#I was really lucky last semester to have time to draw between work and university 😳

[watchmegetobsessed]

An Ocean Away - Harry Styles

Sequel to Tastes Like Strawberries 🍓 !

a/n: ahhh! thank you so much for the love you showed TLS! i already had more planned for the story, but all your comments motivated me to do this part 2! it’s an emotional one so brace yourselves! further in the chapter i placed the song that inspired the title and i listened to it while writing so i suggest you do the same!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 12.7k

masterlist

You walk down the familiar hallway texting back Eden that you are not spending the night at home again.

Eden: You really need to tell me about the dick that keeps you so busy these days.

Y/N: I never said a thing about any dick.

Eden: Oh please, you surely got yourself a rebound after Harry, you can’t tell me otherwise.

Y/N: Don’t you get a rebound when you broke up with someone? I was never together with Harry, so it doesn’t make sense.

Eden: You had a thing!! Okay, whatever. Keep your little secrets, I guess it’s fine…

Y/N: Love you!

Chuckling to yourself you put the phone away and stop at the door you know all too well, knocking two times before you open it and poke your head inside.

Harry is sitting at his desk, his reading glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he is vigorously scribbling something down into his notebook. He lifts his head at your arrival and you shut the door closed behind you.

“Hello, professor,” you smile at him teasingly, walking around his desk as he pushes himself back a little so you can sit on his lap, pecking his lips gently.

“Hey, done for the day?” he asks, his fingers tenderly stroking your thighs over the fabric of your jeans.

“Yeah. We can leave if you’re done,” you nod.

“Just a few more minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” you nod, standing up from his lap so he can finish his work while you sit on the little loveseat he has in the corner, right under the window.

It’s been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, the new semester has officially started, you’re working your way towards your degree as this is officially your last semester, but what’s more important that you and Harry have been a couple for six weeks following the heated actions of New Year’s Eve.

Harry is still quite anxious about the whole thing, always on high alert and he even asked you to lie to Eden and Nat too. You tried to fight him on that, but you could tell how much he wanted to protect what you had so you decided to feed them this elaborate story about how you and Harry had a fight on New Year’s Eve and realized that it would have never worked out so you agreed to stay just friends. It seems like they believed, because they’ve been keen on trying to set you up with someone while you just keep dodging their attempts, sneaking around with Harry behind their back.

Other than the continuous lying and sneaking around, things have been going well with him. You’ve been spending a lot of time at his place, the only hiding spot where you can be carefree around each other without always watching out for others around you.

Today is Valentine’s day and though your opportunities to celebrate are very slim, having anything that’s slightly public crossed out of the list, that still doesn’t stop the two of you from having a good night in.

You watch him curiously as he is reading the lines of someone’s essay probably, or some test, whatever. Holding the pen ready to use whenever he finds something incorrect, he furrows his eyebrows at something before crossing out a line, mouthing the words he writes to the side of the page. He doesn’t wear his glasses that often, but he’s been complaining about having dry eyes these past days so it’s no surprised he switched to them from his contact lenses.

“You look sexy in your glasses, have I told you that?”

He glances at you, a small smirk tugging on his lips before he returns to the paper in front of him.

“Think they make me look older,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Nah, not more at least than your grandpa sweaters,” you tease him, earning a ‘Really? This again?’ look from him that makes you chuckle.

You busy yourself while Harry finishes his work and then you head out together, strictly keeping the distance between each other. Walking out of the building Harry heads to the left where the car park is while you take a turn to the right. It’s been your usual, since you can’t have anyone see you get into Harry’s car so casually, so you usually walk down to the small café near Building D, because there’s a very narrow little street running behind it where you can get into the car without anyone noticing you. You do the same now too before finally heading back to Harry’s place. Sinking into the comfortable seat, you stare out the window, thinking about how it’s just been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, but it feels like you’ve been together with Harry for months. Despite his many doubts and hesitant act, it was easy to fall into a kind of routine with him, and even more easier to get used to the thought that he is yours and you are his.

During these six weeks you’ve learned quite a few things about him, things women on campus would die to know and they were handed over to you on a silver plate by Harry himself.

One, he is a very touchy person, of course, when he has the chance for it. In the safety of his home or when you have a few minutes for yourselves in his office, he always likes to have his hand on your back or waist, he loves touching your hips or cheeks, caressing the skin wherever it shows from under your clothes. He is also very cuddly, likes to wrap you in his arms when you’re watching TV and when it’s time to sleep the first thing he does is to pull you into his embrace. You usually wake up in the morning with him completely wrapped around you, limbs thrown over you, face buried into your chest or stomach. He is a messy sleeper, but also a fucking adorable one.

Two, he is a good cook but not that good at baking. He says it’s the universe’s sign that he shouldn’t eat as much sweet stuff as he does, but in reality he just sucks at measuring the ingredients. He never follows the recipe, easily goes with things his own way and then he is surprised when it doesn’t turn out as it should.

Three, he notices the smallest things you’d never. Like how you hate it when the Sun is shining right into your face so he always makes sure to draw the blinds in the evening, or that you prefer sleeping with more pillows so he just simply gives you an extra without even asking every time you’re spending the night. He cares so much about you to the smallest details, it always makes your heart flutter.

And four, though he keeps a tough act in school, he is a lovesick puppy when no one is around, likes to be the small spoon when cuddling, absolutely adores it when you cup his face in your palms and kiss it all over. Loves it when you play with his hair or when you hug him from behind, kissing between his shoulder blades. He always tells you how pretty you are and never misses a chance to sneak a kiss from you. You couldn’t imagine him do any of these before you really knew him, but now you see that all these little things are just as much parts of him like the version of him he shows at school. You feel lucky to be able to see him like this and you’ll probably never get bored of it.

Arriving to his place you drop your bag off at the bedroom before you join him in the kitchen, already eyeing the flyer to the nearby Italian place that delivers.

“How about pizza?” he hums, eyebrows knitted together as he scans the menu.

“Sounds good. Can we order dessert too?” Walking past him you kiss his shoulder before grabbing a glass for yourself, filling it with tap water.

“Oh, no need,” he shyly answers, glancing at you. “We… have dessert.”

You watch him with curious eyes as he disappears in his little study before emerging with a plate filled with pink cupcakes. They look wobbly, the cream on top is not the same on either of them, but because you know he made them, they are the most perfect you’ve ever seen.

He places the plate to the counter with a shy smile before turning to you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, hands finding your hips as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Oh baby, did you stay up last night to make these?” you ask, touched that he took the time and energy to surprise you with something. Harry nods and you kiss his dimples softly.

“Mm, they are strawberry flavored,” he smirks boyishly.

“We are never escaping strawberries,” you chuckle softly as you dip your fingertip into the cream on top of one of the cakes, tasting it. “Hmm, this is actually good,” you tell him.

“Yeah, the cream is kind of okay, dunno about the rest though,” he admits chuckling.

“As long as it’s not poisonous, I’ll love it,” you giggle kissing his lips again softly. “Alright, but I can’t go over the fact that we agreed on no gifts for Valentine’s Day,” you say giving him a look.

“S’not a gift, just… a little gesture,” he shrugs innocently.

“Okay, then you can’t get mad over my little gesture,” you smirk at him, peeling his arms off you before you run into his bedroom to get his gift.

You really weren’t planning to give him anything, but you had a good idea last minute and couldn’t just not do it. Digging into your bag you pull out the little box and join him in the kitchen again, handing it to him.

“It’s not fair if you spent money on it,” he pouts, but you just roll your eyes.

“You spent money on the cupcakes too. But besides, I didn’t spent a penny on it. Open it!” You urge him.

Harry huffs but takes the lid off, revealing a stack of Polaroid photos. In this not too ideal situation the two of you are living in, there’s no chance you can ever post anything about him, even though there are quite a few cute photos of you with Harry. Eden recently bought a Polaroid printer and you borrowed it to print your favorite pictures of the two of you. There’s one from the morning after New Year’s Eve, just a silly selfie you took in bed, then one with the band from Harry’s birthday recently, a photo of the two of you backstage of one of his gigs you took in the mirror, he has his guitar in his hands as you stand next to him smiling widely. There are a few more with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte and Adam and at the very end of the stack… some special ones.

You watch him go through them smiling warmly until he reaches the last few and freezes. You took the courage to take a few spicy ones of yourself in your favorite lingerie and thought it would be sexy to print them out as well and give them to him.

“I hope you’re not thinking about selling them already,” you chuckle. Harry glances up at you before shaking his head with a playful smirk.

“Was just a little surprised by them,” he admits.

“Do you… like them?”

“Oh baby, I love them, you look… wow,” he breathes out going over the pictures one more time. “But I’m gonna have to lock these away so no one finds them. Adam likes to go over my stuff when he is over, I definitely don’t want him to find them.”

“You better keep them safe because if anyone sees them I’m burying myself,” you snort.

Harry puts the stack of photos back into the box before leaning down he cups your face and kisses you gently.

“Thank you, love the pictures. All of them,” he adds cheekily and you feel yourself blushing.

He leans in to kiss you again, putting the box aside to the counter and this time it’s not just one short kiss, he carries it on, taking his time with your lips, savoring and tasting you without a worry in the world. It grows more and more passionate, tongues clashing and you tug at his hair, lacing your fingers through his locks, a moan escaping his pink lips.

You start inching backwards until your backside meets the edge of the counter. Harry doesn’t hesitate to pull your sweater off of you, throwing it behind before his lips are pressed against yours again. It doesn’t take long for his shirt and pants and your jeans to end up on the floor somewhere behind him, leaving you both in just your underwear. You kiss down his neck and collarbones, your lips gliding across his tattooed chest as you slowly slide down to your knees, hands moving over his growing bulge.

Hooking your fingers into the elastic of his boxers, you tug them down and pull his erection out, already so hard for you and you barely even touched him.

“What does my Valentine deserve for making me cupcakes?” you hum, teasingly pumping him a few times with your hands. Harry whimpers under your touch, but doesn’t answer so you stop your hands and look up at him. “Talk to me, what do you want?”

“Your mouth,” he breathes out, his eyes meeting yours, filled with lust and hunger only for you. Smirking to yourself you lick his length up before gently kissing the head, swirling your tongue around the tip before you slowly take him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby!” he pants when you start bobbing your head, pumping the base in sync with your head’s movements.

His hand comes to the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair. He doesn’t force you, he never does, just likes to hold onto you. You try to take him deeper and deeper with each movement until you fit his whole cock into your mouth, keeping it there for a few seconds before pulling away and letting him go.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, helping you up from the floor, kissing your lips hard as he is already pulling your panties down your legs. “How do you want it?”

“From behind,” you tell without hesitation, turning around so you can lean onto the counter and push your ass up for him.

You feel one of his hands stroke down your spine while the other one reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, drawing gentle circles on it at first before he goes a little harder, making you moan his name.

“Harry, please!” you beg, the need to feel him growing with each passing second.

He pulls his hand back, grabbing his hard cock as he lines himself up with you, one hand on his shaft, the other one holding your hip firmly to keep you in place. First he pushes just the tip inside and when he is sure you’re ready to take more, he slides all of him inside, filling you up perfectly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good. Always so good,” he breathes out, both his hands coming to grip your waist as his hips meet your ass from behind.

He starts moving, going a little soft at the beginning before he gets rougher, his hips smacking against your ass with each thrust. You arch your back and push your ass up so you’re angled just perfectly for him, he runs a hand up your back, sliding it under the clasp of your bra and he leaves it there while fucking you from behind oh so well.

“Harry, oh my God!” you groan when he starts hitting that one spot that makes you go crazy.

“Feeling good, baby?”

“Fuck! So good!” you gasp, feeling the pleasure building up with each thrust. “Go harder!” you beg and once he has both hands on your hips again he does as you asked, railing into you hard, making you keep gasping for air.

“Getting close? Tell me when you’re about to cum, baby.”

“I’m close, please don’t stop!” you pant, hands holding onto the counter’s edge for dear life.

He reaches around you, a hand coming between your legs as his fingers find your clit again, adding to the sensation as he starts playing with it just the way you like it.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum! Harry!” you moan uncontrollably and he growls deeply from his chest.

“Cum with me, baby. Give it to me,” he breathes out sharply and he just keeps railing you hard, fingers working on your clit until he feels your walls clench around his dick. “Oh fuck, yes, baby! Cum on my cock!” he gasps and at the same time as you go through your orgasm, you feel him twitch inside you, coming hard with you at the same time. “Jesus fuck! I love you, Y/N!”

You gasp at his words, eyes snapping open in the middle of your orgasm and all air pushes out of your lungs for a moment.

He whimpers and moans, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes to a halt, both of you panting like crazy, coming off your high. When he slowly slides his softening cock out of you, you turn around and look into his eyes. For a moment you thought he just said it in the heat of the moment and he didn’t even realize it, but when your eyes meet his, you can tell he is a little afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“Did you mean that?” you quietly ask as he tucks his dick back into his boxers, pulling them up, but you don’t bother to put your underwear back on, standing there in only your bra.

“I-I did. I didn’t mean to say it now, but I did mean it,” he nods. “Is it… too soon?”

“No,” you smile at him, stepping closer so you can cup his face in your palms, kissing his lips softly. “I love you too.”

“You do?” he asks, surprised at your reaction.

“Of course, silly. I wouldn’t give my nudes to someone I don’t,” you joke making him chuckle, his arms coming to curl around your waist.

“Sorry, this wasn’t too… romantic,” he breathes out and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You said you love me while fucking me on Valentine’s Day after exchanging cute gifts. I think it’s romantic,” you chuckle, finally making him smile. “Besides, I don’t care about the setting, just feels nice to hear you say it.”

“Yeah?” “Mhm, care to say it again so I can see your eyes as well?”

“I love you,” he softly murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yeah, feels better when I can actually look at you,” you chuckle kissing him softly. “I love you too.”

It’s definitely not just fun and games, being in a secret relationship that no one can know about. It surely adds a lot of tension into the situation, having to be so careful all the time and be reserved to the point where you can’t even be seen too often together.

As the semester carries on you always keep your ears open if there’s anything going on about you and Harry. Though you only limit your time together on campus to the bare minimum, only talking on rare occasions, you still want to make sure no one is getting the wrong (or right) idea about what is going on between the two of you.

The worst part is probably having to lie to Eden and Nat all the time. You spend about three nights at Harry’s every week and you have to lie every time you leave. After a while you tell them that you’re dating this new guy but he wants to keep it low-key because he recently broke up with his previous girlfriend. That gives them enough peace not to nag you all the time but you can tell they really want to meet this new man in your life.

You’ve tried to discuss it with Harry, tell him that they won’t tell anyone but it ended in a fight and you kind of gave up. Harry is way too keen on keeping it a secret and it’s clear he is not gonna make any exceptions. At least it’s the same with his friends, the two of you act like just friends when you’re out with the band though you have a suspicion that Sarah can see through the act. However she chooses not to talk about it so it’s kept hidden.

You don’t fight much with Harry, but when you do, it’s major. You both can get really into the argument and it easily gets way too heated, turning into a screaming match until you both realize you should just talk it out and have a little more understanding for each other. The makeup sex after a fight however… that’s something that makes up for every nasty thing that’s said in the heat of the moment.

Nearing the end of the semester you both start to grow more stressed, you about finishing your last classes, your thesis and studying for your finals, Harry about the growing pile of essays and tests waiting to be graded. A lot of the time when you’re at his place you both are busy with your own stuff and only have the chance to actually be with each other when you go to bed. It takes a toll on the both of you, but you’re determined to make it work. Despite the unfortunate nature of how you are forced to maintain your relationship, it’s the healthiest one you’ve ever head and you definitely won’t give up on it too easily.

Though you, Nat and Eden turn in your thesis works mid-April, the semester is still not done for the three of you, the final exams are threateningly close at this point. Spring has officially kicked in, the weather is mostly clear and sunny, allows you to stay outside again and you take advantage of it.

One particular afternoon the three of you are lounging under the pergola, all three of you buried in a book or your notes when you spot Harry walking towards the building. You keep your eyes on him as he slowly approaches you, his gaze meets yours and he smiles at you shortly. It’s all you can get out in the public, but it’s more than nothing.

“Isn’t it hard to see him?” Eden asks and glancing her way you see that she is looking at Harry who is now busy with his phone.

“Why would it be?”

“I don’t know, you clearly had a thing for him and it wasn’t even just a one-sided flirting like every other women had with him. I couldn’t be around him if it happened to me.”

“It’s not like anything major happened. It was all bad timing and the situation wasn’t good. It’s better this way,” you tell her, trying to sound convincing while the guilt is eating you on the inside. All these lies are clouding over your head and you have a feeling they will come down on you pouring one day.

“Still crazy that you are friends with his friends though,” Nat chimes in, squinting her eyes in the sunshine.

“Yeah, you are literally the only person on campus who gets to see him in his private life,” Eden nods. If only they knew how much you see him privately!

“It’s not that crazy,” you shrug, turning back to your book.

You all get back to work, forgetting about Harry, or at least Nat and Eden does, because you get a text from him shortly after he disappeared in the building.

Harry: You look very pretty today :)

Y/N: Flirting with me on campus, professor?

Harry: Can’t help it.

Y/N: You look handsome too, it’s a shame I can’t kiss you stupid!

Harry: Patience!

 “Y/N? Did you hear what I said?” Nat grabs your attention from the phone and you realize she was talking to you.

“What? Uh, sorry.”

“I said that we should go out this weekend. It’s been ages since we last did anything other than studying.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Don’t come with your usual, rambling about how we shouldn’t have any fun before we finish,” Eden rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I say. I just think that we have priorities.”

“I don’t know about you, but it’s a priority for me to have fun, so I’m down for a night out.

“I think I’m passing,” you mumble. You already made plans for the weekend with Harry, take a hike up the hills since the weather has been nice and it would be great to spend time together outside the house. The hiking routes are far away enough from town that uni students don’t like to take the hustle to drive all the way out so you’ll be fine being together outside.

“If you want to say that you have something planned with your mystery man, don’t even bother. If it’s not his birthday, we are overruling him,” Eden scoffs and you roll your eyes at her.

“Just go without me.”

“That’s not the same!” Nat whines. “Come on, Y/N. For once choose us!”

“That’s rude I choose you guys a lot of times!”

“Not since you’ve been spending half your life with some man and the other half in the library.”

“Yeah, we feel abandoned!” Nat pouts at you, trying to make you feel bad and in all honesty, she is succeeding.

“We can doll ourselves up, have fancy cocktails and all that, it’s gonna be fun! Come on, just one night! I can’t take another Saturday sitting in my room, reading my notes,” Eden growls and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I guess I’m in,” you mumble and your friends start cheering as if you just declared that men and women are going to get paid equally from now on.

You can tell Harry is bummed that you have to cancel your weekend plans, but he is also trying to be understanding.

“I couldn’t bring up a relevant argument so they made me say yes,” you growl when later that day you’re cuddling on his couch after dinner.

“S’fine,” he sighs, leaning down he pecks your lips shortly.

“Wish I could just tell them that I had plans with you,” you breathe out.

“Y/N…” “I know!” you roll your eyes. “It’s just that it would be nice if I could at least tell them the truth.”

“We already talked about this,” he sighs.

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that it bothers me,” you point out. “Am I not allowed to feel that way?”

“You are, I just don’t get why you keep bringing it up when there’s literally nothing I can do about it,” he retorts.

“Well there is, you just choose not to.” And with that, you officially pick another fight with him.

It’s not that you enjoy fighting with him, not at all, but the situation is so not ideal and you find his overprotectiveness a little too much at times. You don’t understand why you can’t share it with your two closest friends. You could at least tell Sarah or the other guys, have anyone know about the two of you, but literally no one on Earth knows that you are a couple and it’s bugging you way more than it probably should.

“Why are you so damn keen on making others know about us? What does that have to do with anything?” he growls throwing his hands into the air, standing in the opposite end of the room as you keep pacing the floor, the urge to keep on moving taking over you.

“Because—“ you snap, but stop yourself. You know if you say it out loud, he’ll think you’re stupid.

“Because what?!”

“Because i-it makes me feel like we are not even real! I can’t talk about us, I can’t touch you outside of this house, no one knows we are a thing and it’s so fucking nerve-wrecking, Harry!” you break down, feeling your throat closing up. You didn’t mean to get emotional over this, but you’ve been bottling it up for a while now.

Harry’s shoulder fall forward as he sees the change in you, the heat of the fight long forgotten. He crosses the room, hands reaching up to cup your face in his palms, his thumbs running across the soft skin under your eyes as he wipes the tears away.

“Baby, I know. You think I don’t want to show you off? I want to hold your hand and just take a walk with you, kiss you whenever I want to, show all the horny fratboys on campus that you’re taken. I know it’s hard, but we really don’t have a choice until the end of the semester.”

He gently kisses the tip of your nose before pulling you to his chest, your arms circle around his waist as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, trying to stop your sobs.

“I’m sorry. I really wish it was all different,” he murmurs, kissing into your hair softly.

“No, I’m sorry for bitching about this all the time. I knew what we were getting into,” you exhale sharply. “It just… really sucks.”

“It does. But we just have to be patient.”

You manage to put the fight behind and move on in peace, but a tiny thought remains buzzing in the very back of your mind. What happens when you finish school? Will it all be different? Harry will still be a professor and if people see you around together, they will know you were one of his students. What’s gonna be the difference? If he is so on edge now, something is telling you he won’t be changing dramatically and it concerns you. A lot.

Not willingly, but you go out with Nat and Eden on Saturday. You go to a place that’s quite popular between students, you can most likely always find familiar faces from lecture halls and classes. It’s close to campus and more on the cheap side, the perfect spot for uni students for a night of fun.

As expected, you run into some people from school and they invite the three of you to sit with them at their table which comes in handy, because there’s no empty place by the time you arrive.

One drink follows the other and you easily get tipsy especially because you skipped on dinner before heading out. Though you weren’t in the mood for tonight, you find yourself enjoying the conversation and the company. It really has been long since the last time you went out with the girls and it’s nice to spend some time with them without the books and notes.

A debate starts about whose course one of the boys, Jace should take next semester.

“Professor Peltz is fucking boring, dude,” Nat growls, taking a sip from her drink. “Had him last semester, I could barely stay awake during his lectures.”

“Yeah, but they say he gives good grades easily,” Jace argues.

“Okay, but who else can you choose from again?” Lydia, a girl who lived a few doors down from you when you lived in a dormitory your first year.

“Um, Professor Makley and Professor Styles.”

You freeze at the mention of Harry, especially upon hearing Lydia’s reaction.

“Jace, choose Professor Styles! He is so fucking hot!”

“Not that it matters to me, Lyd,” Jace chuckles.

“Oh come on, I know even guys think he is hot.”

You feel like an intruder in the conversation, keeping quiet as you listen to her rave about how hot she finds Harry. It’s like you are eavesdropping on something that wasn’t meant for your ears, but it’s just the guilt bubbling inside you once again, because you know you won’t be able to say a word without having to lie.

“She has a point,” another guy, Garrett chimes into the conversation. “The man is handsome and I’m not even ashamed to admit it.”

“See?” Lydia chuckles. “He is sexy and smart, the whole package. I’ve been daydreaming about him since first year.”

You catch Eden’s look, but you just busy yourself with gulping from your vodka cranberry, feeling uncomfortable in the situation but not even for the reason she thinks. Eden must think it’s weird because you had an actual thing with Harry, but the truth is… that thing is still very much ongoing.

“I would let that man do whatever he wants with me,” Lydia adds sighing longingly, and you are having a hard time to hold your tongue. Unfortunately, you don’t succeed.

“Not sure he wants anything to do with you,” you mumble into your drink and though you hoped your comment would stay unnoticed, but you are out of luck.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Lydia slyly replies, a bit too full of herself for your liking. Yes, she is pretty and definitely doesn’t have problem with guys, but she is a little too confident about Harry if you’re being honest.

“I’m sorry?” you ask with a soft, bit annoyed chuckle.

“I’m just saying that we’ll never know who he finds attractive, because we all know he keeps himself so far from his students.”

“Yeah, maybe because he is not interested in any of his students,” you point out.

“As if he would ever make a move on any of us,” she snorts and you are losing your temper. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, because now you really can’t hold your tongue.

“You can never know, Lydia. You can’t know if he acts the way he does because he is just trying to be professional or because he is, and consider this, not interested in you. Maybe he would actually act up on his feelings but you’re just not his type.”

Your comment is more like just a harsh comeback to Lydia’s words, but Nat and Eden kind of catch on that something is up with you. Ignoring their questioning looks you chug down your drink and soon excuse yourself to get some fresh air. No surprise that they follow you like puppies.

“Girl, what was that inside?” Nat asks as the three of you stand near the entrance of the bar, a few smoking guests littering the area.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you mumble, clearly avoiding to look at any of them, wrapping your arms around your upper body as if you were trying to keep your shit together physically.

“You snapped at Lydia for saying Professor Styles might have a thing for her,” Eden points out, but you just bite the inside of your cheeks.

“Because it was bullshit.”

“Why does that matter to you? Not that you’re together with him or something,” Nat argues and you roll your lips into your mouth, trying to keep a straight face but they know you way better than that. They gasp at the same time, Eden grabbing your forearm forcefully that makes you scowl.

“Hey! That hurts!” you whine, but she couldn’t care less.

“Are you fucking around with Professor Styles?” Nat whisper yells at you, eyes wider than ever.

“I mean… we’re not fucking around,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes as you kick the dirt around. “We’re kinda serious.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Eden snaps, drawing some attention at her and you let out an awkward chuckle at the glances the three of you get. “Are you fucking joking right now?”

“No, I am… not,” you admit, feeling a little relieved that you finally said it, but you also feel like you let Harry down with it.

“How long?” Nat questions in shock.

“Since New Year’s Eve. So… almost four months.”

“So he is the one you’ve been seeing all this time? The guy you didn’t want to talk about?”

“Um, yeah. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about him, we just agreed that it’s safer if no one knows.”

“I’m speechless, Y/N,” Eden shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t fucking believe you kept it from us for this long!”

“I know, I felt so shitty, but it’s such a complicated situation, it’s so risky, we don’t want it to ruin us.”

“Obviously,” Nat nods understandingly. “And now I see why you snapped so harshly at Lydia.”

“I just couldn’t stand her talking like that. You guys have no idea how hard it is to keep every fucking thought to myself.”

“Why do I have a feeling it has a little more to it than to just Lydia drooling over Harry?” Nat arches an eyebrow at you, folding her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you’ve been oddly tensed lately,” Eden agrees.

“It’s just pretty stressful to have a secret relationship, it causes a lot of tension. And I’ve been… I’m not sure anything is going to change after I graduate, if I’m being honest.”

“What do you mean?” Nat asks.

“I just…” you sigh, all your thoughts you kept to yourself flooding back to you at once, overwhelming you in a situation that’s already a bit too much to handle. “We keep saying that it’s gonna change when I graduate, but I don’t see it. He is so overprotective and even if I graduate, people will find out that I was once his student. And it might not be against the rules anymore, but we’ll be judged. I didn’t think it through before, but it’s now starting to be more and more clear for me and I just… don’t know if we can make it work.”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes, you’ve been keeping this to yourself for way too long now and saying it out loud just broke the dam. When Nat and Eden sees your lips trembling and the watery eyes you’re trying to blink away, they don’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug.

“Aw, don’t cry! It makes me want to cry too!” Nat chuckles softly as they sandwich you between them.

“It just sucks so much, because I love him, but I feel like we met at the wrong time and place,” you sob, letting them crush you.

“It happens, baby. It happens. You’ll figure it out!” Eden kisses your forehead before they let go of you. “Want to go home?”

“It’s still early, don’t want to kill the party. I think I’ll just… head over to Harry’s for now. Is that okay?”

“Of course, do whatever makes you feel better,” Nat assures you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I was such a party pooper.”

You call yourself an Uber and text Harry that you are going over. Twenty minutes later you are walking up the stairs to his house and he opens the front door before you could even reach for the doorknob.

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out softly and you don’t say a word, just wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Hey, what happened? Didn’t have a good time with your friends?” He delicately caresses your hair, walking the two of you inside so he can close the door before wrapping both his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

“Don’t really want to talk about it,” you mumble and it’s the truth. You’re tired of these thoughts though you know you should talk to him about how you’ve been feeling about the two of you lately. Part of you is hoping something will just magically solve the whole situation and you won’t have to deal with it yourself.

Harry makes you a tea while you take a shower and once you are both in bed, you cuddle to his side while he reads some. You are just genuinely enjoying his closeness, because despite everything that’s been haunting you in connection with Harry, you really love this man. Like no one else before and the possibility of the two of you not making it long term scares you more than it probably should.

The next few weeks come and go in a sense of numbness. Following your emotional breakdown in front of the bar, you kind of push the whole thing to the back of your mind once again, putting all your focus on finishing school. Neither you nor Harry has the energy to put up more fights though you both can feel there’s a lot to talk about, but the end of the semester is just keeping you both way too busy to acknowledge the problems waiting on the corner.

At least there’s one less weight on your shoulders now that Nat and Eden know about you and Harry. You made them swear to their life they won’t tell anyone and you trust them to keep this heavy secret. They’ve been very supportive of the two of you, interrogated you one evening about everything that happened so far, they wanted to make sure Harry treats you the right way. No surprise, he does.

A few weeks before your state exam Harry extends his contract with the school to have him as a professor for another academic year so he is able to keep his visa as well.

You spend your last two weeks buried in your notes before your state exam and Harry gives you all the time and space you need, knowing well how much it means to you to earn the best grade possible.

When you are finally over your exam, you are celebrating at his place. He has bought a little cake and some champagne and you can’t wait to finally spend some time with him without having to worry about your studies.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” he smiles at you, clinking his glass against yours.

“Thank you, feels nice to be finally free,” you chuckle before taking a sip from the champagne.

“My smart girl, knew you’d kill all your exams.” He kisses your lips shortly before squeezing your hand. “How about I run a bath for us, we eat the cake in the tub and then we can watch a movie?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you smile at him before he disappears in the bathroom to get everything ready.

Finishing your champagne you wash the glass quickly and you’re about to cut the cake when your phone buzzes signaling that you’ve just gotten an email. As pull down the notification bar your lips part reading the first few lines. You open the whole thing and read through it eagerly.

It’s a job offer, but not just some lame one that also sounds sketchy at the same time. This one is from one of the biggest investigation offices in London and they are offering you a trainee position as a forensic document examiner with a possible secured spot on their team after one year. The money sounds amazing, the position is perfect, just what you’ve been dreaming of once you are done with school and they are looking forward to hear back from you about a possible interview in the near future.

“Alright, bath is coming together nicely, want to cut the ca—Wha’s up?” Harry questions upon returning from the bathroom, finding you staring at your phone’s screen with widened eyes.

“I, uhh—I just got a… a job offer,” you stutter, still rereading the lines, trying to find a sign that tells you it’s just a joke, but it seems completely genuine.

“What? Baby, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” you nod swallowing hard before you look up at him. “It’s in London.”

You watch his face fall from excited and happy to shocked and kind of panicky. You both know what that means, it doesn’t have to be said out loud. Harry just signed another year with the university that’s gonna tie him here for the next 12 months and if you accept the job you’ll be all the way across the world in the UK. Kind of ironic, him, the British guy stuck in the States while you, the American in the relationship, eager to go to the UK.

“That’s… wow. London.”

“Yeah, London,” you nod biting the inside of your cheeks.

“Are you… Are you gonna take it?”

“Well, they want an interview with me, but this is clearly a huge opportunity for me,” you say, not wanting to say the actual words. You feel like saying them would hit you harder than what you can take.

“It clearly is, it’s just that… You want to leave?” he breathes out, eyebrows knitting together.

“This is my only job offer and probably the best I’ll ever get.”

“So you do want to leave,” he forces and it’s pushing your limits.

“Career-wise, of course!” you finally say out loud, unwillingly.

“And what about everything else?”

“I clearly don’t want to leave everything else here, but I will never get a chance like this, Harry. This is the greatest push for someone like me, fresh out of school. I can have a secured spot in a year at a well-respected place. I’m not really in the position to reject offers like this.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly unsure about what to do or say in the situation on his hand. You can tell he has a lot to say, but you’re not sure you want to hear all of them.

“Say something?” you softly plead and his eyes meet yours again, filled with concern.

“I just… It took me by surprise, I guess.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either.”

“No, not the job offer,” he shakes his head.

“Then what?”

“That you are ready to leave so easily. It’s like you never even wanted to discuss a version where you stay here, you just decided that you are leaving and that’s it.”

“Did you hear me? I cannot pass on this opportunity, Harry.”

“I did hear you,” he nods, pressing his lips together. “I heard that you didn’t even think about saying no.”

“Why would I say no?”

“Because I’m here, Y/N!” he snaps. “Good to know that I’m not a factor when it comes to decisions as big as leaving the country!”

“You are, Harry, but I need to think about my future career now. I’m not planning to work at an office for the rest of my life and if I pass on this job I might never get anything as good as this one,” you explain, but it seems like the two of you are having two different conversations.

“But why do I feel like it was never an option for you to stay?”

You give him a confused look. He really doesn’t see your point.

“Okay, why was only I supposed to change plans for us? You coming to London doesn’t feel like an option either, why are you trying to turn this against me?”

“I just extended my contract, you know that.”

“I do, and also, while we are at it, you didn’t ask me about that either. You didn’t even wait for me to figure out what I want to do after school, you just assumed that I would be here, but I never said that.” You can tell it hit him hard in the chest but somehow still, he thinks he is right when he isn’t.

“How could have I known you’d want to move across the globe?” he throws his hands up into the air.

“You’re saying this as if I didn’t just get the email and I’ve been plotting this the whole fucking time!”

“I’m just saying that it’s a huge fucking step and you decided so easily, it says a lot about the nature of our relationship.”

“Why are you saying that?!” you snap at him. “Why are you trying to make me the bad guy?”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that it would have been nice if you at least pretended like it was up for debate. You know what it’ll do to us if you move to London.”

“Then come with me!”

“I can’t!” He raises his voice, clearly losing his temper. “I can’t break my contract and you know that too.”

“Well, I can’t afford to say no to the job either and if I’m being honest, I don’t think we could have made it work even if I stayed.” The words leave your mouth before you could think about them, and the cat is finally out of the bag. It seemingly shocked Harry and he is now staring at you with a blank expression, shoulders falling forward.

“What?” he breathes out and you can actually hear his heart breaking. You take a deep breath and rub your face with your palms, trying to collect your thoughts and not just blurt everything out.

“I’ve been thinking and… Even after I’m officially out of the school, people will know that I was your student if they see us together. And I know how important your reputation is for you so I would never put you through any of the shit we might get for us being together. People would judge, no matter what the situation is. I don’t… I just don’t think we can ever make it work here.”

He stays silent, just stares at you, taking in your words and once again, you wish you could read his mind. You almost start begging him to say something when he finally speaks up.

“So you think we don’t have a chance?”

“Not here… maybe not now. I feel like this has been the perfect example of wrong place, wrong time,” you quietly say, a pang of guilt in your tone, this is not how you planned on making this conversation. To be honest, you wished this never had to come, but you were out of luck.

Harry is awfully silent, it’s all over his face how broken he is and you feel the same. You have so much love for this man, yet fate decided you don’t get to share it with him the way you want.

Walking closer you cup his face in your palms, searching for his eyes until his green irises meet your gaze. You run your thumb across his cheekbones, the pads of your fingers gliding softly over the soft skin. His hands slowly find their way to your waist and he pulls you close to him as you kiss him tenderly, a silent confession about just how much you love him.

“I wanted this to work. I wanted this so badly,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as he keeps you tight in his hold.

“I know. Me too,” you smile at him bitterly.

The rest of the evening passes by silently. You take a bath together, finish the cake anyway though even the sweetness can’t help the pain you both feel. Then you lie in bed for hours, just touching and feeling each other, making the best out of the time you have left. It’s unsaid, but you both know your days together are coming to a close end. Kisses and touches turn into some passionate love making, both of you desperate to feel as close to each other as possible and then you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

If you’re being honest, it’s all a blur following that night. You fix up an interview with London a few days later and they are not shying out of telling you straightforward that they want you there, the job is yours. You have one last short conversation with Harry about you leaving, but it’s more like just a confirmation that yes, it is going to happen and that leaves you with only a few weeks left together before you are packing up to leave the country.

You spend every possible free minute together until graduation where you finally get your degree. Your whole family comes and they cheer on you proudly, Harry standing in the crowd a little farther in the back, but still with a proud smile, a hint of gloominess in his beautiful green eyes. A week later you officially move out of your shared apartment with the girls, it’s a sobbing goodbye since all three of you are leaving in different directions following your graduation. You spend your last two weeks before your departure at home, spending as much time with your family as possible since you won’t be able to see them too often once you leave. Though your mom is dying to take you to the airport to say her final goodbye, you decided to give that time to Harry. He said he would drive to your hometown, pick you up and take you to the airport and you already know it’s gonna turn you into an emotional mess.

Leaving everything behind is hard, but having to say goodbye to Harry is the worst. It’s been a whole emotional rollercoaster for the both of you to get to this point and neither of you are ready to say goodbye, but this is what needs to happen.

That morning, you hug your parents, sister and brother tightly after you load Harry’s car with your two huge suitcases that have your whole life packed in them. You asked your family not to ask any questions about Harry and luckily, they kept quiet the whole time he was there, just treating him as a friend. You couldn’t take having to explain to them who he really is and how you met him, that’s gonna be another conversation for the future when you don’t feel like you’re about to start crying the moment you open your mouth.

The ride to the airport is silent, Harry holds your hand, your glued together palms lying on your lap the whole time. You haven’t even left but you already miss him so much.

Arriving he helps you bring all your stuff inside and patiently waits until you check your baggage in, leaving you with just your carry-on. Standing near the security check, the final moment finally comes and as soon as you look into his eyes you start bawling your eyes out.

“Oh baby, come ‘ere,” he breathes out, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I told you we would make everything right, but I couldn’t,” you sob into his chest as he holds you tight. You feel like if he let go of you, you’d just turn into a puddle at his feet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he soothes you, his fingers threading through your hair.

“But it feels like it was,” you choke out. Harry leans back and takes your puffy cheeks between his warm palms, looking deep into your eyes.

“It wasn’t. As you said, it was just a matter of wrong time and place. But I think we brought the best out of it.”

“So… you don’t regret it?” you softly ask, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Absolutely not,” he smiles at you kindly. “I loved every moment of it. And I love you.” You notice how he didn’t use past tense when he said he loves you and you can’t decide if it aches your heart more or fills you with joy. A little bit both of them.

“I love you too,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, savoring them one last time before you leave everything behind.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” he smiles sweetly when he pulls back, tugging your hair behind your ear with a gentle move.

“I really hope,” you chuckle through your tears. “Take care, Harry,” you tell him, pecking his lips just once more.

“You too, baby,” he smiles, his hands falling to his sides as he lets go of you.

Turning around you walk into security and as you go with the line towards the gates, you glance back one last time. Harry is standing in the exact same spot, eyes glued to you as he watches you disappear from his sight.

It feels like the meeting is never coming to its end. You exchange a look with Jasmine, who seems just as tired and done with this two hours long discussion as you are. She grabs her phone from the table and you watch her something type out before she eyes at your device, signaling that she just texted you.

Jas: I need alcohol after this day. Want to have a drink with me after work?

Y/N: YES PLEASE!!!!!!!

You see her smile at her screen before both of you return to your boss at the front, talking about a possible upcoming case.

“And last but not least, I want to take a moment to bring light to the excellent work Y/N, our new full-time colleague did on the Santiago case. The police were highly satisfied with the fast and precise work you did. This was your first official case since you’ve decided to accept our offer to become a full member of our team and transferred from your position as a trainee. Congrats!” William, your boss nods in your way with a proud smile as a round of applause cheers for you from your colleagues.

“You go girl!” Jasmine mouths you from across the table and you just chuckle shaking your head.

The meeting finally wraps up and everyone goes on with their day. You are walking back to your office with Jasmine by your side. Your offices are next to each other and you started working here just three weeks apart. She is the same age as you and was approached the same way as well, it’s just that she moved all the way from Australia. The two of you have grown quite close, starting a new life at the same time in a foreign country, it easily brought you together.

“So are we leaving early for those drinks or what?” she asks poking your side.

“How early?”

“I don’t know, like fifteen minutes? Come on, it’s Friday, everyone leaves early!” You shake your head chuckling at her. She can be so restless sometimes, but it’s just the right amount that she can push you out of the comfort zone just enough.

“Alright.”

“Cool, I’ll come banging on your door,” she winks at you before disappearing for her usual coffee break.

It’s two in the afternoon, you still have a few hours ahead of you and some caffeine sounds perfect actually. Though the coffee at the office is excellent, you’ve grown to like this small place nearby, a family owned business that offers the best you’ve ever had.

You grab your bag from your office and head out for a quick coffee run. The walk to the café is freshening, the weather has been treating you well lately, the Sun is beaming and you can only hope you won’t wake up to pouring rain the next morning.

You think back to how lost you were feeling just a year ago, when all of this around you were so new and a little too much at once. One month into your time in London you even thought about quitting and moving back home. You felt alone and broken, yearning after everything you left behind. Your friends, family, loved ones, everything that was so far away from you.

It took you long weeks, even months to get used to your new life and now you can’t even imagine yourself anywhere else. It doesn’t miss you don’t miss terribly the life you had still, but now you have a lot to be happy about here as well.

Waiting at a crossroad, you find yourself twirling around the strawberry ring on your finger, your thumb fidgeting with it like every time you think about your home. You glance down at it and take a deep breath before the lamp turns green and you continue your walk to the café.

It’s not rush hours so there are only a few people lingering around the small place. You don’t have to think about what you are getting, James, the barista already knows your usual and starts making it right away as you swipe your card paying your drink.

You stand at the side, waiting for your coffee, staring out the window, watching people pass by on this lovely afternoon. Your gaze stops on an old lady sitting on a nearby bench, feeding a group of pigeons and you smile as a little girl runs through the birds, making them fly away instantly. The old lady just smiles at the girl, not holding a grudge that she just scared the birds away.

Your eyes move away, watching businessmen come and go, kids going home from school, wearing their school uniforms, everything just feels so… peaceful.

You are almost about to turn away from the window when your gaze falls on a tall figure near the Sainsbury’s across the road and your lips part as you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm you know all too well. You blink once, twice, three times, waiting for your eyes to make sure it’s the person you think it is.

Harry is standing right there, holding a little bag of groceries, eyes glued to the screen of his phone, oblivious to your shocked gaze on him. Your feet move before your brain could think it through, they take you out of the café and you stand in the middle of the sidewalk as you call out for him.

“Harry!”

His head snaps up at his name, eyes looking around, searching for the source before they finally find you, a shocked, but seemingly joyful expression plastering over his handsome face. He is quick to shove his phone into his pocket before he watches both ways and runs across the road to meet you on the other side. You can’t push your smile down as you watch him approach you, his tall, fit figure getting closer and closer until he is standing right in front of you, watching you in awe.

“Hey,” he breathes out, both of you a little unsure of what to do, how to greet each other.

It’s been months since you last talked. After your departure you kept in contact, you couldn’t just distance yourself from him so abruptly, but the thousands of miles between the two of you made it almost impossible to maintain a working connection, the time zones, all the work you both were buried under and just life itself made you drift away from each other.

But he is now standing in front of you and though he looks slightly different, he is still the Harry you know and love. He is your Harry.

“What… what are you doing here?” you ask, finally finding your voice.

“Did you forget I’m British?” you teases you and you roll your eyes.

“I mean, are you visiting family or something?”

“I uhh…” he glances down at his feet before his eyes meet yours again. “I’m actually back.”

“What do you mean?”

“My contract ended in July and I didn’t… I didn’t extend it. I came back a few weeks ago.”

Your lips part at the information. Harry is in London, he is now in the same city as you, for the first time in a whole year.

“Really? That’s… wow.” There’s too much you want to tell and ask him, yet you stand there, blinking at him, still lost in the feeling of seeing him for the first time again.

“I actually wanted to contact you when I got back, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” he admits with a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften over him.

“What do you mean? I would have loved it if you called.”

“It’s just that we haven’t talked in a while and I didn’t know… I didn’t know where you’re standing about me.”

“Well, seems like fate did it for you,” you smile at him warmly. “I would love to catch up. I have to head back to work now, but maybe later?”

“What about after work? When are you getting off?”

“I finish at 5.”

“I can meet you at your work if you text me the address.”

“That would be great,” you nod smiling. “My number is still the same, so you’ll know it’s me.”

“Great,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up in a boyish smirk. You are just now realizing how much you’ve missed him.

“I, um…” You’re trying to find the right words, still feeling overwhelmed about the sudden run-in, but at last you decide to go for a hug.

Your arms wrap around his waist, he hesitates for a moment before wrapping you in his tight embrace, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. A shiver runs down your spine as the sense of home washes over you all at once, the warmth of Harry’s body making your heart flutter. Unfortunately, the moment must come to an end. His arms fall from around you, just like they did at the airport when you said goodbye to each other over a year ago.

“I’ll… see you later then,” he smiles as you are backing towards the entrance of the café.

“Yeah, later,” you nod and turning around you walk inside.

Arriving back to the office you drop by Jasmine’s office to tell her that you have to postpone your plans after work.

“What is more important than getting drunk with me?” she gasps dramatically.

“I ran into… I met Harry,” you tell her. You told her all about Harry one evening when you were out, just a few months into your stay. It was one of those days when you were feeling extremely homesick, or maybe you just missed him terribly.

“What? Your professor ex?” she asks with widened eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you are forgiven. Go and get the man back!”

“What?” you chuckle. “We just met after a year, how do you know I want him back? Maybe I just want to catch up with him,” you say, but it’s an obvious and blatant lie and you both know that. Jasmine gives you a look.

“Please, you are still so obviously in love with the man, don’t even try to convince me otherwise.”

You don’t protest, just bite into your bottom lip. You really are in love with him, or the version you knew a year ago. He could be an entirely different person now so you can’t be sure if your feelings are the same about the man you met today.

“Have fun with him and then tell me all about it after, okay?” she beams and you just nod, leaving her to finish her work.

As time is slowly passing by you find yourself growing nervous about seeing Harry. That short little conversation on the street was not enough to calm your nerves. What is he like now? Is he the same? Does he have new hobbies? Is he as happy to see you as you are to see him? What will he think of you? What if he doesn’t like you after all this time?

You try to push the questions to the back of your mind, not wanting to overwhelm yourself too much to the point where you chicken out of seeing him. When you’re on your way down following his text that he is waiting for you in front of the building, you are trying to keep yourself together and remind yourself that it’s just Harry, he might be a little different, but he is still kind of the same.

Luckily, the moment you spot him waiting a few feet away from the entrance, you forget about everything else, he is the only one to exist. He envelopes you in a hug when you arrive, smiling at you warmly.

“Hi, ready to go?” he kindly asks and you nod.

You settle for a nearby bar you’ve actually been to with Jasmine before. Harry insists on paying for the first round of drinks as the two of you settle in a secluded booth at the back. When he is standing at the bar you catch yourself watching him in awe. The situation is quite odd, could have never happened probably back home, the two of you casually out for a drink.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks upon returning, sitting across you.

“I was just thinking how this is the first time we are out, just the two of us.”

Harry smiles softly, probably appreciating it just the same.

The next couple of hours you both try to share anything and everything that has happened in the past year. He tells you about his last year as a professor and him not extending his contact. Coming back to London he has joined a research group for a marketing company, using his excellent knowledge to analyze human behavior in connection with different type of ads.

“It’s a lot different from being a college professor ain’t it?” you tease him and he nods chuckling.

“Guess I wanted some change. But it’s been nice, I enjoy doing a lot of research and experiments.”

Then you tell him about your time as a forensic document examiner, all the different cases you worked on and how it has been, living in London on your own. He listens to your tales about everything you’ve done with Jasmine, the concerts and karaoke bars you’ve been to and just generally your life overseas.

“Sounds like you’ve found your place, then,” he says smiling softly.

“I guess. Wasn’t an easy transition, but I’m feeling good now,” you nod. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss my past,” you add.

His eyes wander down to your hands that are fidgeting with your almost empty glass. You see how they stop over the ring and he seems surprised as he reaches out, takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the little strawberries.

“You’re still wearing the ring,” he states.

“Of course,” you smile and when he is about to let go of your hand, you grab it and hold it, needing to feel his touch.

You wanted to run back home so many times because you were missing him too badly, missed his voice, his eyes, his touch, everything and now, out of nowhere, he is here with you again, far away from the place where it all started and had to end for a while, still making you feel like home, no matter where you are.

At one point, you move to sit beside him in the booth. You just keep sharing and sharing even things you’ve talked about on the phone before. You’re just soaking each other in. His arm soon moves around your shoulders and you gladly lean into his side, placing a hand to his thigh, sparkles running through your body.

“I love this,” you hum to yourself upon finishing your last drink.

“Love what?”

“Being out with you without a worry. I always dreamt of this and it’s just… so natural. I wish we got to experience it before.”

“As you said, that was a wrong time and place. Wasn’t our fault.”

You lift your head, eyes meeting his curious green irises as he smiles down at you kindly. You’ve missed that smile, it still makes your heart skip a beat, just like at the beginning.

“And do you think it’s the right time and place now?” you prompt the question.

“It’s definitely… better,” he chuckles softly. “Unless you are seeing someone, because now would be the best time to tell me.”

“I’m not,” you shake your head smirking. “Tried to go on dates, but truth is… none of them were you. I gave up after a few terrible attempts.”

“I didn’t even try,” he shyly smiles. “I just… knew no one would make me as happy as you did. As you always do.”

Pushing yourself up a bit, you rest your forehead against his as he closes his eyes, his arm around your shoulder tightens and his other hand rests on your thigh, pulling you closer. Your palm slides up his chest and neck until you’re cupping his cheek. You place a soft lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, testing the waters out, seeing how he reacts though nothing that happened tonight tells you he wants to keep his distance.

He moves his face, nose nudging against you before his lips find yours in a kiss you’ve been longing for since you left him behind at the airport over a year ago. Your fingers lace through his hair, pulling him towards you as if he could escape from your hold any moment, but he is definitely here to stay. Your lips clash again and again, savoring each other, eagerly trying to make up for the time you lost since your departure. You melt into his arms, moving your legs across his lap as he pulls you to his lap in the booth, partially hidden from the rest of the bar, wrapped up in your little bubble. He tastes like home, his kisses feel like the first warm rays of sunshine after a long and cold winter, the only thing you couldn’t really get yourself over this whole year. Because you’ve become good at pushing your feelings down to the point where you could easily carry on, but he was always in the corner of your mind, making you wonder if you’ll ever meet again and if you do, will it be the same as before?

It’s not, because it’s better. The burdens and banters that tied you both down a year ago are now long gone, you have all the time and space in the world, nothing is restricting you. You can touch him and kiss him whenever and wherever you want. There’s no more sneaking around, no one here knows who you are and who Harry used to me to you. Here, you’re just another lovesick couple, so into each other it’s almost insane.

When he pulls back his forehead stays rested against yours as you both are trying to catch your breath. His hand runs up and down your thigh, the warmth of his palm melting your body under his soft touch.

“I love you,” he breathes out, eyes meeting yours.

“You still do?” you ask with a small smile, heart beating in your throat.

“I never stopped loving you,” he admits and you let out a shaky breath, pulling him down for a short kiss.

“Not even when I was an ocean away from you?”

“No,” he chuckles shaking his head. “If that’s possible, I loved you even more when you were away. I realized how much you mean to me and I could only hope you weren’t moving on without me.”

“I could never,” you smile at him softly. “I love you too much to do that.”

“You have no idea how much I missed you say that,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle and you kiss his lips shortly, assuring him that you feel the same way. “So… are we going to try again?”

“Do you want to?”

“There’s nothing I want more, baby,” he truthfully admits, his gaze softening at you as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” you smile at him widely. “I think it’s settled.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[lonelyreputation]

omg i saw ur writing for barzal !!! ‘how about a hug, hm?’ seems so cute <3

Ahh yes I’m gonna try!!! Also probably going to re-post it on my hockey blog (@matwith1t) so !!! Let’s give it a whirl! First Mat with one t writing! Woot!

Post-Grad Uncertainties 

Prompt: “how about a hug, hm?” // prompt list // Fluff, brief mention of anxiety 

Mat Barzal x Reader // WC: 1.5k

You were trying your hardest to enjoy your last few months of university. Trying to savor all of the “free time” you had before that time would eventually be taken up by a nine to five job with an hour for lunch. Trying to enjoy midnight study sessions in the library with your friends, as you all laughed and reminisced about sophomore year instead of actually studying. And trying to enjoy attending your boyfriend’s hockey games while wearing his New York Islanders sweatshirt––your lucky charm––in hopes he scored a goal.

You were trying really hard to enjoy the good times. But the looming thought of post-grad employment always lingered in the back of your head. 

It was there when you went to a coffee shop with Mat early in the morning before his practice. There when you were in the library with your friends, being sushed by other students for laughing too loud. And there when Mat had scored a goal and pointed up at you in the stands.

Over winter break, when you went home to visit for a bit before returning to New York, it had been the first question everyone asked you when they found out you were about to be a second semester senior. So, they would hesitantly start out, what are your plans for after graduation? 

Who was even hiring? When did you have to have applications in by? Where would that career take you? What job?

With your laptop open and notebooks spread out across Mat’s kitchen table, you were at a loss. You decided to take a study break and search for jobs on LinkedIn, contact people who you met by networking to see if they knew any companies hiring, and even stooped as low as to calling your stringent dad for advice. But nothing was proving helpful and you buried your face in your hands, prepared to have a break down.

You were about to give up and get back to taking notes when you heard the jingle of keys from outside and then saw the door open. And in the midst of feeling an abundance of anxiety, you smiled as Mat awkwardly maneuvered through the door clutching his keys, phone, and bulky practice bag. He kicked the door shut with his foot and dropped his bag with a heavy sigh.

Without a care, he threw his keys on top of his practice bag––no matter how many times you told him it would just be easier to hang them up right when he walked through the door––and looked up from his phone. A smile instantly stretched across his face as he walked into the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said to you as he pulled two glasses from a cabinet and filled them up with water.

You smiled appreciatively as he came over and set a water down in front of you and took the seat next to you, “Couldn’t concentrate anywhere,” you nervously tapped your index finger on the table, “I can leave if you want to be alone––”

Mat's laugh calmed down every nerve you felt before he had arrived. “I gave you a key, remember?” He said with a smirk as he took a sip of water.

Bashfully, you tucked your chin down into your chest as you felt the same butterflies reappear in your stomach like they had two weeks ago when Mat gave you a key to his apartment. 

“What’re you studying now?” Mat picked up one of your textbooks and flipped through the pages, making sure he marked the page you were on with his thumb so he wouldn’t lose your place, “Always too smart for me. Everyone will want you after you graduate.”

You tried letting out laugh, tried to see the humor behind his encouraging comment, but all it did was bring up every insecurity you had about not finding a job.

The breathy laugh you tried to let out ended up getting caught in your throat. The prickling behind your eyes became too strong. And with the scratchiness you felt on the back of your throat…You knew what was about to happen.

Screwing your eyes shut tight, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth as you hiccuped. 

“Y/n?” Mat softly cooed your name as he placed a gentle hand on your forearm, “Hey, what’s up?”

And that’s all it took for your composure to come undone. The tears broke their dam and flowed as if there was nothing that could stop them. Your shoulders slightly shook as you openly cried in front of your boyfriend into the palms of your hands. Mat had said nothing wrong, he was just being the encouraging boyfriend he promised to be since day one, but his soft words and caring tone of voice somehow triggered a switch.

Not saying a thing, Mat moved his chair right up next to yours. He had one hand gently rubbing up and down your back, and the other hand was still on your forearm; his fingertips softly drawing patterns on your arm. He let you get all of your emotions out, because he knew from previous experience that if you were to explain yourself, it would come out in choppy phrases between your cries.

“Deep breaths,” he whispered in your ear as you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder, “In, one…two…three…Out, four…five…six…” He guided you through a few more breathing exercises until your cries were nonexistent.

He sat there, chin still comfortably resting on your shoulder, for a few more minutes of silence. You appreciated that he didn’t try to remove your hands from your face since you still had a few more silent tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“Talk to me,” Mat whispered.

With one last shaky breath, you lifted your head up from your hands and ripped away the last of your tears with the heels of your palm, “Do you really think everyone will want to hire me after I graduate?”

Mat lifted his chin from your shoulder and tilted his head with furrowed eyebrows, “Uh, yeah,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re perfect.”

With a small laugh, you swatted his chest, but he caught your hand in his before it could fall into your lap. You avoided his gaze as you looked down at the keyboard of your laptop, “Everything is just so hard,” you said in a quiet voice, “Making sure you have the right experience, making sure you have the right connections, having the job pay decently, trying not to hate it, checking the location of the job––And did you know that some companies will just ghost you––”

“Whoa, whoa,” Mat calmly said when he noticed you starting to get worked up again. You took a deep breath and he smiled at you, “Everything will work out.”

You felt your shoulders drop, “But what if it doesn’t,” your voice cracked, “My internship hasn’t mentioned anything about it potentially rolling into full time. And what if I––”

“Whether your internship offers you a job, whether you find a job and they want you right after you graduate, or you find a job six months or even a year after you graduate,” You slowly picked your head up to see Mat with the most hopeful look in his eyes, “It’ll be just what you want because you know not to settle for anything less than you deserve.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and he triumphantly smiled when he saw a smile tug at the corners of your lips, “Whatever the job may be, whenever the job comes, it’ll all work out.”

You took a sip of water before looking at Mat and sniffling, “You think so?” 

He squeezed your hand, “I know so.”

Nodding your head, you let out a deep breath and finally showed Mat a real smile, “You’re the best.”

Mat rolled his eyes, “I know.” You let out a scoff, but before you could pull your hand away from his, he stood up and tugged you up with him, “How about a hug, hm?”

Without any hesitation, you fell into his chest and leaned your head on the soft material of his sweatshirt. Like he had done earlier, his hands reassuringly rubbed up and down your back, causing you to let up on all of the pent up anxiety you felt about searching for jobs. 

You felt Mat press a kiss to the top of your head as he mumbled, “How about a movie and some cuddling?"

"I could use a study break,” you nodded into his chest.

Mat’s arms dropped from around you, as he picked up your hand, and dragged you into the living room. You plopped down on the couch as he grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and soon enough, there was a movie from Netflix that neither of you cared about as you rested your head on Mat’s chest and easily fell asleep to the steady beating of his heart.

[matwith1t]

A/N: Hiii! This is my first little writing for Mat! Reposting it from my other account so I can have it all lined up here! I hope you like it, would love to hear your thoughts! 🎓📚🍾 Thank you much to the wonderful @matsbarzals​ for the request!!

Prompt: ‘how about a hug, hm? // Fluff, brief mention of anxiety

WC: 1.5k

You were trying your hardest to enjoy your last few months of university. Trying to savor all of the “free time” you had before that time would eventually be taken up by a nine to five job with an hour for lunch. Trying to enjoy midnight study sessions in the library with your friends, as you all laughed and reminisced about sophomore year instead of actually studying. And trying to enjoy attending your boyfriend’s hockey games while wearing his New York Islanders sweatshirt––your lucky charm––in hopes he scored a goal.

You were trying really hard to enjoy the good times. But the looming thought of post-grad employment always lingered in the back of your head.

It was there when you went to a coffee shop with Mat early in the morning before his practice. There when you were in the library with your friends, being sushed by other students for laughing too loud. And there when Mat had scored a goal and pointed up at you in the stands.

Over winter break, when you went home to visit for a bit before returning to New York, it had been the first question everyone asked you when they found out you were about to be a second semester senior. So, they would hesitantly start out, what are your plans for after graduation?

Who was even hiring? When did you have to have applications in by? Where would that career take you? What job?

With your laptop open and notebooks spread out across Mat’s kitchen table, you were at a loss. You decided to take a study break and search for jobs on LinkedIn, contact people who you met by networking to see if they knew any companies hiring, and even stooped as low as to calling your stringent dad for advice. But nothing was proving helpful and you buried your face in your hands, prepared to have a break down.

You were about to give up and get back to taking notes when you heard the jingle of keys from outside and then saw the door open. And in the midst of feeling an abundance of anxiety, you smiled as Mat awkwardly maneuvered through the door clutching his keys, phone, and bulky practice bag. He kicked the door shut with his foot and dropped his bag with a heavy sigh.

Without a care, he threw his keys on top of his practice bag––no matter how many times you told him it would just be easier to hang them up right when he walked through the door––and looked up from his phone. A smile instantly stretched across his face as he walked into the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said to you as he pulled two glasses from a cabinet and filled them up with water.

You smiled appreciatively as he came over and set a water down in front of you and took the seat next to you, “Couldn’t concentrate anywhere,” you nervously tapped your index finger on the table, “I can leave if you want to be alone––”

Mat's laugh calmed down every nerve you felt before he had arrived. “I gave you a key, remember?” He said with a smirk as he took a sip of water.

Bashfully, you tucked your chin down into your chest as you felt the same butterflies reappear in your stomach like they had two weeks ago when Mat gave you a key to his apartment.

“What’re you studying now?” Mat picked up one of your textbooks and flipped through the pages, making sure he marked the page you were on with his thumb so he wouldn’t lose your place, “Always too smart for me. Everyone will want you after you graduate.”

You tried letting out laugh, tried to see the humor behind his encouraging comment, but all it did was bring up every insecurity you had about not finding a job.

The breathy laugh you tried to let out ended up getting caught in your throat. The prickling behind your eyes became too strong. And with the scratchiness you felt on the back of your throat…You knew what was about to happen.

Screwing your eyes shut tight, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth as you hiccuped.

“Y/n?” Mat softly cooed your name as he placed a gentle hand on your forearm, “Hey, what’s up?”

And that’s all it took for your composure to come undone. The tears broke their dam and flowed as if there was nothing that could stop them. Your shoulders slightly shook as you openly cried in front of your boyfriend into the palms of your hands. Mat had said nothing wrong, he was just being the encouraging boyfriend he promised to be since day one, but his soft words and caring tone of voice somehow triggered a switch.

Not saying a thing, Mat moved his chair right up next to yours. He had one hand gently rubbing up and down your back, and the other hand was still on your forearm; his fingertips softly drawing patterns on your arm. He let you get all of your emotions out, because he knew from previous experience that if you were to explain yourself, it would come out in choppy phrases between your cries.

“Deep breaths,” he whispered in your ear as you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder, “In, one…two…three…Out, four…five…six…” He guided you through a few more breathing exercises until your cries were nonexistent.

He sat there, chin still comfortably resting on your shoulder, for a few more minutes of silence. You appreciated that he didn’t try to remove your hands from your face since you still had a few more silent tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“Talk to me,” Mat whispered.

With one last shaky breath, you lifted your head up from your hands and ripped away the last of your tears with the heels of your palm, “Do you really think everyone will want to hire me after I graduate?”

Mat lifted his chin from your shoulder and tilted his head with furrowed eyebrows, “Uh, yeah,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re perfect.”

With a small laugh, you swatted his chest, but he caught your hand in his before it could fall into your lap. You avoided his gaze as you looked down at the keyboard of your laptop, “Everything is just so hard,” you said in a quiet voice, “Making sure you have the right experience, making sure you have the right connections, having the job pay decently, trying not to hate it, checking the location of the job––And did you know that some companies will just ghost you––”

“Whoa, whoa,” Mat calmly said when he noticed you starting to get worked up again. You took a deep breath and he smiled at you, “Everything will work out.”

You felt your shoulders drop, “But what if it doesn’t,” your voice cracked, “My internship hasn’t mentioned anything about it potentially rolling into full time. And what if I––”

“Whether your internship offers you a job, whether you find a job and they want you right after you graduate, or you find a job six months or even a year after you graduate,” You slowly picked your head up to see Mat with the most hopeful look in his eyes, “It’ll be just what you want because you know not to settle for anything less than you deserve.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and he triumphantly smiled when he saw a smile tug at the corners of your lips, “Whatever the job may be, whenever the job comes, it’ll all work out.”

You took a sip of water before looking at Mat and sniffling, “You think so?”

He squeezed your hand, “I know so.”

Nodding your head, you let out a deep breath and finally showed Mat a real smile, “You’re the best.”

Mat rolled his eyes, “I know.” You let out a scoff, but before you could pull your hand away from his, he stood up and tugged you up with him, “How about a hug, hm?”

Without any hesitation, you fell into his chest and leaned your head on the soft material of his sweatshirt. Like he had done earlier, his hands reassuringly rubbed up and down your back, causing you to let up on all of the pent up anxiety you felt about searching for jobs.

You felt Mat press a kiss to the top of your head as he mumbled, “How about a movie and some cuddling?"

"I could use a study break,” you nodded into his chest.

Mat’s arms dropped from around you, as he picked up your hand, and dragged you into the living room. You plopped down on the couch as he grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and soon enough, there was a movie from Netflix that neither of you cared about as you rested your head on Mat’s chest and easily fell asleep to the steady beating of his heart.

[yeojaa]

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse;  you were the weird girl in the park.  Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing.  myg x named f!reader.  s2l.

genre + rating.   college!au.  fluff, angst, smut.  explicit. 

tags / warnings.  light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!).  there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic.  i’m not sorry.  lol.

wc.  8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible.  You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink.  You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket.  Sometimes, he reads.  Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno.  Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes.  Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.  

They’re all interesting in their own ways.  

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts.  He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine.  He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them.  He reads a lot, too.  You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf.  Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool.  You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods. 

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party.  You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her.  He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip.  It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer.  He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be.  He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk.  You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more.  It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.  

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class.  You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model.  He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble.  It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person;  it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook.  They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them.  Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears:  boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black.  You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library.  You’re practically best pals by college standards. 

And then, of course, there’s him.  Your muse.  The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to.  The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them.  The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen.  The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible. 

Min Yoongi.  

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear.  You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes.  You sometimes add his glasses;  you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon.  You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day.  Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs.  You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all. 

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense. 

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.  

No, not getting caught.  Not in the traditional sense, at least.  He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day.  You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment. 

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is. 

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night.  You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots.  You were always so careful.  You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.”  You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream.  The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.  

“It’s here somewhere.”  The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”  

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…”  Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild.  “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers. 

Lucky for her;  unlucky for you. 

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly.  You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit!  Shit!”  Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag.  Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens.  You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.  

“Don’t forget,”  she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her.  “Thanks, Ji.”  You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.”  It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall.  Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.  

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples.  You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped.  You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!”  It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.  

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee.  You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless.  Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly.  You can’t deny you’re a little envious. 

“Your face is all red.  You’re out of breath.  Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess.  “No, I’m good.”  It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.  

“You sure?”  He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas.  He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist.  Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail;  he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.   

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you.  “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.”  There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge.  You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter.  You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake.  Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?” 

“Did you say…”  You can’t finish the sentence.  You feel like you’re about to be sick.  

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal.  It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips.  It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”  

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks.  At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy.  Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.  

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)  

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.”  As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half.  “You’re really good at capturing his boredom.  That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.”  You should make conversation;  it’s the polite thing to do.  

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook.  Better him than someone else, right?  Better him than Yoongi himself?  That’s what you tell yourself, at least.  

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay.  Semi okay.  Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse.  You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings.  “You have nothing to worry about.  I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him.  There’s nothing to say - not really.  You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making.  Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.  

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention.  It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone. 

“This is Miru.” 

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues. 

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.  

“Ohf, phey!”  With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables.  They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion.  He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly;  you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs.  “Sorry.  Hi.”  

“Do you want to join us?”  It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow.  “I’m Jimin, by the way.”  He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this. 

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery.  Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.  If looks could kill, you think.  

“Don’t worry about him,”  Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you.  It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice.  “Sometimes, he gets like this.”  

You want to believe it.  Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face.  Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top.  It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears. 

“I’m so sorry.”  It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.  

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.”  Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare.  He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words.  It’s not the Yoongi he knows.  It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.”  It’s thinner, but just as reproachful.  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth.  “Mean what?  Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.”  Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such.  Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce.  “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.”  Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises.  “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days.  Well, not really.  

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory.  You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries.  You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right.  Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.”  You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up.  From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate.  It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault.  And she had to pick up the pieces!  It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.  

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.”  She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green.  She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food.  “You can’t avoid him forever.”  

“I can try,”  you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.  

Try - and fail, it seemed.  You’d already run into him twice.  Twice!  Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.  

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize.  You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.  

The second time was yesterday afternoon.  You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up.  Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency.  You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face.  Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,”  Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness.  She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs.  It’s a bit dramatic, you think.  

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person.  Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”  

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump.  You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious.  “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.” 

It all falls into place then.  Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy.  It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her.  You’ve always had an unspoken agreement;  you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days. 

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things.  You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.  

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!”  She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice.  It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp.  You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh.  Dammit. 

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.  

Your heart stutters at the sight of him.  It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.  

“What?”  You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  At least, not right now.  You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.  

“I said—”  His words are glacial and biting.  It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be.  You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.  You can’t be cold when you’re dead.  “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”  

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression.  It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth.  He says nothing.  

“Really.  I’m not.”  You’re insistent, apologetic.  Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red.  The tips of your fingers are tingling.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  You wonder if he’s baiting you now.  

“For…”   Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care.  “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,”  he returns, completely deadpan.  He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,”  you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful.  “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often.  So I couldn’t let it go.”  You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices.  “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears.  A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment. 

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately.  Fair.

“I’m sorry.”  Again.  More.  Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare.  “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry.  Really, really sorry.  Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face.  There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize.  You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more. 

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time.  It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle.  You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.  

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face.  “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame.  “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”  

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action.  He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days.  You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.   

“Then… can I sketch you?”  You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it.  You can’t help it. 

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity.  He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile.  “Maybe next time.” 

“Next time?”  You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that). 

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied.  He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully.  His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced.  He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.  

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot. 

Over time, though, it comes - comfort. 

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you.  It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun.  You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.  

You know he gets it, though.  He always does.  It’s a Yoongi thing. 

“You can relax.” 

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks.  The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree. 

“I am relaxed,”  he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up.  He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon.  Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class.  You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No.  You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.” 

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning.  It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side.  It makes your heart skip a beat.  

“Go ahead then,”  he continues.  The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow.  You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”  

You always offer.  He never says yes. 

A part of you thinks he likes the attention.  It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful.  You think he might like the quiet, too.  The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.  

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more.   “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”  

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue.  It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.  

“What?”  You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with.  “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.  

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour.  It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me?  Why not someone else?”  He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him?  Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,”  you answer, perhaps too honestly.  “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.”  How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel.  “I didn’t expect it to be you.  I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject.  But I just… couldn’t?”  

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?”  It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you.  He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.  

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning.  You’re not used to it and certainly not from him.  You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.  

You’re not weird.  You don’t want this to be weird.  But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time.  One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months.  “What if I told you I was glad?” 

“Glad?”  It feels like an echo chamber.  Repetition.  As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”  

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard.  “I’d say the same thing.  I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon.  He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you.  His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad.  You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”  

It’s not a surprise, really.  It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore.  Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…”  You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?”  The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope. 

“I’d say you’re welcome.  For choosing you.”  The confidence isn’t your own.  It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys.  Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness.  Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face.  It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade.  It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red.  “That’s it?”  

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him.  Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same.  In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important. 

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point.  “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once.  There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”  

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to.  It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun.  All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours.  It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard.  It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing.  “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,”  he states, solemnly.  You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind.  Not if it gets you another kiss.  

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust.  You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks.  You’d like to find out.  

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide. 

You don’t know how you ended up here.  

Actually, that’s a lie.  You do.  All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,”  he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.  

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.”  Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.  

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.”  To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.  

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said.  It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation.  Yoongi was only painting you.  This was a bonding exercise.  Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician.  Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”  It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow.  So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat. 

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.”  He levels you with a look.  You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful.  “I wanted to make something beautiful but…”  Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea.  “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.  

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands.  The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.  

“You’re silly.”  

“ You’re silly,”  he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

 The roll of your eyes is undeniable.  “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right?  Not your best choice, making fun of me.”  He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers.  Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist.  A line here, a circle there.  Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,”  he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint.  Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside.  He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.  

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs.  A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.  

“Can I take this off?”  It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours.  There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders.  He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him.  He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice.  It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine.  You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you.  You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside.  You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now.  Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?”  Mellifluous and adoring.  Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?”  He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs.  The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive.  He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.  

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.  

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses.  Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing.  He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin. 

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts.  It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder.  “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest.  You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.  

“I think I love you.”  It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.  

“I think I love you, too.” 

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away.  It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it.  He’d been your inspiration and now you were his.  The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.  

“You don’t have to say it back.”  It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.  

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight.  Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks.  “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness.  His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone.  He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins.  It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.  

But it’s not enough.  It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath.  “Please touch me.”

“Where?”  He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own.  He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect. 

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again. 

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him.  A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips.  He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs. 

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering.  The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.”  Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw.  “Then it’ll be a good death.” 

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body.  He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop.  A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.  

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit. 

“Do that again.”  He doesn’t need to tell you twice.  When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.  

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds.  Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience.  Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.”  Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence.  “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,”  you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact.  He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins. 

“Just tell me.”

“I want this.  I need this.”  You hope he believes you.  You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t.  “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this.  He loves it.  “I need to stretch you out.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks.  It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything.  He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.  

You’re a dream come true.  He never wants to wake up.

“More.  Please.”  You’re so polite, he almost laughs.  You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now.  He can’t deny how proud he is.  It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other.  You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot.  He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”  

Your nod is enough of an answer. 

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot.  In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning.  You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—”  Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles.  He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy. 

“Please, please, please.”  There are tears in your eyes.  You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping.  “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.  

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs.  You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin.  The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones. 

“Are you tired?”  Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips. 

You are, but it doesn't matter.  You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring.  A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes.  “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager.  He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless.  It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.”  So pretty, so ready.  He can’t resist.  

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand.  The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye.  It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.  

“I love you,”  you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too.  You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips.  “I know.”  

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest.  You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.  

“Holy shit,”  he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue.  “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him.  It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.”  It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind.  He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust.  It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt.  It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.  

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.  

“Yoongi - please.”  You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him.  His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high.  The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice. 

“One more, love.  Once more for me, okay?  I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over.  You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place;  it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.  

“I love you,”  he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow.  It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly.  Yoongi doesn’t mind though;  he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.  

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste.  He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair.  “So, thanks, Taehyung?”  

“Can you not?”  It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.  

“Sorry.”  A beat.  He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly.  “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note.  this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer​ and i kind of just...  ran with it.  oops. 

[woozisnoots]

modest jeon wonwoo

° pairing: wonwoo x reader ° genre: university!au, host club!au, fluff ° word count: ~1.7k ° warnings: none! ° a/n: this had no business being this long and idek if i like it lol but I want to specifically dedicate this piece to @wonwoosimp​​ bc she’s literally the sweetest, best bean in the world [insert uwu meme here] thank you for gifting me my very first photocard, I literally cried opening it! I love you so much, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to the svt host club!

masterlist!

you entered university with a certain goal, a purpose. eventually, you were going to be the pediatric surgeon that the 13 year old you ushered you to be.

…let's just hope the knowledge of your brain was enough to get you through the first four years of pre-med. with your 3.7 high school GPA, you were lucky to get into your first choice college, let alone your current major

from the start of the semester, you dedicated yourself to studying the anatomy and physiology of the body until you knew every nook and cranny there was to know. and the library was the perfect sanctuary to get your shit together

as much as you loved your roommates, their constant fights over closet space and boy toys gave you no peace of mind what-so-ever

bless the library for being opened 24/7. If your roommates found you sleeping on their only working desk, you would find yourself waking up to the sound of tripping freshmen trying to get to their first 8am class right in the middle of the hallway

but the lone table in the corner of the library just on the third floor did you good at staying focused. even provided some good naps in between every now and then

the day before your first anatomy test, you LOCKED yourself in the library. no one was going in OR OUT of the premise just to sit across from you on YOUR table until you fully memorized the different layers of epithelial tissue >:(

gosh, you even scattered all your notes across the table just so people got the memo that this seat was: [OFF LIMITS]

yes, off limits to everyone except a certain jeon wonwoo.

the way you met was abrupt to say the least

besides your table, you had a pretty good view of the entire campus — from the main health science building all the way to the student parking lot

and just below you, an astonishing sight of a mob of screaming girls chasing after a mouse guy in glasses. not to be inconsiderate and heartless, but unless you heard someone scream bloody murder, diving back into your flashcard you go

tissue after tissue, you start to get delusional because at this point, everything is starting to look the same

slumping down into your chair, you take a second to mentally recharge, drinking the water you’ve neglected for the past three hours

you time yourself for a five minute break, going through the notifications on your phone

before you could read your roommate’s ongoing ramble on the latest update of the “crazy good looking, god-like, elite host club that the university has to offer”

a ‘club’ that you didn’t even know anything about nor cared for

you hear a loud ‘thud’ coming from the bookcase in front of you

from the side the tall, lean guy with glasses that you saw earlier emerged with his hands gripping his tricep

you try not to draw too much attention to him. half the reason being you didn’t want to embarrass him by laughing at the fact he ran into a 10 feet tall bookcase

and you did not need this man distracting you. it’s your eight week streak being this productive, a new record for anything you’ve done in your entire life and your pride wouldn’t let you have it if you lost it just because you saw an attractive man on sight

you scribble down a decent guess to the tissue identification question that you’ve been stuck on for the past few minutes, not bothering to look up

“that’s actually dense connective tissue, not smooth”

jolting up from your seat, you look up realizing the guy 5 feet away is now right in front of your face looking down at all your papers

“you can tell because they’re striated”

you stare at him in disbelief wondering how he could have gotten so fast with just looking at it for a few seconds. eyeing him up and down, he definitely looked around the same age as you but he wasn’t someone you’ve seen around the science buildings. and you would know since you took the liberty of familiarizing almost everyone within the department

“do you mind if i sit here?” his hands already on the edge of the chair ready to pull it out from underneath him

“...yeah sure”

“oh i’m wonwoo by the way,” he says as you both exchange awkward stares and knowledgeable nods

okay well since he’s proven that he might be of help to you, you might as let him stay. from what you’ve gathered, he didn’t have any stuff on him aside from his phone that you watch him get out of his front pocket, getting ready to play pacman

forget how attractive he is, this guy has some brains.

for the rest of the day, as you guys sat across from each other, wonwoo would occasionally bounce back and forth between giving you study tips and playing whatever game he decides to play at that moment in time

he was surprisingly really good at this? he knew more things about the subject than your professors did, and that’s saying a lot. like you’ve been looking at cells for WEEKS and you were lucky to get at least half of them. which begs the question:

“how do you magically know all this?”

the blank expression on his face tells you he wasn’t expecting that question but he quickly shrugs it off. “i just know a few things from my parents that’s all”

you would have questioned him further but the time on your phone read “22:57” and you already broke your number rule about sleeping early before a big test

as you pack up all your stuff, wonwoo pushes his chair in, bidding you farewell

“good luck on your test tomorrow!”

you appreciate the gesture, mentally thanking him for his help and proceed to go back to your dorms, preparing yourself to tell your roommate all about the exciting? day you had

“YOU MORON. JEON WONWOO?”

laying flat on your back on your bed, you cover the bottom half of your face, quivering under your sheets as you stare at your roommate’s outrageous outburst

you explain what happened and who you met today at the library. when your roommate asked to describe him in more detail, all you said was that he was pretty smart for someone who wasn’t particularly in your major

your roommate lets out a loud scream into their pillow, gripping the bed sheets before giving you the earful of the century

“he’s just being modest. he’s a korean lit major but he’s one of the uni’s top students since both his parents are the head of the science department.

…AND he’s one of the most requested host club members. so you caught yourself one big fish today bud.”

top student? science department? HOST CLUB? none of that was processing in your brain. the one club that you wanted nothing to do with and you just happened to meet their top money maker

grand.

the thought didn’t keep you up at night only because you thought that today’s encounter was just coincidence and you probably would never have to see him again.

(sad though, your roommate was right. he is rather good looking.)

the time that it took for you to take your test the next day flew by so fast that you questioned if it even happened. the first step you took out the classroom, you start to second guess all your answers, regretting that you didn’t check a third or even fourth time before submitting

your train of thought halts when you see jeon wonwoo standing in the empty hallway

“i’m sure you aced it”

and just like in a netflix original romance movie, he reveals a bouquet of pink begonias from behind his back while shyly adjusting his glasses

“these are for you. to congratulate you”

weird way to phrase it but you were still gonna take the flowers. “host club tendencies?”

“so you found out?”

from a distance, you can hear the rushing footsteps from downstairs followed by a sense of purpose. “i think i was bound to” :/

you didn’t know how you felt about the current situation. you had no idea what host club was until you got here and you still don’t know what they even do. for all you knew, this could just be a gesture to get them more clients

but if his actions were genuine… you wouldn’t mind seeing him again

“i have to start learning muscles for our next exam. heard it was one of the hardest ones. i’m not sure if you have more studying tricks up your sleeve?”

“i might.” a cocking little grin now appearing on his face

“good. same place at the library tomorrow then. and this time? try not to bring your dedicated fans wherever you go”

so these study sessions continued. you guys occasionally had to change spots - from cafe to an empty bio lab - if the mob ever saw a single hair follicle that might be his

but each time, wonwoo brought something more just himself. one day it would be coffee, others days it would be food. things to keep you motivated.

for a korean lit major, he was taking a lot of time out of his day to help you, being attentive to all the strategies that help you study and such

possibly making your assumption from months back, true.

by the time finals rolled around, aside from the spursts of review here and there, study sessions became more casual. you didn’t feel the need to overwork our brain since you already knew all the information (something you actually learned from wonwoo himself)

possibly the last meeting you’d have with him was similar to your first: just you two together but him playing on his phone. and yet before the night ended

“i have a proposal.”

“i’m not giving you money for your dumb club.” bold of him to assume you would-

“no but i really appreciate the thought :)

why don’t we turn these study sessions into… study dates instead?”

:0

your assumption after 6 months later: finally confirmed

“but that’s only IF you ace your finals.”

well let’s just say at the very end, you had a successful first semester and are now one step closer towards being the surgeon of your dreams.

plus, you even landed yourself a pretty cool boyfriend in the process

let’s hope his parents put in a good word for you when you apply to med school!

[seokmingiggles]

rainbow.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst, some scattered fluff, established relationship, soulmate!au (where you can see colour from the moment you meet your soulmate).

5.96k words

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, [spoilers: unmentioned illness (however, I allude to Lymphoma [a type of cancer] that has spread to other areas), major character death.]

There are countless tales of the lengths people go to when finding their soulmate, yet significantly fewer of the aftermath. You thought your life began when fate led you to your soulmate, but why does it feel like it’s ending all of a sudden?

Alternatively, not all wishes come true. Even when Jungkook tries to convince you otherwise.

A/N: This piece is likely going to be my last longer one for a while as I’m returning back to school for my winter semester. Expect my updates to be significantly more sparse than they have been for the past few weeks. Other than that, I’m so glad I began to post my writings online. It’s still bizarre to me that actual people are reading them?? If you enjoy (or have constructive criticism for) any of my pieces, please, never be shy to let me know!! I absolutely adore hearing your opinion on what I’ve created. With that said, gosh, I cried while doing my research to write this one.

If you are looking for a cute, fluffy soulmate!au, this may not be a suitable fic for you. Yes, there are some fluffy moments, but it overall contains heavy themes that may be triggering to some. If you’re looking for a fluffy soulmate!Jungkook drabble, the first portion of 1k words contains no angst, along with the three italicized sections.

•• Your soulmate. Soulmate. Even the word sounded magical; a mate bound to your soul.

Growing up, you were the cliché little girl who would endlessly dream about seeing colour for the first time at the instant your eyes locked with a certain someone across the room. Just imagining some above force drawing you to them sounded magical.

And, to a certain extent, it did happen that way when you met yours.

Not-exactly in the storybook-way you pictured, but you felt strangely drawn to a particular boy back in your second year of university. Your childhood friend, Chaeyoung, had convinced you to attend some end-of-semester party on campus. To be fair, that's where you met your other closest friend to this day.

The boy was sat on a couch, looking uninterested and unimpressed by the events happening around him. Chaeyoung, as much as you love her, had run off with another one of her classmates, leaving you floundering in the pool of sweaty bodies and loud music. So, you made your way to the sofa and sat next to the expressionless boy, who you came to know as Yeosang.

You didn't expect him to begin talking to you with the blank gaze he was displaying prior to you taking a seat, but you're happy it turned out that way. After that party, Yeosang joined your duo with Chaeyoung; the three of you would come to have plenty of fun together.

Though, it was at that same party where you also met Jungkook.

After chatting with Yeosang for who knows how long, your small bladder eventually needed relief from the few drinks you had. You excused yourself and wandered around the unfamiliar house in search of a bathroom. It was a large space with multiple floors, perhaps belonging to one of your campus fraternities, but you found yourself walking like you knew exactly where to go.

You ended up upstairs, where it was significantly more quiet than the bustling main floor. Only a few scattered couples kissing in the hallways or leading another to someone's bedroom crossed your path.

You managed to find a vacant washroom, much to your delight. But upon opening the bathroom door after you had finished, you were met with a handsome—albeit unfamiliar—face.

And also with a flood of colour for the first time in your life.

You and the stranger were both dumbfounded for a moment. It was only until he broke the silence and said, "Look, you don't know how happy I am to have found you, but I really, really, need to pee. So, if you don't mind–"

Those were the first words that Jungkook had spoken to you.

And in that instant, despite the slightly awkward, non-picture-perfect meeting, you were nothing less than smitten from that day forth.

Things between you and Jungkook went swimmingly after your first introductions. You two were soulmates; after all, it was only natural to get along. You had more in common with the boy than you would have guessed.

Your first couple of dates were much better than anything you had imagined them to be. Despite the cheesiness of a dinner and a movie for your first date or the loudness of your second arcade date, you were already looking forward to spending a future with Jungkook.

The first time he kissed you was like nothing else you've ever felt. Fireworks were an understatement. It was like all the stars in the universe had aligned perfectly, and all you could see were each and every constellation in Jungkook's eyes the moment he pulled away.

You were far beyond smitten at that point.

But what you didn't expect upon meeting Jungkook was how your vision would be impacted so greatly. Yes, you had heard about how wonderful a world of colour was, and yes, that was one of the things you had been looking forward to upon finding your soulmate; however, you could never have imagined just how vibrant the world really was.

You knew you were lucky to find your soulmate in your twenties. There were too many people who went countless years or even their whole lives without finding theirs, and you happened to meet yours only after a couple of decades into your life. It made you excited to spend the rest of your time by Jungkook's side. It would be a future where both of you would admire the process of the sky: shifting its palette in the evening to paint the clouds in an awe-inspiring gradient. Or seeing the luscious ruby-red strawberries adorning his favourite cake on each of his birthdays as the years passed together. Seeing the swirling brown of his irises, too, was one of your favourite sights after being able to see colour.

Your life became nothing short of a rainbow. Every day felt magical being with Jungkook; being with your soulmate.

Before you knew it, you celebrated your first year together. Then two. Then a few more until you both graduated from university. You eventually found a little apartment to call home at around the same time; it made sense to move in together. Previously, both of you had roommates during your schooling years. Although now, living together only seemed natural when you knew you'd eventually get married one day.

And living with Jungkook was nothing but natural.

Waking up next to your boyfriend was better than you could have imagined. Seeing his cute, groggy face puffy with sleep was the most endearing thing to you, and he thought the exact same way when he'd wake before you on the rare occasion.

It was like a little insight into how the rest of your life would be.

Your heart would uncontrollably flutter every time Jungkook would approach you from behind and gently wrap his arms around your torso as you worked at the stove. Or the way he'd sometimes comb your damp hair after a shower, making sure to pepper little kisses to your neck or cheek in the process. Your heart had never felt so full until Jungkook had unexpectedly made his way into your life.

And you're forever elated that he did.

•

"Which one do you think looks better on me?" Chaeyoung held up two shirts to her torso.

You examined both pieces and felt the fabric before saying, "I think I prefer the red one," referring to the shirt on the left.

You and your two best friends were spending a sunny day off just wandering around the streets downtown. It was your chance to explore the little cafes you would keep driving by or window-shopping at the cute boutiques you'd see. Chaeyoung had dragged you and Yeosang into one of the stores when a mannequin's outfit in the display case caught her eye.

"No, I think the blue one is nicer," Yeosang interjected as he pointed to the second option.

You hummed, reconsidering your answer, "Actually, yeah, you're right. I think you should get the blue one."

Chaeyoung inspected both tops once more, "Okay, blue it is."

The three of you walked to the cashier for the girl to make her purchase, leaving the store shortly after to continue on your way.

"You're both so lucky to have found your soulmates already," she beamed at the two of you as you passed by another shop.

"You'll find yours eventually, Chae," Yeosang added. "Seeing colour for the first time will blow your mind."

You only nodded in agreement and returned their smiles.

Your stomach had been feeling slightly off since this morning, but you ignored the feeling in pursuit of seeing your friends for the first time in a while. Yet now, the unsettling feeling seemed to be growing stronger.

"Hey, guys," you rubbed the back of your neck, "I'm not feeling too well all of a sudden. I think I might be coming down with something. I'm sorry to ditch you so early, but I should head home."

"Do you want a ride back?" Yeosang offered, being the only of the three of you to have a car.

"No, it's okay. The bus runs pretty frequently. I don't want to bother you."

You waved goodbye before either of them had a chance to protest and began walking to the nearest bus stop.

You weren't necessarily feeling sick; that was a lie. Or, rather, you suddenly felt like you had been struck by a tsunami. An overwhelming sensation of swirling nauseousness and anxiety began brewing beneath your skin. You clasped your hands together to prevent them from visibly shaking once you'd taken a seat on the bus.

You were uncertain of what was happening to you so suddenly.

However, you did know that that shirt looked awfully grey, not blue.

Now that you think of it, the sky above you appeared duller too.

•

"Hey, Guk, come look at this!"

Jungkook followed the sound of your voice and turned down the neighbouring aisle, only to see you holding up a folded square of checkered material.

"It's on clearance, too!" you said with excitement.

Your boyfriend stepped closer to you and took the blanket into his hands. "What is it?"

"What do you mean, 'What is it?' It's a picnic blanket, you goof," you took the square and flipped it over to see the image on the cardboard package of how it would look unfolded. "I've always thought the idea of those picnic dates is adorable. Cheesy, but adorable."

Jungkook admired your smile as you continued to read the supposed 'features' of the blanket.

"It's got a water-resistant bottom all while the top is a thick and soft flannel. It's also apparently easily foldable with a carrying strap." You continued to scan the list of details, "And look, it's machine washable! I think it's a good one." You turned your attention to the boy stood next to you, "What do you think?"

Jungkook wouldn't have been able to wipe the adoring smile off his face no matter how hard he tried.

"You're so cute," he mumbled and pulled you into a hug in the middle of the store.

"That's nice," your voice was muffled against Jungkook's chest, "but what do you think of the blanket?" You wiggled your arm free from his hold to display the picnic blanket once more, examining his face for his reaction.

Jungkook felt the fabric before saying, “It's soft. Yeah, I think it's a good one.”

“'It's soft,'” you repeated his statement. "That's all you have to say about it?"

"I can't say I'm a connoisseur of picnic blankets or anything, my love."

"Well, neither am I, but I'm sure I can think of more adjectives to describe it other than 'it's soft.'"

The boy encouraged you to come up with some.

"For starters, look how colourful it is! It's like a plaid rainbow in a fun little bundle."

Your words made Jungkook laugh, causing you to giggle too.

"Okay," you admitted, "maybe I'm no picnic blanket connoisseur either."

Jungkook admired your rosy cheeks from laughing. "Let's buy it," he said. "Going on picnics with you sounds like fun." He pulled you close once more, "Actually, anything as long as I'm with you sounds like fun."

“Does that mean you’ll sleepover tonight?”

The boy pretended like it was some philosophical question before breaking out into a smile, “Yeah, I’ll sleepover tonight.”

•

You did your best to keep that instance of a colourless sky and grey shirt to yourself for days. When Yeosang and Chaeyoung texted you later that day to check on you, you told them you felt better after having a nap.

And it was true, but not the full truth.

You blamed what you saw on a lack of sleep. It was just your tired eyes playing tricks on you; it had to have been. That previous night, you and Jungkook had gotten distracted by watching a few episodes of a show together, not realizing how late it had become.

So, when you went to lie down upon returning to your apartment that afternoon, you silently prayed that when you'd wake, you'd be able to see a complete colour spectrum once more.

It only broke your heart when that wasn't the case.

You crumpled onto the floor after staring up at the monochromatic sky extending above you; not an ounce of blue could be found between the clouds, nor all the way to the horizon.

You were dreading talking with Jungkook about it.

The day you first were able to see in colour when you met him, never did you anticipate that one day they would begin to fade.

Could you have rushed into things too quickly? Did you love him more than he loves you?

Has he fallen out of love with you?

Regardless of the possibility, seeing the colours begin to disappear couldn't have meant anything good.

That's when you'd decided to hide it from anyone, especially from the boy you loved with nothing less than your full heart and entire being.

Perhaps feigning ignorance could make the hue return. At the least, it was wishful thinking.

When Jungkook returned home that evening, you pretended like nothing was wrong. When he'd asked about your outings with your best friends, you'd said how nice it was to see them again.

You even showed him the nail polish you bought for him when the other week he said how he was interested in trying some for himself; after seeing your nails decorated so prettily.

Despite the name of the bottle's shade reading Ebony Midnight, you found yourself doubting the colour. You second-guessed if it actually was black like you intended or some confusing and ambiguous tint of navy blue.

Jungkook kissed your cheek and told you how excited he was for the upcoming weekend when you'd have the time to paint his nails for him.

Yet, a few days later—on both of your days off—when your boyfriend came up to you with the nail polish bottle in hand, you found yourself brimming with tears uncontrollably.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, love?"

You stepped back from Jungkook's advancement towards you.

"(Y/N)?"

His eyes held nothing but concern for you, and yet you still doubted his authenticity.

"Jungkook," you whispered, "what colour is that nail polish?"

The boy examined the small glass bottle. "It's black," he said like it was an obvious fact. He looked at it closer. "Wait, no, it almost looks dark blue in certain lighting."

All of the oxygen depleted from your lungs. You clasped your hand around your mouth as you wept, your eyes clamping shut both in frustration and in fear.

You felt Jungkook's arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest and gently rubbing your back.

"Please," his voice was small, "can you tell me what's wrong? If it's because you got blue when I asked for black, that's not a big deal, love. I'm so happy you remembered when I told you about it. And I still want to use it! I could barely tell when I looked at it–"

"I can't see blue anymore."

Jungkook halted his ministrations on your back, tensing at your words.

"And I'm afraid to know what it means," you continued, struggling to find your words. "Do you not love me anymore? Am I not really your soulmate?"

Your boyfriend pulled away slightly so he could look at your face properly; tear-stained and all. "(Y/N), please. I love you more than anything in this world. Never forget that." He brushed away a stray tear falling down your cheek.

"Then why are my colours fading? I've never heard of that happening before..." You furrowed your eyebrows in thought. Another reason suddenly popped into your head. "Unless–"

You didn't let yourself finish that sentence. Your eyes met Jungkook's only to find his expression had become more solemn.

"No," you whispered. "Please, no. Don't tell me– I-It can't be–"

Jungkook said nothing and pulled you back closer to him. You squeezed the boy so tightly, sobs shaking your body. He hugged you back as he silently began to cry.

"Could we not talk about it right now?" his voice was quiet. "We're still doing some tests to rule out what it could be, so I don't have much information for you."

You nodded your head.

The two of you stayed in each other's embrace. Jungkook swayed your bodies slightly: a gentle rocking motion to help calm you down.

"Can you still paint my nails today?"

You forced a smile on your face over the tears that had spilled and were threatening to continue. "Of course."

You took Jungkook's hand and made your way to the couch, swallowing nausea from the information with which you'd just been burdened. While it was vague, it was heavy, nonetheless.

That night, you were having difficulties falling asleep. Jungkook kept tossing and turning by your side; he'd kick and move the blanket around too.

"Hey," you whispered, finding his shoulder in the darkness. "Are you okay?"

Jungkook sighed and brought his hand on top of yours, "I'm really warm. Too warm."

You could feel the clamminess of his hand.

"And I keep feeling itchy," he added. "The blanket isn't helping—it's making me warm and itchy and–"

"Okay, okay," you soothed him before he'd become too frustrated. You sat up and removed the duvet from his body. "Do you think a cool shower would help?"

There was silence while Jungkook thought. He rubbed his tired eyes and replied, "I can try," before standing from the bed.

"Hey," you grabbed his hand before he could walk away, "I love you."

"I love you too."

You heard the smile in his voice.

"Now, get some sleep, beautiful," Jungkook leant down to place one kiss on your forehead, then one to your lips.

You listened to the sound of your boyfriend's footsteps receding from your bedroom. Shortly after, the faucet came to life, and finally, the sound of the shower curtain dragged closed.

What you didn't hear was Jungkook allowing himself to cry in the shower.

•

The weather had been stormier lately.

Jungkook was waiting to surprise you with an adorable, little picnic to celebrate your university graduation; however, the weather had other plans.

There were some days where he'd check the weather forecast multiple times to see if there would be an upcoming opportunity to see clear skies and sunshine.

But every time, he was met with that dull, grey rain symbol on his phone.

Jungkook had had enough. Screw the weather, he thought, we'll have this goddamn picnic if it's the last thing I do; indoors if we must.

You were sleeping in on the day after your last exam. It gave your boyfriend the optimal chance to set up your living room with the checkered blanket and wicker basket after running out quickly to get some flowers. The boy had an artistic eye. After pushing aside some of the remaining cardboard boxes from the move, he was proud of the final arrangement of breakfast foods and the occasional tasteful scattered petal on the blanket. He even took advantage of some of the smaller pillows from the couch to make the set-up even cozier.

Jungkook began to anticipate your reaction, growing gradually more excited. He carefully made his way to your shared bedroom to wake you from your peaceful slumber.

"(Y/N)," he cooed, brushing away some stray hairs that fell onto your face while you slept.

You hummed at the feeling of his touch, slowly adjusting to the light seeping through the curtains. Once your eyes finally opened, you were met with Jungkook's affectionate gaze at you.

"Good morning, my beautiful love," he leant down to peck you.

"Gross!" you pushed him away, jokingly. "You're not allowed to kiss me until I've brushed my teeth." You sat up with a playful grin on your face. You lifted your arms, "Carry me?"

Jungkook chuckled as he stood from the bed, "Oh, so you call me gross, but now you want me to carry you to the bathroom?"

Despite his words, the boy moved in to wrap his arms around your torso, effectively picking you up.

"No, I wasn't calling you gross," you said as he brought you to the washroom, "it was the act of kissing me with my yucky morning breath. That was gross."

Jungkook placed you down once you were in the room. His arms never left your sides.

"I don't suppose you're going to ask if I can brush your teeth for you too, are you?"

You picked up your toothbrush, wetting the bristles and adding some toothpaste, "So sassy today, Guk," and began brushing your teeth.

The boy only smiled, wrapping his arms around you once again and squeezing your smaller frame in his strong embrace.

Once you finished washing up, Jungkook told you to close your eyes as he pulled you into the living room, bursting with excitement.

"Promise me you won't make me run into the couch or a wall or box or something," you mumbled as he pulled on your free hand; your other one was covering your eyes.

Jungkook giggled but complied with your promise.

Eventually, you felt him stop in front of you, making sure you wouldn't crash into his back. Beneath your feet, you felt the cold wooden floor of your living room.

"You can open them now," he muttered into your ear along with a gentle kiss.

And when you did, you saw the beautiful arrangement of treats and flowers all sat upon the old picnic blanket, surrounded by the final few boxes you'd yet to unpack. It was the same blanket you bought before you moved in together when you claimed that you'd love to go on a picnic date with him one day.

When you made that purchase, never would you have guessed that its first use would be in your newly-shared apartment inside on a rainy day.

"What's all this for?" you felt strangely emotional at the sentiment.

"It's for you, (Y/N)," he pulled you into his arms once more. "Happy graduation. I'm so proud of you."

Jungkook leaned down to kiss you properly for the first time that morning. His thumb traced the shell of your ear as he smiled into the kiss, feeling the way one of your hands clasped the back of his shirt while your other one threaded through his hair.

"You're incredible, Jungkook," you whispered as you broke from the kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," he returned the sentiment and gave you another quick kiss. He took your hand and led you onto the blanket where you sat side-by-side.

"You know," you began as he mixed around the assorted fruits he chopped up earlier, "if we had a dog like you said you wanted, all this food wouldn't have been able to be left out on the floor."

Jungkook stopped fiddling with the fruit salad as he processed your words. "I still want a dog," he said simply and continued to stir. "But you're right. It would be a lot more challenging," he fed you a strawberry, "like having a baby."

"Dogs are like big babies," you chimed-in with a smile.

The two of you continued to snack while sat on the blanket. Small conversations and giggles were all that could be heard within the walls of your apartment. The atmosphere was significantly brighter than the downpour that continued outside.

"Do you think we'll see a rainbow today?" Jungkook asked as you both were now leaning against the base of the couch.

You were still clad in your pyjamas and him in his leisurewear.

"Maybe, if this rain ever stops," you replied. "Maybe if the sun shows itself."

"Maybe."

Jungkook brought the back of your hand to his lips, then laced his fingers between yours while the two of you continued to watch the rain.

•

"Do you have any nail polish remover?"

You heard Jungkook's footsteps approaching you in your bedroom, looking up to see his figure appearing in the doorway.

"Are you tired of how it looks already?" you smiled gently at him.

The boy shook his head. "Actually, I'm not allowed to have painted nails for tomorrow when I go to the hospital."

Your smile faded. "Oh, right. T-that's right. Um..." you got off the bed and trekked to the bathroom with Jungkook in tow. You opened the cabinet beneath the sink to find the little bottle. "Here you go. I have some cotton balls too to use with it. Do you need help with this too?"

"No, I should be able to do it myself."

"Okay," your hand found its way onto Jungkook's back, your thumb rubbed his shoulder. "Make sure you do it in a well-ventilated area."

"Thank you," he smiled.

Yet, you could tell his expression was only fleeting.

You were afraid. No, you were petrified of what tomorrow would bring.

Jungkook had been going through more testing lately, although you were still in the dark from it all. He kept giving you the same statements: "We're still figuring out what it could be," or "We're still not sure yet."

They were all just different versions of "I don't want to tell you because I don't want to worry you."

You still worried regardless.

You and Jungkook stood by the front door where you hugged him before he left for his recurrent hospital visit.

"Maybe you could paint my nails again when I come home tonight," he suggested, inhaling the scent of your shampoo for his memory as he held you in his embrace.

"Maybe," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before you knew it, Jungkook was once again out the door.

It was only when you were alone that you'd let yourself cry. You knew you needed to stay strong for his sake. Being on the receiving end of a life-threatening disease was hard enough; you didn't want to make his experience any more challenging. Although, you still didn't know for sure if that's what it was.

Jungkook exited his car once he arrived at the familiar tall building. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the familiar button, and eventually turned left down the familiar hallway to the waiting room.

He was shortly after ushered into his doctor's office, taking a seat in the squeaky and uncomfortable and all-too-familiar grey chair.

His doctor soon after entered the room.

"How are you feeling today, Jungkook?" she greeted him with a gentle voice, taking a seat in front of her desk in the corner of the room.

"My headaches are becoming more frequent," he began. "I also haven't had much of an appetite either, and sometimes, it's difficult to breathe," he stated with furrowed eyebrows. "I've overall felt more tired lately. That might be the biggest thing—my lack of energy."

Dr. Kim hummed and jotted down some notes. "Have you told your soulmate anything yet?"

Jungkook shook his head, "No, I try not to. I don't want to stress her."

The doctor sat upright once again, finishing her writings. "You may want to reconsider that choice," she cleared her throat. "Your cells haven't been responding to the antibiotics as we'd like them to. Perhaps, if we had caught it sooner–"

"But we didn't." Jungkook's voice was firm. "We didn't, and this is my life now. We try, and we fail, and we repeat the cycle over and over." He took a deep breath. "As soon as you told me the diagnosis, I suspected I wouldn't make it for much longer. I suspected that I wouldn't get to live the future that I've dreamt of." His features softened as you entered his mind. "The future that I've wished for." Jungkook paused, then considered, "Can I spend my final days—however long I have—with my soulmate?"

Dr. Kim's eyes remained on Jungkook's. "Are you certain? Because there's another procedure we could try. It would require you to stay here in the hospital, and there would be risks associated with it due to the stage you're in, but it's the last one we can offer you."

"I'm sure." The boy didn't hesitate. "I'm positive. I just want to be with her," he felt himself tearing up. "She already knows that something is wrong. I don't want to tell her that my MRI is practically all made up of black-voids." Jungkook bitterly wiped away the tear that fell, "She's losing her colours. She knows I'm dying."

"So you'd like to spend the rest of your time at home with her?" Dr. Kim clarified.

"More than anything."

•

"Surprise!"

Jungkook's hands lifted from your eyes.

"What's all of this?" you asked with a smile.

"For you, silly."

You giggled, looking between the array of treats displayed on the picnic blanket and your beautiful boyfriend. "I kind of figured that, Guk. But why?"

"Do I need a reason to treat you, my love?" Jungkook pulled you close to him, "I felt bad about the last time when we were stuck inside from the rain. I wanted to try again, properly, this time."

"But do you see all of this?" You gestured to the container next to you, "We couldn't finish everything you prepared last time, but you still got a cake for today! Do you expect the two of us to eat an entire cake along with everything else you've packed?"

The boy chuckled, "Come on, (Y/N), it's not that big of a cake. I'm sure we can finish it all no problem." He popped open the plastic container, eager to taste it. "And if not, then we'll have some to eat for tomorrow."

His logic was reasonable, you considered.

Jungkook picked up a fork and dug it into the side of the strawberry cake, only to bring the utensil up to your lips to give you the first bite.

"How is it?" your boyfriend asked, trying to gauge your expression as you chewed.

"Absolutely delicious," was your muffled response.

Jungkook reached up to wipe off the speck of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth before feeding himself a forkful.

"It is delicious!" he said with delight as the strawberry flavour danced across his tastebuds. "I may not know how to make a cake, but I sure know how to pick a good one."

"Ah, yes, picking good cakes is a valuable life skill to have," you playfully teased, admiring the way Jungkook continued to inhale more of the dessert.

The two of you laid back on the blanket after working your way through some of the treats (and about half of the cake; it was more than you anticipated you two would be able to finish in one sitting). Your head was resting on Jungkook's chest while he played with the ends of your hair as the two of you admired the heavens.

The sky was immaculately blue with picture-perfect white fluffy clouds decorating it. Jungkook was getting nervous when he woke up to rain that morning, knowing he had all of the preparations ready for the picnic. But now, the post-rain summer afternoon left a comfortable temperature with the sun high in the sky, warming the grass and gradually working its way to kiss the horizon.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

You glanced upwards from your position on Jungkook's upper body.

His eyes remained fixated on the sky as he asked softly, "Would you like to get married?"

The grin on your face was immediate at hearing his question. "Without a doubt, yes."

Jungkook beamed back at you and hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head.

"This isn't a proposal because I don't have the ring yet," he muttered into your hair, "but you already make me the happiest man alive. I can only imagine how incredible our future will be, (Y/N)." You felt him squeeze you slightly tighter. "There's nothing more that I want than to grow old with you by my side."

You felt yourself getting emotional at his words. "When the time comes that you do propose, know that it's already a yes." You propped yourself up so you could move to meet Jungkook's mouth with your own, caressing the side of his face while his hand continued to fiddle with your hair.

Jungkook grinned into the kiss. In all the years he's spent kissing you, the act never failed to pull butterflies from his chest.

You eventually pulled away only to see the light pink dusting across your boyfriend's cheeks with matching rosy lips. You could spend all day admiring him, and he, likewise, could do the same with watching you.

You once again nuzzled into his side with an arm around his torso, returning your gaze to the sky. It was beginning to shift into a radiant, golden-colour the lower the sun fell; the clouds reflected the light, displaying a gentle wash of coral-pink.

You're forever grateful for all of the dazzling colours which Jungkook brought into your life.

Goosebumps tingled throughout your body at the way the boy so gently grazed his fingers along your arm. The outside air was growing chillier with the depleting sunlight, yet being pressed against Jungkook supplied you with enough warmth to stay comfortable.

"Hey, look over there," your boyfriend indicated to your left. "Do you see that?"

You lifted your gaze to above where he was pointing.

•

There was a rainbow in the sky on the day that Jungkook died.

You received the dreadful phone call from the hospital early that afternoon. You thought he'd only stepped out for his usual testing. You had been admiring the way the sun finally broke through the dense rain clouds as you were waiting for his return home.

However, minutes before your phone rang, your whole world drained of colour. It was the difference between one blink. One split-second; one moment. You could see the golden sunbeams as they danced down to the concrete below, and then, suddenly, you couldn't. Everything became a varying shade of the asphalt; every hue vanished in that instant.

It was only a few weeks after you painted his nails for the first and last time. Of course, there was no way you'd have known it was the last time then.

Your heart tore into two at thinking how much pain Jungkook must have experienced near the end. He never once complained to you about any of it; he never told you what was wrong. You only found out afterwards from his doctor over the phone.

You nearly missed the sight of the rainbow after you set your phone down: the arc extended above the city in its monochromatic glory in the equally colourless sky.

You could recall the different hues that would make up the once pretty sight.

"You should make a wish, (Y/N)!"

"Make a wish on a rainbow?"

"You've never heard of that before?"

You pulled your eyes from the sight in the sky to your boyfriend's face, "No, never."

"Then today shall be your first."

"Hm, well, alright, Guk."

You sat up on the picnic blanket and clasped your hands together, pressing your eyes shut as you reiterated your wish in your head. Upon opening your eyes once you finished, you were blessed with Jungkook's delicate features gazing at you.

You brushed away some of his hair that fell into his eyes.

"What did you wish for, my love?" Jungkook whispered, leaning into your touch.

You exchanged his glance, admiring his beautiful brown eyes smiling at you, and inched closer so you could kiss him.

But now, you kind of hated rainbows.

"I wished to spend a lifetime with you."

They reminded you of your wishes that would, now, never come true.

"I wished for the exact same thing."

••

[dulce-pjm]

under the table

word count: 3.8k

genre: fluff

summary: you’re doing great! 100% amazing. a-okay! alright, no you’re not. but what does everyone say is the perfect cure for a heart that never had the chance to be broken? game night, of course! but knowing you, there will always be complications. 

You’re at peace. 

When things are like this, the universe is in harmony. You’re tucked away from the rest of the world, cuddled up under a blanket next to the thing most important to you, a relaxed smile across your face. You think you could spend the rest of your life here, content and happy. Safe. 

But you’ve never been particularly lucky. 

“The fuck is a board game club?”

“It’s fun, I promise!” Mina looks you up and down as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You know how you look, sprawled on your soft comforter in sweats and a grease-stained t-shirt. Your laptop sits beside you, a trashy drama playing in the background, while your hands are occupied with your phone and a large bowl of popcorn. 

“But I’m having fun now.” You gesture to your well-planned setup, grimacing when Mina turns the lights on. “Dude. Warning, please.” She sighs, stepping into the room with a stern look on her face. You can already feel your stubborn resolve slipping. 

Mina shuts your laptop and moves it aside, plopping onto the bed next to you. She takes your non-butter-coated hand in hers. 

“Y/N, I love you. But it’s Friday night. We haven’t gone out in a month. A month!” You glare, offended she’d bring up the subject. 

“Because you know what happened last time!” Mina opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. This discussion always goes the same direction anyway. 

“This won’t be like last time,” she reassures, taking the popcorn bowl from you, much to your dismay. “I promise. You like games! It’ll be fun and tonight we’re betting, so if you win you might even have some cash to take home.” 

“But I’m so happy here.” You cuddle your pillow childishly, puffing out your bottom lip. Mina is not amused. She sighs, massaging her temples. 

“I didn’t want to do this,” she begins. “But you owe me, remember?” You cock your head, no memory coming to mind. She sighs in exasperation. “You dragged me to that stupid dance class last semester! By the end I thought I was gonna puke!” You scoff. 

“Oh, puh-lease, you were practically drooling over the instructor. He was so hot I forgot about the pain. Too bad he has a girlfriend now. I stalked him on Instagram.” Mina laughs, a light tinkling sound compared to your usual guffawing, abrasive and obnoxious. 

“So… you’ll come?” You take a moment to think, despite already knowing your answer. You were too easy to guilt-trip, you knew. Too trusting, too. But Mina was right, you did owe her. You sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll come.” Mina’s entire face lights up as she cheers and hurries to her feet. Your joints creak as you heave your limbs off of the bed while Mina begins babbling instructions your way. 

You were rather talented at board games. And silly banter. You might even have a chance at walking away with the money. This will be fun, you assure yourself. 

“...So, yeah. Just bring ten bucks. And maybe change first.” Her eyes take one last glance at your outfit in light disgust. “Be ready in half an hour?”

“Mhmm,” you groan, stumbling to your closet. You sniff one of your old sweaters and when no ungodly stench meets you, you shrug it on in place of your tee. Mina thanks you before trotting out of the room, taking away your snack with her. 

This will be fun, this will be fun.

Or, at least it better be. You make a mental note that, if this goes south, you aren’t leaving this apartment for the next six months. 

After sprucing up your appearance and coating yourself with cheap perfume, you approach the supposed ‘board game club meeting’ (how the hell did that get approved, anyway?) with a newfound sense of confidence. Your smile is beaming, your shoulders are back and unbothered, your skin glowing. Wait, doesn’t that phrase mean you’re pregnant? You can’t remember. Not that pregnancy is even a remote possibility for you anyway. What with you never leaving the apartment and all.

You trail after Mina as she weaves through the library halls, before slowing in front of a corner study room. You’re astounded she made it here so easily, you had no idea this was even here. To your knowledge, this wing of the library was reserved for storage and staff. 

 Just as you’re about to follow her through the door, she spins to face you. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking and you know if you really don’t want to go-” 

“Oh my god, we’re here already! Let’s just go in!” You smile at her teasingly while she blushes. Despite how it might look to outsiders, you and Mina care about each other deeply. You appreciate how considerate she is of you.

 “Alrighty then!” She turns back around and throws open the door, drawing the greetings of everyone else in the room. Your eyes land on Mark, Mina’s boyfriend, who’s already shot to his feet and pulled Mina in for a kiss. 

You barely have time to scan the rest of the crowd before Mark’s wrapped you up in a hug, ruffling your hair. He’d always been friendly, definitely a little much for you. But his affectionate ways are perfect for Mina. 

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” He finally parts from you, allowing you room to breathe. You shrug sheepishly. 

“Well, here I am.” Your hands fidget nervously at the belt loops of your jeans. “So expect to lose.” Mark laughs, wrapping an arm around Mina. You suppress the part of you that’s immensely jealous of their easy-going relationship. You’ve never been able to achieve quite the same thing. Your relationships rarely lasted longer than a few months, at best. 

“I believe it. You always outplay me in Monopoly.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “But Yoongi might give you a run for your money.”

Your blood runs cold. Chills travel across your skin. A fire fueled by anger and embarrassment that had almost sputtered out over the past month is suddenly reignited, a blazing furnace beneath your face and chest. 

“What?” Mina’s smile becomes strained while you stand there, face void of emotion despite the thunderstorm raging inside. Her voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!” Mark, oblivious to the brewing conflict, smiles happily.

“Yeah, but his work thing got canceled, so I told him there was still plenty of room.” Pride beams off of his face. At any other time, Mina would congratulate him for his efforts to be inclusive and encouraging to their mutual friend. But right now, she was starting to be as panicked as you were pissed. 

Your mind is flooded with memories of fun conversation, casual flirting, and, ultimately, anxious nights spent staring at your phone screen, waiting for a very specific notification to appear. But it never did. You’re starting to see red. 

“God, Mark, I told you about this!” Mina turns to you, eyes frantic. “You know, if you just want to go back home, that’s okay. I’ll go with you, we can watch dramas and eat pizza and-”

“It’s fine,” you spit through clenched teeth. You force your fists to relax, allow a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes to settle across your lips. 

“A- Are you sure?” Mina touches your arm with concern, forcing you to tear your gaze away from a certain someone across the room. You shrug nonchalantly, forcing your smile to go wider. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Y/N, you seriously don’t-”

“It’s fine, Mina.” She immediately clamps her mouth shut, knowing your will is set in stone by the harsh tone of your voice. She nods vigorously and steps back into the arms of a very confused Mark. 

“Okay, okay.” She puts up her hands defensively before smiling and facing the rest of the group. “Who’s ready to get started?” She’s met with cheers and smiles as Mark settles into a seat beside her and starts dealing cards, leaving one empty chair, across from Yoongi. 

You slide into it, meeting his intense gaze as he looks up from his phone. Not that it surprises you, but he appears exactly the same. He’s fucking gorgeous. His features are soft, yet when he meets your eyes with that piercing gaze and unreadable expression, he becomes sharp and intimidating. His greyish-brown locks just barely sit above his dark, umber eyes, effortlessly tousled. Even his taste is good, his outfit composed of a leather jacket and vintage band t-shirt, topped with a single hoop earring. 

God, he is so perfect. Was so perfect, until he’d ignited your unending anger. 

“Hey,” you mutter, words coming off much more bitter than intended. Whatever. It’s how you feel, anyways. 

“Hey,” he replies. “Been a while.” His eyes never leave yours. 

“Sure has.” Your nostrils flare against your will. “You doing alright? Gone on any more blind dates?” Yoongi’s lips twist into a scowl. 

“Can’t say I have. You were the one and only.” The staredown between you two could start wars. The negative energy you’re generating sends a chill down an unsuspecting Mark’s spine. 

Your brooding is interrupted when a shiny, white sticker is passed in front of you. 

“It’s a name tag!” Mina explains, looking between you two anxiously. “You can decorate it. It’s fun.” You internally roll your eyes at Mina’s not-so-sly attempt to break up your silent argument. 

You grab a stray pen to scribble your name, but just as the ink begins to meet the sticker, fingers tighten around your wrist. With his free hand, Yoongi takes the sticker from you, bringing it to his side of the table. 

“Let me do it. Your handwriting is shit.” You grimace. He isn’t wrong. You work to get your mind moving, you’re already behind in the insult-slinging. After a brief moment, Yoongi releases your wrist and snatches the pen from your fingertips, dipping his head to start writing. 

“So are your dialing abilities.” Yoongi pauses, his eyes lifting, a poorly built facade of confusion masking what you’re sure is smug pride. The little shit. 

“What?” he asks curiously, pen lowering. 

“You heard me.” You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, as if daring him to challenge you. This asshole had the nerve to pretend he enjoyed your company despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, treat you to a nice date, not call you ever again, NOT EVER CALL YOU AGAIN, and then pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about? God, you’d really dodged a bullet there. Or, you would have. If Yoongi had picked up the damn phone and taken a shot in the first place. 

After a few seconds, a smirk plays on his lips and he shakes his head, returning to the sticker. 

“I see you and Yoongi are acquainted!” Mark comments, throwing an arm over your shoulder while blissfully unaware of the situation. Oh, to be pretty and ignorant. “He’s a monster at Risk, let me tell you. He could probably take over the world if he really wanted to. Most of the time, he’s the lucky guy walking away with the payout.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes still focused on the project before him. 

“Or you guys just suck.” Mark laughs, the boisterous sound rattling from his chest. 

“Either way, he’s the guy to beat.” You nod in understanding as a plan hatches in your mind. You rub your hands together, not unlike a cartoon villain. Your fixed smile becomes slightly crazed and Cheshire cat-like. 

Interesting. Very interesting. So, if you were to, perhaps, theoretically, make some private bets and win this game night, Yoongi would be out a shit ton of money? Now that sounded like fun, Mina be damned. Screw closure and moving on, revenge is much more gratifying. 

When Yoongi finishes your nametag, you slap it on your sweater without so much as a glance, oblivious to the way his face falls. 

If it took every fiber of your being, you were going to beat Yoongi’s ass, steal his money, and never ever see him again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Fuck!

How was it possible for somebody to be good at Candyland?! The game’s pure goddamn luck. But here Yoongi was, having claimed victory for three out of the six games played so far (you claiming the other three) and being well on his way to winning the seventh and final game: Uno. 

You, Yoongi, and Mina are down to three cards each, while Mark and the other participants are too caught up in rambunctious conversation to care that they’re losing terribly. 

Mistakes have been made. You had egged Yoongi on into raising the bets between you two from ten to fifty dollars. And now you were fearing you’d lose. But your will was still strong, refusing to give up so easily. And where there was a will, there were Draw Four cards. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Yoongi groans, reaching to draw from the pile. But at the last second, his fingers flicker back to his hand, slapping his own Draw Four card onto the table. You sigh, banging your head against the table without an ounce of embarrassment or true anger. That time had long passed. Now you were just exasperated. 

Mina cries out in protest, but having nothing to counter with, she begrudgingly draws eight, eliminating her from the close race between you and Yoongi, having two cards each. Yoongi smiles apologetically, making you laugh quietly to yourself. 

When he wasn’t being an ass, Yoongi still made pleasant company. He was nice and sarcastic and introspective, never failing to add something new to the conversation. Despite your initial resolve, you’d found yourself opening up to him once again, obnoxiously cracking your own jokes and telling wild stories from your past experiences. Whenever Yoongi smiled or laughed at you, your heart soared. If only he had called you back, things could be different. 

But they weren’t. This is a war now. A war you intend to win. 

“What are you doing?” The question startles you from the goofy selfie you’re taking as you wait for the play to make its way around the table. You set down your phone, ignoring the way that, in the picture, your eyes are straight ahead, meeting Yoongi’s, rather than directed at the camera.

“Texting my nephew.” Yoongi cocks his head, brows furrowing. “He’s five and has a tablet for some godforsaken reason. We just send each other pictures of ourselves making stupid faces back and forth. It’s silly.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly sheepish, heat rising to your face. It’s probably the bad air conditioning in this place. Yoongi’s confused expression melts into a soft smile, making the furnace beneath your cheeks blaze hotter. 

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“What?” He shrugs, taking a sip at his soda. Your eyes narrow. What kind of game is he playing? Does he think flirting with you will distract you from the mission at hand? Because if so, he’s an absolute idiot. 

“You’re an idiot!” you’re yelling just a few minutes later. Yoongi’s practically cackling from across the table, clutching his middle with one hand, the other holding just one card. You still had two, but no matter. It’s pretty unlikely he’ll be able to play his hand anyway. “The cookie is the backbone of the entire Oreo! Without it, the whole experience is ruined! Don’t disregard it so easily.” Yoongi only snickers more, his gums peeking out from behind his massive smile. He’s enjoying the way you get riled up so easily, how quickly he can get under your skin with the most meaningless of words. 

“It doesn’t even taste good, Y/N. The least they could do is make it taste like sugar, since that’s practically all an Oreo is.” You roll your eyes. 

“That ruins the whole balance. The only thing you could possibly add to an Oreo to make it better is peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” Yoongi leans forward in interest and slight disgust. You nod assuredly, finding yourself leaning forward as well.

“Trust me, it’ll change your life.” Yoongi looks at you earnestly. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s the life-changer.” Your eyebrows pop upward, jaw momentarily dipping open before you snap it shut. No. No. You’re not falling for this again. You scoff and fall back into the incredibly uncomfortable chair, which only makes Yoongi smile proudly. 

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Mark nudges you and you barely acknowledge him, slapping your blue four onto the pile easily. 

Yoongi looks at you oddly, lolling his head to the side. 

“What?” you snap, giving him your best glare.

“You’re done with your turn?” he asks, expression turning slightly concerned. God, he was such a fucking tease. 

“Yes I’m done, you dipshit. Play your turn.” You glance at your phone screen, seeing several notifications from your nephew and a scolding text from your sister for encouraging his behavior. 

Yoongi sighs, drawing his card when he can’t play. When you glance up, there’s a smirk on his face once again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi’s smirk deepens. 

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’” You stare at Yoongi. He starts to snicker again. 

“Fuck!” you shout, ignoring Mina’s many comments about ‘language!’ and ‘non-competitive dialogue!’ Yoongi laughs in your face, not even bothering to cover his mouth and try to spare you. You’re about to go ballistic, your fists clenched as Yoongi does the favor of drawing four for you, sliding them in front of you. God, you hate him. 

In the end, neither of you wins. Some freshman with glasses you didn’t know took the victory, teasing his apparent girlfriend for losing. Who even let freshmen in here, anyway? The participants decide that the winnings will be divided between you and Yoongi, since you both won three games, and the mini-bet between the two of you becomes null, with neither of you able to fully stake your claim.

But you’re the one who’s really been defeated. You couldn’t even succeed in getting a second date with this guy, what made you think you could beat him in board games?

You give Yoongi a small, meek nod before standing to go. Mina left with Mark already after double and triple-checking that you were okay to walk home alone. You make for the door, open the handle as unexpected tears threaten to prick at your eyes. 

You’re so pathetic. You’d let a fucking blind date get you so upset you’d barely left your apartment in the past month except to go to class. Could you really be faulted? You hadn’t had so much fun with someone in your entire life. You could feel the connection, the spark, between the two of you. You were certain this was the one that would last. So you took the leap, gave him your number, proposed a second date. But he never called you. Not once. 

You’re unlikable. Unlovable. You don’t deserve to win game night, let alone to win at life or relationships or-

“Y/N, wait up.” Yoongi’s found his way next to you as you trudge out of the library, staring straight ahead. 

Great.

“What is it, Yoongi?” You shoot him a dark look, only to find his ears tinged pink and his hand awkwardly scratching his scalp. 

“Well, uh, I was thinking.” The sentence ends, thought hanging unfinished in the air. 

“You were… thinking?” Yoongi jolts, like he’d forgotten you were here. His eyes never meet yours, contrary to his crude confidence from before. 

“Yeah! And, um-” He sighs, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I think we should use the money we won and go on a second date.”

What.

“What?” You’re openly gaping at him now. “Why?!”

“Because I really enjoyed our first date and I’d like another one.” You’re running out of air, sputtering on your breath. 

“But- But you didn’t even call me! I asked you out and now you suddenly change your mind?” After an excruciating moment, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, panicked rather than unreadable. The image is unsettling and unfamiliar. You’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“Because you gave me a fake number!” You gawk at him in confusion. “Or that’s what I thought, until you were talking earlier and I put it all together.” He grins, seemingly finding his confidence again. “Your shitty handwriting made me misread your number. I almost thought it was on purpose until now, that you just wanted to get rid of me. But it was all a misunderstanding.”

The weight of his words settles on your shoulders, making your head spin. All a misunderstanding? All those stupid tears and endless nights over… a misunderstanding? You could laugh. You do, actually. The sound makes Yoongi jump as the two of you step outside, the night oddly warm despite the time nearly reaching midnight. A stupid, dopey grin spreads across your face. 

Yoongi doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re stupid or unlikable. You’d done everything right, well, almost everything right. It’s humorous, really. 

“So, uh… What do ya say? Tomorrow? Seven?” You smirk. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m free.” Yoongi’s grinning too, enjoying the casual banter significantly more than the way his face grew flushed and he couldn’t seem to spit out what he wanted to say. 

“Well, then cancel your plans.” His eyes flash wildly and you giggle childishly, taking delight in his antics. You nod, your cheeks beginning to ache. 

“Tomorrow at seven.” Yoongi grins as you prepare to go your separate ways. 

“Tomorrow at seven.” You spin and begin walking the other way, but not before Yoongi can call after you again. 

“What?” You laugh, yelling at him from down the sidewalk, the streetlamps barely illuminating his figure. 

“Check your nametag! And text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe!” You laugh again. 

“I don’t even have your number, dipshit!” Yoongi sighs loudly, the sound echoing down the empty street. 

“Just check the fucking nametag!” 

“Fine, fine!” You giggle as you peel the sticker off your shirt. Your giggle intensifies when you see its contents. 

Along with your name, Yoongi decided to draw a small picture that you could only assume was you, composed of an angry face, frazzled hair, and devil horns. And in the bottom right corner is a string of digits. You’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at the piece of paper. You tell yourself to find a safe place to keep it when you get home. 

“Goodnight, Y/N!” he shouts, figure fading farther in the distance. 

“Goodnight!” 

You practically skip home, your body singing with adrenaline and joy. 

You muse that your world might never be in balance or harmony, not in your lifetime, anyway. 

But with you beside Yoongi, you thought it’d be pretty damn close. 

[neighbourskid]

Dave? Dave.

It's been quite a bit since I've written anything here, huh? Well, I guess as it has been for pretty much everyone, life has been kinda strange for a while now. Despite vaccine roll-outs and continually changing safety regulations, there's still a global pandemic on, and everyone is trying to navigate this reality the best they can. For once, we are all, generally speaking, in the same boat now (sure, there are huge differences between countries because capitalism fucking sucks and rich greedy humans are once again proof that things need to change asap, but overall, we all have to deal with this pandemic).

But I don't actually want to talk about the pandemic, it just exists as a frame of what I do wanna talk about.

As I have mentioned before, when the pandemic hit, I was in the last semester of my undergrad studies and writing my Bachelor thesis. Or that's what I was supposed to do, anyway. I did do a lot of reading for it, early in the first lockdown after university closed and we were all attending from home. I was lucky, I had no classes, I only had like three scheduled meetings to check in on progress of the thesis, but otherwise I was free of zoom calls and attempting to attend university digitally. So I read.

After a while, reading became taking a book with me into the sun, glancing at one or two pages, and then just napping for most of the day, and spending my evenings either playing video games or watching some tv show or movie. At some point, I felt like now was the perfect time to rewatch all fifteen seasons of CRIMINAL MINDS, so I did that, instead of writing my thesis. I still occasionally read, but most of the days I just felt exhausted and unmotivated so I stayed in bed and binged my crime show.

As the deadline for the thesis started approaching, and the time I had left fell under a month, a switch in my brain seemed to be activated and, oh, hello, suddenly there was a certain drive there for that thesis again. Which lasted exactly until an email from university dinged into my inbox a few days later, informing me that I would get another month for my thesis, due to the pandemic. And away that motivation and drive went, immediately.

Not much later I had a session with the therapist I was seeing at the time, because of the hormone treatment I had started early that same year. I had talked to him about my concern that I might have ADHD before because I didn't feel like there was anything we needed to talk about related to my transition, so I brought it up again here. I told him how my thesis was going -- or rather, how it wasn't going at all -- and finally, as I told him about some of the issues I experienced while trying to do work for it, he acknowledged that I may indeed have some attention regulation issues. He prescribed me medication to try out, and -- wonder oh wonder -- suddenly I was writing my thesis. I ended up finishing it on time (even though a week before I had a moment of "all of this is garbage, I will never pass, I should start the whole thing from scratch") and got a decent grade for it, too. I've been on those meds since.

Over the last, I don't know how many years, I've always known that there was something a bit wonky about my brain. There were always these things that seemed to come so easy to other people, and try as I might, I just couldn't make them happen. I, presumably, had a lot of neurotypical friends. I also have friends with depression, BPD, anxiety disorders and other neurodivergencies. I have family members with autism. I know my mom suspected I might be on that spectrum as well.

Reading up on many of those things I never felt like any of them described what I was experiencing. There were certain traits, sure, but mostly there was a lack of what I actually did experience in most of them. Even ADHD, when reading about the "required" issues and traits, doing those self-diagnosing questionnaires, I just never saw what I felt represented. And then I started reading about what people with diagnosed ADHD had to say about how they experience things. I ignored the more medical or clinical information, and just looked for people talking about how they navigate their lives with ADHD. And then all of a sudden it was, oh, yeah this, this is relatable. This is where my brain's at.

Suddenly it made sense that caffeine didn't do nothing for me, that a nice, warm cup of coffee put me right to sleep. It made sense how, after only a month, suddenly a well beloved hobby or tv show was suddenly of no interest whatsoever. Staring at the wall for three hours instead of doing a simple task. Drawing in class so that I could pay attention to what is being said. The inability to remember much of my life before 6th grade. Having to bounce my leg so I could read a simple text. Needing to visually break a book down into chapters with colourful post-its to keep me from being overwhelmed by the length of the book. And so many other things. Suddenly, there was a reason for that.

I've always liked doing personality quizzes. Or doing stuff related to my zodiac sign even if I don't believe in astrology per se. Finding out what my Enneagram number is. Or my Myers-Briggs type. Not because I think those things define me or describe me to a T, but because they give me a vocabulary. They give me options. I love answering a bunch of questions and then getting a wall of text telling me This Is Who You Are and then I get to pick out what is accurate and what isn't. It gives me words to describe who I am that I didn't have before.

And it is the same thing with posts or videos of people with ADHD. It gives me a vocabulary for the things I experience and it lets me express those things in a way I wasn't able to before. Before, I was like, doing things that my brain doesn't want to do, feels like running headfirst into a wall because there is no way above, around, or underneath it. There is no door, no ladder, no tunnel, no nothing. There is only running headfirst into it until maybe, hopefully, it cracks. Preferably before my head does. But that is exhausting and most of the time, I prefer to not get through the wall at all, if what it takes is going headfirst through it. Now, I know that what that is, is a dopamine deficiency. The task that needs doing, the task that this wall is, doesn't give my brain enough dopamine. There is no satisfaction, there is nothing to gain from that task, so the brain isn't interested.

One of the things that I recently discovered and helps me a lot in this quest of figuring out how my brain works, is this guy Connor on tiktok, who also has ADHD. His videos are both hilarious and informative. And also incredibly relatable. They might be silly haha funny videos on the dear old internet, but I walk away from most of them going, oh! oh that makes sense, good to know.

He occasionally talks about how ADHD is completely misnamed and how Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder does not actually accurately describe what exactly people with ADHD lack. In one of his videos, he calls it DAVE instead. It's silly, and sounds a bit dumb, but I kinda like it. Dave. Dopamine Attention Variability Executive-Disfunction. Dave. I like Dave.

Y'know, I don't mind having ADHD. Presumably, I've lived with it my whole life so far. And it's annoying as shit some of the time. Especially when things need to get done and they just won't. But I don't mind that, especially now that I know that this is what it is. I've always feared that if I finally do go to a therapist and try to figure out what my brain is up to, they'll just tell me that I'm fine and there's nothing to worry about. And at first, my therapist did say I was psychologically unremarkable. But I guess if you've lived like this your whole life and nobody has really picked up on it, even a therapist doesn't notice (it's called masking, I've learned, thanks Connor).

But knowing is good. Knowing means I can learn things that help. I can take medication when needed. And, looking at the grades I'm currently getting in my graduate studies? Hells yeah, taking that medication and knowing how to deal with certain aspects of my brain helps a lot. It is incredibly funny to me that the best grades I have gotten in my entire academic career have been achieved in my Master's studies during a global pandemic. There is currently an actual real possibility that I may graduate summa cum laude. In my MA. That is insane!

Anyway, I am avoiding tasks by writing this right now. Oh, the irony. I'm gonna try and do those tasks now. Y'all take care. Cheers!

[jungshookz]

I would love a uni!yoongi & y/n drabble💓💜

🌿pairing; min yoongi x reader

🌿genre; uni!yoongi, university!au, fluffy fluffy fluff!!!!!!! uni!yoongi owns my heart and my whole ASS 

🌿wordcount; 2.8k 

🌿what to expect; “and another fun fact! the mistletoe plant actually contains toxic amines, and eating its berries can cause vomiting and stomach pain.”

🌿note; outraGEOUS that a mistletoe emoji has yet to exist!!!! unfortunately i wasn’t able to do a 12 drabbles of christmas this year due to finals but i hope this drabble makes up for it :-) if i’m a little rusty it’s only because this is the first drabble i’ve written in a while,..,,. hopefully i’ll have another drabble up before christmas!!! happy reading :^) 

                                       »»————-　✼　————-««

if yoongi had a dollar for every time he wanted to scream at you for being denser than a block of tofu he would most definitely be a billionaire

he’s had this thought time and time again but he really doesn’t understand how someone so smart can be so dumb at the same time

he could be holding up a flashing neon sign pointing to him that said ‘i 100% like you and am giving you the green light to ask me out so all you have to do is ask!’ and you would still be like .,.,.y’all hear sumn?

anyways he doesn’t have time to think about when you’re finally going to make a move because it’s that time of the semester ladies and gents

yep

it’s finals season

now, traditionally, the way yoongi handles finals season is that he kind of just goes with the flow

as in he goes to the library and studies for two hours and decides that that’s enough time and dedication he’s putting into a particular class so he pretty much deserves the rest of the day off

and this technique has worked ever since his first year in uni so he’s stuck with it ever since

as long as he doesn’t flunk out of anything he’s fine!!!

but since getting to know you yoongi has adopted new techniques into his studying routine that doesn’t just include skimming over poorly taken notes from class for 5 minutes and then scrolling through instagram for 45 minutes and then taking a 2 hour nap

no no

now he has highlighted notes

now he has insanely detailed google docs

now he has flash cards

and not just flash cards

colour coordinated flash cards

crazy, isn’t it???

this is probably your guys’ fifth study session together and yoongi doesn’t want to toot his own horn or anything but he thinks he’s going to absolutely nail this chemistry final

he can tell anyone about the main types of chemical reactions without blinking

that’s how confident he is about his knowledge

and he knoWs it’s all because of you which most certainly doesn’t help him suppress his attraction towards you

how can he noT be attracted to the person who’s bumping up his GPA??

but yes

yoongi is confident and he feels like he doesn’t need to go over what synthesis reactions are for the tenth time in a row

(also he forget a stack of flash cards at home that u reminded him three times to bring with him today to which he responded with ‘i’m NOT going to forget them just relax’ and he’s hoping u forgot about them because you don’t play around when it comes to flash cards)

he wants this study session to be a little more lax

a little more chill

a little less conversation and a little more ACTION (but not in,.,. not in a pervy way or anything)

yoongi decided to bring a little special something just to make things a little more interesting aND to celebrate the holidays!!

he’s being festive!!

he even taped strips of jingle bells to the edges of his skateboard :-)

“okay, hydrogen bonds.” you flip your notebook onto its front before whipping around and letting out a breath “hydrogen forms hydrogen bonds with three elements. hydrogen is fun. hydrogen is fOn. hydrogen forms hydrogen bonds with fluorine, oxygen, and nitrogen.”

…yeah that sounds right

you turn back around and flip over your notebook before quickly searching for your notes

aH

yes!!!! you got it!!!! hydrogen is FON!!!! hyDRoGEN iS FON!!!!!

“up top, y/l/n!” you grin widely before giving yourself a high five

niCE

“just when i thought you couldn’t get any weirder.” you jump three feet into the air when you hear yoongi speak up and you let out a breath before placing a hand on your chest

“yoongi!” you clear your throat and lean back against the table a little bit

you’re just going to play it off as if you didn’t just tell yourself to give yourself a high five

“what, uh, what took you so long?”

yoongi raises a brow before checking the time on his phone “i’m three minutes early.”

you turn back a little to look at the time on your laptop

huh

would you look at that

yoongi is early

and of course you’re here before scheduled because of who you are as a person

“…well, what are you doing just standing there? let’s get to work!!” you clap your hands together before looking at yoongi expectantly and gesturing for him to take a seat

“just so that you’re aware, i’m pretty sure i know more about the different types of chemical reactions than you.”

you raise a brow before crossing your arms

that is certainly a vEry bold statement because you could talk about the different types of chemical reaction for hours and hours on end

“oh, really?” you scoff playfully as you turn to wipe down the whiteboard

you’ve been tutoring yoongi for the past couple of weeks without expecting anything in return

honestly it’s just fun to ramble on and on about something that you’re confident about aNd it’s fun to see the panic in his eyes when you ask him a question about what you just talked about

and!!!! teaching someone else about the thing that you have to review yourself is actually a pretty effective studying strategy

you tried the practice test the other night and you got 98% so it’s safe to say you’re going to make this final exam your biTCH-

“yep.” yoongi sighs and leans back against his chair “in fact, i bet you that i’ll get every single one of your questions right this session.”

“what happens if you don’t?”

“if i get even one question wrong, i will… play one of your dumb studying games.”

your eyes widen in excitement

“charades for chemists??” (an exciting upgrade from the original version of charades)

((u have to try to act out a reaction))  

((it’s a lot more exciting than it sounds))

“but if i get every single one of your questions right, you’ll have to play one of my games.”

“…what kind of game?”

“you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” yoongi smiles sweetly “it’s nothing like your dumb charades game, i can tell you that.”

you narrow your eyes suspiciously and yoongi shrugs

there’s no way he’d be able to get all of your questions right

obviously it’d be great if he got all of them right because that means these tutoring sessions are actually working but then again it’s yoongi

yoongi who uses pipettes to squeeze tiny spurts of air in your face just because ‘it’s fun!!’

yoongi who has the balls to juggle glass beakers in the middle of a lab in front of the professor

it’s yoongi

of course the idiotic things he does in class doesn’t exactly correlate to his intelligence

he actually did pretty well on the last lab report

“you have three seconds to decide if you wanna do this or not otherwise the offer’s off the table.” yoongi waves a hand in front of your face and you straighten up a little before sticking your hand out for him to shake

“alright, min yoongi. game on.”

the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a devilish smile

honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.

you flip your notebook open to the page where you have a bunch of practice questions written down and you skim the list

alright

you’ll throw yoongi a bone

“we’ll start off easy. what’s the difference between exothermic and endothermic reaction-“

“endothermic takes in energy - for example, ice melting - and exothermic gives off heat - for example, lighting a match.” yoongi answers without blinking

…

o

okay

that answer was word for word what you have written down in your notes

you should probably reconsider the whole throwing a bone thing

if anything u should probably take a couple bones away from yoongi

your competitive streak immediately kicks in once you realise the score board is 1-0 and you’re on the 0 end

“what does synthesis gas consist of?” you raise a brow

“before i answer that - you forgot to add a tally under my name.” yoongi points to the whiteboard and you kiss your teeth before whipping around and begrudgingly drawing a tally on the scoreboard “good girl.”

(you’ll never admit to him that hearing him call you that made your stomach do a little flip)

“answer the question.”

“synthesis gas is a fuel gas mixture consisting of hydrogen, carbon monoxide, and carbon dioxide. it intermediates in creating synthetic natural gas and for producing ammonia or methanol.”

.,,.,.and that’s 2-0 to yoongi

what in the hELL is going on

u know what

it’s fine!

it’s fine

maybe he’s just having a lucky day

all he has to do is screw up once

“-due to the conjugation double bond character in alkyl halide.” the fact that yoongi’s inspecting his nails as he answers your final question is oddly vERy irritating

you can’t believe it

yoongi got all 10 of your veRy tricky questions right

you should be proud because it’s because of you that he knows that he’s talking about but at the same time you didn’t think you were doing thAt great of a job at teaching him!!!!

but you’re looking at the scoreboard and it’s 10-0

there are 0 tallies under your name!!! ZERO!!! under youR NAME!!!

and now you have to play yOOngi’s dumb game instead of charades for chemists

if anything it’s his loss

“i told you you have to close your eyes to play my game.” yoongi reaches over to shut your notebook after he catches you glancing at it (to make sure he actually got the answers right and you didn’t misread anything) for the fifth time in two minutes

you have to accept defeat whether you like it or not

you let out a sigh before crossing your arms and shutting your eyes “what are the rules of this game? how does one win?”

“i’m going to show you something-“ you hear yoongi unzip his backpack “and you have to identify what it is and tell me what its purpose is within 30 seconds.”

huh

sounds easy enough

“so i win just by doing that?” your brows furrow and you resist the urge to open your eyes

“i guess you could say that.” you hear yoongi’s footsteps against the carpet and you freeze when you feel him standing right in front of you

“alright, open your eyes.” you immediately open them and-

“so, tell me, y/n-” yoongi lets out a sigh before glancing up at the mistletoe that he’s holding up in between the two of you “what do we have here?”

you swallow thickly and keep your eyes glued on the mistletoe

u know what that is

and u know what its purpose is

you could easily win this game right here and now so u don’t know what’s stopping you

you can feel yoongi staring at you and you know that if you make eye contact with him right now you will definitely combuST into flames

“that’s, um, well, i’m not a, uh, i’m not a botanist or anything, but that is a… that’s mistletoe.” you clear your throat “that is… mistletoe.”

“uh-huh. and, remind me again - isn’t mistletoe particularly special this time of the year?” yoongi hums and takes a step closer to you

you jump a little when you feel the bottom of the whiteboard dig into the small of your back

the little metal tray holding the whiteboard markers clatters a marker plops to the ground but you’ll deal with that later

because now it’s time to do what you do best

D E F L E C T

“mistletoe are actually hemiparasitic plants in which they kinda just suck water and nutrients from their host tress. did you know that?”

yoongi resists the urge to roll his eyes

he knows exactly what you’re doing (out of nervous habit) but for your sake he’ll play along

“oh yeah?”

“yep. and another fun fact! the mistletoe plant actually contains toxic amines, and eating its berries can cause vomiting and stomach pain.”

“…didn’t you say you weren’t a botanist-”  

“-but if we’re talking about its relevance to the christmas holidays, then… well, traditionally, people, um, people… kiss underneath them.” you finish quietly and your eyes instinctively flicker down to yoongi’s pouty lips

“i like you a lot, y/n.” yoongi breathes out and you feel your heart hiccup

your cheeks flush and you feel the heat rushing up to your ears

o god

a couple seconds of silence goes by and you wonder if yoongi can hear your heart pounding in your chest

“if you don’t feel the same way, i-“

“i like you too.” you murmur shyly and yoongi lets out what sounds like a breath of relief

before he gets the chance to roAST you for taking so long to finally admit it to him, you’re pushing your lips against his in a gentle kiss with your hand pressed against his cheek

it takes yoongi a second to register that you initiated a kiss with him but once his brain catches up to his body, he starts kissing you back

a smile tugs at his mouth when you take a step closer to him and he automatically loops an arm around your waist before carelessly tossing the mistletoe aside

yoongi tilts his head as he deepens the kiss and the quiet ‘fuck’ he lets out when you nip at his bottom lip almost immediately makes you lightheaded

it’s when you’re reminded that literally anyone passing by the room would be able to see you through the glass door that you drag yourself away (reluctantly) and yoongi unintentionally lets out a whine

“so did i win?” your cheeks are still rosy and your heart is still racing but you’re trying to play it off as if you’re totally cool about kissing yoongi and that you’re totally cool about the mutual attraction between the two of you but that fact that you’re kinda bouncing on the balls of your feet like an excited child is probably not helping your case

and yoongi’s smiling so widely his cheeks are starting to hurt but it’s totally worth it

:-) !!!!

“you won but i’m still marking you down for killing the mood by talking about vomiting and stomach pain.”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

[random-mha-thoughts]

Skater Boy (Kirishima x Reader)

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: College!AU; You’re going to get pizza and you run into a group of skaters from your university

Word count: 2,640

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: I was talking to my cousin one day and the thought just suddenly hit me, What if the Bakusquad were skateboarders?  And so this idea was born!  Not the best but I think it’s cute, and he deserves fluff after I just wrote angst for him.

"I think I might actually fail that class," I deflate, hunched over.  "I study until I'm blue in the face and I still do bad on the exams.  And he doesn't even curve the grades!"

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow at me.  "(Y/n), you have a B in that class, why are you so worried?"

"Because I want an A!" I burst out as we walk up the parking lot of the pizza shop.  "It's still only the middle of the semester, I need a good enough cushion just in case I slip up on the last few exams.  I can't get another C!"

My dark haired friend grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eye.  "You're freaking out for nothing, just chill.  Do something fun for a change."

I sigh exasperatedly.  "I don't have time for fun.  I need enough time to study and do my homework, and I need time to procrastinate because of how stressed I am."  She doesn't understand since she's not a science major, she's a lucky Communications major.

She rolls her eyes.  "If you keep going like this, you'll start having premature grays hairs.  And you'll look older than you already do."

I shove her playfully.  "Are you saying I look older than my age?"

"Yup.  And it doesn't help that you have resting bitch face either."

I jump in front of her to jokingly insult her too.  "You're-"

"Incoming!"

Stepping backwards, the ground underneath my foot is slightly higher and shaky, making my leg jerk to the side instinctively and I land square on my ass, almost knocking into the shop's glass doors.  My head follows the sound of wheels rolling to see a skateboard gliding away from us.

"Hey, stupid."  A shadow casts over me and I meet the eyes of a pretty annoyed ash-blond boy, his hands in his forest green cargo pants pockets.  He looks down his nose at me with a grimace.  "That was my board you tripped on."

I blink, not knowing what he expects me to say.  "Um.  Sorry?"

Tzuyu helps me off the floor.  "Why would you let it roll away if you didn't want anyone touching it?"

He grabs it from the small distance it traveled, kicking the edge and gripping it by the metal between the wheels.  His board is almost all black with a giant white skull in the middle surrounded by orange and yellow flames.  "We warned you, not our fault you stepped on it like an amateur."

My gaze flicks briefly to the group of other people hanging around the side of the building before returning back to him.  "All you said was 'Incoming,' how were we supposed to know what to watch out for?"

The boy rolls his eyes and swaggers up to me.  Being almost an entire head taller, he slouches over me.  "You should've know to just freeze up," he growls.

The combination of his height towering over me and his murderous crimson eyes makes me gulp, but stand my ground.  I cross my arms over my chest.  "M-Maybe if you weren't so bad at skateboarding, you wouldn't have messed up for it to roll away from you."

The boy growls and bares his teeth at me.  "You wanna say that again?!"

"Okay, calm down, dude, it was just an accident."  A red-headed friend of the boy runs up and pushes him away when I flinch into Tzuyu's arms behind me.  "You don't have to pick a fight with everyone you meet, just chill."

The porcupine-haired boy grumbles under his breath and walks back to the rest of his group.

I turn to the saintly friend.  "Thank you-"

As soon as he turns around, the words get jumbled in my throat.  The front of his hair is so cutely tucked over his face under his black beanie.  His features give off a boyish charm with sharp features like his eyes and his jawline.  His beaming smile puts blindingly white sharp teeth on display as his eyes crinkle up.  "Sorry about him, he's a bit of a hothead."

"It's okay!" I say quickly, waving my hands in front of me and looking down.  My eyes meet with his board, the pattern a scarlet matching his hair color with black lettering outlining the initials RR.  "You have a pretty cool board.  Matches your hair."  It's a dumb compliment and I know it is, I'm just trying to make conversation.

He picks it up by the sides and admires it himself.  "You like it?  Painted it myself!  I bought the wheels, but I sprayed the trucks black because I thought it looked cooler."

"Seems like a personification of you."  You sound so lame and boring, why would you say that?

"It's new, I'm trying to get it scratched up and everything."  He holds it with one hand at his side and holds his hand out to me, flashing another brilliant smile.  "I'm Eijirou Kirishima by the way!"

Tzuyu and I introduce ourselves.  "Do you go to the university here?" my friend asks.

"Yeah, we all do," he motions to the rest of them.  "We just like to come out and chill every once in a while, usually we're at the park though."

I know which one he's talking about.  About a block away, opposite the direction of our university, is a skate park that I've seen whenever we pass by here to get food.

Tzuyu clears her throat and nudges me from behind and I shoot her a look to stop.

"Yo, Kiri!  We're goin' back to the park, you comin'?"  One of the boys with bright blond hair and a black hoodie calls out.

Kirishima's head flits back and forth between us and his friends.  "I'll meet up with you guys later!" he answers before turning his attention back to us.  "I can treat you guys to lunch since Bakugou was being an ass if you want?"

My eyes widen.  "You don't have-"

"Sure, why not?" Tzu talks over me and grabs my arm.  "Let's go grab a table!"

I will kill everything you love.

.

Tzuyu does most of the talking while I eat my pizza like a silent bunny.  We find out he's an Exercise Science major with an average GPA.  The most surprising thin is that his loudmouth friend who almost jumped us is a pretty bright student.

"You really can't tell, he's such a hothead," Tzu comments.

"Yeah, he's been trying to work on it," Kirishima laughs and rubs the back of his head.  "But he's a really smart guy, I usually ask him to explain stuff I don't understand."

I stare at the board he's laid down on the seat next to him.  We're spread out inside a semicircle booth near the window, so it's right next to me.  I stealthily reach out to spin one of the white and red wheels.  Some part of me feels like a child because I get easily amused by these things.

"You must really like my board."

My heart lurches when I realize I've been caught, my face turning red when I meet his beaming face.  "I'm sorry for touching it."  I scoot away from it a little bit.

"No need to apologize, I don't mind."  He pushes it towards me and leans his arms on the back of the cushioned seats.  "Do you skate?"

I fiddle with the wheels again.  "I have a board, actually, but I can't really skate."  It's at my house, under my bed where I can't see it.

"That's cool, do you have a picture?" his scarlet eyes light up in excitement."

"No, I don't."  I deleted it.  "I, uh, dated someone who bought it for me and was supposed to teach me how to skate."

"And you broke up?" Kirishima finishes, his expression neutralized to a blank slate.

Damnit, look what you did, you've made everyone uncomfortable now.  I take a last bite of my pizza, leaving the crust.  Usually Tzuyu eats it for me.

Kirishima eyes it and his face turns a bit red, darting away from me.  "Would it be weird to ask if I can eat your crust?"

I feel my own face get hot at his suggestion.  Tzuyu coughs to hide her giggle and nods slightly.  "Sure, go ahead," I manage to get out shakily.

He doesn't even hesitate to grab it once he has permission, happily chewing at it.  Tzuyu bites her lip to keep herself at my obviously red face.  Don't think about it, that's so childish, I chant to myself.

He licks his lips when he's finished.  "So, (Y/n), do you still wanna learn?"

My entire body erupts in a strange combination of warmth and cold.  I never really thought about skating after I broke up with the previous guy.  It's just been sitting under my bed because  I unconsciously can't bring myself to remind myself of anything about him.  It wouldn't be a bad idea, but I also don't really want to embarrass myself in front of another cute guy.

Noticing my hesitation, Kirishima offers a warm smile.  "You don't have to worry about falling in front of me!  I couldn't stay on the board at first either!"

I can't imagine it, but something about his affable, trusting demeanor draws me to him.  "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Awesome!"  His entire face lights up and his eyes crinkle up again.

"You guys can go ahead, I'm going back to the dorms to study," Tzuyu gets up to throw her plate away.  When Kirishima isn't looking, she wiggles her eyebrows and mouths, "Have fun."

"That's too bad.  It was nice meeting you!"

I shake my head quickly at her, but she just sticks her tongue out at me and leaves.

The redhead grabs his board and stands up.  "Shall we?"

Lord, I'm gonna die today.

.

Kirishima had already got me to feel out my balance standing on the grass and was now planing on moving me to the concrete.  Cue all my fears of falling off and busting my head open.

"Do you know which stance you're more comfortable standing with?" he asks, placing the board in front of me near a pole in the parking lot.

"I think so?"  I'm not familiar with it, but I can switch it up later.

"Alright, hold onto the pole and step up.  I'll stand in front of you just in case you fall forward, just be careful falling backwards."  He's been extra patient with me this whole time, it's endearing.

"Can you clone yourself so you can be in both places?" I ask feebly, clasping my hands in front of me, staring at the little board.

He chuckles, "I wish I could.  You'll do fine, I'll try to catch you either way."

I take a breath, holding onto the pole and placing my foot on the board.  I don't want to look like a coward in front of Kirishima, so I grasp the metal tightly and plant my other foot, wobbling a little in place and whining.

"You're doing good!  Are you cool so far?"  He moves to stand on the side where my body faces forward.

"I think so?"  My blood pumps with adrenaline and all I want to do is leap off and go back to the dorms.  Damnit Tzu, why did you leave me here?

"Okay, whenever you're ready, just push off and roll!"

My front fist clenches in front of me, every instinct telling me not to let go of the pole.  "You'll catch me, right?" I confirm, my legs shaking in anticipation.

"Yup!"  He holds his hands out, palms up and ready.  "Ready when you are!"

Don't be a coward, just do it.  I push off weakly and start rolling only slightly faster than a snail's pace before I shake and spasm, putting a hand on Kirishima's arm instinctively.  "Shit, sorry-" I take my hand off only to windmill my arms and lean backward.

He grabs both of my hands.  "Lean on me, it's okay."

His warm smile and gentle voice makes me feel stupid for being an imbalanced fool.  "I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz, I'm really bad at this," I burst out quickly.

"You're fine, take your time."  The warmth from his hands flusters me even more and I want to let go, but if I do I'll fall over.  "Do you want me to push you so you can try again?  Is it okay?"  I nod, my body still shaking.  I shift to balance with one of his hands as he frees the other.  "I'm gonna let go after I push you, plant yourself."

He pushes at the small of my back gingerly, sending me rolling a little faster than before.  Despite being wobbly, somehow I manage to keep my balance for a few more seconds, the board wavering back and forth under my feet.

"You've got it, good job!" Kirishima praises, keeping a brisk walking pace to keep up.

The board slows to a crawl and I waver, stopping when I grab his arm again and letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.  "That's not too bad I guess," I exhale.

He chuckles.  "Do you wanna try riding towards me alone this time?"

Please no.  "Okay," I squeak out.

Kirishima stands a good 10 meters away from me.  Starting from the pole, I push off towards him and balance myself across.  When I approach him, he raises his hands up for me to hold onto and walks backwards to match my speed.  "Just step off now."

As soon as I take my back foot off, the front tips forward into the ground.  The mini sensation of falling makes me yelp and lean into him reflexively.

A snicker leaves his lips.  "Not really a successful stop, but at least you did it."

I look up, about to say something snarky, but I realize how close we are to each other.  His eyes bore into mine, and I notice he has a small vertical scar on his right eye.  I'm about to reel back for staring before he grips my hands tighter and brings them down to get closer.  My heart thumps in my ears, body still shaking with adrenaline.

"You know, it won't take just a single day to skate well, you need to practice at it."  His eyes relax into a half-lidded state, one side of his lips lazily turned up slightly.

"Yeah..." I want to curse myself for such a dumb response.  The smell of his wooded cologne wafts from his hoodie.

He bites his lip and glances down at mine briefly and his voice drops an octave.  "Would you like it if we kept this up?  Maybe tomorrow?"

Without thinking, I nod slowly.

"Maybe we can grab something to eat together?" he tips his head, "Like a...date?"

My face flushes.  Oh, this is happening.  I nod again, not trusting my voice to do anything but scream.

A low chuckle resounds from him throat and he quickly brushes a finger to my cheek.  "You're cute.  I'm glad you wanna see me again too."

My chest throbs at the compliment, eyes dropping to the ground.

Another melodious laugh and he lets go of me, grabbing his board that rolled a few feet away.  "Come on, I'll walk you back to your dorm."

I hang back, dazed after what just happened.  The adrenaline is slowly emptying out of my system and my heart is trying to normalize, but replaying how close we were a few moments ago kicks everything back into gear.

"You coming?" he calls from behind.  Seeing my disorientation, he smiles teasingly.  "Have you lost your balance to walk too?  Here," he clasps his free hand with mine gently, "I'll help you."

A new tremor of warmth flows through me.  Oh.

[starryeyedkoo]

Genre: badboy!au, gang!au, college!au, angst!!, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: mature language, alcohol use (including mention of underage drinking which i do not condone), violence, minor character death, brief mention of addiction, tsundere jungkook, (cheesy) angst around every. corner. (seriously it never stops i’m sorry)

Word Count: 22.9k (here we go again i’m so sorry)

“Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

a/n: this story is just cliche after cliche… because i’m a hoe for cliches, so hopefully it’s not too much hehe. this fic was really self-indulgent and dramatic so be warned !! also this fic was inspired by the dialogue i wrote above (which actually didn’t even make it into the story) and these songs: Harder by Oliver Riot and Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

You tapped the end of your pencil on the surface of the desk you sat at in an attempt to keep your eyes from drooping shut while you worked on the last few problems of your Statistics test. Your ears zeroed in on every sound present in the room, including the flipping of a page coming from behind you, the sniffling from the boy across the room that has been a persistent provocation for the last hour and a half, and also the boy sitting a seat away from you who huffed out a breath and sent you an irritated glance. You pursed your lips and quickly steadied the grasp of your pencil before it became an even bigger annoyance to him.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long hour and a half, you had finally made it to the end of your test with each problem filled out and just a few seconds to spare. Once time was called, you were quick to make your way to turn in your packet and then you turned straight towards the exit. Just as you were only a few meager steps in front of the professor’s desk, he called you over asking if he could speak with you. “Ms. _____, how was the test?” You stopped short, a little confused as to why he had stopped you from walking straight out of there. Before you could produce an easy answer to quickly end the conversation, he interrupted you, “Please feel free to let me know if you need some extra help. I know statistics isn’t easy, so I understand if you’re struggling a bit.”

Your brows drew together in confusion and you glanced around the room at the last lucky students making their way out before you could, each of them dropping their test packets on the corner of his desk and turning the other way. “What makes you think I need help?” You flashed a pleasant smile to maintain respect towards your teacher.

“Well, as I’m sure you know, the curriculum of our university is especially challenging, and I know it may be a bit of a strain for you,” he offered, gesturing towards you in what you were sure was of a demeaning nature.

The smile melted off your face and you found it difficult to keep your lips from turning down in disbelief. “It’s not too different from anything I’ve had to do before.”

“Is that so?” your professor inquired with a doubtful smirk creeping onto his face, and that had been the last straw.

“Actually,” you corrected, suddenly feeling brave and bold enough to defend yourself, “I believe my private high school’s rigor was much more difficult to tolerate than this, but thank you for your concern.” Your false thankfulness did not extend to your facial features, lips turned into a scowl. “Believe it or not, sir, I made it into this university through hard work, not just connections and thick stacks of cash.” You slammed your test paper down onto his desk, making daring eye contact with him for only a moment before turning to take your leave. “Have a nice day,” you bid him sarcastically, striding out the exit.

As soon as you were far enough to overcome the blinding frustration you had just unleashed, you quickly realized you would most likely regret giving your teacher that attitude, but honestly, he deserved it. Screw him.

After anger came the frustration that you had been facing since you enrolled in this university that had been beating down on you like heavy rain, slowly wearing you out the longer you had to withstand it. Nearly everyone you met would soon make the connection between you and your family name and make assumptions about you, several of them nasty. Your least favorite of the rumors however, and maybe it was because it was the most frequent, was that you paid your way into university. For some reason, people couldn’t seem to fathom the idea of you having a functioning brain, and you were getting sick of it.

During your walk, the sky creeped open and rain began to drizzle down, further dampening your mood. Then in the distance, quickly becoming louder, you heard the boom of the bass from the speakers of a car. Next thing you knew, you saw a convertible with its top down coming down the road, filled to more than its full capacity with young men, and just as you had expected it slowed as it was about to pass you. “Hey, little lady, why don’t you come for a ride with us?” one of the boys offered slyly.

You refused to even pretend to play along though, and instead you just put in your earphones and turned your music up to max volume to drown them out until they had enough fun and turned around. It definitely was not the first time that had happened. Frequently, actually, boys would cross over into this side of town and entertain themselves by messing with the snooty, rich folk. You couldn’t blame them, to be honest. Sometimes you felt the same way. Sometimes, you wished you could disassociate yourself with everything that had to do with this city and start something new where no one had any idea who you or your family were.

You were feeling bored, unfulfilled… You really weren’t sure what it was, but you were feeling just as gray and lifeless as the cloudy sky. The concrete streets and buildings of the city. Even the river’s flowing water displayed a dead, sooty color under the gloomy sky. You began to wonder if your eyes were one day going to reflect the same shade.

“No! Absolutely not! This is ridiculous!” Your mother barked, angrily pressing her finger harshly down onto the remote’s power button as the screen of the television went dark. The news anchor had just been reporting on today’s commencement of the new policy enacted by your city to allow ‘free entry of especially gifted students from less fortunate communities’ into the most prestigious university in your city. “I am paying way too much money to send you to this school to keep you away from these thugs, and now they get to waltz on in there for absolutely no charge?”

By ‘thugs’ she meant, of course, the people from the west side of the city. You barely suppressed the eye roll that crept up on you. “If you really wanted me away from them, you should have let me leave the city like I wanted.”

“Yeah, you far enough away where I can’t keep an eye on you? That won’t be happening.” She shook her head disapprovingly before returning her attention to her laptop, typing away at the keyboard. Suddenly, her phone began to ring, and she quickly scooped it up, composing herself before answering with a business-like greeting and excusing herself from the room.

You sighed, checking your phone for the time, the digital numbers indicating that you had thirty-five minutes until your morning lecture on photography, so you placed your plate in the sink, leaving it for the cleaning service to take care of when they came later in the day, as they did every other day. You scooped up your bag and slipped your shoes on, calling to your mother who was most likely already in her office, “Okay, Mom, I’m heading out!” No response. You gave a quick sigh before mumbling to yourself, “Bye.”

Because your house was conveniently located in the busy part of town, and the university stood just outside the business district, it was a relatively short walk, only about twenty minutes long. Your mother insisted she could have her driver take you to and from classes, but you denied. You would much rather walk than draw more attention to yourself and risk looking like a spoiled brat, even though your college was mostly comprised of students who came from wealthy families like you had.

You quickly decided that stopping for a coffee on the way to class was a poor decision on your part now that you were ever so casually speeding down the last block to get there in time. You were heading to the row just a few back from the front as you always did when you spotted an unfamiliar face in the very seat you had claimed since the beginning of the semester. The rest of the row was practically empty since this was a fairly small class. He seriously couldn’t have picked any other spot?

You slowly approached, careful to keep a friendly smile on your face, especially since he seemed to be a new student. You set your bag in the seat next to him before speaking quietly, “Excuse me, but would you mind moving down a few seats? This is usually where I sit.”

The boy looked up from under his black bangs that fell over his forehead. “Aren’t there plenty of other seats to choose from?” he deadpanned, looking up and down the nearly empty row of seats. The polite smile faltered for a moment before you exaggerated it even more.

“I suppose there are…” you reluctantly agreed through clenched teeth, picking up your bag and moving yourself down a few seats from the boy who was now fiddling with his camera he had brought to class. Just moments later, your professor came in, greeting the class and beginning the lecture. You quickly brought out your notebook and your own camera, and you noticed the eyes of the boy sitting next to you staring intently at your camera. Brows turning down in petty dislike for this new student, you brought your hand up to take the strap and pull it closer to you, not afraid to let him to see your scowl.

After another very long and confusing photography lecture, you were once again puzzled by the assignment you had been given and you reluctantly had to ask your professor for help before you left the classroom. You didn’t think this class would be so difficult. You only took it as an elective for an easy A, but instead it ended up being much more complicated than you had initially anticipated. No matter how much you played around, you couldn’t figure out how to get the perfect picture with the right details like everyone else could. “Professor Choi,” you called for her attention. She looked up from the stack of papers she was arranging at her desk while you slung your bag over your shoulder and approached her with hurried steps. “I just had a quick question about exactly how to use—”

“Ms. _____, I’m sorry, but I cannot keep answering your questions about the functions of your camera. This should be prior knowledge or something to study and experiment with in your own time. If you need help, you should consider getting advice from another student who is more well-versed with a camera.” She suddenly looked behind you and you followed her gaze, finding the same boy still lingering, finally leaving from where he sat. “Like Mr. Jeon, for example,” she gestured to him, and his head perked up at the sound of his name. “He’s one of our new students from the Prodigy Program, Jeon Jungkook, and he possesses extraordinary photography skills. He would be an excellent resource for help. Mr. Jeon, how do you feel about that?”

You were quick to wave your hands in protest, voicing, “No, that’s really not necessary.”

“According to your dropping grade, I believe it is necessary, Ms. _____,” she spoke over the rim of her glasses. You felt your cheeks burn red in humiliation, catching a glimpse of the boy fighting back a smug grin. “Mr. Jeon, please tutor her in the class. She would surely appreciate it. Ms. _____, perhaps you can show him around campus and get him accustomed to the new surroundings in return.”

You stayed silent, listening to the clicking of her heels as she left the both of you behind in the empty classroom. It was silent and stiff, and you were still chewing on your bottom lip in embarrassment, especially in front of the boy with whom you had just hit it off poorly an hour prior. Jungkook suddenly cleared his throat and began to speak, but you had no interest in what he was about to say, so you shoved past him and left without a word.

You almost considered not showing up to the next class, but you swallowed your pride and walked through those doors and quickly made your way to the back corner of the room. You were sure you felt Jungkook’s eyes follow you as you passed by your usual row, where he still sat in your seat. You barely even cared anymore, though. He could have it. You would much rather finish the semester hidden in the back of the classroom.

You took no time in leaving once class was over, heading out the door to quickly reach the fresh air of the outside where you didn’t feel like you had to hold your breath, not forgetting to shoot a glare to Professor Choi as you passed by her desk. You made sure you had enough time to get to class today by choosing to not get a coffee before class started, so you decided now would be the best time to do so. You crossed through the courtyard to get to your usual cafe just outside of the campus.

Once you sat down, you brought out your laptop and your camera in order to finally figure out how this thing worked. You should have done it earlier, but you were discouraged so you let the problem fester for a few more days before finally attacking it. You were fiddling around with a few of the functions that you were reading about on your computer, desperately trying to figure out how to make your pictures look professional. You were finally able to focus once your coffee was ready, but you were once again distracted when you felt eyes on you and you looked up to search around. That’s when you spotted familiar dark bangs under a black hoodie. You quickly looked back down, hoping he hadn’t noticed you, but you soon realized he was sauntering directly over to the table you sat at.

He dropped himself down onto the chair across from yours, but he only sat there, waiting for you to say something first. “Can I help you?” you offered grumpily.

“No, but I can help you.” He still stared with the nonchalant, blank expression, which for some reason made his presence even more irritating. You ignored his offer and instead became accusing.

“How did you even know I was here? Did you follow me or something?” You looked him over suspiciously.

An impassive smirk grew on one side of his lips. “I may have seen you come this way.” You scoffed, still wondering why he would have gone out of his way to come here. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m new around here. I’ve got no one to talk to.”

You raised a brow in disbelief. “So you came to talk to me?”

His lips suddenly turned down and his playful demeanor switched off. He leaned forward in his chair, his voice suddenly holding a deeper tone as he spoke lowly, “What, is the pretty little rich girl too good for me?” You were suddenly taken aback and your eyes went round. “Surprised?” he continued with an angry snort. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. People around campus seem to like to talk about you.”

Your shoulders drooped at the thought. “Yeah, they sure do,” you sighed, suddenly frustrated at your unavoidable reputation within your school. “I guess that’s what happens when your dad is the founder of one of the biggest tech supplier companies in Korea. Well… was. My mom took his place as CEO now, but technically it’s—” You noticed you began rambling and had already said way more than you needed to, so you quickly clamped your mouth shut, but you couldn’t stop yourself from opening it again to ramble nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know why I even brought that up,” you laughed lamely, leaning back into your seat.

Jungkook straightened himself up suddenly and his voice became strangely unnatural. “Tech supplier, huh?” You noticed something seemed rather insincere, as if his mind was preoccupied. “What about your dad? Where is he now?” He suddenly inquired casually.

Your brows shot up for only a moment before your form deflated when you answered his question. “He’s… He’s dead, actually.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly widened before he mumbled, “I’m sorry.” He looked remorseful, but his eyes were also unfocused and distracted, making you unsure if you should actually take his condolences seriously.

You squinted your eyes in confusion, but you ignored the weird feeling it gave you. You gave a quick smile, picking yourself up and moving on from the topic. “It’s alright. It happened a long time ago.”

Jungkook’s eyes focused back on you after he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Anyways,” he began, steering away from the saddening subject, “I’ll help you if you need me to.”

You debated the decision for a moment, but with one look back at the indecipherable directions on the screen of your computer, you decided getting his help would be the best option. “You know what, I would actually love your help,” you sighed, taking the last sip of your coffee. You looked at the time and realized that it had been much later than you anticipated, and knowing your mother, you would soon be receiving frantic messages and phone calls wondering where you were. “But can I take a raincheck on that? I should really be going.” You gave an apologetic smile, quickly packing up your things into your backpack and waving goodbye before you hurried back home.

After the next class, you both walked to the cafe together where Jungkook would give his first lesson on how to use a camera properly and how to take the perfect picture. You smiled while sitting down after you both ordered a drink. “Again, I’m sorry that you have to spend your time teaching me how to use a camera. I can’t believe I have to get tutored in photography of all things.”

“There’s no shame in a bad grade,” he impassively remarked, hanging his leather jacket over the back of his chair before sitting across from you. “Also, not to call you out or anything, but if you want to learn more, it’s probably not the best idea to sit in the back corner during class,” he lazily raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged your shoulders, agreeing, “Yeah that’s probably true, but it’s not easy getting humiliated by your professor.”

Jungkook’s lips turned down in nonchalance. “Why do you even care what she says? I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

You looked down and traced the lines in the wood that made the table with your finger. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired of my professors thinking that I don’t belong in this school. Most of them seem to think I’m only here because I paid my way in, and that I don’t have any actual brains,” you scowled.

He sat there, face contorted in a mix of several different emotions, but he seemed apprehensive to express what he was thinking. Usually, you would feel like an idiot if someone reacted that way to anything you said, but there was something about Jungkook doing it that made it… not so bad? You had a feeling he wasn’t the type to be a fan of “deep conversations” like these, judging by the awkward hesitance as his face twitched in thought, seemingly unable to let any expression through his ever-calm-and-collected front.

Jungkook brushed it off and suddenly he reached across the table to bring your camera closer to him to examine. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He played around with a few of the buttons and twisted the lense this way and that, looking through the viewfinder, then he shook his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable! I knew I recognized the model. You’ve got the best fucking camera money can buy and you don’t even know how to use it.” You would have been offended, but then you saw the small smile that appeared on his lips, and it was the first time you had seen one that was genuine, so you stayed quiet and let him enjoy the moment. “God, I would kill for one of these…” He continued looking through the viewfinder and snapping a few pictures for what now seemed like his own amusement instead of figuring out how it worked.

“Yeah, you really seem to like it,” you smirked, waiting patiently for him to be satisfied. He froze at your remark and quickly set the camera down, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he wiped that smile from his face when he was caught breaking his tough exterior.

He quickly wet his lips and straightened up in his seat as he began his lesson. “Okay then, let’s start with the basics.” You nodded eagerly, excited to finally gain some knowledge about a camera and hopefully be able to use it decently from now on. “The first thing you should know about is exposure. There’s three elements that make up exposure and those are aperture, shutter speed, and the ISO,” he slowly explained, pointing to each of the places on the camera that controlled each of these elements. You tried your best to follow along, but you found yourself getting distracted by the rings Jungkook wore on his fingers, and then your eyes traveled over his alarmingly good-looking hands and up the veins that ran up his forearm and suddenly you couldn’t hear a word he was saying. You shook your head lightly, trying to tune back in to Jungkook’s teaching, and this time you actually focused on his voice, but not necessarily the words it produced, but the velvety smooth sound of it.

No. This was not happening. You nervously downed the rest of your cooling coffee and looked at your phone in a panic, attempting to reel yourself back in. “You okay?” he asked in confusion, eyes flickering between you and your empty coffee cup when you unintentionally slammed it down onto the table.

Your eyes widened as you shook your head in dismissal. “N-no! I mean, yes! Everything’s fine.” He narrowed his gaze at you in doubt, but he didn’t bother to push it anyway. “Listen,” you began, eyes darting away from his gaze nervously, picking up your phone and looking for an excuse. “I actually am running short on time. I should be going.”

“I thought you had until—”

You gathered your things before standing up, chair screeching against the tiled floors. “I know,” you interrupted, wearing a guilty smile, “but my mom just texted me and she needs me.” You started toward the exit before skidding to a stop and turning back to him, still sitting there a little dumbfounded. “Can we meet after next class? No interruptions this time, I promise.” He answered with a simple nod, so you waved goodbye and pushed your way through the exit, taking a large sigh of relief once you had reached safety.

You felt bad that you had looked for an excuse to see him again, but you couldn’t help it. As much as you hated to admit it, he was undeniably attractive, and honestly, it was already driving you crazy. Besides, he still has to teach you about your camera, and you felt bad that you cut his lesson off, but you had to get out of there or else you may have lost it. You weren’t supposed to be getting distracted by a pretty face! No one had ever been able to so easily mess with your mind, but Jungkook wasn’t just anyone. He was mysterious and confusing and alluring and you were falling for it just like a cheesy romance novel protagonist. And that was terrifying because what would your mother think? You don’t know why you thought that really mattered, though. It’s just physical attraction and that can easily be ignored.

Turns out being physically attracted to someone is not so easily ignored. Here you were at the cafe sitting across from Jungkook, still completely and utterly blown away by the natural beauty of this man in front of you that you had never bothered to notice in anyone else. Not to mention, it only became more difficult to ignore that ticklish feeling in your stomach now that you’ve gotten to know him and the little quirks in his personality that he seems to suppress almost naturally, making you wonder how long he’s had to put up a front throughout his life.

“I’ve got you all figured out,” Jungkook insisted, pointing a finger in your direction, successfully snapping you out of your troubling internal monologue.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back with a challenging brow lifted. “Is that so?” You were much less timid than you had been the first time Jungkook had tried to teach you photography basics. You two had met several times now, and things had slowly become more natural between the two of you You came to enjoy his company, and you hoped it was safe to assume the same on his end. You still passed these meetings at the cafe off as “study sessions,” but you rarely got any tutoring done anymore, opting instead for conversation over a cup of coffee. Does that make you two friends? You weren’t exactly sure for yourself, and that was something you would never actually ask Jungkook, knowing he would probably find it awkward to actually talk about, even if he did consider you a friend.

“You’re just like the main character of all those cliche movies,” he explained, bringing you down from your cloudy thoughts yet again. “You’re the sheltered, well-behaved daughter who wants to rebel by doing something like getting a secret tattoo or falling for the bad boy. Tell me, am I irresistible?” He wore a cocky smirk that you were so tempted to wipe off with a slap to the face in your embarrassment, though you couldn’t help but laugh anyway. Your face burned crimson, which you hoped wouldn’t give you away, because right now, you were afraid he was dead on.

You searched desperately for a response to get him back, but as far as you knew, he was unbreakable, so you were forced to give up and retreat. “Yeah, right! I’m going to get my coffee,” you mumbled, standing up in attempt to escape and recuperate.

“Don’t worry. I already ordered it for you,” his voice came from behind. It was unusually soft compared to his normally gruff tone, and he looked out the window instead of at you. Was it just you or was he… shy?

“Oh!” you abruptly swiveled back, seeing a cup already placed on your side of the table. You picked it up to examine, looking for the markings to show its ingredients. “Is it—”

“It’s just the way you like it. I promise.”

You began digging through your purse in search of your wallet. “Let me pay you back, then,” you offered, pulling out a ten dollar bill when you were unable to find any smaller bills, not minding if he had to keep the change.

“No, don’t worry about it. My treat.” He shook his head, making no moves toward the cash held out in front of him.

“No, really take it,” you insisted, holding out the money, practically shoving it into his grip, but he only waved your hand away. “It’s the least I can do. You’re already helping me out for nothing in return.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got money—maybe not as much as you, princess—but it’s enough to keep me going.” You hated that his nickname had such an immediate effect on you, causing the same blush to reappear on your face. You didn’t want to draw more of his attention to you while your face was on fire, so you quickly gave up, retracting your hand and putting the money back into your wallet with a deep sigh. Jungkook perked up with an idea suddenly, leaning his forearms onto the table as he spoke. “Actually, I do have a way you could pay me back.” You nodded, waiting for his request. “I have a paper due for English 101 on Monday, and that class isn’t my strong suit. You’re good at English, right? Could you help me out with that?”

“Sure, I can look over that and help you revise it if you need me to. Have you finished so I can go ahead and look over it now?” you asked, already waiting for him to bring out his computer and show you his finished product.

You watched his tongue roll on the inside of his cheek and met his eyes that only held a blank stare. “I haven’t started.”

“What?” you shrieked. “Jungkook! That paper is due in two days, and you have none of it done? Those aren’t easy to rush, you know.” You scolded him, and he fluttered his eyes shut, exhaling slowly, as if he had expected that exact reaction from you. He only shrugged as a response, making you even more frustrated with the boy. “Okay, well I guess we need to meet up tomorrow to get that done, but the cafe’s closed on Sundays, so maybe we should meet in the courtyard.” You looked to him for any sort of confirmation or objection, but he only continued to listen uninterestedly, eliciting an exasperated huff from you. “Sure, we’ll do that. A little fresh air could do us some good anyway. Meet me at six.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t put just a little bit of effort into your appearance today. Definitely not because you were meeting Jungkook, though. You just didn’t have to wake up as early as usual, so you just happened to feel like putting on makeup and planning a nicer outfit as opposed to a hoodie and leggings like you wear for almost every single class.

You texted Jungkook to meet you at the right-most bench in the courtyard at six, but it was now almost a quarter after and there was still no sign of him. You slowly grew more impatient as each minute passed by and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep yourself from sending him a second text asking him where he was. Finally, you saw him jogging towards you from the path adjacent to where you sat, making you breathe in relief and you were about to berate him, but you quickly stopped yourself after one look at his dishevelled state and his slight limp that wasn’t hard to miss. Your eyes trailed him up and down in concern as you quickly stood up to meet him. “What the hell happened to you?” you asked, hands twitching by your sides as you fought the urge to brush away the hair hanging down in his face.

He beat you to it, luckily, as he swept his hair back and shook his head, dismissing the matter. “It’s nothing. I was just in a hurry. Sorry I’m late.” He plopped down onto the bench and you followed just after, still keeping your eyes trained on him in worry. When you put your hand down, you felt it land on top of his own, so you quickly picked it back and and instinctually looked down to wear his hand propped up his upper body and you didn’t miss the blot of scarlet on his knuckles.

You didn’t hesitate in taking his hand into your own now, bringing it up to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you. “You’re bleeding!” you pointed out to him, looking at the red that painted each of his knuckles.

He hummed, taking a careless glance before quickly wiping it off on his jeans, leaving a stain that your eyes focused on in disbelief before directing your rounded eyes back up to his face. He squinted at your reaction, clearly not nearly as interested as you were. “What? I was in a rush, and I fell. That’s all,” he insisted, opening his laptop to move on and get started on his paper.

Your eyes zeroed in on the skin just below his eye that was beginning to take on a dark hue. “I’d believe you if your eye weren’t turning blue right now.” His hand came up to touch his eye without thinking and you could see that he barely winced before he shook his head and continued to open up a document on his computer. You continued to stare patiently, but he made no move to relieve your concerns. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

He scoffed, clicking his tongue with eyes still focused on the screen in front of him. “I already did. The black eye is because my face hit the ground.” He turned to you to still find you scrutinizing him, but he chose to ignore it and get straight into writing the essay. He began to read the prompt aloud until he stopped when he felt a large drop of water fall onto his cheek, and at just about the same moment, you felt the same on your thigh. You both looked up and saw the dark clouds that had drifted in from a distance. Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch to go right on cue, the sky opened up and rain came crashing down on the city with a crack of thunder to top it all off.

After only a few moments, you were already much too wet for your own liking, so you dragged Jungkook behind you to the nearest awning of a building to stand under. “Great,” you murmured, already shivering from the chill of your damp clothes. “Now what are we gonna do?”

Jungkook sighed and looked out at the droplets that poured down just a few inches in front of him while drying off the screen of his laptop with his shirt. “You know, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to help.”

“No. I want to help. I need to after how much you’ve helped me,” you insisted. You tapped your chin in thought of a place to seek refuge from the rain, and the only place that came to mind was home. Home, however, was a risk since there was the chance that your mother would be home, but she usually worked even on Sundays, and you didn’t think there was any reason she wouldn’t be working today, so you decided that would be your best option. “We can go to my place to write this.”

You heard Jungkook mutter behind you, but you couldn’t make out what he said as you built up enough courage and went back out into the cold rain. You glanced behind you to see Jungkook hastily stuffing his laptop back into his bag and reluctantly following behind. Your teeth began to chatter and you crossed your arms over your chest to maintain some body heat. You heard Jungkook’s quiet voice, not quite able to understand what he had said, but he pulled you closer to him and had taken his leather jacket off, now holding it over both of your heads to keep the heavy flow of rain from beating down on you any longer. You blushed at the thoughtful act and your whole body began to feel warmer within moments.

Suddenly what you were sure would be a long, miserable walk went by much faster than you had expected, except for the fact that a jacket could only do so much and you were both still soaking wet and cold. You unlocked the front door and kicked off your soggy shoes, and Jungkook followed, and you told him to wait where he was on the doormat. You came back with a towel for each of you to dry off with. You wrapped the plush cloth around you tightly after squeezing out your dripping hair. To be honest, you hadn’t really thought this far ahead, so now you both stood in the doorway wondering what to do with your still very wet bodies that could easily damage the expensive furniture in your house.

You heard the front door just behind Jungkook begin to open and he quickly stepped out of the way before getting hit with it. Your heart dropped. It was your mother. She took in the scene with a bewildered appearance, eyes drifting from you, soaking wet with eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights to the equally damp boy with the leather jacket, forming black eye, and blood stain on his jeans.

“_____, who’s this?” she inquired with a strained smile, eyes flickering between the two of you. You had a feeling Jungkook could easily sense the tension because you saw him shift awkwardly between his feet.

“Mom, I didn’t think you’d be home. This is Jungkook. I’m helping him with English. We’re in the same class.”

“Oh, you go to college with _____? Where are you from Jungkook?” You could see from the look in her eye that she was testing him. She already knew, but she never thought that you would actually be dumb enough to bring someone like him into her house.

There was a moment of silence where you could tell he was thinking carefully about what to say, and you tried to step in and answer for him with something safe that you hoped your mother would accept and maybe even make her think her assumption was wrong—although that was entirely unlikely—but he spoke over you. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with my part of town. It’s west of the river.” You shrunk when you saw the forced smile slide off your mother’s features. You glanced to Jungkook. You never would have guessed from the calmness of his voice, but there was a certain challenging glint in his eyes.

“I see. I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter brought someone like you into my home.” She gave you a once over and you fluttered your eyes shut in shame that you knew you had no reason to feel and shouldn’t be feeling, but that look on your mother’s face never failed to make you feel guilty for absolutely anything.

Jungkook’s tongue poked into his cheek and he laughed dryly. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep my grubby hands to myself.” Your mother’s eyes widened at his rebellious response, and you quickly ushered him up the stairs to prevent any other confrontation that might have occurred had you not intervened.

Once you reached the top of the stairs and achieved peace for the present moment, you led Jungkook to your bedroom and quickly shut the door behind you, dragging your hands down your face in embarrassment and guilt and frustration and... you weren’t even sure what you were feeling at the moment. Jungkook still wore a scowl on his face when you peeked through your fingers,  and he spoke, “No offense, but your mom’s kind of a bitch.”

You groaned and kept your hands where they covered your face, too afraid to meet his intense gaze. “I know. I’m so sorry.” You finally let your hands fall to your sides, defeatedly. “I didn’t think she would be home, so I didn't think we would have this problem.”

You were at a loss for words, disappointed and embarrassed, until you finally let out in a small voice, “She’s not really like that, or at least she wasn’t always. She’s just hurt.” Jungkook didn’t even have to make a move before you elaborated, hopeful to give him some sort of explanation he would accept. “My father was killed by a gang member from the other side of town, and she just hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said equally as quietly as his eyes shifted to the ground. You saw his jaw clench and realized you were probably making him uncomfortable, so you dropped yourself onto your plush bed and patted the space beside you to beckon him to follow.

“Let’s get started on this paper, then,” you began jovially, although it was obvious to the both of you that the change of mood was at least partially forced.

Jungkook took slow steps to join you where you sat and released a quick sigh. “We’re not all like that.” Jungkook’s fingers were intertwined with each other while his elbows rested on his knees and his head was facing you, yet his eyes did not meet your own.

A soft, guilty smile grew on your lips. “It’s okay. I know.” You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought after your failure to divert from the subject. You were determined this time, however, as you motioned for him to bring out his laptop, asking, “Alright. What’s your topic?”

He laid his computer on his lap and handed you a paperback novel. “It’s a character analysis on a character of choice from this book.” You observed the illustrated cover and read the title. Luckily, you had read the novel before, so you could better help Jungkook write the essay. “I don’t know which character to write about though.”

You hummed in thought and flipped through the pages, briefly looking for names to jog your memory. “Well, the main character is the obvious choice, so if you want to impress your professor, that’s not the way to go. Were there any particular characters that interested you?”

Jungkook stared for a moment, but only shook his head in response, saying, “No. I didn’t even like the book.”

You frowned to yourself for a moment, remembering how much you had enjoyed reading the same book. You thought of the most memorable character and suggested to him, “What about Maxine? She was a major character and her story can be interpreted in several different ways, especially with how her relationship with Vernon developed.”

Jungkook scowled shaking his head. “She was the worst character. She couldn’t even take care of her own kid, let alone someone else’s. That’s why the whole plot seemed pointless to me.”

“Well, she was an addict, but throughout the story you could see her battling with her addiction for the sake of her son and everyone else who cared about her. She wasn’t able to succeed in keeping her son in the end, but her good characteristics shine through and that’s what you can write your paper about.”

“She was a shitty character and she didn’t care about her son, but if you want to insist I write the paper on her, then you can just write it for me.” Jungkook dropped the computer on the mattress in the space between you and pushed himself up off the bed, turning his back to you.

Your brows creased in concern as you stood up just a few steps behind him. You tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to upset you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re just being annoying.”

He pushed your hand off of his shoulder and turned around to look at you, face still hardened. Your expression imitated his own, and you questioned impatiently, “Do you want me to help you or not?” Jungkook’s nostrils flared before his tensed arms folded over his chest dropped to his sides and he went back to his seat at the bed. You only observed him for a moment before you gave in and joined him once again, handing his laptop back to him and deciding to ignore the matter for now.

After a few hours of focusing solely on the paper, you both had finished and the final result was definitely worthy of a good grade. The majority of the time had passed in silence, with you leading most of the conversation and helping him with writing rules and him adding his own ideas to the paper silently. His quietness did not go unnoticed by you, though.

Jungkook was adding the finishing touches, and finally he closed his computer to pack it away. Meanwhile, you were debating bringing up the issue that had been weighing on you throughout the writing process of his essay. “Jungkook,” you began nervously, “I don’t know exactly what it was that made you so upset, but I’m sorry.” You glanced up to Jungkook, and you were sure you saw his hardened gaze become neutral as he noticed your eyes on him. “You can talk to me about whatever it is that’s bothering you, though. Just so you know.” One end of your mouth quirked up in an attempt to be comforting without overstepping your boundaries.

Jungkook rolled his head from one shoulder to the other, propping himself up on his hands. His eyes stayed on the corner of the ceiling as he explained. “I guess I just see a lot of resemblance between my own mother and Maxine.” Jungkook shuffled his feet on the ground before continuing, “I guess now that you explain it though, Maxine was actually better than her when it comes down to it.”

You watched silently as his brows pulled together in concentration on the floor below him. You could tell he had been hurt, though you weren’t exactly sure how, but you didn’t expect him to elaborate any further. You sighed in thought and melted further into your bed. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, now. It never actually mattered to me.” You almost pointed out the mirthless smile that spread across his lips, but kept your mouth shut tightly in a moment of hesitation. It wasn’t difficult to see that he was suppressing his emotions, and you knew he would eventually pay for having done that for probably a majority of his life, but you were afraid to push your thoughts onto him seeing how he had a habit of shutting down whenever he had to express something real.

Jungkook cleared his throat, suddenly ushering you out of your thoughts and you hadn’t even realized that you had been staring the whole time. Your eyes darted away, but you didn’t miss the silent chuckle that came forth from Jungkook’s lips. With your face burning red, you diverted your attention to the time on your phone screen, gasping, “I didn’t even realize it had gotten so late.” You stood up, pulling back your curtains and peeking outside to see the sun had already set. “You shouldn’t walk home at this time of night. Do you want me to get you an Uber?” you worried, already pulling up the app on your phone.

He placed his hand on the rim of your phone, pulling it down to get your attention, chuckling, “I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

You pressed your lips together, concerned, still hesitating to let him go when you could help. He already picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder, however, so you were forced to digress as he began to walk away. You followed him down the stairs toward the front door, requesting, “Fine, but text me when you get home safely.”

Jungkook couldn’t hold back his laughter, throwing a look over his shoulder at you. “Don’t smother me.”

“I’m not!” you countered with a grin. You crossed your arms over your chest at the breeze let in as Jungkook turned to face you one last time on the front porch.

Jungkook looked over your shoulder and the fraction of a smile that had been present on his lips faded away. “I’ll see you later, _____.”

You bid him farewell in return and in the next moment he was descending the front steps and on his way home. You closed the door and you were once again surrounded by the warmth of the inside, but your goosebumps did not go away when you saw your mother who had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as he left. The both of you made eye contact for a few moments before she wordlessly turned and walked back into the kitchen, and you did the same, slinking back into your room as if you hadn’t seen her.

You laid on your bed, finishing up studying for class the next day, when your eyes shifted down to the numbers displayed in the bottom right corner of the screen. It was almost midnight. Jungkook should have gotten home by now, but the multiple times you had checked, even in the moment, you still received no message. You took it upon yourself to make sure he made it back alright.

‘Did you get home safely?’ You sighed throwing your phone down next to you, not expecting him to respond anytime soon since he was always very flaky with texting.

Your screen lit up within a few minutes however with a new message from Jungkook. You quickly slid your thumb across the screen and unlocked your phone to read his reply. ‘yes.’ It was short and simple, like his messages always were. He was a man of few words on all levels. However, for some reason, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling you got, your lip caught between your smiling teeth at the thought that—though highly unlikely—his quick reply meant that he had been waiting for you to say something first. You felt silly, like you were a freshman in high school all over again, but the feeling was nonetheless welcomed.

Your fingers speedily typed back, ‘Good. You had me worried for a second there.’ You patiently watched the screen for a while until the read receipt popped up under your message. However, there was no indication of a reply coming your way, and you rolled your eyes at the far too familiar scenario. You lifted your head up for a moment, letting your eyes scan around your room for no particular reason until they landed on a black bag in the corner of your room. It resurfaced a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now, and you decided now was as good a time as any to confront it. Typing once more on your phone, you sent one more message to Jungkook. ‘Can we meet at the cafe tomorrow? There’s something I want to give to you.’

Suspecting Jungkook’s record-time reply was a one-time-only kind of thing, you placed your phone on your nightstand and closed your computer up, laying back in your bed to finally get some sleep for class the next day.

You sat at your usual table in the far corner of the cafe, waiting with both of your drinks already ordered and paid for in return for last time. Luckily, today, you weren’t kept waiting for long as Jungkook came walking in relatively on time with a black baseball cap pulled down tightly. As soon as he sat, you ducked your head and discovered the reason for his not-so-subtle accessorization. His eye had become darker than it was the day before. You clicked your tongue reaching over and lifting the cap to get a better look at it, fighting against Jungkook’s grip to hold it in place.

“Must have been quite a fall, huh?” you observed with an incredulous glare. Jungkook only silently nodded. You both knew that you knew he was lying, but no one said a word. After a moment of thought, you inhaled sharply and bent down to where the black bag sat next to you, pulling out the object of interest. “Right. I have something for you.”

Jungkook observed with a raised brow and watched as you pulled out your camera that he had seen countless times before. You placed it on the table and grinned, waiting for any sort of response, but Jungkook’s eyes only flickered between you and the camera cluelessly. “What?” he finally gave in and questioned.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed the camera across the little table closer to him. “I’m giving you the camera!”

Jungkook’s eyes were suddenly huge and his mouth hung open for a mere second in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. This camera costs a lot of money. Why would you just give it to me?”

Your eyes trailed down and you shrugged slightly. “I don’t know, you just got so excited when you saw it the first time that I’ve been thinking about how much more you deserved it since then. After this semester ends, I won’t even want to touch a camera again, but you love photography, so it’s much better in your hands.”

“Why don’t you just keep it until the end of the semester, then? There’s only a few more weeks.” His eyes were glued to the object in front of him like a child looks at a candy bar.

“I’ll get a different camera, a cheaper one, and that way you can use that one for the final project.” Jungkook still looked hesitant, looking to you one final time for some sort of approval. Your laugh bubbled up inside of you. “It’s yours! Take it.” His hands took hold of the camera in no time, a beaming smile on his face, as he began snapping pictures of anything and everything in sight. He took one of the tree just outside the window, then a picture of the two coffee mugs placed beside each other on the table, stopping to take a look at the results for just a moment before diving right back into it.

You weren’t even sure what made you want to give him the camera all of a sudden, but as you watched him, you realized it was probably because of that childlike smile on his face. Every once in a while, he was unable to uphold his strong exterior and instead he just let it down and showed a completely different side of himself, one that very few were ever lucky enough to see. It made you happy that you were one of the few.

Suddenly, you noticed that the camera lens had been pointed directly at you. You tried to bring your hands up to hide your face, but Jungkook was already looking at the result, signalling you had been too late. “Delete that!” you whined as Jungkook laughed obnoxiously, jerking the camera away from you as you tried to take it away from him. When he looked at the picture, his laughing grin turned into a softer smile. “Jungkook, please get rid of that. I probably looked so—”

“You look…” he cut you off, stopping mid sentence in thought. He looked up to you for a mere moment and then back down to the picture. “...beautiful.” At that moment you were completely floored, unable to say anything else. In the dead silence between the two of you, it was as if Jungkook had just registered what he said, and he quickly set down the camera, looking out the window because he had no idea where else to look.

You bit down on your lip to hold back the smile that wanted so desperately to spread across your face, pushing a few stray strands of hair back behind your ear. “Thank you,” you mumbled. Jungkook still looked out the window, but you heard a laugh get caught in his throat, which escalated to both of you giggling and blushing like idiots. Anyone walking by would look at the both of you and think you’re just a pair of awkward teenagers falling in love. Maybe that’s exactly what you were.

Your mother would kill you if she knew what you were doing right now. Jungkook wanted to kick off summer vacation with something new. You were hesitant at first, but Jungkook was able to coerce you into it, so now you found yourself in Jungkook’s side of the city, a place you had never ventured to before. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared, especially because of the way your mother described it, whether it was completely true or not, but it definitely didn’t help when Jungkook told you to stay close to him, which made your heart beat faster for two completely different reasons.

After passing through a dark alley that gave you goosebumps, Jungkook led you to a beaten up little building. You read the glowing sign at the top dubbing the building Roy’s Diner. “You brought me all the way here to eat?” you asked Jungkook doubtfully.

“Trust me. It’s worth it. The food here is amazing.” Jungkook walked a few steps ahead of you and looked back to see you examining the restaurant. You weren’t one to judge a book by its cover, but you weren’t even sure how this place was passing any kind of building inspections. “Come on, it’s one of my favorite places. It was in real bad shape a few years ago and on the brink of closing down.”

“Well, if you love this place so much, you should work to fix it up and save it. I’d be willing to help, too, if you want,” you offered.

Jungkook looked at you like you were crazy. “Save it? What are you talking about? It’s already been fixed up. The place is thriving now!” He gestured grandly to the building, causing you to give it a doubtful second examination. You weren’t exactly sure what his definition of ‘thriving’ was, but it must be vastly different from yours judging by the flickering neon sign and the walls that desperately needed painting and, quite frankly, looked like they could very well cave in on themselves soon. You gave him a tight smile, but he only rolled his eyes. “Look, it may not look like all those fancy restaurants you’re used to, but I promise, I’m about to introduce you to the best fries and milkshake you have ever tasted in your life. Nothing beats Roy’s cooking.”

After Jungkook had grabbed your hand and practically dragged you inside, you were met with a much different atmosphere than what you were expecting. It was unexpectedly warm and cozy inside, and the loud chatter and laughter coming from all around almost made it feel like you were at a rowdy Thanksgiving dinner. Suddenly almost everyone that had been engrossed in a conversation turned towards the door to see the two of you had arrived. There was a deafening chorus of greetings to Jungkook, mostly from the older folks at the bar and surrounding tables whom Jungkook dragged you over to. Only after Jungkook gave almost each and every one of them a hug, which was much to your surprise, did some of the older women notice you were there. “Oh, Jungkook! You finally got yourself a girl and brought her here to meet us!” one of the women practically shouted as another tried to pinch Jungkook’s cheek while he quickly tried to maneuver away.

Jungkook rubbed at the back of his neck, finally realizing he still held your hand in his own and quickly released his grip, much to your disappointment. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a friend from college, and I brought her here so she could try Roy’s famous food for the first time and change her life forever.”

Several of them chimed in, greeting you after you introduced yourself shyly. Jungkook went to grab a menu for you, and the ladies took it as an opportunity to chat some more with you. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“No, I’m not actually.” You could barely even hear their responses since they all talked over each other, and although you had expected at least some of them to draw conclusions and figure out you were from the other side of town and treat you differently, they all still gave you friendly smiles.

Jungkook came back just in time to save you from more of their questions, thankfully, and brought you up to the counter to order food from the restaurant owner he introduced you to, Roy. You ended up getting a burger with the infamous fries and milkshake Jungkook kept going on about. Over dinner, much of the topic of conversation stayed on you and mostly Jungkook since, as many of his friends implied, he hadn’t visited recently. You ended up loving the atmosphere and how close everyone seemed to be. Even Roy would talk with everyone in between orders, and though you had never met anyone before, everyone was welcoming and open to talk with you. In fact, they were eager to see you and to see that Jungkook “has some friends his own age” as they teased.

You were finally finishing up your milkshake as the sky was just becoming dark, and the restaurant, while still buzzing, had quieted down considerably enough to have a conversation at normal volume. Jungkook had left you sitting at the counter alone while he went to the bathroom, and you couldn’t hold back the smile to yourself thinking about the way he interacted with all these people he seemed to be so close to. You looked up as Roy stood on the other side of the counter from you, cleaning a glass with a towel. “You seem like a great girl. I’m glad Jungkook met someone like you.”

You blushed, expecting him to only make some simple small talk while Jungkook wasn’t around. “Oh… I wouldn’t say it like that.” You laughed nervously, pushing stray hair back out of your face. “We’re only friends. We just talk sometimes.” ‘Sometimes’ was a bit of an understatement you realized, but it seemed most of the people got the impression that you were Jungkook’s girlfriend, which unfortunately wasn’t the case.

“Let me let you in on a little secret. Don’t tell Jungkook I told you this, but he doesn’t bring just anyone here. These people are like his second family, and if he thinks you’re good enough to meet them, then you’re pretty darn special.”

You couldn’t help the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach at the thought. A sudden thought came to you and you bit your lip, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask. You decided it probably wouldn’t hurt, grabbing Roy’s attention once again. “Sorry, you said this is like his second family?” He nodded easily. “Well, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s the first?” You questioned carefully, hoping it wasn’t too forward or prying of you to wonder about such things. You knew that Jungkook’s parents were out of the picture, so you tried to imagine who else he would be close with besides the people in this room.

Roy stayed silent for only a moment before both of you saw in the corner the door to the restrooms swing open and Jungkook wiping his hands dampened from the sink on his shirt. As Jungkook made his way back to take the seat next to you, Roy gave a tight smile and a quick nod to hastily end the conversation. Your forehead creased in confusion, wondering why there had so suddenly been something secretive come up. You smiled as Jungkook came and took his seat next to you again, but you couldn’t quite wipe the puzzlement off your face. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook suddenly asked, throwing his arm over your shoulder, which you were sure was only a product of him being just a little bit tipsy.

“Nothing.” You shook your head.

After Jungkook had walked you home that night, you were met with a very displeased mother. You did stay out a little late, you admit, but you should have that freedom. You’re a fully functioning adult, yet here you are, getting lectured by your mother. Though it wasn’t all bad, especially since you weren’t paying an ounce of attention. Instead you were thinking about Jungkook walking you home just minutes before. He had a few drinks at the diner, so he was a bit more carefree than he was on a usual basis, so the entire way home, you had the pleasure of feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours and for a moment everything felt so real.

And that’s when you realized there was no turning back. Your hand felt empty now that his wasn’t there anymore and there were too many lingering butterflies to be ignored. Again, maybe this is the result of the tiniest bit of alcohol that you’re hoping desperately your mother doesn’t smell on you right now since you were still technically underage.

The thought of your mother ruined it all though. The warm fuzzy feeling became cold as you remember that as long as she had a say, being with Jungkook was out of the question. You could take one look at him and easily see he was the epitome of a boy your mother would never approve of, with his all black clothes and leather jackets, his pierced ears, his dark yet endearing—at least in your eyes—humor. Your mother would keel over if you ever revealed you had feelings for him.

And this was assuming that Jungkook even felt the same way about you. But there had to be something there, right? You felt like with how you easy it was to talk to each other, and how much Jungkook has opened up to you, not to mention those few tender moments that you two never spoke about, it seemed pretty obvious there was something between the two of you. It couldn’t all just be in your head. Though you were still terrified, you came to the conclusion that you would let Jungkook know exactly what you were thinking and see what happens from there.

Making a decision that you would confess to Jungkook did not make it any easier to actually do it. You had never been the one to make the first move in the past, and Jungkook being the person of interest made it even scarier. Jungkook was coming over to your house so you could help him study for English, and your heart was beating erratically while waiting for the doorbell to ring. You couldn’t sit still and eventually began pacing in the living room, and you weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him today. However, today would be a good day, since your mom isn’t home and home is the best place to do it. If he turns you down, there won’t be any public embarrassment. So basically today is the perfect day to do it. So basically you have to do it. You began to pull at your hair in distress when finally the doorbell rang, and you probably answered it way too fast. As Jungkook greeted you, he smirked as he looked at the top of your head, smoothing down the hair that you must have messed up in your panic, and unfortunately you very obviously flinched away from his hand, playing it off with a nervous chuckle.

You silently led him up to your room, and he could most definitely tell that something was going on, but he didn’t say anything to acknowledge it, much to your relief. You let him into your room and closed the door behind you, taking in a deep breath. Luckily, as soon as you start to talk with each other like any other day, you begin to feel comfortable again and you finally feel relaxed.

After about an hour of studying, you take a break and you begin to wonder if this would be the time to say something. You began to go over the small speech you had rehearsed all morning, but before you could get anything out, you watch as Jungkook pulls off his hoodie, and as he does so, the short sleeve of his shirt on his right arm comes up, revealing a black image displayed on his skin which immediately piques your interest. “Wait, what was that?” you asked, tentatively pushing his sleeve up his shoulder to examine the image you had spotted hidden beneath it.

“Nothing,” he replied uninterestedly, brushing your hand away.

You locked gazes with him, wide eyes on display in an attempt to make him cave in.  “Well, it’s obviously a tattoo,” you reasoned aloud. “Any special reason?” Had you not had the suspicion that came into your mind, you would have let it be.

He quickly shook his head, breaking away from your curious eyes. “It’s just a tattoo. Nothing special about it.”

Your voice was soft now, and your eyes dropped to examine the lines in the wooden floors of your bedroom. “It’s a gang tattoo, isn’t it?” He only stared back, still with no intention of giving any answers. You figured that would be the reason why he was so apprehensive. Had it been any other tattoo, he probably wouldn’t have had any problem. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

He briefly exhaled through his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut before he gave a hasty nod. “I’ve told you before. I got mixed up with some bad people when I was younger, but don’t worry, it’s all in the past now.” You were glad he had gotten past it and hoped he was safe and out of that business now as he said he was.

Your gazes were locked on each other’s for far too long and you suddenly remembered what your original goal was, and you now realized you ruined the mood for that to happen. “I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jungkook reassured softly. “I would have told you before, but I just didn’t want to scare you off.”

Your mouth curved into a small smile, arms hugging your torso. “You couldn’t scare me away. Don’t you know you’re stuck with me?” you joked. You suddenly realized now was the time. You had everything you wanted to say planned out, but now that it came down to it, you panicked and forgot all of it, so you had to say exactly what was on your mind. “Jungkook, you know you mean a lot to me, right? When I say that, I don’t mean as a friend either. I mean it as more than that, I guess.” You stuttered and slipped over your words and began to trail off in your last statement in nervousness, which became full panic as you observed the smile slip from his face.

“_____...” That was all he said before an agonizing amount of silence and out of all the scenarios you had thought up, this was probably the worst of them all. “You don’t mean that.”

“What? Of course I do,” you insisted, reaching out to him, but he only coiled back out of your reach. “Jungkook…”

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He tried to walk away from you, but you grabbed onto his arm. You’d accept it and let him go if he had just rejected you, but you could tell something was wrong.

He shook your grip off and picked up his books and stuffed them into his bag in a hurry. “What is wrong with you?” you questioned desperately at his sudden shutdown. Then it all made sense. “That’s it. You’re shutting down again. You can’t stand it when you have to deal with any sort of real emotion.”

He scoffed, “Don’t try reasoning me out of this. I don’t want anyone to depend on me like that, not even you.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to feel anything?” He stopped and looked up to you from his bag, locking eyes, and you hated how they had suddenly become cold and unfamiliar.

“No, _____, I’m not, and that’s why you should just give up on me. I can’t give you what you want. Go find someone else that’s not gonna hurt you.” You didn’t want to watch him walk away. You had no way of knowing what his true feelings were, but you knew that this wasn’t what he needed. He said he didn’t want anyone to depend on him, but in reality, he was afraid to depend on someone else. He didn’t want to put himself in a position to get left behind again, scarred by memories of his mother who had abandoned him.

All you could do was let him figure things out on his own. If he really did love you, then he would find his way back. All you can hope is that you didn’t just lose one of the best things that had ever happened to you. “Okay, if this is how it is, then I’ll let you go. I can’t keep doing this, Jungkook.”

He was already taking large strides out the door to get away as fast as his feet would carry him. “I know,” was all he said. Then he was gone.

It had been a week since Jungkook walked out on you, and you were beginning to lose hope of seeing him again. You would usually give it a bit more time before you began feeling doubtful, but you hadn’t seen nor heard any sign of him.

You laid pathetically alone on your bed on a Saturday night that you should have used to spend time with friends, but you ended up turning down any plans that were offered. You opened your phone and looked through old messages between you and Jungkook, and you began to type a message to ask him how he was doing, but just before you hit send, you ended up erasing it all and throwing your phone back down. As much of a bummer as it was, you decided to take tonight to go to bed and get some extra sleep.

You had already shut off all your lights and tucked yourself into your warm bed when a sudden, echoing knock came from your window, almost scaring you out of your wits. You quickly stumbled out of bed and turned on the lamp that sat on your nightstand, opening the curtains without hesitation because you already knew exactly who would be waiting behind them.

There you saw Jungkook hugging his jacket closer around him in the chilling night winds. This wasn’t the first time he had come to you through your bedroom window. He had done it several times before when he came over and saw your mother’s car parked in the driveway to avoid having to get through her to see you. You unhooked the latch, hurrying him in as he struggled to climb over the window sill. “_____,” he breathed out through chattering teeth. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled you into a crushing hug, burying his face into the hair on top of your head. “I always fuck things up just when they’re starting to go right.”

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” you spoke gently, rubbing his back up and down as he stood still and inhaled your scent for a few moments.

He chuckled breathily. “How can you always forgive me even when I’m such an ass?”

“Because I love you.”

You had pulled away enough so that you could look him in the eyes when you spoke, hopeful that this time it would go right. Jungkook pulled you back to him, mostly so that he could hide his face when he told you, “I love you, too.”

Your mother had dragged you out of the house way too early for a Saturday morning to go shopping with her at all of her favorite designer-brand stores, which was already a shock to you since she hadn’t found time to spend with you in almost four years since she was always so busy with work. Now, out of nowhere, she was having you try on at least a dozen gowns at each stop.

“Okay, mom,” you sighed walking out of the dressing room wearing the last of several dresses she had picked out. “This is the last one.”

She smiled, motioning for you to turn around. “That one looks beautiful, too! Which one did you like the best?”

You turned around, scrutinizing the way the material draped over you in the mirror. “I don’t know. They all look nice.” You turned back to her, finally deciding to question the motive behind her sudden eagerness, hoping it wouldn’t ruin her rarely bright mood. “Why exactly am I looking for a dress?”

She folded her hands in her lap, crossing her legs over each other, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I wasn’t planning on telling you yet, but I’ll be hosting a gala, and I want you to come.” She looked for some kind of reaction from you, but you only continued to listen, smoothing the skirt of the dress you wore. She cleared her throat. “There will be a lot of young men there, soon to be owners of their parents’ companies. You should try to meet some of them.”

You finally looked back to her reflection in the mirror. “I’ve already met plenty of them,” you pointed out, brows creased in thought. “Is this your way of saying you want me to make connections?” you accused, stressing the word “connections” to imply it may have a different meaning. You heard rumors that big business owners would sometimes send their kids to high class social events hopefully form a relationship with another heir to merge the businesses and increase profit, but you didn’t think it was actually something that happened.

“I’m not saying I want you to do it, but you should be open minded to some of the boys you meet there.” She smiled to try to convince you, standing to speak with you at eye level.

“So, what, you want me to charm them with a pretty dress?” you asked. You scrunched your nose, looking down at the dress that you had once thought was pretty, but after staring for too long, you began to hate it.

“And your wonderful personality,” she joked with a playful pat on your cheek, but you couldn’t find it in you to laugh.

You’d met all these heirs to wealthy businesses before, and you knew that they weren’t interested in your personality. They weren’t looking for any sort of relationship, they were either looking for connections or a good time, and when it came to the unfortunate girls at these parties, they were usually stuck with the latter. And as spoiled rich kids, they didn’t like to be told no, which made you even more nervous than you already were.

You walked back into the dressing room, peeling off the itchy material of the dress you had to wear for far too long due to the unexpected news that had been broken to you. When you put back on the t-shirt dress and sneakers you had originally been wearing, you stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You began to think you liked yourself much better this way. You knew Jungkook liked you better this way. You bit back a smile at the thought of him, and it finally occurred to you that your mother didn’t even know that you and Jungkook were officially… whatever you were. You hadn’t really addressed it yet since that night. You did know, however, that you loved each other, but your mother wanted to send you into a room full of men you probably couldn’t trust. You began to wonder about what would happen if you brought Jungkook to the gala with you. Your mother would be furious, but you would feel so much safer. Though, you didn’t even know if Jungkook had any interest in going.

You heard a knock on the door, zoning you back into reality and making you realize you had been staring into the mirror in thought. “Are you ready?” you heard your mother’s voice calling from the other side.

“Coming,” you answered.

Jungkook had come over in the afternoon for what was supposed to be getting help from you for English, but when he actually arrived and you told him to get his books out, he didn’t even have his bookbag with them, so he claimed he “forgot” it. You knew he was lying, though. Jungkook had trouble with being direct. He always had to have some sort of excuse to see you rather than just wanting to spend time with you. You knew he actually cared behind all of this, though, but for now you would just have to learn how to interpret his roundabout methods.

Since he coincidentally didn’t bring his materials to study, he ended up laying down next to you in your place in bed, opting for just talking for a while. Jungkook had been looking around your room that he had practically memorized by now since he’d seen it so often, making it easy to spot any little change. He saw an extra framed picture on your nightstand of you and who he was positive was your father. He pointed it out, “That’s new.”

You looked over your shoulder to follow his line of sight and your eyes landed on the object of interest. “Yeah. I found that in a box a few days ago and decided to frame it and put it up.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t hold up for long as you engrossed yourself in thought.

“What?” Jungkook asked, looking down at you as a frown deepened on your face.

You shook your head. “Nothing.” You looked back at it one last time before turning back to him and grabbing his hand to fiddle with his fingers while admitting slowly, “I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like.”

“Don’t you have any videos where you can hear his voice?”

You nodded faintly. “I’m sure we have some somewhere, but I’d have to go looking for them myself. I don’t wanna bring my mom into it. She gets really upset when he’s brought up.”

“If it means getting to hear his voice, then you should just ask her. She can’t keep it from you, and you can’t let her pretend it never happened.” He was obviously letting his bias towards you affect his solution, but you remember clearly what happens to your mother whenever she hears about him, and although you two didn’t always get along, you would never purposefully do that to her.

Also, to be honest, you were shocked that Jungkook had even said what he had. You barely laughed, lacking humor, “Should I even take that advice from you?”

Jungkook’s lips turned down and his forehead creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You had a feeling this was leading into an argument you really weren’t looking to have, especially judging by his already irritable tone of voice. “I mean that you’re a prime example of ignoring the past,” you said as you tried to keep your voice even to remain peaceful without making him upset.

Jungkook sat up in the bed and you sighed, immediately regretting even bringing this up. “How have I ever done that? I fully acknowledge everything that’s happened to me.”

“It’s not that you choose to ignore the past itself, Jungkook, but you ignore the…” you paused to look for the right words as he waited impatiently, “the emotions you should be feeling from it.”

He scoffed, pushing himself off the bed, and he unintentionally rose his voice. “Who are you to tell me how I’m supposed to feel?”

“I’m not saying anything like that, Jungkook!” You began to shout as well, but you stopped yourself to control the volume of your voice, finishing calmly, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be sad.”

Jungkook held your gaze for a moment before shaking his head violently and dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’m not sad,” he spat.

You watched as he evened his breathing, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Alright,” you gave in. “If you say you aren’t sad, then I’ll believe you.” You knew he was lying not only to you, but to himself, but you let it go, not wanting to argue with him anymore. You stood up, brushing his bangs away that hung down in his eyes, pulling him to sit back down next to you on the edge of the bed. You brought a hand to his cheek to lift his face to meet your eyes. “I want to ask you something, and I know it may be asking a lot from you, so feel free to turn me down.”

He waited patiently for what you had to say, and you thought for one moment, still nervous at the prospect of him actually agreeing. “My mom is hosting this gala,” you explained, “and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

He squinted his eyes at you, finding it hard to believe you would even ask him about something like that. “You want me to go to a gala with you? That your mom is hosting?” You nod silently in return, though you can easily see where he’s coming from. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“I know it’s not exactly your scene, but, if I’m honest, I’m a little worried about it. My mom wants me to make connections with some of the young heirs there. They’re not the most trustworthy people, though. I just think I would feel a lot better if you were there.” You looked up to him nervously in hopes that he would understand what you were trying to say. With the way his jaw tightened, you were certain he had gotten the point.

He swallowed, placing a comforting hand on your thigh and agreeing softly, “Okay. I’ll be there for you.”

Later that night, you both decided you would go out to eat at Roy’s again because Jungkook was right, that was the best fries and milkshake you had ever tasted. It still made you nervous to go into the more dangerous side of the city, but nothing happened last time, and with Jungkook there, you had nothing to worry about. However, your fears suddenly returned to you when you heard someone from behind you shout, “Jeon!”

Jungkook quickly grabbed onto your hand as you both turned around. They didn’t look threatening when you turned around. In fact, they were around your age and you began to think they may have been friends of Jungkook. The same one who had called out to him spoke again, “Your dad called an emergency meeting. Another gang’s been looking to take some of our territory.”

You froze. You must not have heard that right. You felt Jungkook stiffen beside you, too. “What did he just say?” you mumbled.

Jungkook stared ahead wordlessly, his lips pressed into a thin line. That’s when you knew you heard exactly what you thought you did. Your lip curled up in anger and you shouted, “You lied to me! You’re in a gang!” Your eyes filled to the brim with tears, but you tried not to let them fall. You repeated, “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

Jungkook swallowed, knowing there was no way he could get himself out of this. He let the silence boil in an angry pot for a long while before he found his voice again. “Yeah, I did,” he breathed, nodding slowly.

You turned your face away from him, hesitant to ask what was on the tip of the tongue because you were terrified of what his answer may be. “What’s the name?” you barely choked out, but when he only stuttered as an answer, you screamed at him, “Was it your gang that killed my dad?”

“We’re not like that, _____. He was kicked out as soon as we found out.”

He confirmed exactly what you were afraid of. You knew the emblem you had seen on his shoulder seemed familiar for a reason. You felt sick. You felt betrayed. The tears you had been holding back were now free falling down your face. “You knew? You knew the whole time and you didn’t tell me?” You roughly pushed at his chest, but he barely moved an inch.

He reached out for you before retracting his hand right away. “I didn’t want this to happen.” You didn’t want to hear his excuses. You didn’t even want to see his face right now. You just needed to get away. When you turned on your heel, he called out your name, but you didn’t listen. When he tried to go after you, the men who came to get him held him back and hurried him away. He tried to fight to push past them, but he knew that if he chased after you, you would only hate him even more.

By the time you arrived home, you could barely even stand. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking, how violently your sobs had been wracking through you. When you reached the safety of solitude within your bedroom, you leaned on the post of your bed and sunk to the floor, burying your head in your hands. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed like that.

You heard a soft tap at your window and, knowing exactly who it came from, you pretended as if you didn’t hear it. Then Jungkook’s voice came quietly through the closed window, “Please let me in, _____.”

“Go away!” you shouted, not even moving to see his face. He didn’t leave though. Instead he kept tapping, which became impatient knocking, becoming louder and louder. You stood up and walked to the window and the sound finally ceased as he let out a sigh, but instead of unlocking the window like he had expected, you pulled the curtains closed and walked back to sit on your bed, staring emptily at the wall.

You could hear him growl in frustration. “Don’t make me break this goddamn window, _____!” you heard him scream from the other side of the curtains. You only shook your head and tried to ignore him until he left, but you jumped when you heard the crescendo of pounding on the glass, becoming more forceful by the second.

You hurriedly rushed to your feet again to open the curtains, only to be met with Jungkook repeatedly driving his fist into the glass. “You’re insane!” you cried out. You quickly unhooked the latch that kept him locked outside in fear that he would really form a crack in the glass. He immediately pushed through and took your face into his hands, pulling you close. “Get away from me!” You frantically fought, pulling his hands away from you and trying to put distance between you.

He placed his forehead against yours, whispering, “_____, please listen to me. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” You suddenly ran out of energy to continue fighting him, but you still kept a grip on his wrists as his hands still rested on each side of your face. Your sobs didn’t cease, however, and he slowly slid his hands down to wrap around your waist and bring you into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head as you reluctantly melted into him in exhaustion. “Please forgive me.”

“Jungkook,” you breathed weakly.

He stopped you quickly, reminding you of a conversation the two of you had in the past. “You’ve said it yourself before. You know that I’m nothing like that man.”

“Of course I know that.” You shook your head before you pulled away from him, but he wouldn’t let you go far enough to where he had to let you go. “I’m angry because you kept this from me. You knew it was something I needed to know, but you kept it to yourself anyway.”

He sighed and he was about to plead for you to forgive him once more, but the vibration of his phone is his pocket brought his words to a halt. You saw that he immediately became worried when he read the caller ID and answered the call without hesitation. You couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but the way his face contorted in worry let you know that it was bad news. He ended the call with a quick affirmative and when he hung up, he looked frantic. “Shit,” he hissed. “There’s an emergency back at home. I’ll come back later tonight, though. We aren’t finished here,” he promised, already making his way back outside.

You woke up the next morning surprised that you had ever been able to fall asleep. You hadn’t even bothered trying to fall asleep the night before since you knew that if Jungkook said he was coming back, then he was coming back. But he never did return, which worried you. You didn’t want to care, but no matter how hard you tried to hate him, the fact that he never actually came back made you think something bad happened, and that scared you. You tried texting him early in the morning, several hours after he had left, but now even after you had slept and woke up again, you still received no response, which was extreme even for him.

Knowing all that you knew about him now, you could only assume the worst, especially since you had heard about the apparent emergency that he had gone to take care of. You rushed to get yourself ready to go out and look for him only to be stopped when you realized you had no idea where you should be looking. Of course your first instinct was his home, but you didn’t actually know where that was. You found it hard to believe you hadn’t realized until now how much you still didn’t know about Jungkook. So, you went to the only place you knew of where you could find any sort of hint of where to find him.

You pushed through the heavy door that led into Roy’s diner, immediately met with several heads whipping your way to get a look at the visitor. Since it was the morning, there were far fewer people than there had been the first time you came, but you saw several familiar faces, including Roy himself. You walked in nervously, feeling a little out of place now that Jungkook wasn’t by your side, which everyone was quick to notice. “Do you know where Jungkook is?” asked one of the older men that he had been talking to during your previous visit.

“That’s the problem,” you sighed. “He left last night saying it was an emergency and I haven’t seen him since. He isn’t answering his phone either.” You shook your head, looking down at your phone one more time, hoping to be proven wrong. The news even made Roy stop what he was doing behind the counter to listen, worrying just like the rest of them. They all shared concerned, knowing glances.

Roy approached you slowly, setting his towel down, explaining, “We heard news early this morning that there was a dispute between gangs.” You waited impatiently for him to continue. You figured that much already. “Jungkook’s father was killed.”

The breath left your lungs and you now understood why he didn’t return. You knew him well enough to know that he must be out there somewhere trying to deal with what he’s feeling, and from what you knew about him, he probably wasn’t coping well. Now you had to make sure he was okay. “Tell me where I might be able to find him.”

They tried to convince you to let someone else look for him and find him knowing he might not be in a good state, but you insisted that you would find him yourself. They gave in finally and mentioned several places he visited frequently, one of them being his home address, which you were thankful they trusted you enough to give to you, and you decided you would start there. You entered the address into your phone for directions since you had no idea how to navigate in this area of the city. Finally, you came to the house that the map had led you to, and it was a house just like any other that you had been passing for the past few minutes. You weren’t sure why you were expecting anything different.

When you carefully knocked on the front door, it creaked open ever so slightly from the little bit of force you gave. You pushed it open just a slight bit more, calling Jungkook’s name, hoping to find him inside. You received no answer though, which prompted you to take a tentative step inside as you pray that you got the right house and you weren’t accidentally walking into a stranger’s home.

Only a few steps in and you heard the crunch of glass underneath your shoe, and you looked down to find a picture that had fallen of the wall and smashed onto the floor. When you took a closer look, you saw a boy with familiar round eyes and you knew you were in the right house. As soon as you rounded the corner, however, you see that the living room and the kitchen had been trashed and torn to shreds, displaying a mess of broken glass and papers and trash scattered across the floors. Suddenly you suspected that the picture by the front door hadn’t fallen by accident.

After you had called out for Jungkook several more times, you concluded he wasn’t in the house. You began to look through your small list of other possible locations while leaving the house and carefully pulling the door shut behind you. You stopped in your tracks just as you reached the bottom stair when you heard a familiar voice, and after you searched, you found just who you had been looking for. Only, you weren’t expecting him to be threateningly pinning someone up against a wall.

You approached quietly, listening for what you hoped would be an explanation. You saw Jungkook had pinned a man by the collar of his shirt to the outside wall of a building in an alleyway just on the other side of the road from his house. “Are you one of them?” he screamed, interrogating the terrified man.

“One of who?” the poor man questioned, fighting Jungkook’s grip, though you were surprised he couldn’t escape given Jungkook only used a single hand.

Jungkook bared his teeth in rage. “The bastards that killed my father!” You approached slowly, calculating the best way to deal with Jungkook while he was in such a fragile state. Though your knowledge about this was limited, you knew for sure that this man had no gang affiliations just by looking at him and how he seemed as if he hadn’t fought once in his entire life. Throwing a beer bottle down, smashing it to pieces that violently scattered causing both you and the man to flinch away, Jungkook cried out, “I promise I’ll obliterate every single one of them!”

You took the chance to lurch forward and firmly take hold of his arm, hoping to bring him down from his rampage. Jungkook’s head snapped to you and the man used this distraction to escape his grip and make a run for it. Jungkook noticed and wanted to push past you and chase after him, but you blocked his path, though he kept fighting to pass you, blinded by rage and, from what you could smell in his breath, intoxication. “Please, Jungkook, calm down! I know your pain, trust me, but this isn’t the right way to handle it! Let me help you!” you tried reasoning with him.

He pushed your hands off of him, backing away. “Who said I wanted your help? Who said I wanted you to force yourself into my life and try to fix everything?” he spat. You shook your head in disbelief. “I’m perfectly fine! What makes you think I need to be saved?”

“Jungkook, I know you don’t mean that.”

“I do!” he shouted. His shoulders heaved and then the tension in his face began to melt. “I…” He spoke more unsurely now. Then he had dropped himself onto his knees, hands pounding into the ground. Worried he was hurt, you slid down beside him only for his arms to wrap tightly around your waist. His face buried into the crook of your neck and he began to sob. You were worried and you hurt for him, yet somehow you were also relieved knowing that he was finally able to let go of the idea that he had to always be strong. You soothingly ran your fingers through his hair as you let him stay there for however long he needed. “He’s gone,” he choked out weakly.

Jungkook never told you much about his father. In fact, he said that he didn’t see him much and that they weren’t close. You couldn’t tell if that had been another lie to keep you from knowing the truth or if that had been true and he felt this way purely from the fact that he had lost both of his parents now. Either way, you could tell he was broken. “It’s okay,” you whispered.

“Promise me that you’ll stay with me, _____.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him. There you both sat, in the middle of an alley, where Jungkook finally shed what very well could have been his first tear, and you knew that he needed you.

After seeing the state his house was in, you figured it wasn’t the best idea to let him return there alone for fear he might go off the rails again, so you let him come with you. You weren’t sure whether your mother would be home or if she would ever even notice if you kept him up in your room, but you were willing to face whatever she had to say if she were to find out, knowing this was about your only option. You had to support him on the way as he drunkenly stumbled through the streets at midday.

When you finally arrived home with him and led him up to your room, he collapsed in exhaustion on your bed. You looked over him in concern for a moment before sighing as you combed your fingers through his hair. You figured you would get him some water for when he woke up since he had consumed so much alcohol, but when you tried to leave his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back to him. “Don’t leave,” he mumbled. You glanced back at the door, but you ultimately decided to follow his request and stay with him.

You sat down beside where he laid, pulling your wrist out of his grip and sliding your hand into his to hold it comfortingly. You saw a hint of red on his face and squinted to get a better look, but you had to gently nudge his face to get him to turn to you from where he had it buried in the sheets to block out the light. You saw his lip was letting out a fair amount of blood and you began to get up to clean it up, ignoring his groan of protest as you left his side.

You came back with a cold, wet rag to press to his lip to stop the bleeding. You sighed, giving his body a once-over, seeing clearly he was in bad shape, both physically and emotionally. You set the rag aside again after a moment and went back to softly stroking his head. You whispered to him, though you were sure he was too far gone in sleep to listen to you by now, “Please don’t do this to yourself again. Please don’t do something reckless and get hurt.”

To your surprise his eyes barely fluttered open at your words before they closed once again, but he exhaled heavily, assuring you, “I won’t. I promise.”

When you woke up the next morning, the bed had been significantly colder than it had when you went to sleep. As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized it was because Jungkook was no longer there, sleeping beside you with you wrapped in his arms like he had been when you fell asleep. He must have left sometime in the middle of the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little worried. You weren’t sure of he had completely sobered up yet, so you worried if he had gotten home safely or not. You called him, but he didn’t pick up. Then you texted him to ask where he was, thinking he probably wouldn’t answer that either, but to your surprise, he did. Although, all he said was ‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m gonna be busy today.’ You knew something was going on, already, but you were immediately afraid for him when he followed with, ‘I love you.’

That was unlike him. He was possibly the least straightforward person you knew, so he only said that when he felt like he absolutely had to. And you were afraid of why he thought he had to tell you so suddenly.

Before you could barrage him with questions, you heard the bell ring at your front door, so you went to answer, hoping for some reason that it would be him. When you opened the door, it wasn’t Jungkook, but instead it was the man who had called Jungkook for the meeting and ultimately revealed the truth about him. He cleared his throat. “May I come in for a moment?” You hesitantly stepped back, opening the way fully for him to enter. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Namjoon. I’m a member of Jungkook’s gang.” He said quickly, lowering his voice at the last phrase. He seemed to be rushing through the formalities to get to the real reason he had come. “Have you seen Jungkook?”

The question took you by surprise. You had been hoping to ask him the same question, but since he didn’t know either, your nerves were anything but calmed. “No. When I asked him where he was, he texted me saying he was busy and not to worry about it.” You thought for a moment, licking your dried lips. “He sounded off, though.”

Namjoon nodded attentively. “I see. There’s a good chance my suspicions are correct, then,” he speculated, pacing noticeably.

“What suspicions?” You were almost afraid to ask. It was easy to see that Namjoon was tense, so you knew that it couldn’t be good news.

“I think he’s going to try to get revenge for his father.” Your jaw went slack in shock. “I think he wants to kill that gang’s leader.”

“What? What if he gets hurt?”

Namjoon exhaled slowly, rubbing his chin as he spoke, “If that’s the case, he’ll be going up against several members before getting to the leader, so the likelihood is high.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. What was he thinking going up against so many people all on his own? You began to panic. “Well, what are you doing here? Someone needs to go help him or stop him or something!”

Namjoon said with the tap on the screen on his phone, “I’m already on it. I’m sending backup for him right now. I’ll be going too.” He was already taking large strides to the door when he quickly turned back around to you. “Keep the doors locked and don’t answer the door unless either me or Jungkook have told you to,” he warned before shutting the door behind him.

Somehow his warning made you even more nervous. You were sure you had nothing to worry about for yourself since you were far away from where all the action would take place, but it clearly meant that he thought these people were dangerous. And Jungkook was going to face them all alone. You just hoped that his backup got there fast enough.

You had been trying to shake the thoughts out of your head for far too long until you began to feel cramped within the walls of your own home. Though you were aware of Namjoon’s advice, you decided to walk for a bit to clear your head and to get some fresh air. Surely no one wanting to hurt you would be brave enough to cross the river to the highly-secured side of the city. You had been wandering for a while, not paying much attention to where exactly you were going and instead following wherever your feet carried you as you watched the petals fall from the cherry blossoms in order to distract yourself.

Eventually you found yourself stopping just before the bridge. Just a few more steps and you could be crossing over to get Jungkook out of his mess once again, but he said it himself. It wasn’t up to you to save him. He’s going to be okay, you assured yourself. With eyes still glued to the opposite end of the bridge, you turned around to walk back home.

As you began the walk back home, you thought you saw a shadow of someone behind you, but when you turned no one had been there. You were sure it was only your imagination, but now you were starting to wish you had stayed at home as your nerves began to act up. You took up a quicker pace, finally deciding you were safe after you were walking with no interruption for a few minutes. Just as you were calming down, you jumped as the ringer of your phone blared in the thick silence of the streets. You breathed in relief as you brought it out of your pocket and read your mother’s name displayed on the screen.

“Hello?” you answered. She was asking where you were since you had told her you would be home for dinner with her. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m coming home right n—” Your words were smothered by the gloved hand that latched itself over your mouth. You tried to tug yourself free and cry out for help, but your arms were only swatted away and your phone tumbled to the ground still on call with your mother. You frantically swung your feet in attempts to escape, but they were swept out from under you and you fell to the ground, your head hitting the pavement and darkening your vision until you lost consciousness.

Your head was pounding when you finally gained some awareness again. You could tell there were voices around you, but they were difficult to discern since your groggy state made everything sound muffled as if you were underwater, with the way it was muddled in your brain. It took a while to finally come to, but when you did, you could finally make out one of the voices as the very one you had been waiting for. When your eyes came into focus, you could make out Jungkook standing across a large room from you, pointing his gun at something to your right. You tried to turn your head to look despite the shooting pain in your neck from how you head hung down unnaturally. Your eyes met an unfamiliar man, also holding his own gun, but instead of pointing it back at Jungkook, it was directed at you. You tried to moved, but your limbs were bound to the chair you sat in.

You gulped, realizing the situation, most of your mind’s fogginess disappearing. “Look who’s finally decided to join us,” he observed, smiling sinisterly in your direction.

Jungkook briefly met your panicked eyes, but he diverted back to the man keeping a stone cold expression. “How did you find her?”

“You’re very reckless. How do you expect to take your father’s place?” At that remark, Jungkook’s grip tightened on his pistol and bared his teeth in anger. His finger twitched on the trigger and he was going to give in, but when the gun in the man’s hand was pushed closer to your temple, he brought the gun back down slightly in order to stop him from hurting you. The older man only chuckled. “You had such great potential to become a cold-blooded killer, an unstoppable machine, but instead you hold yourself back with these distractions.” The man tilted his head in indication of you as said “distraction.”

“The only person I’m looking to kill is you.”

“Are you sure you want to say that to me right now?” he asked, teeth bared and all easiness void from his tone. The mouth of the gun was now pushed harshly into your temple and you squeezed your eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath. Only a moment later, though, you no longer felt its the cold metal on your skin and you saw he had lowered it out of the corner of your eye. His face took on another chilling smirk. “You know, I could go ahead and kill her now… but then again, she would make an awfully pretty prize.”

Jungkook was fuming and, raising the gun once more and taking a risky step forward, he growled, “Don’t fucking touch her!” The man only stared back at him daringly, analyzing his every movement, the way his feet faltered in their placement on the ground, his hand just barely shook as he held out his gun. There was no way he would risk anything as long as you were in danger.

Suddenly there was a faint shuffle somewhere within the walls of the large warehouse you were held in and everything went silent as everyone went on alert, listening carefully. Suddenly, you flinched and your heart beat erratically as a gunshot ran through your ears, and it took a moment of panic to realize it hadn’t been directed at you. You turned to the side, seeing the man had dropped his gun and grabbed onto his arm in pain. His groan of pain was cut short by yet another bullet lodging into his thigh, causing his leg to give out on him and he fell to the ground.

Then a crowd of men came from the direction of the bullets, led by Namjoon who had been placing a handgun back into his waistband. Jungkook ran over to you to free you from the ropes that held you down, pulling out a switchblade from his pocket and cutting you free. When all of the ropes around you fell loosely to the floor you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his heart beating rapidly. He pulled away and his eyes travelled to your forehead. He carefully reached out to touch it and when his fingers barely brushed your skin, a pain shot through your skull. You brought your own hand up and felt what must have been dried blood. You hadn't even realized that had been there, but you deduced it must have been from when you fell to the ground during your kidnapping.

Jungkook lifted you out of the chair hastily with Namjoon by his side when commotion broke out in the back of the building. More men poured in from where Namjoon and the others had come, but they had their guns pointed at Jungkook’s men. Your feet slowed in their movements as you realized they were going to fight the men who had come to save you. Jungkook tugged you ahead and consoled you, telling you they would be fine, gesturing to the reinforcements coming in once Namjoon opened the front doors. As they passed by Jungkook, you figured they must be on his side. Taking once more glance back, you saw the other men retreating and dropping their guns as the soon realized they were far outnumbered and you briefly glanced at the leader who was still shuffling on the ground with his wounded leg. Jungkook had seen this, too, as he picked up his speed with you right beside him. You heard a gunshot go off and Jungkook roughly pushed you out the door. When you looked back inside as the three of you had finally reached safety outside, you saw no one else who had been injured, so you assumed everyone was safe.

You breathed heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off and your head began pounding because of your injury. You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally caught your breath, believing  the three of you had successfully reached safety, but you were quickly brought back to panic as Jungkook roughly leaned into the wall and let himself slide down to the ground, clutching his side. He hissed, lifting his hand and finding it stained crimson. You gasped and slid down next to him, Namjoon crouching beside you and examining the wound. You had been wrong when you thought that the gunshot had missed its target. No, it had hit exactly who it was aimed at, and that was Jungkook. A few men who had been in one of the many black vans parked outside the building came running over, carefully lifting Jungkook up from the ground and placing him in the back of the the van they had come from with a man with medical supplies waiting inside.

You followed behind them and stepped into the van when they set Jungkook down, not bothering to stop and wonder if they would even let you, but they did. The man grabbed scissors out of the case and cut open Jungkook’s shirt, blood seeping through the white material at an alarming rate. HIs shirt was pulled back to reveal the ragged gash in his side, and you had to look away. You found his hand in yours, however, and he squeezed it tight which felt like reassurance to you, but it was most likely because of the pain.

After a while of you silently staring out the window and Jungkook every so often hissing in pain, the bullet was removed and his torso was wrapped in a bandage. You finally looked back at him, relieved to see the job looked to be well done. Jungkook tried to readjust himself into a sitting position but immediately regretted it, groaning lowly and letting himself back down to lay where he had been before. You brushed your fingertips over the back of his hand and sighed as you watched his brows twitch.

Your head whipped towards the doors as Namjoon swung them open and climbed inside the back, sitting on the opposite side of Jungkook’s legs. He looked down at him with a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes hardened as they were suddenly directed at you, and the unpleasant frown took full form when he met your eyes. “I told you to stay inside!” Namjoon scolded. “That was all you had to do, but then you just had to get yourself caught.”

Jungkook, who still looked fairly worn out, did not miss Namjoon’s comment. “What?” he questioned, looking at you, and under his stare you couldn’t keep guilt from bubbling up to the surface. “You knew what going on and you still put yourself in danger?” Your lips pressed together in a tight line. His voice that was still weak, but you could tell he was trying to raise it.

You huffed, retorting, “What was I supposed to do? You had me so worried! Jungkook, you told me just last night that you wouldn’t do something reckless and get yourself killed! Then I found out you were going on some crazy revenge mission. You lied to me! Again! How long are you going to keep this up, Jungkook?”

“I’ll keep it up however long it takes! Be honest, _____. If I had told you what you wanted to know, would that have changed anything? No! You still would have done something stupid!” His fists had tightened and the veins in his arms protruded.

“Why are you getting mad at me?”

“Because you almost got yourself killed, that’s why!” His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, not enough to be painful, but it held you securely. His hands shook and you just now realized how fearful his face appeared. His voice lost its momentum and lowered to just above a whisper, “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you today. I can’t let anything happen to you.” You could only swallow at his words, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand that was still clasped onto your own. He sighed, defeated and resigning, “I know I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”

“But that’s the thing. You keep doing it. You keep lying because you think you have to, but you don’t! Please don’t lie to me anymore. There’s nothing you have to hide from me anymore.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away.

That was the last of what you said to him. He couldn’t promise you that the lies would stop. You weren’t sure if that meant he still didn’t trust you or that you couldn’t trust him. You were in too deep for that, though. It’s not easy to give your heart away to someone without trusting them with your life. You tried to relieve your thoughts plaguing your mind through a deep heave of a sigh as you quietly closed the front door behind you. Your mother came running to the door at the sound. You thought she’d be at work.

She pulled you into a crushing hug before pulling away and inspecting the bandage that had been put on your head and interrogating, “Why did you disappear all of a sudden? And what happened to your head?”

You pulled her hands away. “Mom, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“No, _____, you have to tell me what happened. I heard that over the phone! You can’t tell me nothing happened!” she rambled frantically, cutting you off once again before you could even anwer her. “I was so worried, you know that! I even sent the police out to look for you! Can you imagine how scared I was when they brought back your cell phone they found lying in the street, but they said there was no sign of you anywhere around it?” She slammed your phone down on the kitchen table without breaking eye contact with you. You could see her eyes become shiny.

You looked away and hesitated to give her an answer. “There were some problems… But I swear I’m alright. Jungkook—”

“I knew it!” she burst out. “I knew this had something to do with him! I’ve always known being around him would put you in danger!” You tried to speak up in his defense but she stopped you with a motion of her hand. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked since your father’s been gone to keep us at the top? I only want to give you the life you want, but you’re ready to throw your life away for some low life boy off the streets!”

You screamed back in retaliation, “Don’t say that about him!” She gave you that look that she always does when you raise your voice at her, but this time instead of cowering away, you used her stunned silence to say what you’d wanted to say for far too long. “Do you really think I care about the money? I couldn’t care less if I didn’t have this big house or these expensive clothes! I just want my mom back.” She was still silent to your surprise and the tension between her angry eyebrow faltered only slightly.

Her voice was much more level now as she turned away and pinched the bridge of her nose, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him.” She made her way out of the kitchen, only stopping once more in the doorway, looking over her shoulder. “Please. I can’t lose you, too.”

Your shoulders slumped with your labored sigh as you watched her retreating back. You didn’t miss her trembling lip. You supposed you never thought too hard on the emotional toll that encumbered your mother throughout this situation. In no way was she innocent, but you, too,  were far from being in the right. Maybe you had been the selfish one all along, you thought, making your way up the stairs to your bedroom with guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. You found the dress you had finally decided on for the gala laid out on your bed. You rubbed the soft fabric between the pads of your fingers in thought. What were you thinking, asking Jungkook to come to the gala with you? Neither him nor your mother wanted that. It was only what you wanted.

You picked up your phone and quickly called his number without another thought. After several rings too many, the line on the other end connected. “_____?” he answered, his voice sounded gruff and exhausted.

“You weren’t asleep were you?” you worried. He made a small grunt which you were sure was supposed to mean no, but you knew it wasn’t true. He needed to rest to heal, after all. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing alright... Better.”

“That’s good,” you said, trying to make your way into the subject you had called about. “Listen, you probably forgot about it by now...”

“The gala’s on Saturday. I know. I promise I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

“Actually, I was going to say that you probably shouldn’t go.” You gnawed at your bottom lip, waiting, as it was suddenly silent on his end.

“Why?” he finally asked, sounding more aware and perturbed than you would have expected.

“Well, you need to heal. It would just be better if you didn’t go.”

“I’ve healed in less than a week before. I’ll be fine.” You didn’t say anything. He was suddenly so determined to go with you after you practically had to beg him when you first told him about it. “Why don’t you want me to go?” You could hear the frown on his face. You couldn’t understand why he was getting so upset.

You gave a weak chuckle in hopes to lighten the mood. “Why do you want to go so badly all of a sudden?”

He ignored your question. “Did your mom say something?” You clicked your tongue in response, but he knew you well enough to know that meant that you didn’t want to answer the question. He chuckled dryly. “Are you serious? I thought you weren’t gonna let your mom stop you from doing what you want from now on.”

“I know, but this is… different,” you found yourself whispering into the phone. It suddenly felt like you were talking behind your mother’s back.

“Oh, then what is it? Is it because you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me by all the rich heirs?” He now carried an accusatory tone. He always had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions.

“Of course not! You’re being ridiculous!”

“Then why don’t you want me to go?”

“I’ve just... been insensitive to my mom. I just don’t think it’s the best idea.”

“Insensitive to her? Have you forgotten how wonderfully she treated me?”

You’d had it then, groaning as you hung up the call. You threw your phone down on the bed and went to get changed in the bathroom. You heard your phone vibrate from its place on the bed and you could just barely make out Jungkook’s name across the top of the screen, but you didn’t make a move to answer it. It took three more missed calls until he finally gave up.

It was a petty, stupid fight, and yet it was Saturday and you hadn’t heard from him since your last phone call. You tried to tell yourself you were just giving him time to rest and recover, but in reality, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. You wondered if he regretted it as much as you did.

The nerves fluttering in your stomach as you thought about the gala you were getting ready for made you begin to regret telling Jungkook not to go with you. You lightly brushed your fingers through your styled hair and took one last look in the mirror, scrutinizing the way the dress hung on your body. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as it had seemed before. It looked duller and you wished the skirt wasn’t so plain and lifeless. You weren’t sure what you had seen in it in the first place. You heard your mother call for you from the first floor, and on your way down you checked your phone one last time, but you still saw no notifications with Jungkook’s name on them.

You followed your mother into the limousine that drove you to the venue the gala would take place in, watching as you drove by the entrance to the bridge, wondering what Jungkook was doing on the other side. The rushing waters of the river seemed wider than ever.

You arrived at the gala much faster than you had hoped and found that many guests had already arrived. You walked in beside your mother, receiving several greetings and warm smiles, some looking more genuine than others. You made your rounds for a while, chatting with some of the other heiresses your age that you had known for years because of events just like these.

Eventually the crowd started to loosen up and the gala became more of a social gathering than a business meeting as most of the guests had already gone through a few glasses of wine. You chose to opt out of having any alcohol, though part of you wanted nothing more than to get drunk so the night would go by faster. After you finally got a break from conversation, you excused yourself and went down the hallway to the bathroom where it was much quieter and less crowded. You tried to pass by a man that you barely paid any mind to, but he reached out for your arm to grab your attention. “_____?” You turned and found that the face of the man that said your name was one that you were sure you had seen before, yet you couldn’t put a name to the face. “I’ve been looking around for you all night!”

You returned his charming grin with a polite nod of your head. “Oh yeah! I was wondering if I would see you tonight.” You were lying through your teeth and you were hoping it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit since I saw you last,” he said, looking you up and down. You chuckled nervously as his eyes lingered just a hair too long, especially now that you could smell the strong scent of alcohol on his breath after he had taken a step closer to you. “You know, we’re both set up to take over pretty powerful companies. I think we should try to get to know each other more—”

You frowned stepping back to regain your preferred personal space. “I’m sorry. That’s not something I’m looking for.”

You began to walk away, but his loud, gruff voice followed you, “You really shouldn’t cut someone off when they’re speaking! I think you should show me a little bit more respect!” He glared at you, clearly waiting for something, though you weren’t sure if what he wanted was an apology or just for you to say yes to him.

“And I think you’ve had too much to drink and that you’re a self-entitled prick,” you retorted. “I think you should get back to the party and leave me alone.”

He growled as you brushed past him, and he started to pursue you, but he was stopped short by a voice coming from behind both of you. “Hey. You heard her, man. Get out of here,” the voice ordered. You turned around to find Jungkook dressed in a suit and tie and with a flower in hand. The man only observed him incredulously until Jungkook sneered at him, making him finally give up and leaving only the two of you in the hallway. Jungkook’s glare finally softened once his eyes that had been watching intently as the man left found their way to your own. You hurried over to him, wrapping him in a hug and releasing a breath you weren’t aware you had been holding. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “This is exactly why I wanted to come and I still let this happen. I didn’t want you to have to deal with guys like that.”

You stopped him, shaking your head to assure him you were fine. “No, no. I don’t even care about that. I’m just glad to see you again.” Your eyes trailed down to observe the black suit he wore, admiring how good he looked, but also chuckling at how out of character he looked. You weren’t complaining, though. Your gaze travelled to the flower he held in his hand and a grin spread across your face. “What’s this?”

You could see his cheeks slightly tint while he tried to explain himself. “It’s just an… apology, I guess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, holding the flower out for your to take. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad about something so stupid. I promised I’d be here and I wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry, too.” You twirled the stem between your fingers. You grabbed his hand again and pulled him along with you. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this party.” You rounded the corner only to be met with your mother, skidding to a stop to prevent from colliding into her. “Mom.”

She sighed, and you were afraid you were going to have to face another lecture, but she surprised you by pulling you into her arms. “I heard someone raise their voice, and then I heard you… I got so worried.” She let you go and turned her eyes to Jungkook, looking upon him for the first time without contempt. “I’ve been thinking a lot recently after hearing how _____ talks about you. So I want to say thank you, Jungkook, for being there for her. I know there’s nothing i can say or do to make up for what I’ve said about you in the past, but I can tell that you love my daughter, and that’s all I want for her. I’m sorry for how horrible I’ve been to you.”

You looked between him and your mother. Jungkook’s words faltered for a moment, but eventually he just said simply, “Of course. I’ll always be here for her.”

Your mother gave a soft smile. She shook her head. “Don’t let me stop you. Go ahead and go. You’ve been here long enough,” she insisted, directing the last part to you. You smiled brightly and thanked her and the two of you headed out.

You two ended up sitting back in your usual seats at the counter at Roy’s. It didn’t exactly get you away from a rowdy, loud scene, but it was comfortable. You two were still in your clothes for the gala, so the old diners were teasing the both of you, saying you looked like you could get married right then and there. You were embarrassed, but you were also proud of how far the two of you had come. You were still by no means perfect. You two were a mess. A beautiful mess. The kind of mess that isn’t burdensome, that you don’t want to clean up because in it are beautiful memories of a time when all is perfect, like old family picnics with cream covered pies and messy little children who impatiently dig right in. “We’re kind of like a pie,” you looked up at Jungkook from where your head laid on his shoulder.

“What are you saying?” he broke out into laughter. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners and his nose scrunched up, it was beautiful.

“I don’t know. I’m just thinking.” You looked around. The neon lights that shone on the jukebox. The perfectly shaped swirl of whipped cream atop your shared milkshake topped off with a bright red cherry. The old couple sitting in a booth on the other side of the diner. It was all so beautiful. You’d never seen so clearly in your life up until this moment.

[wooly-bird]

My Study Method

Hi everyone! :D So I’ve been asked to post about my study/ note-taking method and well.. this is me trying to do that! 

First of all, my note-taking for this semester has been a mess, since we were able to get through half of the semester before quarantine hit and I didn’t transition that well... Also, my way of writing summaries changed a little since our exams ended up being completely open book. But anyway, here we go!

1. In-class notes

If the class is using a classic lecture format (like my multivariate methods course from last semester), I use a mixture between the outline note-taking method and annotating my slides. I’ll mostly just annotate the slides on my iPad and add in pages of drawings/ notes/ examples if I need to. Here you can see a graphical example, which I just scribbled down on an extra page that I added in between the slides. I also use a color-coding system for my highlighters. I use green for definitions and potential exam questions, yellow for generally important stuff and blue for questions that I need to address at home. If I’m not as lucky and the slides are really bad (or the lecturer only uploads them after a session), I have a magnetic keyboard in my uni backpack and I’ll just type up the notes in pages using the outline method again. 

For seminars, I’ll typically just take my iPad with me and write out any of the important points. Seminars are really reading-heavy here, so I make sure I prepare my readings for the session, annotate them and maybe have a page of questions/ notes ready for longer or more complex papers. I’ll explain more about that later! :)

I don’t take my laptop with me to uni! I used to, but a) it gets quite heavy lugging around a laptop, an iPad, prepped lunch, water and maybe even some books every day. (I also walk about 1.5 kilometers from the train station to my university building, so it’s just not comfortable.) b) I recently invested in a new laptop and I’m not quite yet ready to carry this one around with me everywhere, risking that I could bump into something or whatever... I’m a little paranoid when it comes to my devices...

2. After the lecture

After the lecture, I go through my annotated slides again and look up all the things that I highlighted in blue, meaning I have to look at them again. I then try to go through the material again in the context of the whole lecture - most of the time, I just zoned out and got lost. If I can’t grasp the subject after that, I go through old notes to see if I might know that concept from earlier classes or look it up on the internet. I add these explanations in another color of pen, mostly green. This way, I know that I needed this information to understand the concept at the time, but my professor didn’t mention it in this detail and it probably won’t be that vital for the exam. 

3. Readings

In seminars, we are assigned weekly readings. Also, in almost every case there is a paper due at the end of the semester which you should work on during the semester. honestly, I mostly forget about it and have to do it all in two weeks... For readings and research, I have two things that help me structure it.  a) Color-Coding I color-code my highlighters for readings a little differently than for slides, because highlighting obviously serves a different purpose here. I use the colors to distinguish certain concepts so I can later quickly find certain parts of the paper in class. I use my colors in the following way:

yellow = generally important points (I try to use this as little as possible) orange = critical points, especially in the discussion (limitations, methodological  problems and so on) red = hypotheses (so I can find them on a glance) pink = authors motivation, idea behind the paper blue = further literature that could be useful for my homework paper later (I highlight the authors name + year in the citation) b) Note-taking for paper research When I’m researching my homework-paper, I also use a note-taking system to collect the most important points of each article as it will be relevant to my paper.  I use a Cornell-style template and modify it for my needs. In the smaller column, I write the author and year of the article (since this is also how I name the Pdfs in my files). I then add the important points next to it in the big column. And again, I color-code... I use black for important points that this article makes. grey is for takeaways for my own paper and things that I can use in a different context. blue is for things from other literature that the article cites and that I will have to read up if I want to use it in my paper. 

I also switched from Noteshelf 2 to Goodnotes recently and I am still learning, but I’m starting to like Goodnotes more and more. I had some cloud- and sync-problems with Noteshelf that I couldn’t fix, so I had to find an alternative...

4. Summaries

If a course ends with an exam, I make a summary/ study guide that I can use for revision. I always want to start this early on in the semester, but honestly, I never do. I mostly start ca. 4-5 weeks before the exam. In this, I condense the slides and all other material I have collected over the course of the semester into one document. I also use previous exam questions as a guide to find out which topics I should cover in more detail.

I try to use drawings, boxes etc., especially for math-heavy content, to visualize stuff and remember it better. For more text-intensive stuff (which is usually a lot more content to study...), I try to read things out loud and explain them in my own words to myself, because hearing concepts out loud also helps me remembering.

I use this summaries for revision for about two weeks before the exam by reading over them a few times a day, whenever I have time. On the day of the exam, I get up early, make myself a hot drink and go over this summary once or twice again. I take them with me to the exam, but I’m not allowed to use them. Still, it helps me calm down to be able to look up things I’m uncertain about the last moment before the exam.

I hope this post was helpful to you! :) 

[neohighwayv]

Ships that pass in the night

Characters: NCT Dream Renjun x fem reader

Genre: ghost!au, strangers!au (but it’s not horror – I promise)

Word count: 1.6k

Description: Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is often meant to refer to people who meet for a brief but intense moment, only to part, and never see one another again.

Author’s note: Inspired by a module that I took last semester on ghosts and spirits, I hope you enjoy the non-traditional take I took on the idea of ghosts! :)

Credits: @hoodedsuns​ for the inspiration on the title and description!

------

Renjun might have left this world a little too soon for his liking but even in his passing, he does his best to continue being the boy that lights up the world. Being dead doesn’t mean he has to stop spreading kindness and positivity in this world.

He lingers around the school campus that he attended before the terrible accident that took away his life one winter night, looking out for students that might need help. He mostly does small little things that won’t draw the attention of anyone, unless you’re purposely looking out for it. Renjun has left countless notes of encouragement on the belongings of struggling students, something that all of them write off as an act of kindness from a stranger when they weren’t looking. Well, they’re technically not wrong... but they’re only half right. Renjun was no ordinary stranger – he was a ghost.

-

Wandering along the hallways in the evening when most students have already left for home, a lone, lit classroom naturally draws his attention. Peering in through the small window by the door, Renjun notices you bent over the small table, scribbling away furiously on your notes as you bunch your hair up with your other hand. You let out a small sigh of annoyance as you erase your math equation for the 10th time, your patience slowly ebbing out of you as the frustration mounts. Your eyes are burning and the stabbing pain at the right side of your brain just won’t go away. Pressing a hand to your head, you decide that this is it for the night. You’ll deal with that one annoying question that you can’t get right when the sun rises tomorrow. The stabbing pain that has now intensified makes you bristle with anger, and you proceed to shove your stationary into your pencil case as you slam your math textbook shut, both you and Renjun jumping at the unexpectedly loud sound. You’re clearly stressed out, and even Renjun can see that. Renjun wonders what he can do to make you feel better and he catches sight of the acrylic charm of a cat that hangs from your bag, as well as your lock screen that shows a picture of the starry night sky. From this, Renjun gathers at least 2 things. One, you like cats and two, you like the night sky as well. Which is perfect for him honestly, because he’s able to make these 2 things happen.

Once you’ve decided on your route home, Renjun quickly passes through walls and classrooms as a shortcut to reach the school garden before you in search of the school’s resident black cat. He finds the adorable feline under her favourite bush, flicking her tail aimlessly with her eyes closed shut as she sleeps. Cooing at the cat, Renjun successfully catches the attention of the feline, whom now opens one eye lazily to regard Renjun. With the promise of food, she finally agrees to do Renjun’s bidding and walks right into your path to catch your attention. Renjun watches from the sideline as a huge smile stretches across your face, your phone quickly abandoned in favour of the cute feline now curled at your feet. From the side-lines, Renjun watches with a smile on his face as your smile now practically stretches from ear to ear as you play with the cat, especially loving it when she nudges her face into your palm, clearly wanting more affection and love from you. Renjun no longer had a beating heart nor could he feel physical warmth, but he was certain that if he could, his face would be heating up by now as his heartbeat speeds up. You mentally thank your lucky stars in your mind; you weren’t in the best mood, too troubled by not being able to get your math homework right so this furry therapy was exactly what you needed to make you feel better.

Standing just a few feet away from you (not that you can see him anyways), Renjun furrows his eyebrows as he taps his fingers against his chin: How does he get the perfect timing to have you look up at the night sky? Renjun looks left and right, pacing up and down before something rustling by the side of his eye catches his attention. Eyes darting over, he catches sight of the leaves rustling slightly as a light breeze sweeps through their gaps.

That’s it.

Moving to stand in front of you, Renjun conjures up a gust of wind from behind you, momentarily causing the leaves to rustle violently as your clothes billow around you. The sudden blast of cool air catches you completely off guard and you watch as your hairband unravels from the force of the sudden gale, and travels towards the night sky. You jump on the balls of your feet to catch it before it drops to the ground, and you nearly forget how to land properly.

“Wow.”

Eyes trained on the violet night skies that lay above, that was all you were capable of vocalising. You find yourself transfixed on the currently unravelling scene, various emotions thrumming through your veins as your bones buzz with excitement. It’s an emotion that comes from deep within the crevices of your body; one that is incomprehensible to the human mind, but entirely understood by the physical body. It’s the kind of emotion that sets every neuron on fire, searing this image into your mind for eternity.

A million stars dot the entire sky, each shining brightly like the crystals that hang from chandeliers in mansions against the backdrop of a violet and blue-black sky. Every inch of the sky is covered by the stars, and you swear that you’re looking at this very moment, is the entire galaxy that has always stay hidden to the human eye. Never in your life have you ever lay eyes upon such a sight – you’ve only seen them in books or documentaries, when they discuss what the skies will look like without all the light pollution from humans. You always felt a little sad when they repeated that point, wondering endlessly about the time you will get a chance to see this magnificent sight, a dream that seemed even further away because you live in the city. But here you are in this moment, laying your eyes upon this sight you’ve only ever dared to dream of seeing. You’re so overwhelmed by this feeling of happiness that you even forget about the absurdity of the situation – that was honestly the furthest thing on your mind right now. The stars all vie for your attention, but you take your time to slowly admire them instead. With not a single cloud in the sky, you get an unobstructed view of the galaxy above you, and you take your time to let your eyes wander around the night sky, trying to soak in every detail of it. Renjun stands close by as you continue to gaze in amazement at the majestic sight above you, watching your eyes shine as they reflect the universe above you. With each soft exhale that you release, you feel the tension being expelled from your body. You honestly never thought that one day you’ll be able to see this view but it is happening right before your very own eyes, and you count it as an immense blessing to be able to witness this sight at least once in your entire lifetime. Who knows when you’ll get to see this again – if ever?

“Whoever it is, be it down here or up there, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to experience this wonder, and for making me happy.”

Renjun hears you loud and clear, and he beams at your heartfelt words. He knows that you’re not aware that this was all his doing – so you’re not really thanking him specifically – but he still smiles at the sweet thought, simply because it’s heart-warming to know that someone still remembers to give thanks for the little things in life that they’re grateful for. Slowly, the effects of his magic wear off and the stars dim till they were before, clouds now hanging in the skies again. Only now are you willing to let your eyes drop to the earth beneath you, a small smile continuing to grace your face as your ears lift in joy, working hard to calm your heart it comes down from it’s previous high. When you turn in his direction and stare for a prolonged period of time, Renjun freezes in his spot, worried that you might actually be able to see him. He breathes a sigh of relief when you bend down to beckon the black cat beside him to you, realising that you only stared because his feline friend was right beside him. Renjun lingers for a few more moments, until you bid the cat goodbye with a scratch under her chin and he makes sure you’re on the bus safely before he turns to leave.

Like ships that pass in the night, what transpired between the two of you will never happen again. Just like how two ships will never pass one another again in the vast ocean, you and Renjun will never find one another again in this sea of people. You’ll remember this night forever; for an act of kindness from a stranger is always the most memorable – they genuinely give without expecting anything in return, wanting nothing more than to help make your day a little better. Like the ships that send encouragement through their shining lights over the cold, violent seas, these kind strangers choose to bring some hope into your life by sending you their best wishes through their actions, sincerely wishing you the best despite knowing nothing about your story.

Constants may always be better than a fleeting stranger, but these acts of kindness from a strangers are just as strong in the spirit of love and giving – strong enough to move sturdy mountains, make the winds howl and quell the violent seas.

Like the ships that pass in the night, you are never truly alone in the world. 

[gentlethorns]

1-31

JKJFLKJGDKLS did you mean. 1 through 31?? like. all of them?? LMFAOOOOOO okay but i’m sticking them under a readmore bc that is gonna be SO long

1. what is a genre you love reading but will probably never write? mysteries/crime. i love the technique and expertise it takes to expertly lay out and set up a plot twist, but i don’t think i could ever do it aptly myself.

2. which writer has had the greatest stylistic influence on your writing? probably stephen king, if we’re talking fiction, but even then i don’t think he’s influenced me a ton - my writing voice is pretty distinctive (or so i’ve been told). as far as poetry, i think reading @candiedspit‘s work has really caused me to stretch my expectations of where words can go and what they can do.

3. has a specific song/lyric ever inspired a work of art for you? absolutely! i’m super inspired by music, bc music is really important to me as a means of emotional expression. back in sophomore year of high school i was working on a story where all the chapters were inspired by songs from folie a deux by fall out boy. it didn’t pan out and i never finished it, but i still think the concept was neat.

4. a writer whose personal lifestyle really speaks to you? lmfao not to talk about him again, but stephen king’s lifestyle really appeals to me. his writing is widely known and renowned, but he just chills at home and watches the red sox games and takes pictures of his corgi and keeps turning out stories. that literally sounds like paradise to me.

5. do you write both prose and poetry? which do you prefer? i do write both! and i can’t say i honestly prefer one over the other - my interest bounces between them and waxes and wanes, but i don’t consistently indulge one more than the other, i don’t think. last year i went through a huge fiction phase in october and cranked out eight or nine different short stories/flash pieces, and then in november/december i went through a poetry phase and wrote multiple poems a day for a long stretch of time. it just depends on my mood and my mindset and what i need from writing (a kind of escape vs. emotional expression/release).

6. do you read both prose and poetry? which do you prefer? i do read both, and again, i don’t think i have a preference. i definitely read fiction more, i think, but like writing, it kind of depends what i need at the time.

7. which language do you write in? which do you want to write in someday? i write in english, since it’s the only language i know. i’d like to learn spanish at some point, but i don’t know if i could ever write in spanish - i’m so firmly married to english grammar and structure that i don’t know if i could ever exercise the same control and mastery over spanish that i could english.

8. share a quote or verse that has been on your mind lately. “you said i killed you - haunt me, then!” from wuthering heights.

9. a writer/poet whose life you find interesting. *sigh*. stephen king. i’ve read his memoir/writing workshop book (”on writing”) and his success story always fascinates me. i just can’t imagine living in a shitty one-bedroom apartment with your wife and two kids and working days at an industrial laundromat and spending nights writing on a shitty wobbly desk in the laundry room, and you get your first manuscript accepted for publication, and eventually the paperback rights go up and you think you might get $60,000 if you’re really lucky, and then one day while your wife and kids are visiting the in-laws you get a call from your agent telling you that the paperback rights for your book sold for $400,000 and 200K of it is yours. that’s just literally. unfathomable to me lmfao.

10. what do you feel about the idea of someone unearthing your unseen or discarded drafts someday, long after your death? what about your personal journal? it’s really hard for me to imagine that happening, i think bc i tend to see myself as really like. insignificant or unimportant in the grand scheme of things, so i can’t imagine any part of me lasting beyond my life. also, it’s very hard for me to imagine someone i don’t know personally reading my work, probably because my work (especially a personal journal) is a window into me, and i have a hard time even letting people i trust see into that window sometimes, much less a stranger.

11. do you prefer to write in silence or listen to something? what do you listen to? i definitely prefer music in the background, although i can work in silence. i tend to gravitate to music that goes with the scene i’m writing, if i’m writing fiction (often i work music into my fiction, so if there’s a song playing in the scene, i’ll listen to that song), and if i’m writing poetry i tend to just listen to laid-back music (unless i’m writing from a place of grief or sadness, in which case i listen to sad music lmfao). i do also love writing when it’s storming outside and just listening to the rain and the thunder as i write.

12. has an image ever impacted your artistic lens/inspired your work? absolutely! less often than music, but visuals can inspire me on occasion. i once wrote a poem based on this image. i just couldn’t get it out of my head, so i decided to figure out what it was saying to me.

13. how would you describe the experience of writing itself? as in putting the words to paper, not planning or moodboards etc. do you agree with the common idea that the satisfaction lies in reading your work after you are done with it, rather than the process of writing itself? i think the process can be arduous sometimes, and other times it can be incredible. sometimes i write very slowly and haltingly, sometimes i write at a normal pace and it feels like the work it is (bc i am trying to write professionally), but sometimes the magic tap in the mind turns on and it starts flowing. that being said, i don’t necessarily agree that the satisfaction lies only in reading your work rather than also in the process. there’s a certain fulfillment in watching everything come together and knowing it’s going to be good.

14. how often do you write? it varies. i would like to write more often than i do, now that i have a full-time school schedule and work part time friday-sunday, but i think i still get a decent amount of writing done, when i can actually sit down and motivate myself to get the words out.

15. how disciplined are you about your writing? not very, in the creative sense - as discussed above, i don’t write as often as i should/would like to, and don’t hold myself to much of a schedule. however, as far as the business side of it (submitting to magazines/contests), i’m pretty disciplined, and i’m usually pretty good about keeping all my “good” pieces in circulation at a couple of places at a time.

16. what was your last long-lasting spurt of motivation? maybe last night? i worked on a couple of pieces and then submitted a few groups of poems to some magazines. i also did some decent work on thursday while i was in my campus starbucks waiting for my zoom class to start.

17. have you ever been professionally published? are you trying to be? i have been professionally published! i got my first acceptance back in 2018, and now i’ve had poetry published multiple times and fiction published twice. i’m still trying to publish more of my work, but i think i’ve had a decent start.

18. do you read literary magazines? not regularly, although i entered a fiction contest for into the void last year, and since it came with a year-long subscription, i’ve been browsing the fiction there periodically. into the void tends to publish good short/flash fiction, so anytime i feel like reading some new stories, i head there.

19. a lesser known writer you adore? idk if she’s necessarily “lesser-known,” but i loved ally carter’s gallagher girl series when i was younger. the first four books were immaculate (although i do remember that the last two books seemed almost unnecessary, and the ultimate end of the series was anticlimactic).

20. do you write short stories? do you read them? i write and read them! up until october of last year i could never figure out how to write a short story and effectively resolve a conflict in 5000 words or less, but then suddenly (like. literally overnight), a switch flipped in my head and i could do it. as far as reading them, i don’t read a ton anymore bc of my busy schedule ( :( ), so sometimes if i’m in the mood to read i’ll opt for a short story online or a book of short stories instead of a full-length novel.

21. do you prefer to involve yourself with literary history and movements or are you more focused on the writing itself? any favourite literary movements? i’m typically more focused on the writing itself, although i do love to learn about the horror boom from the 50s-80s (if that counts as a literary movement lmfao). i also do particularly love work from the era of deconstructionism, which i think took place in like. the 40s-60s, if i’m not mistaken. i enjoy that era bc of its symbolism and abstract nature - a lot of the work leaves the reader to draw their own conclusions.

22. are you working on anything right now? not particularly? i have a few works in progress that i tinker with now and then, but i’m not seriously working on anything in particular.

23. how did you get started with writing? i honestly don’t even remember. i remember the first time i realized that i really liked writing and had fun doing it (in fourth grade, for a school competition), but i know that even before then i was writing stories and poems.

24. do you have any “writer friends”? most of my mutuals are writer friends! but i don’t have any irl. i almost made one in my math class last semester, but we lost contact when our university shut down in march.

25. what is your earliest work you can remember? the earliest work i can remember is when i was really young (maybe like. five or six?). it was about our dog being pregnant (which she was at the time) and able to talk (which she was not).

26. have you found your writer’s voice yet? does your work have a distinct tone? absolutely. i’m very confident in my style and the distinctiveness of my voice - it’s been there pretty much since i first started writing. i’ve improved since then, honed my voice and made it more sophisticated and effective, but at the core, it’s still me, like it always has been.

27. do your works share themes/are commonly about certain topics? or are your subjects all over the place? in poetry, i think i tend to write about grief or loss of some sort or another often, bc it’s something i tend to feel often - either that or a false bravado (but ig that’s more of a tonal device). as far as fiction, i like to write about religion gone wrong (false religion, religion as a front for personal gain and corruption, religion gone too deep into obsession and mania, etc.), and i like smart underdog-type characters that fight and have a lot of grit to them.

28. what does writing mean to you? to me, writing is catharsis, a bloodletting. this particularly applies to poetry, but it also applies to fiction. poetry shows you the things you’re regurgitating up-front, but fiction does it slyly, in a mirror or through a distorting lens. regardless, both stand to offer release and healing.

29. in an alternate universe, imagine you had not found writing. what do you think would be your fixation otherwise? honestly, i’m not sure. probably acting or theater. something creative, for sure.

30. do you feel defined by your work? maybe a little, but not to a large or limiting extent. like, in a new class, my interesting fact about myself will probably always be “i’m a writer and i’ve been published a few times,” but i think that i’m a well-rounded person and that once people get to know me, my writing is just a part of me, not my whole identity.

31. have you ever written/considered writing under a pen name? if you would be okay saying, why? no, i don’t think i have. while a pen name can be a good tool, depending on your goals and what you’re writing, i have a Thing about getting credit where i’m due credit lmfao. i don’t think i’ll ever use a pen name bc if i know something i do is good, i want my name on it.

[deadlifts-and-derrida]

Well, it's been a while since I posted any long form writing here. So how about I do that now? Let's get UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE.

To tell the story of my first boyfriend, I need to tell the story of coming out to my mother.

I came out to my mother the week before I left to begin university. It didn't go as I hoped it would. I chose mom instead of dad because I thought mom would be easier. Girls and women seemed safer than boys and men. To teenaged me, active homophobia seemed mostly a masculine trait.

I'll stop there. I don't want to set mom up like she had the worst reaction. She didn't get mad. Mad, I could have handled. I was a bold, righteous, outspoken teen; I was equipped to deal with anger. Mom wasn't mad - mom was sad. As if a precious object had dropped to the floor and was now damaged - even if it could be repaired, the crack would always be there.

I couldn't handle sad. It was like I told her I had an inoperable cancer. That's a homophobic attitude just as much as throwing your kid out is, but it's… subtler. How do you respond to it? If you get angry she'll just get sadder. Her sadness hurts you to witness. You wish you hadn't spoken up, because you love your mother and you don't want to make her sad. You regret ever opening your mouth. By you I mean I.

I left for university a week later having had no follow-up discussion, having stuffed myself back into the closet, more or less. When I got to university I would be free to be as gay as I wanted, and I intended to be very. Very. Very. Gay.

Why do I need to tell this story before I get to Matthew? (His name was Matthew). Well. I guess I'm trying to explain why I was the way I was, and I'm hanging the blame on Mom. It's not really fair. Her reaction was bad, and it hurt me, it didn't give me the support I needed at a critical moment. But all of it - her reaction, the fact that I needed the support in the first place - is because of our damned stupid homophobic society, right? Mom and me, we're both just products of the hate machine that spat us out, right? Right?

I love my mother. I forgive her. She danced joyfully at my wedding. It's all fine. Everything is fine. The precious thing got repaired so well you can only really see the crack if you know where to look.

So Matthew.

I spent all of highschool wanting a boyfriend and sex. Unrequited crushes on unattainable men. But the fear. That was real, too. Not just fear that if you got caught checking out the wrong guy he'd gaybash you - although that was a real, potent fear. But also the fear that if you got caught checking out the right guy, then you'd have to go through with it.

Isn't that crazy? Being afraid to go through with the thing you want to go through with! But it's true. Actually attainable men? No. There was one other gay guy in my high school class, and we shared a friend group, although the two of us never really clicked. I was too weird and he was, for want of a better word, too basic. I was also very unfortunate-looking in high school. But in addition to all of this - there was the sense that I couldn't be attracted to him because if I was then something would have to happen and I wasn't ready for that.

But I wanted to be ready for it!

So Matthew, again.

When I got to university, free from my mother's terrible sadness, free from my high school self, I wanted to shed my skin like a snake and slither my way into a new me. Now that I was out and lived in a city (a small city, but the biggest one we had), I really femmed up. Glitter. Tight clothes. Limp wrists. Hair dye. Even eyeliner, sometimes. I wanted the world to know. In part because I was signalling to whoever around me who had the correct receptors: I'm here, I'm queer, for the love of god please do something about it.

Matthew picked up on that signal. He was a (female) friend's best friend. He was in his last year of high school in a town about 90 minutes away, but he made trips in on some weekends to see his best friend. One of those weekends, only a couple of weeks into my very first semester, he and I fell into each other's gravity. Nowadays, I know the sensation well. I'm sure most people will, too. You feel this tug between you and someone else. You draw closer. You look at each other. Closer. A few touches, at first passing it off as innocent. Then more touches. Closer.

We were so close our lips were brushing each other's as we spoke quietly. I don't remember how long the lip brushing lasted before it became kissing, but despite everything, despite the utter hell Matthew would eventually unleash on my life, I still think this is probably one of the best first-ever kisses on record.

(It wasn't his first-ever kiss. He already had an ex-boyfriend. I was his second. But it was my first-ever kiss).

Matthew wasn't my type. He had a shrill, harsh laugh. He had a giant mop of curly hair that he liked to dye. It was kind of like a clown's wig. I was still unfortunate-looking myself, please understand. He wasn't active, didn't exercise - which is fine, except all of my sexual fantasies focused on very muscular, large men. "Being young, gay, and mean isn't a personality," as the line goes. Matthew had a bit of that. But he was smart and funny, too. I shouldn't pretend he wasn't.

But I was so ready. Over-ready. I needed someone to fuck me, already, and I figured I would be lucky if anyone, anyone at all, would ever be willing to do it. So. It was Matthew because he was the first one who stepped up to the plate. Although attempts at sex were always awkward and we never really quite figured that out.

He became my boyfriend. It lasted for about four months. Because he lived 90 minutes away and was still in high school, I only saw him on weekends, but not every weekend. Maybe one weekend a month. This was 2001. Smartphones weren't a thing. Texting wasn't even really a thing. I wouldn't even own a cellphone until 2005. We messaged each other on ICQ and spoke on our landlines.

He broke up with me in January.

Did I love him? I don't know. I think I did. Or I loved the idea of him. I loved the icon I had built in his shape, a representative of all the things I wanted to achieve by Having A Boyfriend. I wanted it to affirm my sexuality. I wanted it to mean I wasn't unlovable. I wanted it to refute my mother's sadness.

It felt like a failure that I couldn't keep him. When he got a new boyfriend before I did, that felt like a failure too, like it had been a race to see who could land a new man first. Why was I thinking this way? Looking back, it's awful. I instrumentalized him, made him a symbol, and made relationships and sexual experimentation into some kind of… clout game. It wasn't about having fun and enjoying myself - it was about proving something, something to myself, something to my family, something to the world. Sex? A boyfriend? Things to acquire.

But maybe I did love him. I cried a lot, and it wasn't just over the insult to my ego and the setback to my plans. I remember distinctly walking through the underground tunnels that joined buildings on campus, thinking to myself - well, we're still friends, maybe we'll get back together in a few years. It was a story I told myself to comfort myself. It wasn't a forever breakup - he'd come back to me in a few years if I was just patient and kind, if I just waited.

When he got a new boyfriend, I needed to get one too. I found a guy on the gay.com chatroom, which is the closest thing we had to apps back then. He… had problems. Valentines was a couple of days after our first date and he got me an ostentatious bouquet of roses, an over-the-top gift that made me more uncomfortable than charmed. He already showered me with the l-word.  I remember waking up in his bed, the one night I spent at his place, him slipping his dick into me. It's this hazy nocturnal memory and I'm not even sure if it's real or false. If it's real, it was my first time successfully bottoming. If it was real, he didn't use a condom.

A few days later he told me that if I ever left him he'd kill himself. I didn't know what to do. I just turned very cold, hoping he'd break up with me. It worked. He dumped me after another few days. The whole thing didn't last more than two weeks.

Matthew was still with his new boyfriend and they seemed very happy together.

So. It's clear I reacted badly.

Around the time we broke up, I moved into a basement apartment with his best friend (remember, she was also a friend of mine) and a third party who was also a good friend. Our apartment was a bit of a party house. Matthew would come into the city on weekends, and he'd stay at our apartment - because his best friend lived there, and I lived there too, and even though we had broken up we were still friends, right?

I don't know what I did to deserve what he did to me. I don't think I was ever malicious to him. If I was ever cruel, it was a clueless and unintentional kind of cruelty.

He was staying with us. I was out of the house. He went into my bedroom and went on my computer. He snooped around and found folders of niche porn that I enjoyed. Should I say what sort it was? Is it pertinent to the story? It wasn't all that weird. It was basically bodybuilders. Muscle men. Some of them photoshopped to be bigger than would otherwise be possible (some much bigger). Some of them with exaggerated genitalia (some of them very exaggerated). I also had an interest in fat guys and I know there were some pictures of that nature in there too (some of them very fat).

But he was 17 and mean and judgemental. He showed my friends my secret porn in a deliberate attempt to humiliate me. He shared it around. He let everyone know, in a cruel, mocking way, about sexual interests I didn't yet feel strong enough to share with the world. Sexual interests I still felt a lot of shame about.

I only learned about this because my other friend who shared that apartment took me aside and told me what he had done. She did this because she thought it was wrong of him.

Despite this show of support from a friend who had the good sense not to follow the current of cruel mockery, I was beyond mortified. The shame was galling.

My new gay life ended there. My clothes became drab, baggier. My manner less femme. I stopped transmitting "I'm gay!" to the world. I stopped trying to fit in with the gay crowd Matthew had introduced me to. They all had a name for me now, anyway. Psychael. Like, psychotic Michael. How could I fight a battle when the first strike was nuclear? I quit. It seemed like the only move available to me.

It was 5 years before I'd kiss another man. I fled back into the embrace of my family. My coming out was never mentioned. I basically went back into the closet. At least the people in there loved… some version of me that I could maintain without that much effort. Just… close the door on the seven months when I had been an out gay man and pretend the whole thing didn't happen. Easy.

I don't hate him.

We were both very young.

We were both inexperienced.

I would hate for someone who only knew me as an 18 year old to think of me now, in my mid thirties, as if I was the same person. So I don't think of him as he was when he was 17. He's 34 now. He's probably a much better person.

Maybe he feels sorry.

Maybe he doesn't.

I wish I could have those years back. The long years I spent frightened to be myself.

I wish I had been strong enough to look him in the face and say "so what?" I wish I had been strong enough to own my sexual interests, none of which are immoral or wrong or even all that strange.

But I was weak. I was weak and alone. And wishing doesn't get you anywhere.

I don't know if there's much point to this story.

[kim-seungmine]

likewise

title: likewise (part of i am you small project) characters: reader x kim seungmin of stray kids genres: fluff with sprinkles of angst, aspiring actor!seungmin, college au word count: 3301 words warnings: language synopsis: you hate your job as a part-time librarian, until you meet a certain puppy-like boy with smoldering eyes--which is a weird combination, but you like him anyways a/n: watch Day6’s Shoot Me MV for references. Also, I suck at giving titles I’m sorry!

You believed that fate affected 40% of your life. No more, no less. The other 60% would be decisions, but sadly you had a knack for making yourself suffer. Your decisions ranged from bad decisions to don’t-even-talk-about-it decisions: taking morning classes so you had time for part-time work (bad decision), choosing the wrong apartment building to live in (very bad decision), and working as a part-time librarian (don’t-even-talk-about-it decision) in your campus.

Choosing the wrong apartment should have been the worst decision you had ever made, but now anything would be better than stacking thick, dusty books back to the top of the shelf. First of all, you weren’t on the tall side. Secondly, the old stool you were using was about to collapse. Thirdly, you had accidentally dropped three books and the three people studying on the table across you kept giving you death glares.

“We still need one more point, guys. What should it be?” A guy with a sharp jawline and raspy voice asked. You hopped off your stool, deciding to arrange the books in the bottom shelf first until these guys went home. The Sharp Jawline (very gorgeous, if you might add), stopped to look at his friends, waiting for their feedback.

One of his friends, the one who reminded you of a puppy, rolled his eyes. “It’s very simple, Changbin. The topic is whether money is everything, and our stance is no. Why do people do all the ‘useless’ shit like drawing, dancing—”

“What the fuck!”

“Fuck, sorry Felix. Didn’t mean to make it sound that way.”

The guy named Felix was furious now. His hands were curled into fists and if he had laser eyes, he would’ve made a huge hole on Puppy Guy’s face. This is interesting, you noted. You never liked eavesdropping, it was plain creepy and rude, but this was clearly more fun than your job.

“So you were saying?” Sharp Jawline interjected. Felix was no longer furious, he just looked hurt. Puppy Guy let out an (almost) apologetic sigh before rephrasing his statement, “Some of us choose to do things that we love instead of other things that have more definite future. There are a lot of living proofs of that, so I think that will be a strong point.”

A smile slowly crept onto Felix’s face. He nodded excitedly, jotting it down on his notebook. “Can I take this one? I’m sure I’ll nail it. I’m the living proof, after all.”

“Felix, you’re a Finance major.”

“Hey I’m transferring next semester!”

“Alright, but don’t use yourself as an example. Don’t choose celebrities either,” Puppy Guy said. “Changbin can take the second point and I’ll take the first one. Now we just need—”

He didn’t get to finish what he wanted to say since you dropped the fourth book for the night. All three of them gave you another death glare, but this time Puppy Guy got up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Do you need help?” he asked. In a normal situation, you would count this as a meet-cute, but Puppy Guy’s glare turned out to be scarier than Felix’s. You didn’t know how he still managed to look so adorable—so puppy like—although he was basically trying to stop himself from murdering you.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just started working here and I’m still not used to holding big books… it’s okay. I’ll just go to the other sections first.”

Puppy Guy stole a glance at his friends before looking at the book you were holding, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables. “Does anyone even read that book anymore,” he said; his tone told you that it wasn’t exactly a question. “Why bother taking it out when you have zero intention to read it.”

He took the book from you, darting his eyes to the other books scattered on the floor. “I’ll help you,” he sighed. You nodded, sliding the stool towards him. Puppy Guy stepped onto the wobbly stool, extending his hand out to you.

“Seungmin-ah, what are you doing?” Sharp Jawline whispered-yelled, a playful smile plastered on his face. Felix (you would’ve nicknamed him Cute Bunny Teeth if they didn’t reveal his name sooner) propped his face on his palm, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Puppy Guy—Seungmin!—ignored his friends, fully concentrating on putting the books back to the top shelf. You couldn’t help but stare at him; he really looked like an adorable puppy, but his eyes looked fiery, like he was angry at the world. “Wow this is the worst job ever,” he grumbled, losing his balance as he put down the last book.

“Please ask them to give you a new stool. This is dangerous,” he said, dusting off his denim jacket (which looked amazing on him).

“I read Les Miserables,” you blurted out as he was about to walk away.

Seungmin raised his eyebrows, thinking for a few seconds before finally nodding his head. “Yeah, I did too,” he answered, and then something magical happened.

He smiled.

-

The rest of the week passed just like that. It was nearly midterm period, so you were drowning in assignments and part-time jobs. You never met Seungmin, Changbin, and Felix in the library again, although you were sure you saw Felix dancing at the university festival two days ago. There were a lot of attractive boys in the library (surprisingly), but none of them caught your attention like Seungmin and his soft smile.

You closed your laptop as your professor left the classroom. “Y/N, you’re still helping me to film Day6’s new music video today right?” Bang Chan, your senior who possessed the deepest dimples ever, tapped your desk.

Shit.

You completely forgot about it. Both of you were in the same Advanced Cinematography class, and your professor recommended him to one of the most popular video production companies in Korea. He was asked to choose one more person, so he chose you.

This project would boost your resume although you probably wouldn’t do much. “Oh yeah, of course! How could I forget?” You faked a smile, packing up your things in a rush. Chan glanced at his watch, his face turned pale in an instant.

“Oh shoot, we have to leave now, Y/N. I promised the director that we’d arrive earlier. Is that okay?” he asked, helping you to put your laptop into your bag. “Do you know that the male lead also studies here? He’s from the International Studies department.”

You only nodded nonchalantly as Chan dialled a number. “Yo Seungmin! Where are you?”

Seungmin? How many Seungmins were there in your campus? Was it your Seungmin?

Chan quickened his pace, waving his hand at a brown-haired guy when as you two were nearing the front entrance. You tried not to scream when you realized that it really was your Seungmin standing there, waving back to Chan.

“Y/N, this is our actor, Kim Seungmin.”

When your eyes met his, you felt somehow… relieved. He was looking at you with those smoldering eyes of his, and you were supposed to feel intimidated, but you weren’t. If anything, you felt almost giddy. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Thanks for helping me the other day.”

Seungmin shrugged. “I only did it because you were noisy as hell,” he said. Chan clapped in excitement, squeezing himself between both of you to wrap his arms around your shoulders. “Wait, you guys already know each other? That’s great!” He turned to you, “You should’ve seen Seungmin auditioned! He was born to act.”

Seungmin punched Chan’s shoulder, avoiding your gaze. “I just got lucky,” he mumbled.

“Have you been acting for a long time?” you asked, your heart did a flip when Seungmin chuckled. You wondered how he could possibly act, seeing that he didn’t even smile often. But small moments like this convinced you that Seungmin had another side you didn’t know about.

“This will be my first.”

You would be seeing Seungmin act for the first time. Somehow, you liked the sound of that.

-

You were examining the storyboard with Chan operating the camera beside you. The director was looking at the screen, nodding as Seungmin pointed his fingers at the camera and started shooting imaginary bullets. You heard the staff behind you gasped in awe, so you decided to steal a glance at the screen.

And you were transfixed.

Seungmin was sitting there, opposite the female lead, staring into the camera with teary eyes and a sorrowful gaze that you would never forget because how could someone look as angry and vulnerable like that? When the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile, you checked your storyboard, and saw nothing like that in it.

Seungmin was in his element, and he was beautiful.

Chan turned to the director, who said nothing as Seungmin continued staring into the camera. “And cut!” he shouted at last. “Good job, Seungmin. That improvisation was amazing.”

The whole room clapped, bowing to each other as the director announced that the shoot was done. Seungmin blinked, letting his tears roll down his cheeks before harshly wiping his eyes with his hand. You waited until he finished greeting everyone before running to him.

“You did very well! Everyone was so mesmerized, to say the least.” You patted his shoulder lightly, feeling a bit self-conscious when he didn’t reply. “Thank you,” Seungmin finally said, walking past you to high five an excited Chan.

“Damn it! You just outdid yourself, bro!” Chan exclaimed. The two boys continued chatting as you panicked for the second time that day. “Chan! I gotta leave now, my shift at the library starts soon!” you informed, already sprinting to the door when Seungmin said something you couldn’t make out.

-

You were ready to come up with twenty cliché excuses about why you were late, but the first thing the head librarian told you when you arrived at the library was that you got a new stool. “There are some new books at the back, make sure to put all of them to the shelves,” she said. You nodded, internally sighing as you realized that it wasn’t just “some” new books, but “a lot” of new books.

Deciding to start with fiction books first, you pushed the book cart to the fiction section. This was the exact aisle where you met Seungmin, and you couldn’t help but admit that you had a crush on him. You had fallen in love quite a lot; there were enough boys for you to make your own version of “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before”. The difference was, none of them turned out to be Peter Kavinsky.

“You got a new stool. Nice”

You grinned the moment you noticed that voice. Seungmin leaned on the shelf, taking a book from the cart. He flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed as his eyes caught some interesting words. “I’m borrowing this one,” he declared, slipping it into his bag. “I wanted to ask you to return the book I borrowed, but you bolted out the studio so fast.”

“I’m not your maid,” you pouted. Seungmin lowered his head to examine your face. “Why are you pouting like that?”

Great. Please continue being so obvious, Y/N.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. “So you’re an International Studies major? Do you want to be a diplomat or something?”

Seungmin let out a heavy sigh that made you worried. A glint of anger returned to his eyes. “Not really. I just want to leave,” he answered, his stern gaze erased whatever reassuring words you wanted to say.

“Why do you want to leave?”

“It’s easier to deal with strangers than those you know well.”

“Like who?”

He paused, keeping his gaze on the floor as you continued putting books on the shelf. He stopped you when you were about to start arranging the top shelf. “Parents?” he sheepishly said while stepping on the new stool.

“Well, mine got divorced,” you commented, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could.

“Lucky you.”

Seungmin sneezed, and you quickly put your hand on his back so he wouldn’t fall down. “How is that lucky?” you asked when he turned his head to look at you. Seungmin left your question hanging in the air for a while, arranging the books quietly per your instruction.

“It’s better for them to separate than staying under one roof but constantly trying to destroy each other,” he continued, hopping off the stool to sit on the floor beside you.

“At first I thought it would be better this way. But all the words they say to each other, to me—they burn.”

You nodded, now knowing why Seungmin was the way he was. “Wanna know something funny?” you offered as an attempt to lighten up the mood. However, before you said anything further, the boy beside you started sobbing.

“Seungmin-ah,” you called out. His body only shook harder as he cried his heart out. You rubbed his back in a calming rhythm, shutting down curious, judgmental whispers from other students with a single look. Seungmin looked up at last, his swollen eyes meeting your concerned ones. “You have pretty eyes,” he complimented.

You cleared your throat, not breaking eye contact even though you felt like dying out of happiness. “Likewise,” you replied, causing him to let out an airy laugh. “It’s true. Although you look like a sad puppy now.”

“I guess I am,” he admitted. “Is it okay if I cry again? I haven’t done that in ages.”

You smiled at him, wiping the tears along his jawline instinctively. Seungmin took it as a yes, burying his head in his knees as he started sobbing again.

So you stayed, watching his wall crumble. Listening to the words that broke his heart. Feeling yourself fall even harder for this beautiful, broken boy.

-

Day6’s new music video for Shoot Me had been released, and Kim Seungmin was now the hottest guy at campus. You had watched it for at least a thousand times, yet you still teared up everytime you did. After breaking down in front of you two weeks ago, Seungmin hadn’t contacted you at all. You didn’t expect him to, especially since you two weren’t even friends to begin with.

But still, you were disappointed.

“I think that’s them.”

You were on your way to the cafeteria, and you felt that someone was following you. “Really? I couldn’t really see them when we were in the library.”

“Can I help you?”

Changbin and Felix stopped on their tracks when you turned around. “H-hi,” Changbin stuttered as Felix flashed you his brightest smile. “We didn’t mean to stalk you, I swear!”

“It’s just—”

Felix rubbed his nape, trying to think of a good reason, but in the end he just slapped Changbin’s biceps. “This is your fault!” he yelled. “We’re just curious.”

“About?”

“About why I asked Chan for your number.”

Seungmin was standing behind you, mouthing a string of curse words to Changbin and Felix who were just grinning at him. “How dare you guys call yourselves my friends!” he protested.

“You didn’t even tell us about you getting into acting!” Changbin countered.

“We found out from YouTube!” Felix added. “You called dancing a useless shit but look at you, actor Kim. How dare you!”

Seungmin raised his hand in defeat as you scooted away. This is how secondhand embarrassment really feels!

“Since you’re here, I don’t need to text you anymore,” he said to you. “Let’s ditch these dumbasses and get some coffee? Or whatever you want, it doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, trying to suppress your giggle as Changbin and Felix yelled, “KIM SEUNGMIN, FIGHTING!!!!”

-

Your eyes snapped open when you heard your bell ring. You groaned, kicking your blanket away before making your way to the door.

“Seungmin,” you yawned, eyes widening as you realized that your boyfriend was standing at your door at 2A.M, and you looked like absolute shit. He smiled, the same soft smile you saw when you two first met. Seungmin lifted a camera you didn’t know he was holding, snapping a few photos of you with your bed hair.

“What are you doing?” you whined, snatching his camera from him. He laughed before entering your flat. “Your neighbors aren’t being noisy anymore?”

“Ah yes, I forgot to tell you. They moved out last week. Now I can sleep peacefully.” You paused, glaring at Seungmin who was making himself comfortable on your couch. “Or so I thought.”

He pulled you down so you were sitting on his lap. “I want to see you,” he said, circling his arm around your waist. You sighed as you felt yourself blushing. “How could you say something so romantic with a straight face like that?” you protested.

“It’s a fact. How is that romantic?”

You cupped his face, caressing the apple of his cheeks while staring into his eyes. “What?” he asked.

“I want to see you,” you said, mimicking his straight face. Now it was Seungmin’s turn to blush, and you giggled. “See? That’s how I feel everytime you say things like that!”

Seungmin pointed at himself. “Things like that?”

You rested your hands on his shoulders, recalling all the times Seungmin caught you off guard with his sweet gestures. “You called me ten times just to make sure I could sleep after watching Lights Out. You always drop by whenever I say I feel lonely. You bought me a tablet for my birthday present although you wanted a new camera… and this. Randomly appearing at 2A.M because you want to see me.”

Seungmin reached for your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “I do all of those things not because I’m trying to be romantic, but because I love you.”

You groaned in frustration, he had once again succeeded in making you feel giddy without meaning to. “I know,” you mumbled. “I don’t deserve you.”

He shook his head, pressing soft kisses on your fingertips. “You didn’t judge me for crying in front of you last year. You’re never mad at me although I’ve failed so many auditions. And you’re willing to see me no matter how late it is.”

“But you snagged a main role this time,” you argued. “And it’s for a webdrama!”

You suddenly remembered the time you wanted to tell him something when you two were in the library. “Wanna know something funny?”

Seungmin’s eyes lit up; they were a lot brighter now, especially after he told his parents how he really felt. The day after you two started dating, Felix almost cried when he saw his stoic best friend walked into the class with a lopsided grin on his face.

“I believe fate only affects 40% of my life. The rest are decisions. The thing is, I’ve made gazillions of bad decisions that I can’t trust myself.” You paused, glancing down to see Seungmin waiting for you to continue. “Working at the library was my don’t-even-talk-about-it decision, you know. But then I met you.”

“You’re the one being romantic now,” your boyfriend pointed out.

You ignored him, dramatically announcing, “I made one great decision.”

He snickered, pulling you closer so that he could rest his forehead against yours. “Let me guess, that’s me?”

You rewarded him with a peck on his nose. “Likewise,” he said, closing the distance between you, kissing you slowly and long. You curled your hands around his neck, smiling as he nibbled your bottom lip. You stopped him. “I love you, Kim Seungmin,” you whispered against his lips.

He didn’t respond, only pressing his lips on yours harder. Seungmin pulled away after a while, leaving your lips swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Hmmm,” he hummed, tracing the outline of your lips. “Tell me something I don’t know, baby.”

-