baby girl clothes that were on display.

“Oh shoot.” Han says, feeling around his pants pocket. “I left something in the car. Stay here.” He smiles, placing a kiss on your lips. “I'll be right back.” You watch him run back down the street, not terribly far from where you were.

“It's you.” You hear from behind you. “The one who stole my man.” You turn around seeing a disgruntled woman standing in front of you.

“What?” You ask. Trying to wrap your brain around what was happening. But she gave you no time.

“He's mine!” She screams, lunging towards you. You feel a sharp, piercing pain in your stomach. Your mouth hangs open as you look down. She plunges the knife deeper into your stomach. You gasp for air as she twists it. You can hear Han screaming for you. He runs towards you, and the lady rips the knife out of your stomach, dropping it before taking off. You immediately collapse to the ground, blood spilling from your stomach, and seeping from your mouth.

“Y/N. Baby… breathe. Stay with me.” He begs. “Someone call an ambulance! Please!” He cries. “Someone help me! Please help me!” He screams, putting pressure on your wound.

It didn't take long for the ambulance to show up. They worked quickly as a bloody Han stood back, in shock. “We're losing her!” The paramedic yells. They swiftly put you in the back of the ambulance, Han climbing in after you. He holds your hand as they work on you.

“Please.” He cries. “Please save them… please don't let them die.”

“Sir. You need to wait in the waiting room.” The nurse urges him, as he tries to follow you into the emergency room. He stumbles back as he watches them roll you back and out of sight. He pulls out his phone, his hands covered in your almost dried blood. He dials the one number he knew would be able to get them all here.

“Chan.” He cries.

“Did you do the proposal? Did she say yes?” Chan asks.

Han had completely forgotten about the ring box that bulged out of his pocket now. Had he not forgotten it in the car, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Or had he brought you to the car with him, maybe you'd be wearing it right now. But he had a plan. He wanted it to be perfect and he hadn't wanted you to see what he was grabbing from the car.

“She… she was stabbed.” Han sobs. “T-They took her back… I don't know if she's alive. I don't know if my baby is alive.” He whispers.

“We're on our way.” Chan yells, hanging up the phone.

Only minutes later, seven men rush into the hospital, surrounding Han, who is sitting with his head in his hand, sobbing.

“What the fuck happened?” Changbin asks, sitting next to Han, putting his hand on his back.

“I forgot… the ring in the car. I ran back to go get it.” He sniffles. “She was waiting for me… I grabbed the box and looked back at her and someone stabbed her in the stomach.” He weeps.

They're all silent. No one knows what to say. They all know nothing they can say will make anything about this situation better. So they all sat in silence, just being there for him. Whatever he needed.

It took hours. Hours for someone to come and talk to Han to let him know what was going on.

“L/N Y/N.” The doctor yells. Han stands up, rushing to the doctor.

“Yes, how is she? How's my baby? Can I see them?” He asks.

The doctor takes his scrub cap off, looking down. “We took her into surgery. It was touch and go for a while. We delivered the baby… but there was nothing we could do. I'm so sorry.” He whispers.

Han drops to his knees, sobbing. “Please..what about Y/N.”

“There's a lot of internal damage. She's in a medically induced coma. We're not sure how it's going to play out. There's a 50/50 chance she'll survive.” The doctor says. “You can see her, if you want.” He says.

Han stands up, silently following the doctor to your room. He stands in the doorway, taking it all in. You're hooked up to every machine possible, one that's helping you breathe, one that's keeping track of your heart. He was dreading the day he had to tell you that your precious baby passed away. He walks into the room, sitting in the chair beside your bed. He grabs your hand crying as he squeezes it.

“Please be okay. Baby I need you to be okay. I can't lose you both… I love you Y/N. I love you, I need you to wake up. Please.” He sobs.

Everyday for weeks, Han sits in your room, waiting, praying and hoping that you'll wake up. And everyday, nothing changes, the doctors don't have answers. No one has any answers and it was driving him crazy.

“Okay baby, I'm just gonna go home and shower. It's been a while. Please wake up. Wake up for me, okay?” He says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

A little later, Han gets out of the shower, heading into his room where your stuff stayed. Your clothes still hung in his closet, your things still scattered around the room. He sat on his bed, grabbing the pillow you always used. It still smelt like you. He holds it tightly, glancing over at where it is usually placed. He sees a notebook laying there. He knew he shouldn't, but he needed to. He grabbed the book, the first half he skipped. He couldn't bear to read about how you felt when he was so mad at you and everyone. He knew he hurt you so deeply, but he could relive that right now.

He smiles as he reads what you wrote about how he suddenly changed. How he was being nice and attentive. How you were suspicious of his actions. It made him laugh, for the first time in weeks. You had every right to be suspicious of him, but he was glad you let him prove to you how serious he had been. He flips through a few more pages.

“Dear diary.” He reads. “I can't stop thinking about the future. Han is going to be the best dad. He is so excited for our little girl to come into the world and I can't wait to watch him with a mini version of him and I. I'm so in love with him, I don't know what to do. I want to tell him, but I can't be the first one. Our little girl will be here in a few weeks and I'm so scared. But I know everything will be okay as long as he's by my side. I can't wait to see what the future brings for me and my little family. I've never been so happy in my entire life. Everything feels complete.” He reads. He can't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

Before he can read more, his phone rings. He sets down your diary, and picks up his phone from on the bed.

“Hello?” He sniffles.

“Han Jisung?” The person on the other line asks.

“This is he.” He answers.

“This is nurse Song from the hospital. I'm so sorry to do this over the phone…” She begins.

“No.” He whispers. “Please… please don't.”

“Y/N passed away this afternoon. Her body just wasn't strong enough to heal. We truly did everything we could to save her. I'm so very sorry for your loss.” She finishes.

Han drops his phone on the floor. His chest tightens, he feels like he can't breathe. But he's not scared. His head is dizzy, he feels unstable.

“Please let this be it.” He whispers, clutching his chest. It was getting harder to catch his breath as his chest tightened even more. “Please, take me to my girls.” He groans, falling to the floor. His eyes close as he welcomes the darkness, desperate to see the two he loved the most once again.

[torialefay]

jealous sex with hannnnnnn 🫶🏽 please?

Jealous Sex With Han ❌

dom!jisung x gn!reader

✨ synopsis: hannie doesn't handle it well when he sees you with another one of his members.

✨ warnings: degradation, use of "whore" and "slut", borderline toxic jisung, dub-con, MINORS DNI 🔞

• jisung had been side-eyeing you most of the night. he kept his jaw clenched and would barely make eye contact with you. every time you tried to go up and talk to him- nothing, he would just shoo you away.

• you couldn't wait for the concert to be over. surely he'd be in a better mood after getting all that dopamine release.

• but you were wrong.

• you had expected him to come back to the artist lounge with a smile, as hyper as he normally was. but tonight, he was anything BUT that.

• you tried to get his attention as he walked past, ignoring you completely.

• "jisung! what is the matter with you?!" you snapped.

• he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face you. his eyes grew big as he stared into your own, challenging you. "we're talking about it when we get to the hotel." you'd never seen him so serious or have so much conviction about something.

• all you could do was back away and try to avoid him as best you could.

-------

• once you'd arrived to the hotel, you could do nothing but try to get through the awkward silence.

• you were both unpacking your bags slowly, trying to ignore the tension in the room. after getting it most of the way done, you were fed up and couldn't take anymore.

• "hannie. seriously. what's the matter?" you asked, walking up behind him just next to the bed.

• he turned, sucking his cheeks in. obviously still frustrated.

• "did i say i was ready to talk about it?" he threw at you.

• "well... no..." you looked away.

• "then don't try to fucking push me right now, y/n! i'm trying so hard to..." he broke out into a frustrated smile as he ran his hands through his hair. "i'm trying so hard to be good right now, but fuck you're making it hard."

• "then let's talk about it," you said in a small voice.

• "let's talk about it? alright fine, let's fucking talk about it. what is the matter with you? you think i didn't see you with changbin? fucking letting him piggy back you around like he's some big tough guy? like your boyfriend couldn't do that for you? like be so fucking real right now, just because he's bigger than me, you think he's tougher than me huh?" he started moving his body towards you. you could see the aggression overtaking him.

• "you think he's tougher than me? you think he's more man than me HUH?" he was now borderline screaming in your face. it made you feel so small, yet... excited?

• "well i've got news for you sweetheart, he could never do to you what i can. he could never fuck you harder or make you scream louder than i can."

• you felt your breath hitch in your throat, starting to get nervous. but your mind couldn't help but wander to how hot he looked... how good he would feel.

• "pull your pants down and bend over the bed. now." he said, already pulling his sweats and underwear down to reveal his cock. you almost choked seeing how hard it was already.

• you knew now wasn't a time that you wanted to fight back. you'd never seen him in this state and you didn't want to find out what would happen if you didn't listen. you pulled both your underwear and jeans down all in one go and laid yourself on the bed so that you were bent over.

• "all that fucking ass is mine, you hear me?!" he yelled, landing a smack to one cheek. you let out a small whimper, but nothing more.

• "I SAID DO YOU HEAR ME?" another smack came down, turning you instantly bright red. it stung and you weren't used to it, but you tried your best to appease him.

• "yes," you mustered.

• "good," another smack. "now what you're gonna do," he said, lining himself up at your entrance. "is lay there and be a good little whore for me."

• all of a sudden, he thrusted inside of you. no warning, no warm up. nothing.

• you couldn't help but let out a small scream. with no time to adjust, he felt so big so quickly. it didn't feel bad, but it was an all new sensation.

• he gripped onto your hips harshly, digging in so you'd eventually get bruises by the end of it.

• "how do you like that, whore?" he yelled, starting to pound relentlessly into you. "is this what you wanted? to get some fucking dick?"

• he had picked up the pace to the point that you couldn't catch your breath. every time you tried to take a breath in, he pulled your hips down toward him, pounding into you and making you lose your breath. a small moan left you feeling defeated.

• you couldn't reply. there was no way you could get anything out. your mind fogged over, lost in the sensation.

• "aw, look at that. can't even take it. i thought you were a whore baby? you can't even take this?" he kept pounding and pounding. you almost couldn't resist the pleasure and pain you felt, trying to melt into him but still having to clench from his harshness.

• all of a sudden, he brought his thrusts to a slow and leaned his body down on top of yours. for a second you thought he may calm down and hug you from behind.

• but god, were you wrong.

• he crouched over to pull his chest into your back, close enough so he could whisper in your ear. "nobody can fuck you like i can. you'd do good to remember that."

• with that, he grabbed your hair in both hands and lifted up, pulling your head and chest with him. he started to thrust into you harder than he ever had. he was animalistic, throwing out groans as he went. he couldn't stop.

• he repositioned himself to hold your hair in one hand now so the other could make its way down to slap your ass.

• he loved the way you looked for him. back arched with your hair in his hand, choking your neck back. your ass bright red and hot for him. his little slut.

• it just made him want to go harder.

• "that's a good whore," he smiled and laughed maniacally.

• you couldn't help but let a few tears stream down from the lack of air and the overstimulation you were experiencing. jisung was relentless in his spanks and his thrusts. you didn't think you'd be able to handle it much longer.

• just as suddenly, he started to moan louder. he let out a loud growl as he hit your ass again, watching it bounce for him.

• this was the hardest he'd ever felt. he gripped your hair even tighter and arched you back further, almost bending you in half.

• "who do you belong to slut? i want you to fucking say it"

• you couldn't get anything out. your whole face was red and you couldn't get a breath out, let alone a word.

• "WHOSE GODDAMN SLUT ARE YOU?! YOU BETTER FUCKING GET IT OUT."

• you tried to scream it, but only air got past your vocal cords. you tried again, and finally the remnants of "yours" could be made out.

• "that's fucking right," he yelled, releasing your hair and sending you back onto the bed. you gasped for air, trying to escape the fuzziness in your head.

• he grabbed back onto your hips to give deep, hard thrusts. his breathing started getting shaky, so you knew he was close. you beared down onto him reflexively, trying to give your aching pussy what it needed.

• "ah fuckkkk-" he whined. he dug his hands into you, not letting up.

• you started to feel numb everywhere. he had officially fucked you out. you could feel him hitting the one exact spot that sent you into overdrive. over and over again. but there was nothing you could do.

• "fuck! feels so fucking good." his thrusts got quick, quick enough that you knew he was going to cum any second.

• "goddamn it my own fucking whore. too fucking good for me. you're never going to leave my sight again, you understand? FUCK. my fucking slut." he growled, sending one final hard thrust into you before he felt a release. you could feel him start to twitch inside of you.

• "aughhhhhhh," he moaned as he rode out his high, continuing inside of you until he couldn't anymore.

• once he was finally done, he leaned his head back to admire his handywork. how red you were.

• he gently rubbed your ass cheeks, massaging around the redness, before pulling on your hand to bring you back up.

• he didn't say anything, just planted a kiss to your forehead.

• he had a much softer tone now, definitely softer than 2 minutes ago.

• "i'm serious, don't go doing that with changbin anymore, okay? you're mine. they all need to respect that."