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welovekpopscenarios · 7 years ago

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5 Times Winwin Tried to Kiss You and One Time He Did (50s!AU Winwin x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Or, the story of how Winwin pined for years over his best friend who he just could never kiss.

Fandom: NCT 127/U

Genre: Fluff, bit of angst

Pairing: Winwin x Reader

Warnings: Very brief mentions of alcohol and smoking, otherwise none!

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: Back at it again with another fic lmao I wanted to write for someone other than SVT (I can’t help it they’re my bias group !!) and I thought up this kind of story a while back (I always liked the 5 times kind of fics) and decided Winwin needs more love because i rarely see fics for him. Also this was supposed to be Preppy!Winwin but there wasn’t really much preppy, unless you squint. Happy reading, feedback is loved and helps a lot!

The lively atmosphere of the playground; the laughing children climbing wildly around the monkey bars or soaring high above the world on the swing sets, the waiting parents lost in deep conversation with each other about the changing world, even the chime of the ice cream truck that had crowds gathering to get a taste of the frozen treat, all fell deaf to little Sicheng’s ears as he stared at you sitting peacefully in the sand box and building your own bizarre creations. He did not know it at the time, being much too young to understand anything about the world around him, about himself, about feelings, but years later he would realise that this overwhelming feeling of happiness and warmth and all things good while he watched you was what the romance novels liked to call ‘love at first sight’.

While he didn’t have the best grasp at social cues and manners, there were some things he picked up from his parents. Like, saying please and thank you, offering your seat to the elderly woman on the bus, and how to treat someone you like nicely. And he reasoned, since his mother and father liked each other so much, that whenever they pecked each other’s lips sweetly every so often, that it was just something that people do when they liked each other.

And he liked you very much.

So, when Sicheng introduced himself to you (albeit very nervously, sweaty hands wiping on the rough fabric of his shorts or fiddling with his suspenders), and you smiled at him, inviting him to build sandcastles with you, he thought it the perfect opportunity to show you just how much he liked his new friend.

And so, he leaned his face towards yours, puckered his lips, and prepared to try something new with someone who made him inexplicably happy and excited-

-only to receive a mouth full of sand and a very shocked expression on your face.

He doesn’t remember much after that, it was all a rush of spitting and wiping sand from his lips and you screaming in his ear about how you should “ask a gal first before you kiss ‘em! It’s what my sister told me!”. He went home that day with a pout and teasing from his parents. But meeting you was something he would never forget.

How could he, when you remind him of that disastrous moment nearly every chance you could?

He doesn’t associate it with malice, however.

He indeed gained a friend that day, one for life, and one that would unintentionally cause him more grief with affairs of the heart than he anticipated.

That awkward phase between being a child and growing into the terrors of being a teenager are full of new discoveries. New things you learn in Sunday school, things about your body that you most certainly would not learn in Sunday school, or any school to be honest, and listening to the radio to hear about all the new things scientists have found or inventors have created. Something new, every day, whether it was in Sicheng’s life or the lives around him.

The one Sicheng remembers the most (and probably loathes the most for the nerves it brought him), was the discovery of love and relationships.

Taking an interest romantically in someone was becoming more and more frequent for him and all his friends. He sees it everywhere; from his own parents, from that older kid in his neighbourhood -Taeil – walking hand in hand with some upper-class girl, shy smiles on both their faces, saw it in all the romance movies they played in the movie theatres his mother would take him to see on Saturdays if he behaved well that week. And while at first, he had not thought much of it, preferring to continue playing football with his friends and living his youth up while he has it, he seemingly can’t ignore it much when you gush on and on about getting “a total dreamboat who will sweep you off your feet and marry you.”

And he can’t explain why he gets so annoyed when this non-existent “dreamboat” of yours is mentioned.

Hanging at the bridge’s underpass by the river where all the ‘cool’ kids go with his friends, he’s introduced to the game ‘Truth or Dare’ for the first time. He always heard about it from the older crowd, figured it sounded like a fun game he’d love to try.

But he was not expecting Yuta to point at Sicheng with a grin and dare him to kiss you on the cheek after Sicheng made the mistake of choosing to do a dare.

Sicheng had felt his stomach plunge to the gravel and dirt beneath him, felt his face go as hot as a fire, he was sure he’d have steam coming out his ears, and felt the nerves eat at him so bad he was close to puking.

But he had to do this. He couldn’t be a chicken like the boys were calling him, despite his nerves, despite the sweat practically pouring out of him, despite the strange skip of his heart as he looked at your small, pretty smile as you sat across from him in your yellow sundress with a pure white bow on your head.

And just when he began to make his way over to your form to finally kiss you, much like he had all those years ago in that dingy sandbox, you shook your head no, and caused all the embarrassed heat in his body to leave his body so fast he was surprised he didn’t faint.

You acted much like a saint in that moment; you hushed the others’ whines, explained that good friends wouldn’t pressure someone they care about to do something that clearly causes them great distress, and that this game would be much more interesting if it was kept to doing silly dares and answering weird questions.

The boys grumbled, but agreed, and quickly enough the attention was averted from Sicheng to poor, tiny Mark, who was asked to dip his new hat in the river which would effectively end in him getting an earful from his mother about ruining his Sunday best. Sicheng was left in the clear. Free to not worry about the dare or about girls and relationships for another while.

It doesn’t explain why he was left so bitterly disappointed for the rest of the day, even as he walked his bike back home just in time for his supper.

It was roughly when Sicheng was 15 that he realised he loved to dance.

And it was roughly when Sicheng was 15 that he realised he was completely and utterly in love with you.

He wonders why he never came to this conclusion earlier, on both things – it was so obvious, even his parents could see it. With every dance move they watched him perfect, they also saw the inquiring look directed towards your form, awaiting approval and showers of praise (which you always gave, without fail). He was something akin to a puppy following after its owner – and wherever you went, he definitely followed, like the lovestruck fool he was.

He tried focusing on his dancing, and it worked for some time. The guys around him would make fun of him, call it girly and dumb. And he did not understand why for some time – just because he chose to use his brain and his feet to dance to his heart’s content rather than stick on a leather jacket and have his hair slicked back while he worked in a garage and smoked all day, does not mean he should be judged for the life he chose.

He was worried his parents thought much of the same, but he should not have doubted them. His mother, with her calm aura and sweet smile, praised his abilities and encouraged him to pursue dancing more. And his father, a man stern and set in his ways, had nothing more to say other than aim for a good college when he finishes school and that he was proud of him.

And that was all Sicheng needed to decide he wanted to go to one of the top colleges in the country to make something of himself.

He tried getting involved in as many things possible regarding dance – after school lessons, competitions, anything that was available where he could hone his skills and master the art of dance.

So, when his school decided to host a musical, and he heard you were going to join as the Princess, he was overjoyed.

Unfortunately, however, he did not land the lead role of the Prince. Instead he played the understudy.

He tried to remain positive about it; he could still dance and perform when asked to, he just might not get the chance to show everyone unless the lead actor – a guy nicknamed ‘Ten’ – was unavailable to perform the role.

Still, it did nothing to squash the churning of his stomach when he heard that the Prince was to kiss the Princess at the closing of the play.

But his golden opportunity came towards the final weeks of preparing for the play, when Ten was out sick during rehearsal of the final scene, and so Sicheng was called to fill the position and help you rehearse.

The final scene.

The one with the kiss.

Those nerves from years ago came rushing back in an instant in the form of red cheeks and a swarm of butterflies in his tummy, but to say Sicheng was overjoyed to finally have this opportunity to kiss you was an understatement.

He knew all his lines and cues, having practiced the diligently every night before bed without fail, that even the teacher was impressed, and Sicheng couldn’t stop the swell of pride in his chest even if he wanted to.

You were flawless in your role, as expected, you always did everything so well, and he was in awe at your acting abilities, comparing your skills to those big actresses like Grace Kelly, Marylin Monroe, and Jayne Mansfield. So in awe, that Sicheng almost forgot about the upcoming kiss at the end of the Princess’ speech.

Almost.

He waited with baited breath as the Princess in front of him declared her love with wide eyes and a loving smile, and then it was time for him to reach up with his hands, grasp your face with his trembling fingers, and lean in.

He could feel your breath against his lips as he got closer, could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, could see your eyes flutter shut that had his heart racing. He was so close, the tip of his nose brushed against yours-

-when the school bell suddenly rang to signify the end of the day, and jolted both himself and yourself away from each other in surprise.

Noise erupted throughout the auditorium in the form of the rustling of bags, the shuffling of feet and the farewells of everyone on set, the teacher shouting that he will see everyone at the same time on Monday.

Sicheng stood there, dumbfounded, stuck in a daze as he watched you gather your things and put away your props. He was brought back to the present once you waved a hand in front of his face, his eyes blinking rapidly as they focused on your beautiful eyes that were glimmering with faint amusement.

“Come on, you goof, or you’ll be locked up in here for the weekend and miss out on seeing that new film that you wanted to catch. What was it…’Singing in the Rain’?”

Truthfully, he had forgotten about that. He was only really thinking about how he might break that damned school bell without getting caught or how he might convince the principle it was one of those greasers if he did. He sighed, a long winded and weary thing that carried more weight than one might imagine. Sensing the dip in his mood, you put on your best smile (but he thinks they all look stellar), and linked your arm in his, your poodle skirt brushing against his pants and your opposite hand squeezing his bicep.

“Come on, let’s ice the blues away with a milkshake from the old diner, huh? You can tell me all about this film and convince me to see it.”

Of course he went with you, to the classic hangout since when you were both 12, and of course he sat across from you and admired the way the lights lit up your face, or the shape of your mouth as you told him all about the book you read recently.

The sweetness of the chocolate shake in his grip failed to make today’s predicament any bit better, and the chocolate turned to ash in his mouth as he though about how Ten would be the one to kiss those soft lips of yours that he longed after for so long.

(The play was a success, but Sicheng did little celebrating after the peck Ten placed upon your lips that had you grinning from ear to ear and giggling like a true princess in love.)

By attending one of the most prestigious colleges in the country and living his dream of dance, Sicheng did not think he would be dragged into the lifestyle of drinking, smoking and overall delinquency that was growing in popularity with the youth of today, yet here he was donning his silver mask as his disguise, being jostled around by overzealous young adults jiving to Elvis Presley’s latest hits and wanting nothing more than to return to his books in the safety of his dorm than standing in the large, bright and noisy dance hall.

He has to admit, the spins and lifts of the crazy couples on the dancefloor were intriguing, certainly different from the elegant and poised moves that Sicheng grew up perfecting, and yet the fast paced and insane dances moves were interesting all the same.

Still, did not change his opinion on preferring the warmth of his bed sheets over pretending to be drunk and having a great time and dodging every cigarette that was offered his way. He doesn’t care about seeming ‘preppy’, as people are so bent on calling his ‘kind’, he’d much rather be comfortable and not standing awkwardly in the wicked heat of this masquerade party.

And yet, as he adjusted the sleeves of his neatly pressed suit jacket and corrected his dicky bow, he reminded himself of the reason he was even here to begin with, and Yuta’s dastardly plan.

To finally kiss you after all these years, using his mask to fake his confidence and give him the courage to, at last, press his lips to yours.

A stupid plan, really, and Yuta had been near sleep deprived after the dance hall he had attended when he thought of this plan, but Sicheng saw the logic in it.

Sort of.

He watched as you twirled around in the pretty red frilly dress Yuta said you would be wearing, the gold sequins of your lavish mask glittering in the dim lights of the hall, grooving to the band playing on stage and giggling with the friends around you. The rouge of your lipstick matched your dress perfectly, he thought absentmindedly, wondering if it was as silky as his handkerchief as he imagined. He was shoved rudely out of his daydreaming by Doyoung (who was also a part of this foolish scheme by sneaking his way into a passing conversation he overheard between a blushing Sicheng and an erratic Yuta who would not lower his voice!)

“They’re going to play a slow song next,” Doyoung informed him, and when Sicheng simply stared at him blankly in return, he sighed and rolled his eyes with impatience. “A dance for couples. A slow dance.” Silence. “Christ, Sicheng, you aren’t too drunk, are you? This is your chance, nincompoop! Dance with her! Kiss her!”

Doyoung gave Sicheng a push, nearly flattening the poor boy in front of all the people, but with a thumbs up and a wide grin from the pusher himself, Sicheng composed himself and made his way over to where you stood.

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, and his hands shook more than the floor boards beneath his feet, breathing laboured as he gathered his courage and stopped before you. The music was beginning to take a slower turn, and everyone in the room quickly found a partner, bodies moving in gentle waves and turns, heads laying on shoulders and hands holding on tightly.

You looked up at Sicheng in what he could only guess was surprise, given the obstacle that was the mask covering most emotions on everyone’s faces. He sucked in a breath, released it a moment later. This was it.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, subconsciously deepening his voice in fear of you recognising him too early and rejecting his offer. You looked at him in silence, your eyes squinting and scrutinising his form, attempting to decipher if you knew him or not while Sicheng stood stock still with nerves. It was like you were looking through him, at his heart that was beating faster than a drum and picking him from the inside out. Finally, you spoke.

“Will you tell me your name?” your voice carried a tone of amusement to it, and it melted Sicheng’s body into a more relaxed stance.

“Dance with me and maybe you’ll find out,” he replied, extending his hand to you, which you took bashfully and with a twinkling giggle.

Smooth one, Sicheng. Yuta will definitely not let him live that down once he hears about it.

Leading you to the centre with as confident a grip he could give, he turned to face you, placing gentle hands on your waist, gulping when you wrapped yours around his neck, and began swaying the both of you smoothly to the blues of the music.

You stared at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes, a light upturn of your lips displaying your amusement. Sicheng smiled shyly, feeling his cheeks flare with heat at the close proximity he had rarely experienced with you before. (He’s a man, damn it, he was taught to respect boundaries.)

“So, will you tell me your name now?” you asked, voice as soft as cotton so as not to ruin the atmosphere of the hall around you.

He almost forgot to answer you, too awestruck at the beauty of the moment, of you; a soft smile playing at your rose painted lips, the lights set up around the room glittering like stars upon your skin, he almost forgot to breathe. The band played its blues gently in the background, the tones washing over the both of you so sweetly it could send Sicheng to Cloud 9 right now if he wasn’t so hell bent on staying on the ground and getting a kiss from you.

“Ruins the purpose of the masks, doesn’t it?” he settled for, hands squeezing minutely around your waist. “Much more exciting this way.”

You huffed out a breath – stubborn as always – and those rouge lips of yours pouted up at him.

“I’d like to know who I’m spending my time with, stranger.”

“You’ll find out eventually,” he chuckled, and he delighted in the bashfulness overtaking your features. “For now, I’d just like to dance with the most beautiful girl in the world.

Even above the blissfully slow love song, he could hear your intake of breath, and he waited in tense silence to find out if he had overstepped his boundaries and pushed you away completely. He could see it in your eyes, could see the war you were waging with yourself on whether to give into the excitement of dancing with a tall, dark and handsome stranger who would willingly give you compliments until his voice grew hoarse, or to back away and return to being the responsible and mature person you were who never strayed too far from the lines of safety.

The former won the battle.

“This is just like those romance novels,” you giggled, teeth nipping at your bottom lip to contain the gorgeously dopey smile you get when you’re flustered threatening to break out. God, he loved you so much.

“Really?” he asked, clearing his throat against the cracking of his voice. You laugh good naturedly, endeared at the now sudden goofiness of your knight in shining armour. Nodding, your hands fidgeted slightly behind his neck, skin brushing against his, goosebumps erupting and hairs raising. He shivered in excitement.

He hummed, his feign of nonchalance allowing him to revel in this newfound confidence and spur his actions. He stepped closer to you after a moment of consideration, chest pressed to chest, and he was terrified that the thumping of his heart was enough to alert you that this knight was not as brave as he seemed.

“What happens in these romance novels? What happens to the couples?” he whispered, breath fanning across your heated cheeks as you stared in dumbstruck awe. Your arms tightened around his neck, buzzing with an emotion you couldn’t explain, yet you were ready to dive into the unknown, he always knew you were looking for something more than you could get. And you deserved whatever it was you were after.

“They…they kiss. A kiss so good, the gal’ lifts her leg and gets so lost in the moment she forgets her name,” was your breathy reply, and Sicheng could feel his stomach tighten with a nervous giddiness he’s felt twice in his life, both with you beside him. The band were finishing up the song, if the lengthy notes and drawn out vocals were any indication, and Sicheng knew, this was his moment.

“How?” he asked, giving you an out should you have wanted to take it, but you refused, staring deeply into his eyes and ignoring everything around you, giving Sicheng an undivided attention he was unused to experiencing. You leaned ever closer to him and he mimicked your actions, inclining his head towards yours and gazing upon your lips, blood red petals he longed for, for so many years, finally within his grasp.

“Like…thi-“

“Oh, there you are.”

You flinched away from Sicheng as if you had been burnt, and simultaneously he took a step backwards in shock of such a rapid action, staring dumbly as none other than Johnny Seo waltzed right up beside you in his leather jacket, wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you tight against his body like nobody’s business. You could not form a sentence properly, only stumbling your way through a greeting as Johnny grinned down at you and ignored Sicheng like he wasn’t even there to begin with. Sicheng remained silent, stuck in a haze and shoulders slouched like the heaviest weight was just thrown on his back.

“Been looking for you everywhere, Dollface,” he laughed, pinched your side, earning a yelp for his action. “Look, I know I’m late and I didn’t show up to bring you here, but what’ya say we get outta here? This place blows,” he suggested-but-not-really-suggested, seeing as he was already tugging you out of the room towards the double doors and to the fresh air. Of course, Sicheng was left standing there, in the centre of the dancefloor while a jive started up around him and dancers gave him odd looks for staying still, but he couldn’t find it in him to move – the shock rendered him useless and the jealousy burning in his heart simmered throughout his body while his brain fought to keep him from following after Johnny and doing something stupid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw Doyoung and Yuta standing side-by-side, facepalming and cursing Johnny’s existence for ruining this ‘perfect plan’.

Sicheng would mimic their actions if he had the energy to.

Sicheng reckons he should just give up at this point, despite Yuta’s and Doyoung’s insistence that he keeps ‘fighting for your love’.

As if. You weren’t interested in him in anyway.

You’d asked him that Monday after the dance if he had gone and what he thought of it. He replied he had, lied that he hadn’t stayed long and asked if you enjoyed it. You said you did, but that nothing major happened. And that was that. No mention of any ‘mysterious man’.

Sicheng was left extremely disappointed after that conversation.

But, now he had Christmas to look forward to, and seeing his parents once again in a happy and festive setting and one so full of the love he’s been deprived of and-

God, he needs to stop listening to Doyoung’s rambles.

So preoccupied was he with packing his suitcase for the trip and hopping into his dad’s navy Chevrolet and pushing you completely from his mind in hopes that he’d be over you by the time he returns to college, he forgot just how close both his and your parents were with each other.

And that they decided to have a Christmas party together in your house.

Just lovely, he thinks from his position in the armchair by the window, watching the snow fall in delicate flakes to join the mountains of it on the ground while the party is well underway around him. He couldn’t care less about socialising right now, despite it being what his parents would expect him to do as a golden child.

Regardless of his neat sweater and crisp shirt, he felt unkempt and restless just being in your vicinity; his skin itched for him to stay away from you, his brain screamed to ignore you, yet his heart wept to have you close by his side like you always were.

“Sicheng, darling,” his mother called, drawing his attention away from the flurries outside as he turned to her with a questioning stare. “Can you refill my glass for me? The drink is in the kitchen,” she asked, hand extended to pass her glass to her son. Sicheng sighed quietly through his nose but did as he was told, grabbing the glass and rising from his spot, walking away from the conversations airing around the living area and towards the kitchen.

Only the be stopped by you walking out from the kitchen once he reached the doorway.

You smiled at him, stumbled awkwardly as you tried to side step him only to have him do the same, and giggled at his endearingly flushed face.

He gulped, kept his gaze on the floor, and nodded in your direction, intending for that to be the extent of the interaction so he could return to moping by the window in peace as soon as possible, until your father, ever the rambunctious man, hollered: “look, love is in the air for these kids! Look at what they’re standing under, honey!”

It was with dread that Sicheng lifted his head simultaneously as you raised yours, to find that stupid and embarrassing little weed looking plant hung high on the doorframe above both of your excruciatingly close forms, too close for Sicheng’s heart to beat at a semi normal pace.

You lowered your gaze to his, heat rushing to your cheeks and a lopsided smile plastered on your face, and yet you remained where you were, perhaps waiting for Sicheng to make a move so you could reject him kindly once again, he thinks. He bit at the skin of his lower lip, watched as your glittering eyes flickered between his own dark pair and his mouth, and that familiar nervousness came crawling back to him. You both ignored the catcalls and teasing comments of your parents, not taking your attention off each other for one second. His throat constricted, he swallowed dryly, you leaned forward just a smidge, and-

“I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to.”

He was surprised that this strange, lowly, meek and quiet voice was his own, rejecting something that he sought after the second he realised he couldn’t see himself living with someone that wasn’t you. You looked stunned, your lips parting and your eyes wide, but you composed yourself quickly, your expression morphing into something so blank Sicheng had great difficulty deciphering what was going through your mind.

The parents all groaned and expressed their displeasure at Sicheng’s unwillingness to give you a peck on the lips (not that he didn’t want to, he desperately did, with every fibre of his being, he just valued your comfort more than his wishes). His mother, the angel that she was, was quick to dissuade the negativity in the room. “He’s a gentleman,” she complimented, “he knows better than to just kiss a girl because of some silly plant.”

The parents laughed, returned to their conversations, and Sicheng was virtually alone with you, that same hollow look upon your face staring at him while the pair of you stood in relative silence. His hand flexed around his mother’s glass, knuckles turning white from the grip, and trained his sight on his brown shoes, the toes skimming the tops of your saddle shoes.

“If you’re such a gentleman” you began, voice quiet and laced with a hesitancy Sicheng was not familiar with hearing. “You shouldn’t leave a girl hanging like that and ask her on a date if you aren’t gonna kiss her now.”

His heart nearly leapt out of his throat, and he was sure his eyes were nearly as wide as dinner plates right about now. Blood rushed to his cheeks like a tsunami, and was sure if he opened his mouth, nothing but a distressed wailing sound would leave his body. You looked as nervous as he felt, afraid that you had put your foot in your mouth and ruined your beloved friendship with the only person you ever cared about in your life.

“How about you take me to the pictures this Saturday? Pick me up at 7?” you offered, taking control of the situation and Sicheng had never been more grateful for your ability to take charge of a situation, because he was damn sure he just lost all ability to speak in this moment, too busy dancing away in his head and committing this moment to memory for it to be played over and over and over again at night when he will lie awake with butterflies in his stomach and a grin on his face.

So, he nodded, smiled like an idiot, nearly cried with happiness when you laughed shyly and ran back into the living area, and sauntered into the kitchen to finally refill his mothers drink.

It was funny, really. How after all this time, after the pain of being so close yet so far, that the fact he now has a date with you was actually so easy to achieve because of a stupid holiday tradition.

He took a sip from his mother’s drink, the burning liquid trickling down his throat and added to the dizziness he felt after his encounter with you.

What an idiot he was.

Truth be told, Sicheng wasn’t paying any attention to the film rolling in front of his eyes, much too busy overthinking the way you leaned closer to him and brushed your shoulder against his when you reached for the popcorn.

He couldn’t even remember the name of the movie to begin with. Whatever you had suggested, he had said yes immediately to in hopes of making you happy (which, he did).

You really had him wrapped around your finger, didn’t you?

(He doesn’t care, he thinks happily, as you meet his gaze and smile at him. He doesn’t care at all.)

His mind was racing about what he should do once the movie was finished – walk you home? Take you to your favourite diner? Go for a walk in that park? He honestly couldn’t choose, didn’t know what to choose exactly, and in the blink of an inattentive eye for Sicheng, everyone started filing out of the doors of the cinema, a lively buzz in the atmosphere of people their thoughts on the movie and where to go from here.

Sicheng wants to ask them to be privy to that bit of info himself. Where does he go from here?

“Sicheng?” he heard, and turned his head towards the voice. You looked at him with a stunning smile, the bright lights of the theatre’s signs not glowing nearly as bright as you were to him in this moment, with yourself all dolled up for little old him, and he did not feel one bit worthy to stand here with you.

“Yes?” he answered quietly, his trembling fingers pulling at the sides of his trousers, flitting in and outs of his pockets, a nervous tick, and one you caught onto immediately. Your hand slotted perfectly into his when you grasped it, and he prays to anyone that’ll listen that you won’t get repulsed by the sweatiness of his palms or the shakiness of his fingers.

“I had a really fun time tonight,” you confessed, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. His heart skipped a beat (a regular occurrence with you, it seems), and he was positive his cheeks were pinker than a strawberry macaron. “I…I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner,” you mused with a light laugh. Sicheng nearly choked on his spit.

“Wait, what? You would have done this sooner?” he grimaced at the incredulous crack of his voice, and appreciated your attempts at stifling your laughter.

“Well I’ve…I’ve liked you since I was 15, but I was just too chicken to say anything, didn’t wanna ruin our friendship,” you admitted, scratching at your cheek and avoiding his stare as you focused your attention on the ground. Once this newfound information processed in his mind, Sicheng laughed.

And laughed.

You stared in bewilderment as Sicheng seemingly lost his mind, bending over in a full blown cackle, face red and short of breath, and attracting the stares of many passer-by’s. You bent over to become level with his face.

“Sicheng, are you ok? Everyone’s staring at us, wacko,” you giggled at his form, still very confused at what was so funny.

Catching his breath, Sicheng stood upright and sighed airily, a dopey grin plastered on his visage.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, this is so bogus,” he laughed. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for as long too,” Sicheng added, still a bit out of it from his laughing fit, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. You bit at your lip, a furrow in your brow telling him you were thinking hard about something.

“So do it, hot stuff.”

“Do what?” Sicheng asked dumbly, and you rolled your eyes playfully. Really, he laughed all sense out of him. So, you took charge.

Slipping your hand out of his, you lifted both to gently take hold of his dumbstruck face, leaned in, and placed your lips upon his.

Finally.

Sicheng almost couldn’t breathe but refused to move away, leaning his forehead against yours, hands fumbling to take hold of your waist and hold you close against his chest. It was the kind of kiss like he had always seen in the movies – passionate, full of love, and made all sorts of things happen with his heart and body. Fireworks, butterflies, chills, tingles, none were an accurate description to how unbelievably happy he felt in this moment, how comforting the motion of your thumbs stroking his face felt, how perfectly soft your lips felt against his, everything was just so, so…

Long overdue, if he was being brutally honest.

Air eventually became a necessity, and so it was with great regret (that the moment couldn’t last forever) you pulled apart, gasping for air and refusing to look anywhere other than at each other. Sicheng smiled sweetly, reaching up to stroke at the apple of your cheek.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude not to ask someone to kiss them before you do?” he teased, recalling a misfortunate memory of a shabby sandbox and the beginning of a long history.

You grinned, pinched playfully at his cheek. “Maybe. But I’ll apologise later. Now give me another kiss, we have years to make up for.”

Sicheng, for all his poise and grace, would gladly run like a madman to obey that request.

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