#SKZ song fic

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Fic Titles: Song Edition

Part VI

Teach me how to get my smile back - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, HAN feat. BAE

You keep a lot of secrets (and I keep none) - Fireproof, The National

Too much darkness for a rainbow - Gone, Rosé

I always say goodbye - World spins madly on, The Weepies

We can set the world on fire - You are the solution, Loving Caliber

Drop a single tear drop - Tomboy, (G)I-DLE

I still dream of you - Ghost towns, Radical Face

Love is not a competition - Collide, Rachel Platten

Demons are friends, angels are enemies - @ my worst, blackbear

We're such a mess together - Using you, Mars Argo

I've found a love to love like no other can - Nara, alt-J

All for freedom and for pleasure - Everybody wants to rule the world, Tears for Fears

Why you asking? (No, I'm not ok) - Not ok, Loco feat. Minnie

In the fantasy it's so convincing - Dirty thoughts, Chloe Adams

The only memory is us kissing in the moonlight - Can't remember to forget you, Shakira feat. Rihanna

Searching for something that ain't lost - Don't waste my time, Victor Lundberg

A little more delicate - Clementine, Sarah Jaffe

Tonight we are victorious - Victorious, Panic! at the Disco

I want you so much, but I hate your guts - Landfill, Daughter

Your idols betray you/Your heroes will fail you/′Cause we are no saints - We are no saints, Blind Channel

Are we best friends? Are we somethin' in between that? - Heartbeat, Childish Gambino

'Cause sometimes the wrong ones are just what you need - James has changed, Phoebe Ryan

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone - Lovely, Billie Eilish & Khalid

Chasing visions of our futures - Youth, Daughter

Why is love so contradicting? - Contradicting, Hyunjin

I wanna be found by you - Adore, Amy Shark

Somebody might die (but nobody gets hurt) - Honey, Måneskin

The history books forgot about us - Samson, Regina Spektor

I like us better when we're intertwined - Cool, Dua Lipa

Baby don't go away (love me like you loved me) - Miserable (You & Me), HAN

More titles!

[astraystayyh]

Myth

Bang Chan x reader. highly recommend listening to Myth by Beach House while reading! <3

Skimming across the edge of being friends and something more with Chan is a dangerous game. Even more so when you're both sharing the same bed.

(@inniejeonginnie cameo because she's innie's gf!)

skz song series masterlist

"The heater won't work," Seungmin announces to the group, and you all stare at each other blankly.

This was Seungmin's family cabinet. It was a tradition for you all to go there on your winter break- Seungmin, Jeongin and their partners, and then you and Chan. There were only three bedrooms along with the living room- that's where Chan was supposed to sleep. But the heater isn't working. He'll surely freeze in there all by himself.

"He can stay in my room, it's okay," you smile slightly, turning around to gauge Chan's reaction. He smiles back, but his hand is curled into a tight fist. He unclenches it once he spots you staring.

"Then that's settled! See you tomorrow!" Jeongin rapidly exclaims, happy at the prospect of not having to sleep next to Chan. He pulls his girlfriend Anya by the hand, biding you all goodnight.

One by one they all go upstairs, until it's only you and Chan left in there. Suddenly, the oxygen is sucked out of the room; and you feel as if you're standing in a field doused with gasoline, where a single flame teeters on the edge of igniting- threatening to set you both aflame.

"You coming?" you ask and he nods wordlessly. You walk ahead first, and Chan places his hand on your lower back. He drops it once you reach the top of the stairs, but the ghost of his touch lingers in there, his fingertips now seared into your spine.

The light is warm in your room, curtsey of the chandelier hanging from the wall. Its yellow glow reflects on Chan's honeyed skin, and you can't seem to take your eyes off of him as he settles on the edge of your bed.

"I'll go change and then you can go to the bathroom too," you say quietly, and he simply nods. He hasn't spoken once since you invited him in. It's driving you insane. Did he not want this? Were you reading all the signs wrong?

You come out of the bathroom; your hair put away in a braid to keep it out of your face. You can feel Chan’s burning gaze on the curve of your exposed neck, before he goes in after you without a word.

You climb into the bed, your back flush against the headboard. You watch silently as Chan comes out his turn. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt and loose shorts. Suddenly, you are hit by the domesticity of it all. You and Chan in your pajamas, sharing the same bed. Is this how it would be if you started dating? Waiting for him to get changed, to come onto the bed with you? Maybe you'd brush your teeth together, maybe he'd be the one braiding your hair.

"Good night," he whispers, his voice hoarse as he turns the light off.

"Good night," you say just as quietly, palpable tension oozing from the both of you.

You both lay down, heads facing the ceiling. The bed is big, big enough for you both to never touch each other throughout the night. And yet, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reaching your own in waves. He's so close and yet he feels so far away.

You can't sleep, you know you won't. Not when all you are thinking about is the man next to you. You don't know what changed; if you were in this bed one year ago, you'd both be cracking jokes. There would be no tense silence surrounding you, threatening to suffocate you under its weight.

But that would be a year ago. Things are different now between the two of you. You can't pinpoint when exactly, but suddenly, Chan's eyes on you were scorching, setting your body ablaze. Suddenly, each time your hand brushed against his, you felt butterflies roaming through your stomach, violently as if fighting for a way to come out and meet the man who's making you feel this way.

If you built yourself a myth, you'd know just what to give

Chan was abruptly everywhere. He was there, opening doors for you, and he was there wiping your tears away. He was there kissing your forehead gently and smiling so wildly at your unfunny jokes. Your eyes searched for his in every room, and you always found him looking back, always.

And he was there, when you were both tipsy over some cheap wine, giggling in the middle of an empty playground at midnight. He was there, caressing your cheeks and painting them pink, as if his fingers were paintbrushes and your face a canvas. And he was there, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours, before moving them away.

What comes after this momentary bliss?

You've never spoken about that day, and here you are now, lying on the same bed, burning up.

"Are you asleep?" he asks after a while, turning around to look at you.

"No," you reply, shifting in your place to face him as well. "Are you cold?" you ask quietly.

"No. Never around you," he confesses breathlessly, making your heart skip a beat.

The consequence of what you do to me

He leans closer to you, his hand shaking as it raises up to rest on top of your cheek. You exhale a rugged breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What are you doing?" you ask, and he shushes you slightly, his thumb trailing across your lower lip in an agonizing manner.

"Tell me this is real, that you feel it too," he pleads, eyes begging looking into yours. He leans even closer to you, until your noses brush against one another.

"Tell me I'm not imagining it, whatever this is. Help me to name it," he says as he places your hand on top of his heart. It's hammering in there too.

Help me to name it

You tentatively raise your free hand, tracing over his pretty features, and he closes his eyes, exhaling softly at your touch.  

"You drive me insane Chan," you whisper, "Why didn't you kiss me that night?"

"I thought you didn't want me to."

You shake your head, "I wanted you to."

Help me to name it

"Really?" he smiles tentatively, and you nod, "Really."

He's cautious as his hand slides down the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your hand finds his hair, playing with its soft brown locks.

Help me to name it

"You want me?"

"I want you."

"What are we?" he asks, as his lips brush against yours once again.

"We can name it tomorrow."

[mingirn]

heavenly

lee minho x reader

genres: smut, some fluff

warnings: smut, grinding, dry humping, some dirty talk, getting off on the way someone smells, gender neutral reader

notes: titled after the song heavenly by cigarettes after sex

word count: 1,7k

”You smell good,” you say quietly, nose squished against his neck and lips brushing over the collar of his t-shirt as you speak.

”I smell good?” he asks, and you hum. ”Like my perfume? Or just the fact that this shirt is fresh from the wash?”

Minhos voice is humorous, underneath the softness of it he’s poking fun at you.

”Yeah, but also just- you. Your skin, your breath, your hair, your sweat, everything.”

Your hand is under his shirt, resting on his side. His naked skin is so smooth and warm, and with your eyes closed you can recall exactly what it’d feel like to kiss the skin thats underneath your hand. You know exactly what he feels like, every inch of him, you know every little spot on his body from the countless times you’ve kissed all over him. You know what he smells like too, whether he’s just gotten out of the shower and his skin smells like the bodywash he uses, or if he’s just woken up and he smells of sleep. You even love the way he smells when he comes to see you right after practice, when he hasn’t yet washed up and he just smells like himself.

”You’re crazy,” he laughs softly above you, while his fingers stroke over your hair. His voice reverberates through his chest and sounds a little lower when you lay on his chest like this. Everything about this, about him, feels like so much right now. His smell in your nose, his body in your hands, his touch on you, his leg between yours, the very warmth of him so close.

You scoot a little further up, aligning your chest with his so you can burrow into his neck, the tip of your nose brushing against his ear. You give him a quick kiss there, just where his ear meets his jaw and neck, and he shivers from the sudden contact in a place you know he’s sensitive.

Minho must be able to tell that your breath has gotten a little heavier, but he’s kind enough to say nothing of it. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin. He smells best here, somehow stronger than any other place on his body, here it’s just so richly Minho. Without even thinking you hitch your hand higher, moving from his side up to his chest, letting his shirt bunch around your arm and reveal the skin of his stomach. He smells so good it’s almost makes you dizzy, having all your senses be so full of just him.

”Do you like this?” he asks suddenly. He has dropped the tone he had earlier, no longer teasing you but sounding genuinely curious, or just entirely oblivious. It’s not the first time you’ve commented on his smell, nor the second or the third, and Minho should be more than aware of his effect on you at this point. The fact that he somehow doesn’t know, or perhaps didn’t really realize the depth of it until now has you whining silently into his neck.

”Yeah, I thought you knew,” you mumble sheepishly, pushing closer to Minho as if you’d somehow be able to sink into him to avoid the embarrassment.

”I knew you liked the way I smell. Fuck, I love the way you smell too. I just.. didn’t know you liked it this much,” Minho says.

”Mm, what?”

”This much,” he states, grabbing onto your hips. ”You’re grinding against me.”

Minho is right, but until now you hadn’t noticed the unconscious pull of your hips against his thigh. Suddenly, you become aware of your own body, before you’d been preoccupied taking Minho in, feeling him underneath you and trying to drink in as much of him as you can. Now, you feel pleasant warmth spread through your body, pooling together between your legs where you’re far too effected by all this and somehow you still can’t make yourself stop, even though your boyfriend has drawn attention to it.

”Oh my god,” you whine in embarrassment. Your hips stutter as you try to will yourself to stop, but it just won’t happen, your lips are brushing against the skin of Minhos neck every time you take a breath and he still smells so fucking good, you just can’t bring yourself to stop. Then, you feel his hands wrap around your hips further, fingers digging into the side of your ass, and you realize he’s helping you guide your hips.

”That’s it, there you go,” he says softly. His voice is right by your ear, so close it sends shivers down your spine. ”You should have told me you like it this much.”

”What?” you manage to spit out, trying desperately to stay focused in the moment.

This is something Minho likes to do. He talks to you, asks you questions and makes little statements he fully expects you to answer. He words them like he’s not helping you grind yourself into his thigh, and he’ll do the same when he’s fucking you, not relenting until he’s gotten the reply he wants. It makes you just a little dizzy, how he stays so composed when he’s got you falling apart in his arms and your head always feels so light when you think about how much control he has, not just over you but of himself too.

”If I had known you liked my smell this much I think we could have had some more fun with it,” he says, and you can hear it on his voice that he’s smirking.

”Fuck,” you breathe out. ”What- what fun?”

”Something like this. Or maybe I’d skip showering at the studio, if I knew I’d come home and get you to be like this for me.”

Minho lifts his leg a little, pushing his thigh further between your legs so you have no choice but to ride it. The new angle makes your breath hitch, it feels even better like this and Minho is still controlling your hips, making you yearn for a lot more than just his thigh.

”Really turns me on to know how you get for me, you know that right?” he says. You can tell that he’s hard against the side of your leg, but Minho still grabs your hand and places it over his shorts to make sure you can feel how hard he is. He speaks again, ”Fuck, it makes me so hard, can you feel that? Just for you.”

”Minho, please, please-” you choke out, mouth against his neck. He understands you somehow, reads your mind in that stupid Minho way, and weaves his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck so he can pull you up and then he kisses you.

It’s messy and desperate, even Minho is starting to lose himself and he kisses you as if he’s never kissed before. He’s all tongue and teeth, tasting you and moaning into your mouth when your tongue meets his. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but the hurried kisses make your head feel like it’s spinning and all that’s repeating inside of it is Minho saying just for you, just for you, just for you.

It hasn’t been long, you know that, but you’re already starting to get close. Even though your underwear and his shorts are seperating you from feeling him, there’s something so intense about this and about Minho that it hardly matters, and you know it won’t be long until he’s got you making a mess in your underwear. It has your hips faltering a little, unable to keep up with how good it feels. Luckily Minho still has a hold on you, and when he notices that it’s getting harder for you to keep composed he lets go of your head to keep both hands on your hips.

”Don’t stop,” he murmurs into the kiss. You moan into his mouth, a lot too loud and a lot too desperate. ”Want you to be good and cum for me like this, okay? Can you do that?”

You nod fervently, stuttering out something between a ’yes’ and a sob, and he rewards you with a kiss. You lean your forehead against his, eyes shut tight and hands fumbling to get a hold of anything to get your bearings. You want him as close as possibly and somehow this, his mouth mere millimeters from yours, swallowing your breath, isn’t enough.

”Minho, Minho, please. Please, I’m so close-”

”Baby, you can cum whenever you want. Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum for me,” he speaks softly, his own breath erratic from being so worked up.

He starts thrusting up, meeting your hips so you don’t have to do any work, Minho does it all for you when he can tell you’re about to cum. It’s this that finally does it for you, his hands holding you and his hips meeting yours just like he does when he fucks you like this.

Your breath catches in your throat, too overwhelmed and sensitive and still cumming, and Minho doesn’t stop for a second, just talking you through it with mumbles of ”I’ve got you, you’re so good, there you go, angel”.

Your legs are shaking when you finally come down, vision unblurring and lungs catching air again. Minho is rocking his hips ever so slightly to help you ride it out, and when you return to your senses you can feel the cum that’s soaked through your underwear and probably now stains his shorts.

”Oh my god,” you breathe out, slumping down on him. He laughs quietly, stroking your hair and craning his head to kiss your forehead softly. You continue, ”Thank you, Minho, what the fuck.”

”Thank you,” he says. ”I think I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this.”

”Oh, shut up!” You squeeze his arm a little, a pathetic attempt at being intimidating, but your fingers feel fuzzy and you’re still regaining your strength.

”It’s just because I love you so much, you know,” you say. He hums lowly at this, and yet again you know he’s smiling without having to look at him.

”I love you too,” he says. ”Always.”

[nczennie]

it's ok if it hurts.

Pairing: Reader & Stray Kid's Hyunjin AU: Historical, Royalty Genre: Angst Preview: Hyunjin was always a romantic. Maybe that's why the second he found love he left you for dead. Words: 3.8k *warnings undercut

WARNINGS: Death, mentions of blood, mentions of sexual harassment

You've come to find out that you learn a lot of things growing up in a palace.

You may not learn how to read or write. How to walk so perfectly straight you can balance a book on your head. You'll never learn how to sweet talk delegates from other regions, but you think the lessons you've learned are just as valuable.

You know to always keep your eyes trained down, you know when it is okay for you to speak. You know to listen and observe every conversation you stumble upon. You've learned the techniques it takes to survive living as your rank in a place run by royals.

Your father is one of the King's chefs, your mother one of the ladies in charge of making the Queen's tea. They fell in love and married, you coming along shortly after. This meant you were apart of the palace life since you were born. And once you were old enough you were put to work as well, helping the other ladies in the garden picking herbs and cutting flowers.

You didn't mind your job, not that you had anything to compare it to. You enjoyed being able to work outside and the older women doted on you endlessly.

The King and Queen had two sons. Two boys blessed in beauty and had their own unique talents. The oldest of the two was eager to adopt his role as future King. Loving to read the history of the region, often taking his horse to explore the land. The youngest of the two boys was quite the opposite. He was a softer boy who loved poetry and art. Eager to make his own paintings rather than read about those who already did.

The younger Prince, Hyunjin, was your age. In fact, he was born merely months after you. The Queen found comfort in talking about her pregnancy with your mother as she served her tea. Comparing symptoms and trying to guess if that meant they were having a boy or a girl.

And though not proper, you and Hyunjin often played together when you were young, though it came with disapproving looks from his father whenever he caught you both. "It's alright, they're still young." his mother would say.

You always wondered if that meant once you become older you and Hyunjin would no longer be friends. But here you are now, having recently turned eighteen, pulling weeds from the garden as Hyunjin sat next to you sketching a newly bloomed flower.

The late summer humidity was getting to you as you move to wipe the sweat from your brow, the wide brim hat protecting you from the sunlight but did little to help your temperature when there was no breeze out. Reaching to place another weed in your basket you let out a huff.

"Did you hear the news?" Hyunjin speaks up, one of the first words he's spoke since concentrated on his writing. You turn to look at him but he doesn't move his gaze from his paper. "Maehwa is pregnant."

Maehwa is Hyunjin's sister-in-law. She married his brother some years ago and is set to be the future Queen. You hum, removing one of your gloves to relieve a bit of the heat, "Yes, mother told me. She seems very excited." Now alongside the Queen, your mother also serves Maehwa her tea as well.

Hyunjin puts his pencil down, opening and closing his fist as if to relieve his charcoal coated fingers of the stiffness. "My brother says he secretly wishes it's a girl," Hyunjin chuckles knowing if their father heard he would yell at him, knowing tradition calls for needing sons in order to keep their position as royal family.

You smile at the thought, you were fond of Hyunjin's brother. He was always very polite and nice to not only you but everyone he met. He was well read and modern and determined to make a difference when he became King. Even Maehwa, whom he was arranged to marry was a perfect fit for him. Sharing his kindness and beliefs.

Returning your glove to your hand, you reach for another weed hidden beneath a dirt pile, "I know he will be a great father no matter what." Hyunjin hums in agreement moving to smudge bits of his drawing.

"Well, well, well," Someone draws out and you and Hyunjin look in surprise as someone approaches you both.

Upon seeing him, you avert your gaze, secretly rolling your eyes as he approaches, "What are you both doing alone?" It was Hyunjin's personal guard. A young man by the name of Sahan.

On Hyunjin's eighteenth birthday, a personal guard was hired to make sure he was safe, especially since it meant he could now travel outside of the palace. This is where Sahan came in, he was some years older than the Prince but much more immature. There was something about the man you didn't quite trust, and the inappropriate comments he makes to the women staff around the palace make you all uncomfortable. But Hyunjin doesn't see that, in fact he seems to love Sahan. Growing up his only contact with people around his age were his brother and you. You figure he takes pleasure in having Sahan around and sees him as a friend.

Hyunjin smiles as the man approaches, "Oh come on, you know she is my friend." He chuckles standing to his feet and wipes at his clothes to remove any dirt. You still don't move to look at them but you could basically hear the smirk in Sahan's voice, "That may be but you know it's inappropriate for you both to be alone. Especially when you are friends with someone so beautiful, it could be tempting."

You don't give the man the satisfaction of a reaction, biting your tongue and keeping your gaze fixed on the plant before you.

Hyunjin lets out an amused scoff and your stomach clenches as he speaks, "Oh, please. It's not like that." Sahan laughs loudly at this, perhaps finding amusement in your friends rejection of you. "Suit yourself," you hear Hyunjin gather his art supplies.

You don't dare to look back, not even when Hyunjin calls your name and tells you goodbye. You listen to the sound of their footsteps growing further and further away on the gravel.

Your mom always warned you your feelings for Hyunjin were dangerous.

But you merely rolled your eyes. You weren't stupid, you felt like saying. You knew you could never be with Hyunjin and you would never try to. Those thoughts you had about him falling in love with you and begging his parents to let him marry you were just fantasies you knew were for your head only.

But that doesn't mean it hurt any less when they announced he was getting married.

A scholar's daughter. Her family quicking raising in social status and wealth. Not acceptable for an heir, but for a second son, she would do.

You feel grateful that it isn't Hyunjin that breaks the news to you. That way when your mother tells you, you could cry in her arms as she tells you off for your feelings but hugs you tight nonetheless.

Hyunjin has always been romantic.

And now that he is getting his chance at love he seems happier than ever. Now sitting below the tree where you pick apples. Hanging on to the ladder and biting your tongue as he drowns out about his wedding.

"I think I will paint her something and surprise her with it the night of the wedding." He looks up at you and you fill the bag with the ripe fruit. You hum but don't speak, focusing on reaching and keeping your balance.

"She'll probably be so nervous to move into the palace. But after the wedding when we're finally alone, I'll reassure her I'll love her and protect her. And then I'll present her with the painting and we can display it in our room." He drones on.

He's always been like this, coming up with romantic scenarios where he's the hero that can save and comfort someone he loves. But unfortunately they've never been about you.

"I could paint a picture of her town, to remind her of home. What do you think?" He asks and you sigh. "That's sweet, Hyunjin." You say because no matter how bitter you feel, you can't deny the sentiment.

"I just met her, she's is quite the beauty."

You jump with a start, turning to see who has joined you in the gardeners shed. A chill runs through you as you see Sahan standing in the doorway. Without giving him a response, you turn back to the bucket of water where you were washing the vegetables.

Your heart pounds as he walks closer to you, your breath hitches as he stands directly behind you. "Salin, that's her name." He says in a low voice behind you.

He's speaking of Hyunjin's finacé. The wedding is tomorrow, and she arrived to the palace tonight.

"Leave me alone, Sahan." You finally say, scrubbing the radish for the wedding celebrations even harder.

Suddenly, you feel the weight of his hand over your waist, causing the vegetable to slip from your hand. You turn, burning red as he has the nerve to touch you.

"Don't touch me." You say firmly but he only looks down at you with a smirk. "Hyunjin is not yours anymore." He whispers, "He belongs to Salin now." He moves closer, pushing you into the large bucket, pressing against you and you try to push at his chest to keep your space.

"I can help you forget him, I can distract you." He leans in to whisper in your ear as you yank your head to the side. He hand form before returns to your waist giving it a squeeze.

"Get out. I'll scream." You say trying your best to keep your voice steady. But he merely laughs, "I think it's funny you have any power over me. You think anyone here will care what I do to you?"

Your lip wobbles as you look past his shoulder. Because no matter how small it made you feel, it was true.

There's a bustle of commotion from outside. You assume more gardeners returning to work after finishing their dinner. The whole palace will be awake all night to finish preparing for the big day tomorrow.

Sahan glances towards the door before pulling away from you completely. "I'll see you another time." He says simply before slipping out into the night. Leaving you to finish washing radishes as quiet sobs leave your mouth.

The wedding goes splendidly.

Not that you would know as you were not allowed near the occasion, but the rest of the palace speaks happily about the whole ordeal.

You haven't seen Hyunjin in over a month. You suppose you should've expected this as he is married now. But a part of you wanted to believe you meant a least a fraction as much to him as he did to you.

On that note, you haven't seen Sahan since that night as well. He was busy accompanying Hyunjin and Salin around the town as they explored her new home.

But now a sense of paranoia and dread filled you whenever you were alone. Not wanted to run into him in fear of what he would do to you.

It was one early morning when you and the rest of the garders were busy planting seeds for a new crop. However your work was interrupted when the newly appointed princess, Salin walked with her staff into the field.

As protocol has it, you all stopped your work, standing to bow before standing still with your gaze pointed to the ground.

"I came to check out the work," she speaks and her voice is light as a feather. It's the first time you've been in the same room as her and you're dying to cast your gaze up to get a glance at her. But you restrain yourself.

"Thank you for all your hard work." She speaks over everyone, walking down the line of you all before stopping merely feet from you. "As you all know, I am now Prince Hyunjin's wife. And I just want to remind you all that you are gardeners. You work for the palace."

"And palace staff is all you'll stay. Please remember your place. Staff should not be on comfortable speaking terms with any of the royal family." Your mouth runs dry at her words.

She is talking to you all, but you know she is speaking to you.

She thanks you all once again before taking her leave. Shakily, you get back to your position. She had to be talking about you, there was no other explanation. Somehow she must've found out about your friendship with Hyunjin, but how?

A couple of days later when it's your turn to set the fruit buckets to dry, you notice Hyunjin sitting under the tree just ahead of you.

A smile quirks on your face as for a second it feels like the old days. "Hyunjin," you call as you walk up to him giving him a friendly smile. He looks up from where he was drawing, eyebrows furrowed as if he didn't hear you approach.

But instead of his familiar warm smile or playful smirk he once gave you, his face stays still. A look of blankness casting over him like a veil. As if twenty years of memories slipped his mind.

"I hope you are not forgetting you are speaking to a member of the royal family." He speaks in an even tone.

You take a small step back taking a moment to consider his words. Hoping for a second that he was joking. Unfortunately there is not a hint of amusement in his face, instead a coldness that passes from his gaze to your blood.

"Your highness, excuse me." You say quietly before turning and scrambling off, forgetting about what you originally came for.

Your chest heaves as you make your way back to your working quarters. A dull pain lingering in your head as you try to comprehend what happened.

For as long as you've known Hyunjin you've never adhered to the rules that everyone else was expected to follow. He made it clear to you from the start that you were friends and there was no need to treat him otherwise.

Not realising that must've ended for him as soon as he got married.

You keep your head down as you enter the gardening shed, your coworkers chattering loudly. Suddenly, you remember about drying the baskets, so you quickly make your way into the corner pretending you came to grab more.

Stacking them slowly, you give yourself a minute to cry. Tears streaming down your face as you mourn your friend. It seems so sudden he was ripped from you without you even knowing.

You hear the door open but don't bother to look, not even when the loud chatter becomes murmurs.

You still work as you feel a presence behind you before a voice speaks, "I suppose whatever relationship you had with the Prince has come to an end."

It's Sahan. You recognize his chilling voice from anywhere. That must also explain why the other ladies have quieted. For there is no woman in the palace who feels comfortable with him.

You don't speak or acknowledge him as he only brings out a burning anger from within you.

"It's a shame the Princess doesn't want him around you. I must've let your friendship slip." He teases with a smirk you don't have to see to know is there.

So that's what happened. It's Sahan who told Princess Salin about your friendship with Hyunjin. That's why she visited you all in the fields the other day. That explains Hyunjin's behavior.

Sahan turns to leave a second later, perhaps not finding fun in your lack of reaction but you would never give him the satisfaction. You would never let him know that he's ruined you.

The next month has been miserable.

Not only is there a big harvest coming up that has you working from sunup to sundown, but you miss Hyunjin.

You loved Hyunjin. And although you were smart enough not to admit it to anyone it still doesn't stop the fact that you feel utterly heartbroken.

You've lost not only a love, but your only friend in the palace. At this point you feel as if you've had nothing left. Even your parents have got to retire from their years of hard work and loyalty, living in a house outside of the palace and in town. It may be small but it was their own.

One night you feel like you're sleepwalking as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters. The palace is dark as everyone who is inside sleeps, but you volunteered to be the one to cleaned and prepped the tools ready for the morning.

Walking past one of the building you freeze.

It could be your sleep deprivation, or the wind, but from within just for a second it sounded like a yelp.

You pause listening for more. Surely if there was something, the guards would be alerted by now.

There was not another yelp, but instead a large thud.

This, not something you could blame on being tired. You heard it loud and clear.

You look around, waiting for someone to come to check out the noises, but there are only crickets. Hesitantly you take a step towards the door. If no one else was coming you had to make sure everything was okay.

Slowly, you start to slide the door open, as if to warn whoever was on the other side of your entry. Once you slip in, you let your eyes adjust, only a single candle lighting the room from the corner.

Standing in the middle of the room, is Prince Salin, causing you to freeze. You're about to bow and apologize before you noticed the terrified look on her face. She's heaving, sweating from her brow.

Looking at her hands, you freeze noticing the blood.

A panic wells in you as you begin to think she is hurt.

She holds what looks like a piece of a vase. Your gaze continues to the floor. You quickly move your hands to your mouth before the sound of shock can leave you.

There lies his body.

A pool of blood spilling from his neck, looking black in the dark lighting. The remains of the broken vase scattered around him.

You make a quick decision, entering the room completely before shutting the door quietly behind you.

"He-He was trying to touch me! I just wanted him to stop!" Salin cries, far too loud for your liking.

You hush her, moving in front of her to throw your hand over her mouth. "It's okay." You comfort her, knowing in fact it was anything but with a dead body on the floor beneath you both.

Keeping your hand over her mouth as she cries, you look down at the mess. Your mind wheeling with what to do next. What you finally decide scares you at first, but you start to move before you can think too much.

"Listen to me," You whisper to her, waiting for her to meet your gaze. "You need to sneak back into your room okay? Don't let anyone see you. Wash your hands and burn the dress, do you understand?" She merely stares at you so you push your hand into her, "Do you understand?" You whisper harshly.

She finally nods, looking desperate. You remove your hand, "Only get the help of your most trusted lady. Don't speak a word of what happened, just have her wash you and burn the dress." You repeat hoping she gets it despite her shocked state.

You step away, taking the sharp glass from her hand before nodding at her, "Go." She doesn't move for a second, looking at you before you point to the door.

She doesn't spare you another glace as she leaves as quietly as you entered.

You stare at the door for a few moments before finally looking down at the body again.

Sahan.

Leaning down you let yourself check for a pulse, confirming he was dead. You return to your standing position, looking at him and not finding it in yourself to feel sorry for him at all. You contemplate, for even in death he continues to ruin your life.

And that's how they find you.

Hyunjin was always a romantic. Maybe that's why the second he found love he left you for dead.

You knew this would be the ending of your story as soon as you made the decision to take Salin's place.

Tied and kneeling in the courtyard of the palace, moments away from death.

Though your heart pounds with fear, you don't let yourself look away from Hyunjin, hoping to catch a glimpse at your old friend before you go.

But the reality is, he is no longer there.

For he was the one who suggested execution when they told him you had murdered his beloved Sahan. At the beginning you tried to plead, explaining how he was regularing harassing women around the palace. How you were merely defending yourself but it fell on deaf ears.

Sahan was right when he said he had more power than you, even now that he was gone.

You move your gaze from Hyunjin to Salin. You're welcome, you try to convey with your eyes. This could be you. You're lucky I'm the one who found you. All messages you want her to know, but you doubt she even cares at this point. Merely happy she got away with murder.

The guards ask if you have any last words.

You've been practicing for this. You clear your throat looking at Hyunjin in the eye. It didn't really matter what you said anyways, in moments you'd be dead.

You speak clearly, hoping to conceal any traces of fear from them.

"Hyunjin," You say loud enough to make sure he can hear, "It's ok if it hurts, because I love you."

A silence follows and though not even in your fantasies you imagined this is how you confess your love, you're just glad that you got to. Even if no reaction follows.

You keep Hyunjin's blank gaze until they throw the cloth bag over your head. Darkness consumes you, but you wish you could somehow see Hyunjin's reaction. To see if there is even a sliver of sadness or remorse as he see your life taken away from you.

Copyright © 2024 by nczennie. All rights reserved.

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

[sykeskassie]

Leave Me Your Stardust To Remember You By; Pt. 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: ANGST!! No comfort in this one, but implied comfort is on the way. A/N: Inspired by one of my all time favorite songs. Truly, I got hit with the idea on my way home from work yesterday and rolled with it.

Pt. 2 Pt.3

When I turn jet black and you show off your light/ I live to let you shine

You had known Chris almost as long as you had known yourself. Where you began and he ended, no one seemed to know. So many

had told you that when he left for Korea at the tender age of thirteen not to be surprised if the two of you grew apart. It was one of the reasons that he had hesitations about leaving. But you had seen the talent he had, and the drive he possessed. So you sent your best friend off with the promise you would look after his siblings like they were your own, and that you would be with him every step of the way. 

But you can skyrocket away from me/ And never come back if you find another galaxy

It would be years before you got to see him in person again. He was busy with training, and school, and everything in between. However, your love for each other never wavered. You spoke on the phone as often as you could both make time, battling the time zones and the day to day. You never went more than a day without emailing each other, and later on, texting. You made it a point to let him know he wasn’t forgotten, no matter how many miles separated you.

Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

You would sometimes wonder if you would outgrow each other, the way you had outgrown the hoodie he had gifted you when he left. “To make sure you don’t forget me,” he had said, as if that was even a possibility. He was the star in your sky, shining as brilliantly as his smile did. But you never did outgrow him, and he always made sure to send you a new hoodie every year, on the anniversary of his leaving. 

If you’ll be my boat, I’ll be your sea/ A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity 

As you grew, your love did too. It shifted, and morphed, until it took on an entirely new form. You were still best friends, seemingly the closest to ever exist; you thought that would never change. However, your love shifted from an endless blue to a swirling purple. Suddenly all the ‘I love you’s exchanged held a different weight. Without any warning, you were in love with Chris. When you told him after hours, days, weeks of contemplation, he had the audacity to tell you that he had known. “I didn’t think it needed saying, because it was just a fact. You’re in love with me, and I’m in love with you. Not even oceans could stop that from happening.” You no longer had to hold onto that childlike question of who your Prince Charming was; you had known him all along. 

Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze/ I live to make you free

It turned out that loving Chris in a different way was easy. What was not easy was realizing how much you ached to have him by your side again. You made the effort to see him as often as you could; you had piles of airline miles between the two of you. You had met all of the kids, something that thrilled you since you had been a sounding board when he was handpicking them. They had become such an instrumental part in your life. They would constantly text you, or call you when they got the chance. If Chris was ‘dad’, you were ‘mom’, despite the distance. When Chris would hole up in the studio and go hours without moving, they would call you to get him moving. When he would get too far into his head, it was you they texted to bring him back to them. No one knew him better than you did. 

But you can set sail to the west if you want to/ And past the horizon, ‘til I can’t even see you

As Stray Kids got bigger and bigger, the opportunities for visiting got smaller and smaller. Dates would be arranged, tickets would be booked, and then something would have to be moved around. Schedules would shift, tour dates would get added on, extra promotions would pop up seemingly out of nowhere. It had seemed like such a slow progression —you were used to having to adjust to his schedule, as you had been for years— that you both hadn’t realized how much time had passed until you didn’t get your yearly hoodie. It was tradition to call every year on the anniversary of his leaving, and you hadn’t missed one yet. You could explain away the missing hoodie (perhaps the postal service was running behind this year? Maybe the package had gotten lost?), but to have missed calls and radio silence? You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that. You opened up your text thread to see the stack of unanswered messages from you, scrolling to find the occasional text from Chris that seemed to always be an apology for not being available. With an ‘I love you’ sent off, you closed your phone and tried to pretend that a crack hadn’t formed in the foundation of your relationship. 

Far from here where the beaches are wide/ Just leave me your wake to remember you by

You never did mention the hoodie that had never got sent, and neither did Chris. You couldn’t say if he was avoiding it the way you were, or if he genuinely didn’t remember. Honestly, you weren’t sure which would hurt worse and you didn’t really want to find out. He eventually called you back, apologizing again for not being able to pick up when you had called…and called…and called. “We were working on the song for the new comeback, and you know how the kids get when we get really into it. I noticed you had called a few times, is everything okay?” You played it off like you just missed his voice. Something fundamental had changed between you two, and you weren’t really sure why you couldn’t address it. Maybe it was the fear that acknowledging it would make it real. He assured you that once the comeback came out and promotions were done, there would be more time for each other. He even told you that one of the songs he had written for you. Ironically, he said it was “to make sure you don’t forget me”, and you had to bite your tongue from saying that it wasn’t you who was likely to forget about him. 

When I turn jet black and you show off your light/ I live to let you shine

Eventually, you found out where you began and where Chris ended. It started the day you had gathered every hoodie he had ever given you. You held each one to you before folding it up, tucking the sorrow and emptiness you felt in each fold of the cloth. They had long stopped smelling like him, but if you tried hard enough you could still remember it. You started from the last you ever got, and ended with the one that seemed so small now. It was over a decade old at this point and you could hardly believe that either of you ever fit into it. As you set them all in a box, you grabbed your phone. You typed out a message in the group chat that had seen less and less of all of you in the last months, letting the kids know to take care of themselves, take care of their leader, and that you would be cheering them on always. Before anyone could respond, you left the group chat, blocked all their numbers, and set about finding a pen and paper. On top of the hoodie that signified the beginning and the end, you left a goodbye for the love of your life. 

But you can skyrocket away from me

And never come back if you find another galaxy

Far from here with more room to fly

Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

[luvknow]

after her | yang jeongin

summary: a lonely yang jeongin, fresh from a break-up, finds what it means to be happy again while living with his best friend in the big city. you fall victim to his signs of affections, struggling to define if he’s emptying what’s leftover from his relationship or if they’re truly meant for you. you’d live through the endless heartache if it meant he would smile again. characters: female reader x yang jeongin & stray kids ensemble. genre: romance, friends-to-lovers, hurt with comfort, happy ending. additional warnings: alcohol consumption, university party, some mature dialogue and situations, song lyrics. wc: 11.2k

Jeongin placed the last of his boxes in the living room of his new place you two shared. While you were away at work, he employed an off-duty Minho and Jisung with promises of pizza and beer as payment.

A low whistle escaped Jisung’s lips as his eyes scanned the condo. “Pretty decent for the price in the middle of the city.”

Jeongin wiped the sweat off his brows. “It helps that _____ is a functioning adult.”

“You’ll get there in a couple of months,” Minho patted his head. “Relax while you can before your job starts. The adult world is not kind.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Jisung shrugged. “Find a hobby. Adopt a pet. Read a book. Don’t worry about anything! What more can a bachelor want?”

“Go to the club, hop on a dating app,” Minho suggested before Jisung hit him.

The first box Jeongin opened was one he wasn’t supposed to. On top, it wasn’t labeled, but on the side in big bold letters was, ‘TRASH. BURN. DONATE. WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT OPEN!!!!!’ On the top layer of stuff was a framed picture of him and his ex-girlfriend under the cherry blossom trees, her eyes curled like sparkling moon crescents and him looking at her like she was his whole world. Beneath were various memorabilia from blind box trinkets to old sweaters of his that still smelled like her perfume. As his heart cracked a bit more, he flopped on the couch face-first, groaning muffled by your decorative pillows.

Minho hit Jisung back. “I told you not to bring that one in!”

“He took it from me before I knew what box it was!”

The two were left unloading the Rent-a-Truck alone as their youngest friend tried to not let too many tears ruin the fabric of the couch. They’d give him a pass this time, but the next warranted multiple rounds of drinks. Jeongin’s energy bled from his body and was absorbed into the cushions, gluing his cheek down until a permanent imprint of the weaved fabric formed on his skin. His eyes stared blankly at the door after his personal mover-bros left and until you walked in, home from a long day of work. A total of six hours where he didn’t move, barely breathing, hoping evolution would kick in and he’d be able to live his life photosynthesizing.

You smiled sympathetically at the damage before you; a pile of boxes, untouched take-out, and an unmoving boy with redness around his eyes that stared off into nothingness.

“Hey, bud,” you began awkwardly. “How’re ya doin’?”

You received a lazy groan in response. He turned over to face the back of the couch, unwilling to elaborate further.

Jeongin called you last Sunday at 2:13 AM. Your first feeling was irritated, as he had better be in some deep shit to be waking you up at this hour on a work night. What you got was worse. Way worse. In a fit of tired, breathless, chest-squeezing sobs and snot-filled sniffles, Jeongin confessed that his girlfriend of just over a year had broken up with him. It was a shitty time to do so, as he was in the middle of signing for a lease after she begged him to move to the city to be closer to her. Luckily, the leasing agency was sympathetic and he went forward with canceling the signing.

The conversation that led him here in your home occurred after he was able to breathe through his tears, wondering what he was supposed to do with his new job contract, and it went like this:

“You’re already mentally prepared to move to the city. Why not do it anyway?”

“What’s the point?” he had asked with a voice so tired of crying. “There’s no reason for me to be there anymore.”

“I’m here,” you replied, offended. “You get to hang out with the most important person in your entire life -”

“By default.”

“I’m going to give you a pass on that because you’re hurting, but you called me, remember?” you had scoffed. “The city will be good for you. Better food, better drinks, things to do, people to meet. Things to distract you, y’know?”

“I can’t do this alone.” There was a long pause before the sniffling and sobs filled the silence on the other end. “If I live alone, I might never leave my apartment.”

Without hesitation, you had said, “Come live with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Come live here with me! We’ll turn my office into your bedroom, and voila; casa de _____ and Jeongin.”

“I can’t do that to you. You worked so hard for that place to be your haven.”

“You are my haven,” you had emphasized. “Let me be yours, too.”

A short chuckle on his end. “Cornball.”

Progress was far from linear and the hardest point was ascending from zero. Jeongin was in the negatives. Probably because he had opened a box full of outdated signs of love he and Sieun had given each other the past year and two months. Your face wrinkled in disgust at the sight of her glowing face in a heart-shaped frame. And Jeongin had called you the cornball… Maybe you were a certified hater, but you had to get rid of this box of trash now.

When you bent to pick it up, he gripped your wrist and stopped you.

“Don’t,” he muffled into the pillows.

“Keeping this isn’t good for you.”

“Neither will throwing it away.”

“How about we compromise,” you sighed. “Let’s store it in my closet until you’re ready to toss it. Out of sight, out of mind.”

His answer was letting go of you and allowing you to touch the most tender parts of his heart to store away in your dark, cold, lifeless but stylish closet for it to wither away. You didn’t want any parts of her near your room at all, but you kept muttering, ‘This is for Jeongin. This is for him because you love him, for some reason,’ as a reminder.

You’d repeat that reminder maybe ten times a day for the past week for stupid shit like him not washing his dishes, not putting the toilet seat down, drinking all your specialty alcoholic beverages you liked to save for after-work woes, but what pushed you over the edge was the empty stash of your favorite snack.

“Ok, I’m done!” you yelled. After a long day of Teams meetings and smiling at sleazy men twice your age, all you wanted was a little treat! A little snack! But when you opened your pantry, you were left with an empty box. He couldn’t even throw the damn box away!

You opened the door to his room where he sat in his gaming chair, yelling at his bros on Discord. He paid no mind to the noise, since his gaudy headphones blocked everything and likely bruised his eardrums. So when he couldn’t hear you calling his name, you went up to the microphone.

“Sorry, boys, Jeongin has some chores to do!” You heard a muffle of ‘boos’ from Chan and Felix on the other end before unplugging his set-up.

“What the hell, _____! That was a ranked game!” he whined.

“You!” you seethed, grabbing the remnants of your snack bags before chucking the empty box at his face. “You gluttonous squirrel-faced stupid, stupid boy!”

“Ooh, yikes. I know that tone.”

“You couldn’t bother texting me that we were out?!”

“They’re just snacks, we can buy more.”

“We, who!? Who’s paying the mortgage here? Who’s the one with an actual job at the moment?!”

“I start next month, ok?! And you agreed to a prorated rent because of that!”

“Being jobless doesn’t give you the right to live in my home like a slob! There are responsibilities for adulthood! There are chores and rules for living under my roof!”

Jeongin had this stupid face he’d put on to get whatever he wanted. It worked with Sieun, and sadly worked for you, too. He wheeled himself over on his new four hundred dollar chair (“For ergonomics!” he had argued) and pulled you in between his legs. His arms wrapped around the back of your thighs and his chin rested on your stomach. The stupid, adorable, troublemaker face was up-turned brows, pouting lips, and eyes that twinkled from the lighting above.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It just… feels nice to be taken care of right now.”

Ugh. Maybe you were being too harsh. A week’s worth of annoyance was nothing compared to a week’s worth of trying to glue back pieces of his heart together when they kept falling apart. Or maybe that was the spell he put you under with his dreamy eyes talking. You couldn’t think straight with your constricting office wear on.

You kissed your teeth. Your hand grabbed a chunk of his curly brown mop of hair and pushed him off of you. “You stink. Shower and get ready; you’re buying me new snacks at the grocery store.”

“But I don’t need to go grocery shopping.”

“You have one pack of instant ramen left; yes, you do.”

–

One of your first memories with Jeongin was the day before you both started secondary school. The last day of summer was spent under the stars on a trampoline in his backyard with empty cans of cola scattered out on the grass. Your heads touched while bodies were oriented in the opposite direction, semi-Spiderman style.

You were the first to voice what you feared most. “Do you think things are going to change?”

He shook his head adamantly. “Never.”

“Nothing is ever non-zero.”

“Must you nerdify everything?”

“It’s not on purpose. I can’t help it.”

“Except you could.” Jeongin sighed, whether out of disappointment or enjoying the feeling of the cool night air, you had long forgotten. His black, too-short-for-a-bowl-cut pin-straight hair poked your ears whenever he turned and knocked his head against yours.

“Ow,” you whined. “What?”

He pointed to the sky. “See that?”

“Stars.”

“Do you recognize the constellation, smartass?” Astronomy wasn’t your strong suit. “Scorpio and Lupus.”

You shrugged. “Who do you think would win in a fight: ten scorpions or one wolf?”

“That’s not the point of my question,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But the correct answer is ten scorpions.”

“What’s the point, then? Of anything, really?”

He pointed to the sky again. “Things will change only when the stars do.”

“Apocalypse-style?”

“Exactly. When they do, it’ll be the end of the world.”

You giggled, tilting your head closer to his. “Cornball.”

“What is a cornball, anyways? Like, a chicken nugget made of corn?”

“Genetically-modified corn in the shape of a ball.”

At thirteen, you both thought these conversations made you comedic, thought-provoking geniuses. They were typical teenage nonsensical word-smithing that’d later evolve into witty adult assholery, but they were ones you’d cherish ‘til the end of time.

“Never change, _____ _____.”

“You, too, Yang Jeongin.”

Tonight, the night sky was as clear as the night before secondary school. It’s been a couple of weeks since Jeongin moved in and progress was there, but it was slow. Some days, he’d spend all day in bed under the covers and you’d have to force-feed him sustenance and flip him over to prevent bed sores. Some days he spent the entire day deep cleaning the tile grout with a toothbrush until his knees were purple. The worst nights were like tonight, where you’d come home to an empty bottle of some mystery brown liquor you didn’t remember purchasing and him passed out on the couch.

It was exhausting for this short amount of time. It was a rollercoaster of emotions and outbursts and constantly having to take his phone away from doing something stupid like calling or texting her. This wasn’t the Jeongin you were used to; you wanted the one who sang tunes and trot jingles, the one who burned mac ‘n cheese on accident, the one who’d wave to little kids when you were out together. The unmoving body was just a shell of him, and just as he struggled putting the pieces of himself back together, you struggled holding the ones he was able to find in place.

You lifted his head by his curls and plopped it back on your lap after taking a seat.

“Careful,” he groaned. “There’s precious real estate up here.”

You didn’t speak, distracting yourself by playing with his hair. His eyes were bloodshot and cheeks stained with drool and salty tears. Sniffles filled the silence.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, words a bit slurred. “I don’t like when you’re quiet.”

“Ask yourself that question,” you replied, mouth full of salt.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I care about you.”

“You’re mad because you care,” he nodded, understanding, or at least pretending to. “I care about you, too.”

Caring wasn’t enough. No amount of love and tenderness from you could replace the one Sieun gave him, and that was evident. How were you supposed to hold him together when she was his reason? You could only do so much, and your best was never enough.

He pointed to the ceiling. “Do you think Scorpio and Lupus are out tonight?”

“It’s cloudy.”

“Oh. Is it?” he sighed. “But they’re still there?”

“They’ll always be there.”

“Together?”

“Together. Forever, of course.”

“How do you know that?”

Was he asking with underlying intention or drunken oblivion? “I just do.”

Jeongin snorted. “Boooo.”

“Boo, you!”

“Ugh, stop moving!” His lips pursed as he rolled off of you. “Nope. I need to throw up.”

You followed him as he crawled into the bathroom, hunching over his toilet bowl. You held his hair back for a bit before realizing you could tie it back.

“It’s so long now,” you admired while tying back his front pieces.

“Sieun hated it,” the toilet echoed.

“I liked it. Very ‘bad boy’. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Yeah. She’s stupid, right?”

“So stupid.”

“Yeah! And so bossy!” He paused, gagging into the toilet. “Bossier than you! Can you believe that’s possible?!”

“I’m not bossy, I just know what I like when I like it and how I like it,” you patted his back a little too harshly this time, “nothing bossy about that.”

“And it’s a wonder why you’re single.”

A sharp pang pierced your chest. Your relationship status was a touchy subject. It’s not that you preferred to be single, but your job was mentally demanding and sometimes required long hours past sunset. It wouldn’t be fair to your partner when your life was devoted to your career and climbing the corporate ladder. Dates were few, and not too far in between, but none of the prospects were worth the trouble when half of them expected you to pay the whole bill when they found out your occupation.

You loved love. It was beautiful, it was kind, it meant always feeling whole. Of course you wanted to be in love. Of course you wanted to touch, to kiss, to always be intertwined with someone. Life was young, and there was time, but the shroud of loneliness grew longer and larger as the days passed. Suffice to say, your single status hit a nerve.

You patted his back hard enough for him to gag one last time. “Good luck not puking your guts out.”

“No, wait -” but you had already shut the door.

It was the kind of topic that elicited a long, hot, reflective shower until the water ran cold. Were you one of those working women who were doomed by capitalism to serve as a corporate slave until you could withdraw from your 401k at fifty nine and a half? To live a mediocre life and settle down with a five-rated coworker for the sake of reproduction and contributing to lowering the birthrate? To settle for the mundane and predictable? That wasn’t the _____ you knew. At the peak of your young life, when did owning your first place meant that it was the beginning of the end?

When you walked out of the steam cloud, Jeongin was buried beneath your duvet, staring at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the tired, but still awake city. When he first moved in, he mentioned how jealous he was of your nice bedsheets, and you wondered, in that moment, how many times had he napped in your bed without you knowing. Annoyed, but willing, you crawled in behind him, too tired to argue.

He wiggled back, making sure your bodies touched, though he wanted to keep looking out. “Being single isn’t bad… right?”

Was it bad? No. “I like my alone time.”

“But isn’t it lonely?”

It’s never ending. “Only a little.”

“Even when I’m here?”

Especially now, more than ever. “Just a little.”

“What’s your metric of ‘little’?”

Astronomical. “Like a pinch of salt.”

His breathing slowed, body ready to shut down for the night and hopefully awaken before noon. He wrapped your arms around him, begging for a hug, a bit of human connection, something to satiate the pain of wanting to feel whole with someone again. When you gave in, he melted into your touch. This feeling was familiar, but it wasn’t the same. You would never be her.

Just when you thought he fell asleep, you felt his chest jitter, suppressing a mouthful of sobs.

“I hate this,” he said, voice cracking, hands gripping your blankets while you played the big spoon.

You could only nod into the crevice between his wingspan. “I know.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Sometimes, there’s a reason; sometimes, there isn’t.”

“Then, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” you confirmed and squeezed him tighter. “People fall out of love all the time.”

“Isn’t that fucking terrifying?” he sobbed. “One day, you’re flying, high on life with someone you thought could make forever feel like a day. Next, they tell you they don’t love you anymore.”

“Love is complicated.”

“But it isn’t! When you know, you know. It just isn’t as complicated as many people make it seem. So, what? She knew she didn’t love me anymore? That’s it?”

Complicated isn’t only when someone who once lit up your life now felt like their own fire within fizzled in the darkness. It wasn’t waking up one morning and deciding that they stopped loving you. Complexity was built with intention and time, overthinking and self-reflection. It’s as complicated as math; despite the many ways you could achieve an answer, there was only one answer. Sieun wasn’t a bad person; in fact, you liked her for the time they dated. You figured despite all her might and the many times she tried, she couldn’t force herself to love him anymore. It’s not like she woke up one morning and thought, ‘I don’t love him anymore.’ It’s never just, ‘that’s it,’ as Jeongin claimed its simplicity.

Complicated is spending every moment of free time with someone who knew the deepest parts of you without letting the romantic feelings slip through the cracks. It was intending to confess and ruin a decade’s worth of bonds, all for it to stay hidden with your many secrets when he admitted to finally asking out the cute girl he met through a mutual friend of Jisung. It was saying, ‘I love you,’ to end a phone call while suppressing the ache in your chest as he’d say it to someone else the same evening.

To Jeongin, it was just that. Love. How could one make it so difficult? But to you, there were layers, and someone had to peel them back before you revealed the true nature of your heart. Because after this, after Jeongin was healed and you were left with no one to hold you together the way you had for him, you’d have grown an infinite number of layers to protect yourself. Your future partner would have a lot of work to do.

“Love is an organism. Organisms are complex. It comes in different forms and has different functions. When I say, ‘I love you,’ you think I mean, ‘I care for you,’ right?”

Jeongin didn’t answer. Verbally, at least. His leveled breathing and rhythmic chest rises told you he was fast asleep in a drunken stupor while you had contemplated your answer.

“Yes,” you sighed, snuggling closer, “you do.”

–

Most psychologists would agree that the stages of grief had an order to them. Jeongin, PhD in grief, would say otherwise. In the span of a single day, he’d go between as many as three of the stages. Lately, it was a cocktail of denial, depression, and anger. Today, there was only anger. The drawers would be shut a little too loudly, he’d chew his food a little too aggressively, and his volume and colorful language on Discord closely resembled a sailor.

“Where’s the damn support?!” he screamed into the mic.

“You said you’d be in Zone A!” you heard Jisung yell through his headset.

Jeongin didn’t bother with a response and hung up the call. After whipping his headset on his bed with the strength of a baseball pitcher, he ran a hand through his tangled mop and swore under his breath.

You leaned on his door frame. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up,” he whined.

“You know what would make you feel better?” You drew a rectangle with your pointer fingers, then wiggled the rest in a wave of flames. Then, boom! Big boom!

“No.”

“Jeongin -”

“You said I could wait until I was ready.”

“I think you need to be ready now.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore about that stupid box in your stupid closet with all the stupid fucking shit in it!”

If there was one act you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone, even with a bond thicker than blood, it was raising their voice. You had barely lifted your hand to point an accusing finger at him the same way his mom would, when he shut his eyes and realized his grave mistake. He knew he fucked up when your eyebrows were raised in that, ‘what did you just say to me?’ manner. He was also regretting how much time you spent with his mom.

“... Maybe we should take the box out,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no shit. Grab the hammers.”

Two adult-sized adult-aged children in hoodies carrying a mysteriously heavy box and a couple of hammers at a public park past sunset was not one would describe as inconspicuous. Jeongin was far from ready to address the box, you realized, when you were forced to carry it all the way and he refused to look at it. Even when you prepared the garbage bag and shuffled through the contents, he avoided any sight of strawberry blond hair and scents of neroli and jasmine. Semi-slicked with sweat, you took the box to the top of the jungle gym and dragged the big baby up to meet it.

“You left the trash bag down there,” he noted.

You nodded. “Grab that picture frame.” The first one was the red one shaped like a heart. You tilted your chin overboard. “Slam it.”

“Like, on the ground?”

“Yup.”

“That’s not very nice... Why can’t we just throw it?”

“Because I can’t be sure you won’t dig through the dumpster and drag filth across my floors.”

“Who do you think I am?!”

“Break it with all your might!”  you demanded, pretending to be angry and Hulk-smashing on the stable platform. “Rah! Into the trash bag, though, please.”

“She gave this to me on our two-month-iversary. She said it was a symbol of her heart,” he reflected, gentle fingers wiping the dust that collected.

“And what did she do to yours?”

“Break it.”

“She stomped on it.”

“Yeah…”

“Crushed it!”

“Yeah…!”

“Stabbed it with a blunt butter knife!”

“Yeah!”

“And did it hurt?!”

“Like a bitch!”

“Rue the day!!”

“Rue the roux!!”

Someone’s hungry. “Yeah, sure!”

With a guttural scream passionate enough to elicit goosebumps, Jeongin chucked the heart frame into the trash bag that splayed on the cement. The plexiglass shattered into big chunks and the frame split in two, shards of wood scattering about. It was a picturesque and artistic display of anger and heartbreak, but you’d never admit how you admired the symbolism to Jeongin’s face.

“That felt good,” he panted.

“Yeah? Do this one,” you said, handing him a mug.

“We painted mugs to give to each other at one of those stores in the mall. She said I didn’t have enough pink things in my life, so pink would be her color for me.”

“Fuck the color pink!”

“I mean, I still like the color -”

“Innie, I’m giving free therapy right now and I need you to work with me,” you hurried him alone by rolling your arms.

“Ok, ok! Jeez. But even you look good in pink -”

“Jeongin!”

“Pink sucks…!” he admitted hesitantly before chucking it into the pile. A satisfying shatter of ceramic echoed into the cloudless night.

“Ooh, heartbreak ASMR,” you sang.

Jeongin pulled a pink lop bunny Sonny Angel, those naked baby blind box toys that will put you in crushing debt one day, from the pile of infinite junk. He twirled it in his hands carelessly. “Don’t you like these, too?”

It was a rarer, sought-out-by-collectors type. You and many others had fingers twitching over the overpriced pay button on the resale apps everyday. “No…” your voice cracked.

“How am I supposed to break this?”

“Pop its head off.”

“What?”

You pointed shakily to its cute, pink ears as it smiled innocently. Your hands pretended to yank apart the head from its body. “Decapitate it.”

Jeongin jumped at the low-effort strength it took, which masked your pained groan. There goes a hundred dollars. Then, he plucked away its appendages. You couldn’t bear to look when he tossed the innocent body parts. May you wish no ill will on any collector to ever witness such a murder.

The rest of the box was junk to a stranger, treasure to Jeongin. Things like concert tickets, an empty wine bottle, dried flowers, cologne, sweaters, and jewelry joined the garbage. The last piece was the final boss; a shadow box summary of everything they’d done in the past year. A collection of restaurant receipts, themed matches, movie tickets, polaroid pictures, and loving post-it notes of cheesy poems and ‘I miss yous’ were stabbed into the felt and protected by a thick cover of glass.

“I can’t,” Jeongin sighed, sharp eyes scanning through the memories. He shook his head. “I just can’t.”

“You know the ‘break for emergencies only’ thingies for the fire extinguishers?” you asked and pointed to the pink box. “This is an emergency.”

“She put so much time into this. Almost everything we’ve ever done is preserved… Just for her to throw it all away two months later.”

When he offered this perspective, perhaps your speech on love not being complicated was more introspective than universally accepted. Two months to know you stopped loving someone was not a long enough time. It took much longer than that to no longer be on the same page, or in the same stage of life, or, for fuck’s sake, fall for an affair partner, right? No matter what the answer was, it made you upset.

You could only offer an affectionate rub on his arm. “Do you want to save this for next time?”

Jeongin took an eternity to answer, as if he read every line of every receipt and every ticket or memorized the way she dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s. Then, he pulled you to him in a side-hug.

“There won’t be a next time.”

The frame of the shadow box split by the seams and only cracked the glass. The felt board was kept intact, of course, save for a few loose polaroids. He wrapped his second arm around you in a full hug, resting his cheek atop your head as your bodies swayed with the wind, needing the comfort of his best friend to protect him in this very vulnerable moment.

“You ok?” you muffled into his chest. He smelled of vetiver.

“No,” he admitted confidently, “I hope I will be one day.”

“You will! You will.”

You two remained on the top of the jungle gym overlooking the twinkling skyline in each other’s arms. His fingers traced little shapes across your shoulder blades, some recognizable like stars and moons, others a choreography of squiggles. Your arms rested holding his lower back. In the quiet night, miraculously not in fear of being arrested, you could have fallen asleep right there.

Tonight, you witnessed no tears or any evidence of them. No pink cheeks, or stuffy nose, or bloodshot eyes. Progress was here for now, and though it was too early to celebrate, you’d both bask in the little victories.

“I’m so proud of you,” you encouraged.

“Really?” he hummed.

“Of course! Always.”

His throat bobbed, swallowing down emotions that threatened to escape. “It still hurts so much.”

“I know,” you agreed empathetically.

“But the destruction helped.”

“See?” you boasted. “Who’s always right?”

“_____’s always right,” he squeezed, “always right and always kind.”

“And always here for you.” No matter how painful it’d be.

The night ended with slow dancing under the stars. Hand-in-hand and the other his shoulder, you led the steps to the beat of his songs.

–

Jeongin found no comfort that was better than your bed. The second you left for work, just as the sun rose and tinted the condo in blood orange, he’d sneak in and crawl under your duvet. When the softness of linen and the weight of the feather down knocked him out hard and for the first time in a month, he was able to fall into a deep sleep and would make this his routine until work started. His body had never felt so refreshed, even before the break-up. It smelled like you; like cherries, cream, and tonka bean. A scent cocktail that was so warm and sexy it was like he was put under a spell.

When you were kids, your room wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered after falling into the feminine urge to gather all things shiny and trinkety. Now, he noted, adulthood hadn’t knocked that part of your brain out while still developing your frontal lobe. You didn’t have as many rocks lying around anymore, but your decoration consisted of naked baby toys and other colorful vinyl blind boxes, music albums, movie posters, and pictures of your loved ones.

Jeongin had looked through every picture in your room about a thousand times already, but only had now noticed that he was in almost every single one. Some were just with you and your parents, but even many of those had him in it. He liked the ones in your younger years; going through the gross and oily phases of puberty, matching ice cream-stained camp t-shirts, teenage-year birthdays, and his favorite was the one from prom night. You wore the sparkliest, glitter-sheddinng, not-the-most-flattering silhouette of a gown that many other girls matched in different colors. But he was just as ridiculous; too small in his poorly-tailored suit, sleeves folded, loose matching tie, and a crooked boutonniere. You both refused to do the prom pose because, ew, touching. So, you dabbed instead. Double ick.

If there was a picture with Jisung, he was in it. Minho? With Jeongin. Your girlfriends? Jeongin photobombed it somehow. He may have ruined some of the compositions, but he was your Jeongin, how were you supposed to throw them away?

Jeongin’s parents once asked if he would consider marrying his best friend. Knowing them, they were serious. At the premature age of twenty, he had gagged at the idea of marriage. Not to you specifically, but tied down? Early into his prime years of bachelorhood? No, thanks.

Then, he met Sieun, and thought maybe marriage was meant for him after all. Forever with the one person you loved so dearly, what could be bad about that? But forever meant really forever, not just a few years, or a few decades, it meant ‘til death do you part and into the afterlife, if that was even real. Maybe that’s what scared her. The thought of Jeongin being her soulmate crushed her world; the thought of her not being his soulmate crushed his. So, now he was back to square one, and he’d rather rot in your bed than make any progress.

Snuggled deep in between your plushies and pillows, he held above him a picture of you on your birthday. You were sitting next to him in front of your cake and had buttercream smudged on your nose while he was bent backwards in an evil cackle. He replayed the memory in his mind. You weren’t mad, but you wanted revenge, and shortly after had also smeared some under his nose in a stylish mustache.

In bed, he couldn’t help but snicker. In between sessions of handheld video games, he’d shuffle through more pictures until time passed by too quickly and the day was spent.

“Jesus -” you gasped, clutching your chest as you entered your room. “Yeah, sure, come in.”

“Thanks,” he sang half-heartedly.

“Have you been doing this every day?” He responded by shrugging. “He’s in pain, he’s hurting, and you love him…”

“I don’t like this picture of me.” Jeongin held up a recent one at a dinner party Hyunjin hosted for his condo-warming. His face was unprepared for the picture and his eyes were closed and mouth open. “I’m not even looking at the camera.”

“Yeah, but I look good,” you boasted.

He tossed it to the side of the bed in a pile of likeness dubbed, ‘throw these ones away’. “I like this one in front of the art museum, though.”

“I do, too.”

You hopped next to him on top of the covers, shuffling through the different piles he made. It was clear which ones he liked, disliked, and didn’t care for. “You don’t like this picture of me and Changbin on our graduation day?”

“Am I in it?”

“No?”

“Then, no.”

“You like this one, though?”

It was a solo picture of you on the same day. He found it hidden in a box of other pictures that were either blurry or of you alone at special events or academic and career achievements. You wore your gown and held your cap that was decorated with plastic jewels that spelled, ‘So Done with this B.S.’, high above your head with the brightest smile on your face. Around your neck was a necklace that he got you for your graduation gift: a petite padlock on a simple chain from one of those boutique brands all the girls liked.

This was one of the most important days of your life. You were happy, sunny, and beautiful. Of course he liked this one.

“Meh,” he shrugged. “I guess you look all right in that one.”

You spent the night in bed recalling stories and social media posts of times past with oily take-out from the corner restaurant downstairs. The quiet weeknight was livened by your giggles and ugly snorts and Jeongin couldn’t remember the last time you two did something like this. It lasted until it was too late to care to kick him out of your bed and you both fell asleep covered in film and prints.

If forever meant forever with you, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

–

Clubbing was a past time that Jeongin probably shouldn’t partake in due to his borderline alcoholism, but when it was for Jisung and Felix’s wombo-combo birthday bash (their words, if you’d even call them such), no one was safe from the heavy pour of Hennessey or bottom-shelf tequila down one’s throat. The weather was still appropriately warm to show off skin, and both you and your roommate took advantage of that, claiming that it was still hot-girl summer and this would be the best time to show off how perfectly fine everything was.

Jeongin rested his chin on your bare shoulder as you stared into the mirror. He had shown his affection more in a physical form after the destruction of his romantic paraphernalia. You should probably set some boundaries… Next time, maybe.

“You might as well go topless,” he teased, poking at your skin-tight top.

His touch tickled and your body stupidly reacted to it more sensitively than any other man who once touched you. “I’m sure you’d like that.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, only nuzzled his curls deeper into the crook of your neck. He styled it in the half-ponytail way you both came to love and work all black, sparkles of silver and pearls adorning his neck. Just as you had barely-there clothing, as did him, exposing hard-earned results of his efforts in the gym. His daytime clothes of soft linens and cottons dyed in innocent shades of blues and oranges matched his aura more than this edgy alter-ego that came out in the presence of alcohol. Soft Jeongin would be in a deep sleep tonight.

“Pearls?” you scoffed. “You slut.”

“Too much?”

“No, but you’re certainly sending the, ‘I’m single and very much looking,’ signal.”

“Perfect!” he shrugged. “When was the last time you went to a pregame, anyways?”

“When did you turn twenty-one?”

“Ok, grandma.”

You threw your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry I am a working woman.”

Skin touched more skin when his arm hooked your neck and dragged you to the door. The closer the taxi approached the condo, Jeongin’s hands more frequently wiped on his pants.

“Do you think she’ll be there?” he asked, sensing your concern.

“I don’t know,” you lied.

A couple weekends before this, you had personally asked the two celebrants to not invite her to the pregame. If they felt so inclined to invite her to the club for the sake of keeping the peace, at least then Jeongin wouldn’t have to be in close proximity and you could drag him away. Jisung was the one who tried to protest, but after begging and bribing them five rounds of drinks on the night-of, he caved in, though claiming he was going to not invite her anyways. He just wanted to see how far you’d go for your ‘beloved “friend.”’

“I need a drink,” he groaned.

“Look at me.” When he wouldn’t, you had to force him by grabbing his bare shoulders. They were much bigger than you remembered. “Say it with me; I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine.”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine?”

“I need more gumption, babe. Give me some umph!”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine.”

“More!”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine!”

“Yeah!”

“Smart, sexy, fine!”

“Yeaaahh!”

“Let’s drink!”

After tipping the taxi for suffering through your pregame to the pregame, you and Jeongin did more breathing exercises outside their condo to the tune of the hip-hop music inside. All charged up, he opened the door and you stood in awe just how many friends two boys had post-university. The floors were already sticky with juice and liquor, and there was barely room to get to the crowd of people you actually knew. Luckily, Jeongin was tall, and he grabbed your hand to lead you in. This, for some reason, felt more intimate than slow dancing at the park, and that’s when you knew you were embarrassingly touch-starved.

Jisung squeezed himself in between and slung his arms across the shoulders of his close friends. “Long time no see, sugar mama!”

“Hello to you, too, mooch,” you smirked. “Happy birthday, I guess.”

He landed a big wet one on your cheek. “Thanks, babe!”

“Ugh, ew. Where’s the other child?”

“_____! Jeongie!” the deep voice of an Australian boy slurred. He handed you two plastic neon shot cups of brown liquid and no chaser. “Shot o’ Henny! House rules.”

“You disgusting, gross, icky boys…” you groaned.

“C’mere,” Jeongin urged. He twisted his arm around yours so they’d cross, causing your faces to inch closer. His dimples poked his cheeks. “Bottoms up!”

That was the motto of the pregame. One after the other after the other after losing games in humiliating succession made your vision double and made walking feel like you were on a ship. Chan had to catch you not once, but twice, from tripping or bumping into someone. It was as simple as one hand on your waist and pulling you into his chest, to which you so shamelessly placed your hand on when he hugged you close.

“We keep running into each other,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip.

“Must be fate,” you flirted back.

For the second time, Jeongin had to pry you away from the hottest man in the room. Annoyed, you followed anyway, because tonight you were supposed to distract your best friend from falling into a hole filled with existential crisis, not trying to sleep with someone he considered his brother. Still, you shot Chan a hand sign to your ear. ‘Call me!’ you pouted.

“Why would you cockblock me like that?” you whined.

Jeongin didn’t answer right away. He cleared his throat. “It’s time for the club, silly.”

You two shared a sedan with the birthday boys and Minho. One person above the normal limit, but the driver didn’t care and would rather hurry to do the drop-off.

Jisung patted his lap. “Got your seat, sugar mama.”

“No,” you and Jeongin said in simultaneous deadpan.

“Felix, move up,” Jeongin demanded. He man-spread as much as Jisung and Minho allowed, making a small seat in between his legs.

You’d be the first to admit that sometimes you and Jeongin were a little too close to be considered friends; even strangers had mistaken you for a couple once in a while. But you’ve never been close to him like this before. Your hesitation was long enough that Jisung had to yank you into the car. You did your very best to settle in, moving your ass as little as possible, struggling with how you could make this any less awkward and cover the least amount of surface area.

Jisung wrapped Jeongin’s arm tight around your waist and slapped his triceps. “All buckled in!”

As Jisung and Minho yapped each other’s ears off, you and Jeongin remained silent. If you turned to talk to him, your ass would graze his pants, and that was weird, right? Yeah, weird, and it seemed he had a similar thought. The exception was tapping his fingers on your waist to the beat of the radio. His breath tickled the skin on your neck, and your body betrayed you by heating up your face. Touch-starved was an understatement. No, horny was not the right answer; you’d refute it.

You couldn’t have crawled out of the sedan faster. The other boys rushed in to line up at the bar (“Don’t forget what you owe us!” Jisung whispered (yelled)). Behind you, Jeongin scanned the crowd. You followed suit and couldn’t find a beautiful short girl with strawberry blond hair. Ok, this was a good sign. Maybe she wouldn’t come! He let out a breath of relief; or was it disappointment? Regardless, he joined you on the dance floor and weaved between people, dancing against the oontz-oontz.

In this moment, while your veins were half-filled with alcohol and both of your closest friends closed in with over-filled cups, you watched Jeongin forget his woes and sing to the sad up-beat electronic music. A circle would open up in the middle at the peak of the song; Changbin would break dance; Minho and Jisung would body roll; Felix did the worm; and Jeongin would force you into a connected chain reaction of shoulder and arm waves. In these moments, he smiled. Grinned, even; dimples as deep as they could be and eyes twinkling under the neon lights from the DJ.

When the boys dispersed for another drink after a couple of hours of burning calories, you two were left alone again. In those hours, you couldn’t count how many times you made eye contact. After locking eyes again, feeling the highs of euphoria and the lows of heartbreak, he looked like he was going to say something. Then, he broke it, and his face dropped. You didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but like a moth to a flame, you were attracted to the pain.

She greeted Jisung and Felix at the bar on the opposite side of the club. It was too easy to spot her in the dark with her bright hair. She introduced the boys to someone next to her, touching his arm and leaning against him affectionately, making it as clear as the vodka shot in her hand that’s who she was with and he was hers.

How quickly the human heart beats for a lover, just for it to dance to the same rhythm for another.

Jeongin seemed apathetic. Not angry, not sad, and maybe unable to distinguish between if this was the ache of betrayal or the nostalgia of closing a chapter that begged to end.

Speaking of nostalgia, an old EDM song that premiered in your early years of middle school began, the familiar notes from a piano causing the whole club to scream.

You reached out to your soulmate. “You love this song.”

He smiled, eyes tired and filled with sadness, though without the reflection of a pool of stars. “I do love this song.”

You led him to the front where the DJ played Clarity. Lost in the crowd packed like sardines with strangers, you and Jeongin were free to sing out the shadows that slept in your hearts.

“Hot dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life,” you sang at a horribly off-tune. “C’mon, I know you know it!”

“If I fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time,” he sang in perfect key.

“Louder! Hold still right before we crash ‘cause we both know how this ends!”

“A clock ticks ‘til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again.”

You forced your heart to sing its song and it retaliated in waves of tragedy. As your lips stretched to retain the smile, you screamed with the crowd, “‘Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need!”

And he joined in, matching your volume, matching your energy. “Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don’t know why!”

In unison, you threw your heads back, crying into the air at the peak of the song. Like shadows, the crowd mimicked each other with hands curled into fists and hearts raised to the sky. “If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?”

“Let’s go!” you cheered.

The beat picked up and the crowd jumped to the chorus. The bass of the song reached your heart and pumped blood through your veins, tired from fighting with rationality. You would take these short five minutes to let go, let your heart confess to the boy in front of you in the form of a 2013 poetic masterpiece. Despite the meaning, the beat was too sick and you couldn’t help but grin from the fun. Jeongin wasn’t one to hide emotions for the sake of saving face, but it was like he forgot why he was screaming as he headbanged his way through the wordless chorus. You both burst into a fit of giggles, blinded by the lasers that cut through the smoke machine.

As the song progressed, the more your bodies pressed together. Side by side, mixing sweat with sweat, you both screamed at the DJ the second verse and would turn to each other again for the iconic bridge. His dimples carved into his perfect skin and this would be a core memory you’d lock away forever despite the molotov cocktail of despair that ignited in your gut.

The line you screamed to your best friend was the one that branded itself into your whole being. It was the one line he refused to sing.

“You are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need!”

He didn’t continue the pattern of bouncing off lines from each other. He stopped jumping, brows furrowed in a way that concerned you more than it concerned him.

“What?” you paused.

Jeongin closed the gap between your bodies. Surrounded by violent waves of people, you blocked them out within the bubble, unable to hear the song anymore. His hands cupped your cheeks. Your mind registered a second too late that he was wiping something with his thumbs. It felt wet and warm, freshly flowing on your numb face.

His hands left your face and found your arms. You watched as he wrapped them around his neck and his dropped to your waist. The strength of his grip was desperate and longing, filling an emptiness that physically you could replace, but lovingly couldn’t replicate. You begged your body to step away, to run out and find Chan or anyone else; to go home even, but tonight your heart controlled your mind and overwrote the command. This was what you wanted, what you needed, what you dreamed of since secondary school. To be in the arms of the one you loved fulfilled the one level on the hierarchy of needs, but was a threat to the one below it. Your body was struggling to respond to its fight-or-flight, understanding that you had long crossed the thin line between friend and lover long ago with a size thirteen shoe, but it had betrayed you and glued your heels to the sticky dance floor.

Why was Clarity the longest fucking song in the world?

The smell of his pink peppercorn and cedar hit your senses and brought you back to life. You felt his forehead against yours, nose touching nose, his breath tickling your lips, and saw his eyes float between them and your now dry eyes.

“Why?” was all you could muster against his lips.

He answered by swallowing your words. You never understood the comparison of the softness of rose petals until you felt his. You kissed him shyly, waiting for him to pull away in a shocking realization of regret and prepared for the aftermath. But when you wouldn’t respond how he wanted, he pressed harder, moving his lips hungrily and mouth open and welcoming to receive. Your tongues danced and tasted the bitterness of tonight’s drinks, old lovers, and repressed confusion. But it felt good; so, so good. To be the one he wanted for once, whether it was real or for convenience, was an opportunity you pathetically couldn’t pass.

And your heart, how it soared! With wings made of wax, you were high above the clouds, tangling yourself with him and exchanging euphoric hums. But your dreams were sculpted by Daedalus and delusion was the sun, and though you wished to remain here forever, your wings began to melt and reality wouldn’t be kind enough to soften the fall.

When you broke for air in the middle of the next song, you felt pressure rise in your nose and eyes as a million tears collected. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted; or rather, you weren’t what he wanted. He wanted the same memory, the same cry of song, the same touch, the same kiss, the same taste of breath; just not yours. He wanted hers. You knew in the deepest corner of your heart that he imagined holding her instead and that her breath was the one he’d breath in. In the ideal scenario, you’d be out by the perimeter watching your best friend win back the woman of his dreams and he’d hold her so tightly, afraid that she would drown in the crowd. You were meant to be his biggest fan, not his greatest love.

“Why?” you cried again.

He shook his head. “I just thought -”

“This isn’t right.” But you wished it was.

Outside, the busy streets in the middle of the night were deafened by the bass and proximity to the DJ. It was a miracle you heard the honk of a nearby taxi that’d take you home.

No, you wouldn’t confess to your best friend in a club downtown. No, you wouldn’t confess any other time regardless of circumstance. This was a secret the recipient of an unrequited love was supposed to bury with them to their grave because it was the deepest sin committed between two best friends. As long as you didn’t confess, the bond wasn’t severed and the damage could be repaired. That’s how it was supposed to work, anyways.

For the night, you’d lock yourself in your room. You’d close off any and all avenues in order to protect and repair the critical condition of your heart. So much of it had been chipped away and given in pieces to fill the gaps that Jeongin was missing, but now he was confusing kindness for love and familiarity with feeling whole. How would you get back the pieces of yourself you so willingly gave up? Would your heart know to create those pieces into something new, or would it reject anything that came in its place that wasn’t from him?

You arrived home and washed away the sins until your skin burned from all the scrubbings. The sky was cloudy tonight as you looked outward into the lively streets of young adults who could party until the sun snuck above the horizon. The stars wouldn’t show themselves tonight.

Would Scorpio and Lupus be there tomorrow?

–

When your door handle wouldn’t give, Jeongin gave up and retreated to his room some time after 3:00 AM. He laid in bed and hated the feeling of his bed sheets. They weren’t as soft and they didn’t envelope him in a blanket of clouds as yours did. Though the ceiling color was the same as yours, in a sense, it still wasn’t the same, as he was in his own room and not where he belonged.

You had burned into his soul. The way your lips felt, the way your tongue swirled, the way your hands pulled him in, was the answer of how much you yearned for him. He was no stranger to signs of affection. No friend would do all of this with their heart in platonic mode. You didn’t look at him the way Felix or Chan or the others did. You, with your softened eyes and gentle touch, had him in your heart, for the Gods only know how long.

Jisung was the one to kick him out of the club and kick what little sense was left in him. “Go after her, you idiot!”

His lips were tingly. The feeling of your hands through his hair, fingers gentle and tracing the map to your heart, was carved into his scalp. His tongue swiped across his lips, lonely and aching to have another taste.

You infected him. You forced poison down his throat that made him unable to sleep, torturing him with a recording of your body pressed on his. He blamed you for how it planted itself and festered into something more salacious; a similar scenario, with tangled limbs and messy hair, but in the privacy of your bedroom and much less clothing.

In the days that followed, you pretended that night never happened, but something changed. Your responses were shorter, your cheeks were pinker, you couldn’t hold eye contact without faltering to his lips, you wore baggier clothes, and couldn’t even spend more than fifteen minutes in the same room without having to leave to ‘get water’ or ‘go to the bathroom’.

Why, for the love of all the Gods, hadn’t you confessed yet? Isn’t that the rational next step?

“Why would she?” Minho snorted while kicking his feet up on your coffee table. Jeongin would wipe that down later.

“Why wouldn’t she?” he repeated.

“You understand you live here, too, right?”

“So…”

“So… isn’t that weird? What are you going to say? ‘Cool, I’m still not over Sieun though, sowwy. Can I still live here, though’?”

“But I am!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear. Seeing her with that guy… sure, it sucked ass, but I don’t know. No one ever likes to see their ex with someone else.”

“No one likes taking care of someone they love who loves someone else, either.”

Jeongin pulled the string on his hoodie and hid inside. “I just feel like a confession would get rid of all this tension -”

“Sexual tension.”

“Regular tension.”

“And change the trajectory of your friendship and lives forever, so much so that the stars would misalign and chaos would ensue. Just as the prophecy foretold,” Minho rolled his eyes. “You know what, Jeongin, you’re right - _____ should confess her undying love to her best friend of over a decade who just broke up with the first love of his life after they made out on the dance floor to fucking Clarity, of all the damn EDM songs in the world, and then all would be normal, right? Nothing good has ever come out of tongue dueling to an EDM song.”

“I don’t need your sass…”

“Yes, you do, because you’re acting like an idiot. I don’t care what Jisung says, he’s too much of a loverboy. Think rationally, here; she’s not going to confess to someone who she knows doesn’t feel the same way. It’s that simple.”

Love was an infectious disease and Jeongin didn’t have the proper antibodies to defend himself against your poison. His heart, his mind, and his body were firing alert signals to each other whenever he saw you. His body would block them when you came home in your work-out clothes; his mind couldn’t focus whenever you spoke to him; and his heart wrenched when your smile didn’t match your eyes.

“Earth to Jeongin!” you snapped, waving in front of his face.

“Hm?” he asked, pretending your chest wasn’t in his face. His mind did a double-take when it registered your outfit.

“I said I’m going out for the night. So, you know, don’t light my home on fire.”

“Out where?”

Your back stiffened. “On a date.”

–

When Minho hit you up during your lunch break on a Friday afternoon, you were half expecting him to ask when the meeting was with the developers. The other half was not expecting a proposition.

“I don’t date co-workers,” you deadpanned.

“Not me, genius,” he scoffed. “A friend.”

“I’m not interested in Jisung.”

“How we got promoted at the same time is beyond me. I have other friends!”

“Do they look like Chan?”

“Sadly, no. They don’t look like Jeongin, either.”

Since the clubbing-turned-friendship-destroying wombo-combo, Minho made it his mission to terrorize you about it every working hour, either in person or over Teams with kissing, tongues, and eggplant emojis. Each time, you couldn’t suppress the burning on your face and in your chest. Your showers had to be ice cold for you to not remember how his hands gripped your waist and to forget how warm his tongue was around yours. At work, you often found yourself dazed, looking out at young couples that passed the streets below, daydreaming about kissing Jeongin again every time a couple would kiss at the stop light before crossing the road, or kiss each other goodbye, or just because.

You were sick with the lovebug and there was no remedy available. What made Minho think a date would work?

“No,” you said.

“Come on, _____! Live a little!”

“No!”

“So you’re saving yourself for a man who only kissed you because he felt sorry for you.”

If anyone was going to tell you the hard truth, it would be him. That didn’t make it hurt any less. “You think I can’t get over him.”

“I know you can’t.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for this.”

“You wanted it.”

“Of course I did, so what?!”

“You need to either move on and forget it happened, or fuck each other and see where it takes you. Which would you rather tell Jeongin?”

Minho was brash, but he was right, in a sense. If you couldn’t feel comfortable in your own home, you’d be drained of all life and cease to exist, living as a hollow body that went to work and came home to sleep. But was moving on or sleeping with your best friend truly the only two options?

Maybe you were an idiot. “Not a date. A drink.”

“Same thing. I’ll set it up tonight.”

“Tonight?!”

“Take it or leave it.”

There was some satisfaction in the way Jeongin’s face twisted when you admitted to a date. Yes, you put on your tightest clothes; yes, you put on your favorite perfume; and yes, you weren’t wearing a bra. All of which Jeongin realized, based on the path his eyes traveled.

“A date,” he muttered. “With whom?”

“I don’t know. Minho set it up for me.”

“Minho?” he sneered, then shook his head. “And you’re going?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t go.”

“Jeongin -”

He stood from his seat on the couch. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I can’t -” you stuttered, unable to form the words you wanted to say in order. “I’m going.”

He blocked your path to the door. “I think we should talk.”

“About what?”

“About that night.”

“Now?” you scoffed. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

“This is something I want to do. Please,” you begged, “let me go.”

“I think you don’t want to go.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“I think I do.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” The familiar sting on your nose returned. “You don’t know anything.”

“I think -” he paused, voice caught in his throat. “I know what I felt from you that night.”

“You know,” you chuckled bitterly. “You know what, exactly?”

“I felt you. I felt ten years of frustration, of anger, of-of desire, of everything that is both good and bad -”

“Jeongin -”

“How can you say that I didn’t feel how your heart beat against mine, how your lips pressed deeper -”

“Stop -”

“No!” he cried out. “I won’t stop! I can't! I-I need to know.”

“Are you asking for something? Are you looking for an answer that you already know?”

“Yes!”

“Why?!”

“Theories can be proven wrong.”

“But why does it matter?”

His voice cracked and he couldn’t manage to look you in your glossy eyes. “We need to lay everything on the table for this to work.”

“What’s not broken doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“But it is broken! Everything’s broken! It’s all a shattered mess of pieces that don’t fit together and we need to repair what’s broken when it’s all laid out in front of us.”

“Why?” you stuttered. “Why tonight? Tonight, of all nights, when I have something that’ll make me forget about that night for just a couple of hours?”

Jeongin couldn’t answer. It could have happened any night. But the game of life threw in a time-sensitive prompt that changed the whole plot. The fact that you wanted to forget, but couldn’t, might be the only confession he’d get.

“I can’t keep revolving my life around you,” you whispered. “I can’t keep loving you the way I do and maintain the friendship you need from me.”

There it was, the confession he was looking for, but not in the way he expected you to admit. He thought you’d do so while looking at the ground, hiding your smile the way you would act shyly, and maybe it’d be a little embarrassing. But as you stood before him, you were standing strong, refusing to break eye contact, with tears streaming down and dripping from your chin. It was in a way that begged for him to see you for how you really felt; like he was ripping your heart from your chest with his bare hands.

Your hands curl into fists in an effort to stop the tears. “If I lay the pieces of my heart on the table, I can’t take them back.”

He stepped closer. “Why not?”

You stepped back. “Because I won’t be able to put myself back together.”

“I’m here. I was made for you; to help keep you together.”

“Not in the way I want. In the way I need.”

“Yes, yes to both!” Jeongin grabbed tissues to dab the tears from your precious face, as if your skin was coated in porcelain. “I want to make this work.”

“This friendship.”

“No.”

“I am not her!” your voice cracked. “I am not her and I can’t fill in for the gap she left behind.”

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

You still couldn’t accept it. It just didn’t make sense. You were made to care for him from afar, not stand by his side. “You don’t mean that. You had ten years. Ten years! It only changed because, what, you're desperate for touch and you're going after the easiest catch? It's pathetic. You're pathetic!”

Your sharp tongue was your greatest weapon, but Jeongin was left unscathed. You were hurting and had a decade's worth of hardened shells that were crumbling in front of him. Yes, this was all too sudden, and it didn't make sense, but he was losing you and he'd rather break you down into a million pieces and deal with the puzzle later if it meant you'd stay.

“_____,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead against yours as if the closeness would allow you to read his mind and hear his heart scream. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

You sucked in a breath. Those words felt like a spell that lit your body in flames. Your mind said to run, but your body and heart had overruled. You tilted your head and your noses touched. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Theories were tested repeatedly to be deemed true.”

“Tested a lot of times.”

“A billion times.”

“That takes a very long time.”

“I’ll take forever with you,” he breathed on your lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Your iron grip on his sweater would surely leave a mark later, but you were too afraid to let go, too afraid that this moment was a dream and he’d disappear if you faltered. “I was yours for ten years. I’ve been waiting to have you.”

One soft kiss. “I took too long.”

Another, more needy, kiss. “You can make it up to me later.”

And another, one that mimicked the hunger from that night. “Now.”

“Hm, I don’t know… I have a date, remember?”

“Yeah, with me in your bed.”

Your giggles echoed throughout the condo when Jeongin threw you over his shoulder and ran to your room.

And so your heart soared again. Above the ether was the unknown, in the mythical heavens and forbidden territory. But you'd get there together, while your arms tangled with his and noses rubbing affectionately as your breaths combined in between long and slow kisses under your (and his) blankets.

The fine line you once refused to cross bent and folded with your bodies.

–

EPILOGUE

“Yo,” Minho greeted the phone.

“Hey, I don’t think I can make it tonight -”

“She’s sick!” Jeongin interrupted.

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Well, thank God!” Minho sighed.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, that was a lie.”

“What the hell/What the actual hell is wrong with you?” you and Jeongin yelled in disbelief.

“Because Jeongin is a possessive simpleton and _____ is a cheap date. Did my master plan work, or not?”

“Well, yes, but -”

“My work here is done, bye!” Minho hung up.

[minkieater]

FOUR ➺ the show masterlist after your fight with jeongin, you're left with unresolved feelings, clear frustration, and an option that comes with opportunity you can't say no to. a conversation with your two best friends does help make you feel a bit better, though.

if anyone wants luck closure, i have a present for u!

cheating, drinking, college kids doing college kid shit wc. 8k

“i have something to tell you guys,” yunho averted eye contact, deciding to peel at the label of his beer bottle rather than look up to you and wooyoung. thursday night at prince, a week after your argument with jeongin, you needed your two best friends. before you went over to his place to talk over your argument again, you needed the two that were solely yours – not connected to any of the others, unbiased, the two people you don’t have to worry about anything with. 

“do not tell me ivy’s pregnant,” wooyoung gasped, eyes wide, “wait, if she is, am i congratulating you or are we scared right now?”

“i think we’re congratulating, they’ve been together long enough,” you said to wooyoung who smiled, nodding in return.

“and yun’s a senior, that’s old enough to have a kid i think,” wooyoung used his index finger to point out his statement, his eyebrows raised.

“what do you mean? imagine having a kid next year,” your eyebrows furrowed, hands moving as the words left your lips, wanting to take back your statement as soon as the words left wooyoung’s mouth.

“not me, that’s all you. you’re the one who said they’ve been together long enough,” wooyoung pointed out, easily falling into a bickering match. 

yunho let go of his beer bottle, running his hands over his face before he interrupted. “ivy and i aren’t together anymore.”

“what?” you and wooyoung nearly shouted at the same time, both of your attention moving back to yunho, leaning forward across the wooden table in shock. 

“what the hell do you mean ‘not together anymore’?”

“you guys have been together longer than me and jeongin, yun. no fucking way!”

yunho sighs, dropping his hands from his face. you take a moment to look at him, really study him. he had a slight red hue to his usual clear, chocolate eyes, bags hanging dark underneath them. at first you thought it was exhaustion, figuring he probably stayed up too late reading, but this is not the kind of physical reaction from a night of reading meet me in the bathroom: rebirth and rock and roll in new york city. these were features of pain, nights spent stressed, whatever happened was clearly taking a toll on him. 

“yun, what happened?” you changed the tone of your voice, evading your shock, deciding he needs to be soothed more than anything. your heart ripped from your chest. 

“if i tell you guys the truth, i need to know you’re not going to judge me and you’re still going to be my friends. i’ve been so torn up about telling you but i have to now,” his eyes looked glassy, his voice sounding strained. you and wooyoung both nodded profusely, still leaned over the table, both focused only on yunho. 

he closed his eyes before he spoke, keeping his voice hushed, speaking way too fast, “i cheated on her. i’ve been cheating on her for a long time.”

your heart lurched, a pit in your stomach. you immediately thought of the night at the club, yunho standing inches away from the bartender. you couldn’t believe it. yunho and ivy were made for each other, she was perfect for him, the sweetest little thing you’d ever met. every time you spoke to her she was nice, you never saw her without a smile on her face, she treated yunho like he was the only person that mattered – how could he do something like that? you sat straight up, a frown on your face, bile rising up in your throat as the realization hit you that you weren’t any better.

“that night we went to the club, there was a bottle girl, i– um,” he ran a hand through his hair, “i’d slept with her awhile before that night, but i saw her again– i needed to see her again. i’m seeing her now,” he rambled, speaking far too quickly for either you or wooyoung to get a word in. “i broke things off with ivy a week ago.”

“yunho,” wooyoung said in a low tone, his eyes locked in on a disappointed stare pointed at his best friend, looking over yunho’s face searching for dishonesty, begging there to be some sick joke behind his confession. there wasn’t any. 

“okay,” you decided, letting a breath out through your lips, “it’s okay.”

“it’s okay?!” wooyoung’s eyes were wide as he stared between you and yunho, disbelief coating his features, “nothing about this is okay.”

“we agreed not to judge,” you didn’t look at wooyoung, only nodding in yunho’s direction, “i’m your friend, even if i don’t support your choices i’m not going to grill you about them. it’s your life.”

“what the fuck,” wooyoung says through a sigh, tipping his head back, looking up to the ceiling for a moment before he spoke again, “i’m your friend, yes, but i can’t sit here and pretend like that isn’t wrong. i love ivy, you guys were really good together, i can’t wrap my head around why you’d do something like that, yun.”

yunho shrugs, “i’ve been doing it for a long time, i don’t know. kinda thrilling as fucked up as it sounds, as it is, i guess, i don’t know.”

a laugh slipped out of your mouth, one you quickly covered up with your hand, eyes going wide. “it’s not funny, i’m sorry.”

“you should not be laughing, ki, what if you were ivy? and jeongin did that to you?” wooyoung slaps your arm, a light smack but it’s purpose was clear. 

your lips pursed, that’s something you did not want to think about. your guilt sat in your stomach again, begging you to tell them, to make yunho feel better about what he did because you did it, too. 

“valid point,” was all you said with a nod, “i don’t think jeongin has it in him to do that, though.”

“i didn’t think you had it in you to do it, either, motherfucker,” wooyoung cursed, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a sip before he kept going, “god, yunho. what the fuck? how did she take it? is she okay?”

“i don’t really know, she moved out and is staying with her parents in staten island,” yunho says, playing with the label of his beer bottle again, “she called me a couple times crying, didn’t say much other than ‘fuck you’.”

wooyoung groaned, “and what about this bottle girl? who is she?”

yunho immediately smiled, “her name’s aera, she works at the club to put herself through med school, she goes to icahn. ridiculously smart, really funny. ki, you guys would get along really well.”

“does she know you cheated on your girlfriend of almost four years to be with her?” wooyoung immediately cuts in, not giving you time to respond. you just smiled and nodded to yunho. 

“yes and no, i told her i was seeing someone so i had to break things off with ivy before i could date her,” yunho took a sip from his beer, his limbs relaxing, the tension leaving his shoulders with each confession. 

“you’re dating already?!” you asked, shock now slipping out, “it’s been days!”

“to be fair it has been two months since i slept with her,” yunho pointed out, lips straightening to a thin line, eyebrows raised, an amusing look. wooyoung seemed to be taking this far more seriously than the two of you were.

“nothing about that is fair, yunho,” wooyoung countered after a sigh, “i want to meet her.”

“i don’t know if i want you to meet her,” yunho admits, “this is not how i expected this conversation to go.”

“can i meet her?” you ask, a hopeful look on your face.

“yeah, you can meet her keeks, you guys would get along.”

“hello?!” wooyoung near shouts, “ki can meet her but i can’t?”

you laugh, an approving chuckle that you hope helps yunho feel better. it almost makes you feel better, knowing that you weren’t the only person to go through this, to do this. it takes the shadow of guilt off of your shoulder, makes you feel a little more at ease, like you and yunho share more than you realize. it makes you feel closer to him without him even knowing, even if what he did is still worse than what you did; although you felt bad letting yunho take the heat from wooyoung as you sat there feigning innocence, it made the guilt come back just as quick as it left. 

“ki isn’t the one patronizing me,” yunho argues, a hand jutting out from his lap to refer to you, and wooyoung laughs in disbelief. 

“you should be patronized! you cheated on your girlfriend of 4 years and have apparently been doing it for a long time,” wooyoung is whisper-shouting, leaning as close as he can over the table without jumping out of his chair. 

you take a breath and swallow, deciding it’s now or never to admit it to your friends, “i did it too.”

a weight is lifted off your chest, immediately you feel ten pounds lighter even when both of the boys’ necks snap to stare at you in disbelief, wooyoung’s eyes nearly jumping out of his head.

“...what?” wooyoung’s voice is barely above a whisper, smaller than you’d ever heard it.

“i kissed mingi two months ago.” you said it quickly, your own voice unsteady as if your body was fighting the confession, begging you to keep it inside even if it also yearned to get the words out.

yunho’s head tips back in laughter, clutching his stomach as wooyoung stands and takes a lap around your table. wooyoung’s hands are on his hips, then they’re on his head, clearly in a fight with himself over what the hell to do. 

“i didn’t realize two of my closest friends were pieces of shit,” wooyoung says, and he meant it, even if his for the two of you outweighed what he’d just found out. “have you told jeongin?”

“fuck no,” you shake your head, eyes wide as if wooyoung was insane for even asking that question. “it was a one time thing, he was helping me in the studio and we started talking and i ended up on his lap. it’s not a big deal and it won’t happen again, just a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

“are you telling yourself that or us?” yunho asks, a smirk growing on his face. 

“okay, king cheater, i don’t need to hear that from you,” you huff, crossing your arms. 

“you guys are going to hell,” wooyoung whispers, sitting back in his stool. “cannot believe i’m friends with you. is there no one loyal left in the world?”

“you,” you shrug.

“jeongin,” yunho also shrugs. 

“yunho!” you scold, fighting a laugh that threatened to slip out, hand slapping over your mouth again.

“this is not funny!” wooyoung throws his arms up before sighing, “you know what, i’m not even going to say anything anymore. you’re lucky i’m so fucking loyal or else i’d be exposing the fuck out of you both.”

“thank you,” you and yunho say in unison as if you’d rehearsed it, which only makes the two of you laugh again. 

“god, what am i gonna do at friendsgiving?” wooyoung asks, raising a hand to his forehead, “first i have to keep quiet about riley and san, now i have to look jeongin in the eye and pretend i don’t know anything?”

“what do you mean keep quiet about riley and san?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow. wooyoung’s eyes shoot wide, a hand slapping over his mouth, shaking his head.

“no sir, what do you mean? tell me,” you fully turned to him, cocking your head to the side, “you can’t say that then choose to shut your mouth.”

“riley texted san the night of the club–”

your phone vibrated on the wooden table before you, loud against the smooth surface. you quickly picked it up, hongjoong’s name appearing on the screen. you muttered out a fuck before pressing the answer button. 

“hey joong!” you said, holding the phone up to your ear and pressing your free palm over the other ear. you hopped up from your stool and made your way through the crowd of prince, slipping through the front door to step outside where it was quieter. 

“hey ki, sorry for calling so late i was just reading through my emails and i realized you sent me a demo,” his voice sounded like velvet through the phone, it made you shiver. 

“yeah! did you listen to it?” you asked, picking up a piece of your hair, twirling it around your finger.

“a few times, i really liked it, i was wondering if you could send over the form with it? i want their information, i’m definitely interested,” your eyebrows perked up at that, standing a little straighter. 

“i can absolutely do that, i’ll do it now,” you nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. 

“cool, head over to my studio when you get in tomorrow, i’ll let yunjin know i’m borrowing you for a bit,” he said and you almost squealed from excitement, nodding again, but this time without a verbal answer. 

you realized you didn’t say anything after a pause, “oh, yeah i will absolutely do that, thank you!” you smiled, pride settling in, knowing you did something right even if the idea came from mingi’s mind. 

“actually, wait, what are you doing?” his voice is inquisitive, as if the idea just came to him, you could see the lift of his eyebrow in your head as if he was standing before you. 

“i’m at prince with two of my friends,” you looked behind you at the glass door as if you could see yunho and wooyoung who sat deep inside the building. 

“me and mingi are going to a show at baby’s all right in brooklyn if you want to come, i think jag is meeting us there, maybe yunjin too. there’s a band i want to check out,” he says, and your eyes widen. finally, a show for you to check out and use your new analyzing eyes, not going to a show just for the fun of it. 

“i’ll absolutely come, yes, for sure,” you nod as you spoke again, something you can’t seem to stop doing, “thanks for inviting me.”

he lets you know when to meet and you hang up, tilting your head back to stare up at the city’s night sky, letting a breath pass through your lips as you closed your eyes for a moment. you smiled at the void, letting the adrenaline run through your veins, feeling your heart rate pick up as reality sets in. you’re about to go see a show in brooklyn. you turn around and rip open the glass door to prince, passing through bodies crowded at the bar as you zipped through the space, eager to find your table. you immediately spill the details of your phone call as soon as you have eyes on your two friends, heart thumping in your throat as you spoke at a speed you’d never reached before. 

“ki,” wooyoung’s eyes are wide, his lips in a tight line, “aren’t you supposed to go over jeongin’s later to talk?”

your blood runs cold, the smile immediately dropping from your face, excitement fully depleted in mere seconds. you slowly sat on your stool again, immediately burying your head in your hands, you couldn’t help that it felt like a sign. “he’s absolutely going to break up with me.”

“he might’ve already been doing that anyway,” wooyoung says from beside you and you could see his shrug without even looking at him, it made you groan.

“but on the bright side, if he does, mingi will be there tonight,” yunho steps in, wearing a warm smile on his face when you pick your head up. “i mean, even if he doesn’t, mingi’s still there.”

“don’t encourage her yunho!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“i’m sorry. it’s for the label, they’re finally letting me go see a show,” somewhat a lie, but one that could possibly get you out of the situation you’re in, that was if he cared at all about your career in any capacity. 

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you can hear him laugh through the speaker as you pull a stocking up your thigh, securing the elastic band around your skin. “you’re canceling a chance to talk this out, to talk about us. and for what – to go to a bar? a show?”

“jeongin, please try to understand. i’ve been trying to go see a show since i started, this just fell in my lap an hour ago,” you lean against the back of your desk chair with a sigh, head tipping back. your phone sat on your desk amongst the makeup products cluttering the area.

“real funny timing,” he paused, “whatever, ki. i’ll see you saturday.”

“jeongin i’m sor–” 

he hung up on you, deserved, you admit. you know what your priorities should be right now, jeongin should be at the top of the list, he is at the top of the list. right after how much you needed to go see a show, to prove to everyone you’re seeing tonight that you can do this, to prove to yourself that you came all the way here for a purpose, that you’re moving forward. 

you faced the mirror, quickly deciding not to call him back. you’d give yourself tonight, call him in the morning, beg him to see you after work, you’ll even leave early if you can manage it. he’ll forgive you, he has to, you have friendsgiving on saturday, after all, he wouldn’t drag out your argument and act like this in front of all your friends. 

you push your worries to the back of your head and reach for your lipliner, a mahogany color, and reapply it to your lips. you listen to the music playing through your speakers, an rnb song with elements of trap beat filling the air of your room. you put your focus into that, to the beat, to the track behind the words. a moody song, tight drum programming, spacious synth work, ethereal vocal processing. the vocals guide the track without them being overbearing, it was beautiful work, another song that made you wish you produced it – that you created it. you hummed along as you unscrewed your tube of lip gloss, applying it to your lips quickly, smacking your lips together once it was perfectly applied.

the ride to baby’s all right would take about thirty minutes on the subway – you checked the time as you slipped on your heels. you needed to leave now to make it to the station on time yet instead you sped to the kitchen, quickly pouring a shot to take the edge off of your nerves.

“where are you going, dressed like the hottest woman i’ve ever seen?” riley peeks her head around the wall of the kitchen, another head above hers beside the wall that split your kitchen from the living room. your jaw dropped as you gaped at the man above her, quickly reminded that wooyoung never explained earlier. 

“what the fuck?” is all you could say, bottle of vodka in your left hand and shot glass in your right, gaping at the two of them now. 

riley immediately looked above her and her eyes widened, she turned around and yelled at him, “san, i told you to stay over there!”

“she was going to see me either way,” he shrugged, moving around riley and fully coming into view, a small smirk spread across his lips accompanied by a pair of dimples. 

your eyebrows furrowed, still holding two things that were glass, they could not be dropped – you didn’t have time to sweep. “what are you doing here? what are you doing?”

your second question was to riley, eyes thinning as you stared her down, you could not believe the scene before you. maybe you should be more surprised, shouting in dismay, but a part of you immediately understood. agreed even, especially as san’s dimples made serious eye contact with you.

“actually, i don’t have time to listen to more adultery today. i’m going to see a show with some people from the label,” you set down the bottle and take the shot quickly, hissing at the burn as you pour another for good luck. 

“adultery?” one of san’s eyebrows shot up, looking beside himself to riley who completely ignored him.

“i thought you were gonna talk to jeongin tonight?” riley asked, leaning into san now, her head resting on his bicep. she knew that you wouldn’t share what you were seeing with anyone, not even as you glanced between the two of them with disbelief before shaking your head, taking the other shot back. 

“work called,” you screwed the lid back on the vodka bottle and put it back next to the refrigerator, turning to grab your phone and purse. the song that played from your room changed to a trap song, playing through the speakers of the living room, the kitchen. you nodded your head to the beat as you walked toward the door, trying to shake the blatant discomfort off with the last remaining seconds of hearing the song before you left.

“ki,” riley calls after you, disappointment clear in her voice as you face the front door. you told her about your argument, you told everyone close to you, you’re sure jeongin did the same – his version. frustration taps you on the shoulder and you crane your head to greet it, jaw locked.

“you have no room to talk about anything relationship related anymore,” you snapped over your shoulder, making sure you made eye contact with her before stepping outside of your apartment door and into the stairwell. you knew that you were taking it out on the wrong person, riley was just thinking of your best interest, jeongin’s best interest. it pissed you off, you knew you should be on your way to jeongin’s instead of the bar, that you should be talking things out with your boyfriend, you told yourself all of that already. even if guilt and disgust for yourself sat in the base of your spine, you needed to do what was right for yourself and your future. 

hopefully the right decision was in the middle of brooklyn, you hoped deep in your gut that tonight would have a positive outcome, that you skipped out on your talk with jeongin for good reason. you let your mind drift to riley and san – why the hell was he in your apartment? for the last two months riley had only talked about chan chan chan, never once has she brought up san or if she even missed him. you never brought up mingi with her either, never told her the truth, even if riley did know there was something between the two of you before you did. even after seeing san with her, you knew you couldn’t risk it – she’s known jeongin longer than you, who knows who she’d side with if you told her the truth? riley has been your other half since your first day at NYU, you’d gotten so close with your friend group… how could you risk losing all of them?

your skin was hot the entire ride to brooklyn, leg bouncing underneath your short skirt, sweat threatening to drip down your spine. as you made your way to the bar thanks to your phone’s maps app, you took in your surroundings, the stress about your outfit slipping back into the front of your mind as the city’s night air cooled you down. you hoped you dressed appropriately as you walked along broadway, trying to take notice of everyone’s outfits. you remembered very shortly after your first glance at a group of people your age that there was no such thing as appropriate in the city. 

everyone in new york dresses so uniquely, the fashion scene was effortlessly linked to originality. it’s been your biggest inspiration for every article of clothing you’d bought in your years of living here. you’d never been one for fashion, back in missouri the fashion scene was completely different. department stores were always stocked on the basics: denim, cotton tees, tank tops, leggings, hoodies… there wasn’t much experimenting going on in the midwest, nor were there many stores to choose from. in the city it seemed everyone experimented, from wearing loud prints to different pieces you’d never expect to go together, funky shoes and accessories you’d only see in a thrift shop back home that every one of your friends would make fun of. 

you loved the individuality of the city, how everyone expressed themselves only for themselves, not a care about how they were perceived. that’s been your biggest hump to get over so far – understanding how small you really were in a city this big. you found your confidence in clothes before you built it up yourself, blossoming into what it is now. 

you found a tall head of oreo hair in line, next to a white shack looking building that lived under a massive, green ALL RIGHT sign. you turned the maps off on your phone and took a breath, mentally giving yourself a prep talk as you wiggled your way through the line. they were quick to find with mingi’s height, he stood with hongjoong and jag, all who had their arms crossed, already in conversation. 

“you made it!” jag smiles at you first as you finally make your way through the last few people. he stood with his hair pulled back into a bun and a cigarette between his lips, his weight on one leg with the other bent outward. baggy jeans and a dark hoodie, a pair of sunglasses on his head, he was the epitome of chill, relaxed. you would think he was going to a laid back hangout with friends before a busy bar in the middle of brooklyn.

“is yunjin here?” is the first thing you ask, looking around the three men, hoping you wouldn’t be the only woman among your group. 

“boo,” hongjoong complains as he shamelessly gives you a one over, “not even a hello?”

you rolled your eyes, “hi joong, hi jag, hi mingi,” you glanced at each man in greeting before you directed your gaze back to hongjoong, “is yunjin here?” 

he showed off his perfectly straight, white teeth in a smile as he said, “she’s coming, i think, i don’t really know.” 

you pout, “i hope she comes, i wanna hangout with her outside of the label.” 

“god, how long have we been standing here?” he scoffed, looking ahead of the line, shagged haircut hugging the sides of his neck as he turned his head. in all black, an oversized tee tucked into jeans so massively shredded you wondered if they could even be considered pants anymore, he kept his rockstar persona alive. his shagged haircut hugged his neck, so long some pieces covered the piercings along his ears, he looked delectable. he stood with his arms crossed, hands tucked into his armpits, it was clear he didn’t like to wait for anything.

the four of you move up in line as if on cue and jag turns to you as you step ahead instead of answering hongjoong, “she’s fun, real piece of work. have to watch how much she drinks, though.” 

your eyebrows furrow before hongjoong laughs beside you, “remember when she came into work after going to check out that singer? the one we didn’t sign, where were we, tribeca?” 

jag laughs too, a husky sound, deep but still inviting, “man, she looked like she just came off a four day bender, never seen her look like that in my life.” 

hongjoong shook his head, still smiling as he said, “rookie mistake.” 

you had a smile on your face as you listened, not knowing what they were talking about but knowing you were still present for the conversation. you let your mind drift for a moment, picturing yourself here again in the future, in this exact position but instead an actual employee of republic records with your producer coworkers, spending a thursday night across the city to check out a possible artist to sign. excitement shot through you, outweighing everything you felt before you came. you made the right decision. 

you looked up to mingi who’s been quiet this whole time, he caught your eye quickly with a tight lipped smile. he spoke first, beating you to the punch, “you look really good, ki.” 

you fought the heat that spread across your chest, not inconspicuous in the slightest when your eyes dragged over mingi’s height. he’s gorgeous, that you already knew, but when he was in all black, every article of clothing clinging to him a little too well… you had to push your thoughts to the back of your head. you were here to work.

“so do you,” you replied with a nod, letting the exchange die there. a compliment for a compliment, that’s all it was. 

you moved through the rest of the line before you finally got inside, hongjoong making a beeline for the bar. you followed behind, your heels clicking against the floor, loud for the rock music that played through the speakers. the band wasn’t on yet, the music that played through was familiar, you knew this song. 

hongjoong ordered a round of shots before asking what you wanted to drink, you settled on a tequila cocktail, deciding to go with something safe. you told yourself you could only have two so you weren’t completely hammered, you still had a job to do.

“how are you doing in A&R?” hongjoong asks after you all took your shots, handing you your cocktail. he looked you up and down shamelessly once again, letting his eyes linger on your legs, tattoos blanketed by your stockings.

“good! listening to a lot of demos,” you nod with a smile, then sip your drink through the straw. you remind yourself to stand straight, keep your shoulders back — even though hongjoong knows you from before the label, he’s seen you at the rooftop, at prince, he’s never seen you so put together, especially not in a setting like this. you want to impress him, to make him think of you whenever he goes to check out an artist so you could be the person from the A&R department he calls. 

“how’s the husband?” he asks and you could hear the smile in his voice before you snapped your head up to look at him, eyes wide, that was the last question you’d expect him to ask.

“husband?!” jag nearly yells, immediately grabbing your left hand to inspect your fingers, looking for a ring.

“he’s not my husband,” you say quickly, snatching your hand back from jag’s grip, the action much too hasty for hongjoong not to of taken notice.

hongjoong shoots you an eyebrow, “that doesn’t sound good.”

“it’s fine! we’re fine, he’s great,” you laugh nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the hand you stole back from jag. your eyes glance to mingi who’s still quiet, his face is unreadable. humor in his eyes, yet the rest of his face is stoic.

“being in a long term relationship as a junior in college is fucking pointless, especially if you’re serious about getting into this industry,” hongjoong shakes his head, taking a sip from his beer. 

“i think it’s sweet, just because you have commitment issues doesn’t mean everyone else has to,” jag smacks his chest, shaking his head.

“if you think about it logistically, it makes sense,” hongjoong starts, “as an intern you’re flooded with shit to do, and it’s not even your own shit. once you get your own shit, it becomes your baby, all you think about, all you want to do. there’s no time for anything else.”

“speak for yourself,” mingi finally speaks, “you make it that way, not everyone is like that. although, i do see a lot of you in ki, so maybe he is kinda right.”

hongjoong makes a concerned face, baring his bottom row of teeth as his eyebrows raise, “if you’re anything like me then good luck and get out of that relationship quick.”

“do whatever you want, ki, don’t listen to them,” jag puts his hand on your shoulder, shaking his head, “i’m sure you and your husband are great for each other.”

you give him a timid nod with a small smile, the words sinking deep in your gut like an anchor. what hongjoong just said was basically what you said to jeongin verbatim during your argument, he was right. if you were ever going to make this work with jeongin, you were going to need to purposely make time for him; although his point might have been the exact opposite, you knew what you had to do from today going forward. you just hoped you had the willpower to actually follow through.

as you made your way over to the crowd, hongjoong kept himself close to you, ready to explain what exactly you were there for. you came to a still on the outskirts of the crowd, the four of you in a line, hongjoong’s chin tilted upward towards the stage.

“you know what we’re listening for, right?” he asked, tilting his head towards you so you could hear him better, the smell of his cologne so clear over the smell of the sweaty crowd. 

you shook your head, “i’ve never scouted anyone before.”

“i’m looking for a consistent sound – i know they’re a rock group, their sound is exciting, riveting, makes you want to join the crowd and start a mosh pit or some shit. i want you to pay attention to stage presence, make sure they hit every note, pay attention to the crowd. i want everything lively, i want the crowd obsessed, like they’ve never seen anything like this in their life,” hongjoong explains, talking with his free hand, beer in his other hand swirling in the bottle as it tries to follow the actions of the free one. 

you nodded, “so i’m analyzing the band, the crowd, the performance as a whole?” 

“pretty much, just keep your eyes and ears open,” he sips from his beer again, gaze set on the stage. the lights dimmed lower than what they were before, you could barely see the people in front of you but you could see their heads blocking your view of the stage, shutting you out from any visibility of the performers. you gave up, settling for your spot at the back just as the stage’s spotlights turned on, and everyone pushed up. 

from the drinks you’d consumed you stumbled a bit, the feet trapped in your heels pushing you into the person in front of you. a strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close, your back pressed to his front. your head tilted back in shock, chin jutted up to see above you, and the culprit was no other than mingi standing behind you, beer pressed up to his lips as if he’d never touched you in the first place. 

“thank you,” you mumbled, probably too low for him to hear through the crowd that was already cheering. adrenaline was still coursing through you, a heat that spread across your chest, you didn’t even know who you were here to see, you just knew to watch, listen, analyze. 

when the first note was played through the electric guitar, an exciting riff that had you on your tippy toes, desperately trying to get taller to see what your ears were guiding you to. it was magical, a group stood onstage, three women and a man, a heavier rock tune playing from their instruments. you leaned back instead, neck craned up, the back of your head hitting a wall – a hard, muscular chest that felt too much like a wall – mingi hadn’t moved.

“stop touching me, i have a boyfriend,” mingi teased, lopsided teeth protruding from his lips, making a small one immediately break out on your face. it was too easy to mimic him, his smile was so contagious, everything about him is contagious. 

“shut up, i wanna see,” you complained, turning so you could face him better instead of looking up at him from his chest. you pouted, bringing your straw to your lips to fight off the smile.

“i can just put you on my shoulders,” mingi shrugged, leaning down so he didn’t have to yell, his breath warm against your skin. you shuddered, the warmth coursing through you, from alcohol and adrenaline combined, sweat threatened to come back, daring to appear where his hand laid on your lower back. 

“we aren’t at a music festival,” you shook your head, finishing off your drink, “stop talking to me, i’m trying to pay attention.”

he stood up tall again, eyes focused on the band, and you directed your focus to the crowd instead. everyone was jumping, dancing, phones out recording, taking pictures, everyone was mesmerized. you let your eyes flicker up to the band again, their stage presence was incredible, leaning into the crowd with their instruments, passing their mic to the crowd that sang along, they were incredible. it might’ve only been the opener song, but the crowd was entranced – the crowd wasn’t just here because this was a good bar in brooklyn, they were here for the show. 

you kept your eyes bouncing back and forth between the band and the crowd their entire set, paying attention to everything hongjoong told to you: the band’s sound was consistent, they never missed a note, the crowd knew every word of their set. you couldn’t believe you were on the outside, not in the crowd, instead watching with an eye that no one here knew you were using. it was special, you couldn’t believe hongjoong did this whenever he wanted – you couldn’t wait until this was your life, too. 

“not mad at that,” hongjoong said to your group as the lights turned off, signaling the end of their performance, even the end of their encore. 

“their energy was lagging by the end of the set,” jag immediately noted, “and the guitarist missed four notes in his solo from the fourth song.” 

your mouth parted, you had completely missed that – you thought their performance went flawlessly. that’s the difference between you and jag, the man who’s been a producer for almost a decade now.

mingi nodded, “things that can be fixed – i’m into their originality, there isn’t a sound like theirs in the mix right now, feel like i haven’t heard a band like that since i was a kid.”

“the crowd seemed hype about them, too,” you added, keeping your voice smaller, “not at all lackluster, i liked it.”

you didn’t want to criticize – you didn’t have much critique, anyway – but what if you were wrong? 

“the crowd started losing stamina, too,” jag shrugged, “just like their performance.”

“harsh for what?” hongjoong interjected, “they’re young, unlike you. i’m gonna see if i can go talk to them backstage, i’ll be back.”

“i’ll come with you,” jag says to hongjoong, then turns to you and mingi and speaks in a hushed voice, “gonna make sure he doesn’t offer them a contract.”

“i heard that?” hongjoong stood a step away from jag, a hand coming to his hip, his eyebrows raised, “if you’re coming, let’s go.”

that left you and mingi, both quiet, holding empty drinks in the middle of a too packed bar. the crowd remained in front of the stage, only breaking up slightly, everyone seemed to be awaiting the DJ who was supposed to play after the band.

“so, what happened with the husband?” he asked as soon as jag and hongjoong were out of earshot, as if he was waiting all night to pop the question. he had an eyebrow raised as he looked down to you, both hands wrapped around his empty beer, fingers tangled, rings blending into a blur of silver around the glass. 

“what do you mean?” his question took you off guard, the last person you expected him to bring up was jeongin, “nothing happened.”

“you’re too quick to defend it, something must’ve happened,” he shrugs, walking closer to the pillar separating the bar area from the crowd. your heart moves itself to your throat – he doesn’t know you enough to be able to read you like this. 

“nothing happened,” your voice was edged, “how’s the brunette you were seeing?”

his eyebrows furrowed, head cocking to the side, confusion clear on his face, “what brunette?”

“the one i saw you with in the hallway of steinhardt awhile ago, when me and jeongin were leaving?” you pushed your weight to one leg, hip pushed out, your free hand coming to your hip. his eyebrows stay furrowed for a moment before his entire expression changes – a smile spreading across his face, eyes slimming as he stares down at you. you raised your eyebrows, clearly awaiting an answer as he chuckled to himself. 

“first of all, she’s blonde,” he says and his smile warped into a cocky one, the corner of his lips lifted as he spoke, “that was like two months ago. i wasn’t seeing her, we were just hanging out.”

you nodded slowly, your lips pursed, “so you bring all of your hangouts to the studio?”

he leaned into the pillar, head tilted against the structure, one leg bent across the other, “what i do with my hangouts matters to you?”

your ears run hot, standing up a little straighter, “you asked about jeongin first, i thought we were going question for question.”

he pushes off the pillar, coming a step closer to you. “sometimes, yeah, but i’m not seeing anyone, i’m not in a relationship, i’m just as single as i was the night we kissed.”

your breath hitched in your throat, staring up at him through your lashes, begging your body to take a step back, create some distance between the two of you. it didn’t listen, it urged you to step forward, press your chest against him, kiss him again. flashbacks ran through your head, his lips pressed to yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands gripping your ass – you almost gasped as you felt sheer need shoot through your entire body, he should not of brought that up.

“tell me what actually happened between you and jeongin,” mingi said, his voice lowered, the rasp coming through more now than before – that fucking rasp, you could feel it in your fingertips, his voice was so god damn enticing, it made your body burn.

“w-we’re fighting because i don’t make enough time to see him,” you stuttered over your words, your breath shallow, heart pounding against your chest at how fucking close he was to you. the words came out too quick, as if he picked them out of your head, forcing them out of your mouth with some kind of spell. 

his eyebrows furrow, his lips scrunching as he asked, “why not? you have more than enough time, you stay late at the label for no reason.”

you shrug, “it’s not for no reason, i just want to impress yunjin, everyone, really.”

mingi shakes his head, “joong was right, you know. if you don’t make time now you never will, he’s not in our industry, he doesn’t understand.”

you shake your head, fingers gripping your empty glass a little harder, “he already doesn’t understand, he threatened to break up with me because we don’t hangout enough, don’t… sleep together enough.” 

your body went cold as ice, you couldn’t believe you just admitted that out loud, so openly and to mingi of all people. the information wasn’t for him to know, it came out of you so quickly, so easily. your body began to feel like jelly – the conversation gave you a sour feeling in your stomach. mingi is the last person who should be giving you relationship advice, he shouldn’t know anything about you and jeongin other than that you were still together. 

mingi’s eyebrows raise, he takes a pause before backing away a step, standing up straight. “haven’t you been together for two years?”

“our two year anniversary is saturday,” your lips pull into a tight line, wanting to change the topic, end the conversation as quickly as you started it. it was like word vomit.

his chuckle was sarcastic, disbelieving, “i didn’t think it was fair to talk about it in a group earlier, but you deserve better – more. if he doesn’t get it now, he never will.”

“what makes you think you know him so well?” the ice went right back to heat, the need to defend jeongin rising like bile in your throat, anger flooding you. it gave you whiplash, wanting mingi to wanting to choke him out for speaking on your relationship – he shouldn’t know any of this, but you can’t stop talking – maybe the tequila is to blame. 

“he’s a man, a twenty one year old man,” mingi shrugged, “every girl i’ve fucked outside of this industry, every relationship has ended the same exact way.”

“jeongin is different,” you spat, “it’s just a rough patch.”

“were you in a rough patch a couple months ago?” he got closer again, his voice dipping an octave, your neck craned upwards to see him as he spoke with a calculated smirk, “when you spent a night on my lap, instead of being at home with him?”

your eyebrows furrowed, his face too close to yours, wooyoung’s words ringing in your mind – jeongin might be breaking up with you, anyway. 

your breath hitches in your throat as he keeps going, “was he complaining then about not seeing you? has he ever been in your studio late at night, talking to you about everything i did? does he listen to your songs, give you advice, tell you how good he thinks you are? did he push you to get an internship? does he give you advice about your schoolwork? does he even know you’re falling behind in school? tell me.”

your eyes are wide, heart in your throat, the whiplash threatening to make you sick. you wish your drink was full, you needed a shot, you needed something to take the edge off of this conversation, to change the topic. with every word his face got closer, with every breath on your face the feeling in your gut only got worse, you couldn’t begin to decipher what this feeling was. 

you couldn’t answer him, your silence was answer enough. it was like a game of tug of war, you love jeongin, but mingi couldn’t be any closer to the truth. you felt entranced, just like you did that night on the couch of your studio, being in mingi’s presence was so fucking confusing – it was if you were in your own bubble. no one else was in the bar, there was no crowd awaiting the DJ, there was just you and mingi and his brutally honest words. 

“i thought so,” mingi nodded, his face mere centimeters from yours. if you leaned forward just a little…

“mingi,” jag’s voice was threatening – a warning. “leave the intern alone, you and hongjoong both, man. i’m seriously going to talk to the CEO and issue a mandatory STD test for everyone who works at republic.”

you and mingi both jump backward, putting as much space between the two of you as possible. you glanced to jag with wide eyes, simultaneously frustrated and pissed he broke that up – you were so close to feeling his lips against yours again, so close to selfishly fulfilling every desire that just ran through you. 

your face was hot, your ears burning at the feeling of being caught. you shook your head to jag, “that wasn’t what it looks like, mingi and i are just friends, we go to school together.”

“whatever that was is between you and god, i don’t care,” jag shook his head, taking a swig from his beer, “i need a cigarette, you horny kids are fucking aging me.”

hongjoong follows close behind, bouncing as he walked with a wide smile on his face, “guess what band is about to be signed with republic records?”

[elllisaaa]

eli's 1k event masterlist

-> my event to thank you for all your support <3

-> fill in this to be added to the taglist of the event !

enjoy !

STRAY KIDS...

❃ as love songs

❃ as olivia rodrigo songs

hyung line | maknae line

❃ as the weeknd songs

ATEEZ...

❃ as love songs

❃ as lana del rey songs

hyung line | maknae line

❃ as chase atlantic songs

ENHYPEN...

❃ as love songs

❃ as the neighbourhood songs [tbd]

❃ as isabel la rosa songs

SEVENTEEN...

❃ as love songs [tbd]

❃ as billie eilish songs [tbd]

❃ as two feet songs [tbd]

TXT...

❃ as love songs [tbd]

❃ as arctic monkeys songs [tbd]

❃ as i.m - overdrive songs [tbd]

XDINARY HEROES...

❃ as love songs [tbd]

❃ as melanie martinez songs [tbd]

❃ as ariana grande songs [tbd]

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

[paixarina]

CASE 143

✧. ┊BAE x GN!Reader

✧. ┊SUMMARY: When BAE falls in love with you.

✧. ┊CONTENT: Fluff.

“Why do I keep getting attracted, I'm drawn to you like a magnet.”

≡;- ꒰ ALLEN SUGASANO ꒱

✦.* — When Allen falls in love, he would feel awkward about it. He himself is already a socially awkward person in the first place and his love are mostly dedicated to hip-hop only. So, when he feels attracted to you, he would unable to speak to show his feeling. He would also feel love-struck too, overwhelmed by his own feeling.

✦.* — Therefore, Allen decided to write an entire letter full of his feeling about how much he loves you, except he worded it with lots of exclamations and some typos that you cannot comprehend it, much of your second hand embarrassment.

✦.* — You decide to meet him face-to-face in the hip-hop record store, the place where Allen usually hangs around there with Kanata. But this time, Allen was alone there, not because Kanata didn't want to go with him, but because Allen purposely went earlier to there, so he can confess to you to become his soulmate. When he tried to confess you, he would do it awkwardly with a blush on his face, much of your confusion.

✦.* — Even his confession is hilariously embarrassing, just like his own letter that he wrote and sent to you, you still accept him wholeheartedly and believe that he could be a great boyfriend to you who will shower you with love and affection.

“You're my one and only hip-hop soulmate of my life. I hope we can talk more about hip-hop. Would you like it?”

≡;- ꒰ YEON HAJUN ꒱

✦.* — It's quite hard to tell how Hajun looks like when he's in love. However, a little blush on his face could tell that he has a feeling to you. Still, he feels indifferent to his feeling since he likes to hide under his mysterious persona, which makes you curious to know about him.

✦.* — When you stare at him, he will stare at you back and smiles at you gently. Still, you're not sure if the smile on his face is a gentle smile or it's just to mask his own feeling. “Hajun, it's fine if you want to talk to me, feel free to talk with me. I would listen to what do you want to say.” Unfortunately, he completely ignores your suggestion as you said that, much of your frustration. You sighed in disappointment and assume that he doesn't like being open to his own feeling to you that much and feared that he actually didn't love you back.

✦.* — Turns out, Hajun tend to suppress his feeling, hence why he doesn't want to make it obvious that he's in love with you. When you asked him hesitantly about his feeling and thought that he wouldn't love you because he keeps ignoring you, he just chuckled. “No, I actually fall in love with you, but I feel indifferent to it, since I didn't receive one from when I was a little.” You feel relieved after hearing that and asked him. “So, you probably just can not express your emotion openly?” He nodded slowly.

✦.* — “That doesn't mean you didn't love me right?” You asked him again nervously. He chuckled, “Of course not, why would I do that to you?” He said that as he slowly approaches you and holds your chin gently while rubbing your lips softly with a smile on his face. Then, he stares at you and slightly goes to whispers to your ears, confessing his feeling, which make your heart can't stop beating nervously. After he did that, you nodded nervously while he shows his signature smile as usual. You feel stunned and unable to speak one word but instead, thinks about what he confess to your ears.

“I know you're just an ordinary person, but you seem special to me and my heart. So, would you like to receive my feeling, love?”

≡;- ꒰ ANNE FAULKNER ꒱

✦.* — Anne will be honest with their feelings when they feel drawn to someone like you. However, they choose to keep their feeling in their heart because they feel not ready to express it. Anne thinks love takes time to receive it and they cannot reveal it way too soon. They want to reveal their feelings if they have a right time to do it.

✦.* — Anne would try to know you more first, such like talking, sharing stuffs, doing something together like shopping while trying to flirt with you a little bit. They will also try bonding with you together, such like doing mix and match clothing and understanding each other's interests.

✦.* — As time passed by, Anne finally tried to confesses you. When they approached you, they will placed their palm against the wall while staring at you dearly. Basically, Anne would give you a kabedon but in a gentle way. “I have something to confess to you.” They asked. You feel stunned, wondering what would Anne want to said to you. You nervously gulped, as they keep staring at you for a long time.

✦.* — “Would you be my love~?” You feel intrigued, while Anne looks at you with a warm smile. You nodded slowly, as they gently grabbed your shoulders and softly kissed you on your cheeks. After that, you caressed one of your own cheeks, with their own lipstick mark on it. You gazed at Anne, who smiled at you and gently wipes away the lipstick mark with their thumb. Then, Anne whispers another question to you.

“So, are we officially become a couple now, sweetheart~?”

[dazed--xx]

🥀Heartbreak Playlist 🥀

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: Now suddenly you're asking for it back Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had. But I don't really care how bad it hurts…..When you broke me first

Post Date: 01/17/2024

T/W: Mentions of Cheating, Break Ups, arguments, drinking, manipulation, crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, mentions of being drunk, yelling, sad ending

Word Count: 2.7K

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: Little do you know, How I'm breakin' while you fall asleep. Little do you know, I'm still haunted by the memories. Little do you know, I'm tryin' to pick myself up piece by piece. Little do you know ……I need a little more time

Post Date: 01/20/2024

T/W: ANGST..,crumbling marriage, mentions of divorce. Mentions of anxiety, mentions of panic attacks. Mentions of neglect in a marriage, crying, begging etc

Word Count: 2.7K

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: I tell myself you don't mean a thing. And what we got, got no hold on me; But when you're not there, I just crumble. I tell myself I don't care that much; But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch Only love……Only love can hurt like this

Post Date: 01/28/2024

T/W:1930s Era, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, Prohibition, cursing, mafia, talks of murder, mentions of guns, Molotov cocktail, gun violence, harassment, neglect in a relationship I guess, mentions of illegal activity, life threatening injuries, mentions mafia war. Mentions of Bootlegging, mentions of Shylocking. Sad ending

Word Count: 5.1K

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me. I know that your love is gone. I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy. Don't tell me that your love is gone…..That your love is gone

Post Date: 01/28/2024

PLEASE READ AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

T/W: ANGST!!!!!!!!!!!!, hate comments, distant partner, mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, assault like legit assault, recording of an assault, hate speech. Cursing, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND ACTIONS, Crying, Feeling alone, ambiguous ending, etc

Word count: 2.5k

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: Pictures I'm living through for now, Trying to remember all the good times. Our life was cutting through so loud; Memories are playing in my dull mind. I hate this part, paper hearts And I'll hold a piece of yours; Don't think I would just forget about it……Hoping that you won't forget about it

Post Date: 03/18/2024

Member: Seungmin x Reader

T/W: Break Ups, arguments crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, yelling, sad ending, slight shoving nothing too crazy, some emotional manipulation, problem avoidance, denial, (subtle mention to woojin via blacked out photo he existed people he was in the group once), mentions of Minhos elimination in Finding Stray kids

Word Count: 2.3K

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: Now the day bleeds, Into nightfall; And you're not here, To get me through it all. I let my guard down; And then you pulled the rug…..I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Post Date: 03/18/2024

Member: Changbin x Reader

T/W: Friend Break Up(cause romantic break ups ain't the only type that is heartbreaking), arguments, crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, yelling, sad ending, ghosting, problem avoidance, flirty behavior, mentions of one night stand, mentions of friend with benefits relationships, innuendos, brutal honesty

Word Count: 3.2K

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: Torn in two, And I know I shouldn't tell you. But I just can't stop thinking of you, Wherever you are. You. Wherever you are; Every night I almost call you. Just to say it always will be you…Wherever you are

Post Date: 03/19/2024

Member: Jeongin x Reader

T/W: Break Up, arguments, crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, yelling, sad ending, ghosting, Long distance relationship, neglect, ambiguous aged female (17-22), emotional manipulation.

Word Count: 3.2K

⏪⏯️⏩

Summary: I've spent all of the love I saved. We were always a losing game, Small town Girl(boy) in a big arcade, I got addicted to a losing game. Oh,Oh.All I know, all I know……Loving you is a losing game

Post Date: 03/19/2024

Member: Felix x Reader

T/W: Break Ups, arguments crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, yelling, sad ending, Bet Au!, depressing thoughts, lack of communication, childish behavior, Avoiding S/O, mentions of sex, bullying, denial

Word Count: 2.1K

[stayteezdreams]

ice.cream

Hyunjin struggles with his feelings for you. Is it all in his head? Or are you really only soft when it comes to him?

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @thunderous-wolf

A/n: This is the first 'song fic' I've done with kpop, and the first one in general in a long time, I'm not very good at them, so apologies if this is trash lol.*I know there are a few interpretations of this song, this is based off of my personal interpretation of the song. And I kind of just wrote what came to me.

Warnings: No real plot, just Hyunjins pov thoughts.

Words: 659; it's so short I know, sorry!

He didn't understand it. He should hate you, he should think you were annoying, cruel, mean, unapproachable. But he always found himself gravitating towards you.

You were cold and distant, but he had a desire to know more. He had a desire to melt though the ice surrounding your heart to see what was really inside.

Because he knew there was more. He knew that behind the harsh words and anger in your eyes, there was something else.

You could be blunt and come off as unkind, but the second he challenged you, the second he met you with the same demeanor, the same glare, you cracked. He would tease and pull, and ignore your cold words, until your warmth shined through.

The facade would fall, and he would fall even further into you.

I think I know you but I don't, you have a sweet aftertaste Harsh words mean nothing to me With a few childish words, your expression as cold as ice disappears And you become soft and pure

But what did it mean? When the ice in your veins melted away and you smiled just for him.

Did you have the same feelings creeping up on you that haunted his mind? Did you think of him as often as he thought of you?

When you told others to leave you alone and walk away if they don't, but you stay even if Hyunjin refused to leave. Was it a test? To see if he could handle the cold, to see if he was willing to stay and fight his way to the real you?

I'm already wrong There's a set answer An objective reply to a subjective question

Others words echoed in his mind.

You don't like anyone, you can't love. He is nothing to you. He was imagining things.

Was this true? Was he deluding himself? Was he only hurting himself when trying to convince you to open up to him?

Or was he so entranced, so desperate, that he mistook your anger and cruelty for kindness when your words were a little bit softer.

That the smile you wore for him was truly fake, a mask so he would stay. Did he force himself to see things that's weren't really there?

It's a bit hard to explain while being blinded by love I delude myself into thinking that Someone who's cold to everyone is only warm to me

Some days it didn't matter. Some days even the scowl on your face made his heart beat a bit faster.

How could someone so cold make him feel so warm?

Even if it was all in his head, even if you felt nothing for him, he would stay he woudl keep coming back, he knew he would.

He was addicted to you in a way he couldn't understand. He hated it, and he loved it.

He hated you and he loved you.

Lopsided affection So familiar that there's no need to even review it I'll just watch, I'll like you just a little bit If a little doesn't work, I'll do it without letting you know

It didn't matter how long it would take. He would wait and see. He needed to know how you were. Who you really were.

Could you ever open up to him? Truly.

Could the ice you've surrounded yourself with ever melt away entirely? Or would it always stay, only melting just enough for Hyunjin to get to you.

Even if that was the case, he would stay. Even if you only needed someone who could handle you, even if you could never love him. He would stay. Because he didn't want you to be alone and he didn't want to be without you.

So he would wait and see. He would melt the ice away and love you without trying, even if you never noticed. He would do it in silence, do it without you noticing if he had too.

xx End xx

I just kind of wrote what came to me, so idk if this is good or bad lol.

General Taglist: @otsilliak

Stray Kids Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3

[astraystayyh]

Backburner

Han x reader. Han is a toxic ex who won't let you move on. Angst.

Inspired by Backburner- Niki. skz song series masterlist

It's been seven weeks since you and Han broke up.

Not that you're keeping count, but it's easy to remember when he calls you every Saturday night. Without fault.

He's the one who broke up with you, flimsy excuses and teary eyes as he left your apartment. Talks about how he wasn't enough for you, how he couldn't be present for you, how he couldn't love you the way you needed to be loved.

But you wanted his love, not the one he suddenly deemed you worthy of.

Maybe that's why you still picked up, even though it's reeling you back to seven weeks ago when he had just left you. Han's no longer here and yet, he's not letting you move on. He's the perfume that lingers in the elevator long after the person is gone; he's the feeling of floating on the waves that sticks with you long after you come home from the beach.

He's an expert at kneading nostalgia into your soul, at holding you hostage by the ropes of your shared memories. You are a puppet in his hands, dangling over the edge of oblivion, only to be pulled back each time you attempt to forget.

And he's calling again, at 2 am, like he always does. You don't have to glance at your phone to know it's Han- you never changed the special ringtone you set for him. And you pick up, like you always do.

I can't lie it feels nice that you're calling

"Hey, were you sleeping?" he asks after a few silent beats.

"No, I wasn't."

He clears his throat, and you imagine him lying on his bed, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. If you close your eyes long enough, you can still smell his cologne and the fabric softener he uses. Or maybe he changed it. You aren't around anymore to know.

"I miss you." His voice sounds broken, coming out in a strangled whisper. As horrible as it sounds, you enjoyed knowing that he felt as miserable as you- that his soul still ached for you as you ached for him.

You sound sad and alone, and you are stalling

He coughs again, trying to fill the silence from your end, but you don't budge. You never know what to expect from these calls. Sometimes he'd talk about his day, as if nothing happened, as if he was still your boyfriend and he was calling you on the way home.

Sometimes you'd both stay silent, your breaths the only thing echoing through the phone call. You'd put it on speaker and pretend he was there, lying next to you. That you'd wake up in the morning and find him smiling at your sleeping figure, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

And sometimes, he'd tell you how much he loves you. Those phone calls hurt the most, because if he loved you, he would have stayed, right?

I don't care about what you want, as long as you keep talking

"Yn, I... I really miss you."

"Han..." you trail out, as hot tears well in your eyes. It was hard not to crumble when he spoke this way, his words tugging harshly at your heartstrings. It brings you back to all the times he was away, bound by work obligations. How he always told you he missed you, and within it, a silent promise that he'd come back. That he'd unravel the need within you, filling every dent and crack in your heart since he left. Unlike now, gone for good.

"It's the truth, I wait all week for this one call. It's the only thing keeping me going."

Talking to Han makes you experience different emotions, all at once. Relief- when you hear his voice for the first time in a week, and you realize you still haven't forgotten how your name sounds rolling off his tongue. Sadness- when you remember that this is now the remains of your relationship. The pain wraps around you slowly- like vines intertwining themselves with old buildings, deserted just like your heart.

And then anger- when he says things like this; as if he isn't the instigator of this pain, as if some force greater than the two of you forced you apart. It maddens you, how he stabs you and then he weeps over your bloody body.

"Then why did you break up with me, Han? If it's hurting you this much then why are we even apart?" you ask, anger barely contained.

"I told you, I'm never here. You don't deserve a boyfriend like this," his tone is exasperated, as if this is a simple truth and you are supposed to swallow it down your throat, along with the rest of your feelings.

"Then stop fucking calling me Han. You aren't here but you won't let me move on!"

"Because I don't want you to move on!" he yells, and you startle at the raw pain laced in his voice. "I'm scared if I don't call you anymore, you'll forget me," his voice cracks. "And... And we'll meet ten years from now in the aisle of a random supermarket, and you'd be in love with someone else while I'm still buying the shampoo you recommended to me."

"I'm tired Han," you choke out, phone now shaking in your hand.

You'd think I'd be a fast learner, but guess I won't ever mind- crisping up on your backburner.

"Me too, baby."

"Don't call me that," you beg, "please, don't call me that."

It's pathetic but at least you are too

"I want to see you," he says, tone pleading. And you can envision him perfectly, wounded eyes looking into yours, his lower lip quivering at the thought of you saying no.

"It's not love when you treat someone this way," you tell him, wiping your tears away. "To put someone in the corner and only think of them when you are fucking lonely."

"I think of you all the time," he cuts you off, "you never leave my mind, even when I'm away. Especially when I'm away."

After everything you put me through, I somehow still believe in you

"This is wrong," you whisper, as your resolve weakens, as your longing for him threatens to consume you whole. You no longer care that his hands are choking you as long as he soothes down the burn after.

"I know it is, but I love you. Say it back, please. I need to hear it."

I'll always be in your corner

"Please," he repeats, and he sounds so vulnerable, in his way of begging you. As if your words are the oxygen with which he breathes.

"I love you."

Cause I don't feel alive until I'm burning on your backburner

You are already at the door when you hear someone knocking on it. You don't have to look through the peephole to see who it is.

You open the door, and Han's there, phone still brought up to his ear.

"Let me in?"

He doesn't need to ask, you always will.

[heliswife]

🎼 TRICK FT. S. CHANGBIN : KUTE

"i think you're kute..!"

"I think you're cute." The words seem to come out of nowhere. You look over at your boyfriend, who's just scrolling on his phone.

"Where did that come from?" You ask him. His head perks up and his eyes meet yours.

"I don't think I tell you it enough," He says, "But I just really like you. Dont ever think you're ugly."

Changbin remembers the early stages of your relationship, where you had voiced your insecurities about your appearance to him. Since then, he's been trying to help you love yourself. Love yourself the way he loves you.

"You show me it, though," You laugh, recounting all the times he was incredibly clingy towards you. Not like you minded though. "I guess you're cute too, binnie."

A big grin emerges on his face as he pulls you closer to him. "I know I am," He giggles, "We're both pretty cute, right?" He peppers kisses all over your face.

"Yeah, we are!"

[dangerouslyclose]

Kiss Me- I.N

Pairing: I.N x fem!reader

Genre: Song Fic, Fluff

TW: None (let me know if there is something I missed)

Word Count: 1k

Song: Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran

“Do you remember when we first met?” Innie asked while pulling you closer under the covers. The movie playing in the background for your weekly movie night, long forgotten. You hummed in response, Innie pulling you from the edge of sleep. “I was so in awe when I first saw you I thought I was going to pass out. Chan hyung had to hold me up.” 

You giggled, “no way is that true.” 

“I swear!” Innie said, pulling back so he could look down into your eyes. There was a burning sincerity in them. “I saw you from across the room and my jaw literally dropped. I had never seen anyone so stunning in my life!”

“You’ve never looked in a mirror then,” you laughed out. 

Jeongin let out a loud laugh, “okay, that was good. But seriously, I was enchanted the moment I saw you. I knew that I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t go over and talk to you. Then I finally looked at who you were with.”

You cringed at the memory, “That was literally the worst date I had ever been on. My friend had set me up on a blind date and I honestly don’t know where she found that creep.”

“I kept looking over at you throughout dinner and even though I had never met you before I watched you progressively get more and more uncomfortable. It was like I had known you my whole life and knew all of your small tells. I could tell by the way you kept twisting the ring on your finger that you were anxious.” Jeongin twisted the ring on your finger. “I could tell by the way you kept tucking the hair behind your ear that you were uncomfortable.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “I could tell by the way you kept awkwardly laughing and then biting your lip that you were uneasy.” He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on your lips. “But when I saw the way your eyes kept shifting to the exit, I knew I had to do something.” He sighed and brought you closer, placing your head onto his chest.

You relaxed into his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. You smiled, “I was so thankful you came over. I honestly was about to fake a heart attack or something.”

 “Man, I would have loved to see that,” Innie chuckled, causing your head to bounce with his chest. You lightly smacked his chest, causing him to laugh more. “I don’t know where the courage came from. I am usually shy and quiet, but in that moment my body acted before I knew what I was doing.”

You lifted your head to look into his eyes with a grin, doing your best Innie impression, “come with me if you want to live.” Reaching your hand out to him like he did almost six months ago. You both burst out laughing. 

After the laughter died down Jeongin smiled, “I didn’t know what to say. It worked though didn’t it?”

“I think at that moment you could have said anything and I would have gone with you,” you chuckled. “You could have just grabbed my arm and pulled me out of there and I would still have thanked you. Then we went and got ice cream and I was even more thankful for your comfort.”

“Chan hyung was so mad I left without a word. Then I didn’t go back until later and got scolded. But man, it was worth it.” Jeongin smiled down at you.

You laid your head back down onto his chest. “I hated that date, but I am so glad I went. It was fate that you were at the same restaurant that day. Actually I have a confession to make,” you say and bury your face farther into his chest, feeling your ears heat up. “I actually think of that night as our first date.” 

Jeongin brought your face from his chest and up to his lips. He ghosted his lips over yours, “Baby, I do too.” He finally kissed your lips, flipping so you were under him and he hovered over you. He gently bit at your bottom lip, his way of asking to deepen the kiss. You opened your mouth allowing his tongue to slip in. Your tongues and lips moving in sync like they were made to do this. Once the need for air became too much he pulled back and put his forehead on yours. “I love you, Y/N.” Your eyes gently opened to see him already staring into yours. It was the first time either of you had said the L word. Your eyes started to water and Jeongin began to panic, he sat up and brought you along with him. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it back. I just want to let you know how I feel. I’m sorry. Is it too soon? It’s too soon. I fucked everything up didn’t I?”

You threw yourself on top of him, pushing you both back down onto the bed, with him under you now straddling his waist. You attacked his face with kisses, “I love you too, Innie.” You said each word between kisses. “I am crying because I am overwhelmed with how much love I have for you. I have never felt this way before and didn’t know how to express it, but now I do,” you smiled.  

His eyes started to water too, “God, I love you so much.” He brought your lips back to his for another soft, sweet kiss. “I loved you from the moment I saw you in that restaurant.”

“I loved you from the moment you came over and took my hand,” you smiled down at him. You saw nothing but love in his eyes and you hoped that yours were expressing all the emotions you wanted. “Never let go of my hand, Innie. Promise?”

He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm “I promise.” 

[sykeskassie]

Come Back To Me; Pt. 2

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: ANGST!! No comfort in this one either, but I promise the implied comfort is coming 🫶🏻

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with Namjoon’s album since it came out, and I couldn’t think of a more perfect response song.

Pt. 1 Pt.3

I told you I’m fine tonight, staying good/ Spring always been here, I will sleep in her eyes

Chris was bewildered when they showed him the text; why had you texted them and not him? He had tried calling you, only to find that

he had been blocked. They all had been. He couldn’t understand what had gone so terribly wrong that you couldn’t even talk to him. He gained a little bit of clarity about a week later when he received a box from you. The kids were all gathered in a circle when he opened it, for moral support and to see if it would provide any insight on why you had left. His eyes went to the note first. The handwriting couldn’t have been more familiar to him if it had been his own. Tears threatened to fall from where they were gathering on his lashes. He was so worried about you forgetting him that he didn’t realize all the ways he had forgotten you. 

With the note set gently by his side, he started on taking out each hoodie. One by one, they all came out, smelling just like you. Holding them up to his face, he inhaled deeply, wishing that it was you he was holding instead. It was Changbin who pointed out that there was one missing. “Hyung, where’s the one from this year?” Horror flooded his system at the realization that he hadn’t sent one. Did you two even talk on the anniversary of his leaving? Dropping the hoodie in his hands, he scrambled for his phone. Finding the date in his call log, he was devastated to see missed call after missed call. His words came back to haunt him, “We were working on the song for the new comeback…” 

I forgot the hour, I don’t want to know ‘bout the hour/ I forgot to shower 세수할 시간도 아까워

He’s finding that concentrating on his work was the last thing on his mind. Not when the only thing he could focus on was where everything went wrong. Hours are spent staring at the note you had included, as if some hidden message would suddenly reveal itself. As if it wasn’t a goodbye. If you hadn’t texted the kids, would he have even noticed your absence until your package arrived? He wishes he could say yes, but if that were the case he wouldn’t have a box of his hoodies at his feet. He has no one to blame but himself; it was always you who made time, who made space, who made the effort. It wasn’t always so one-sided…when did he stop reaching out first? Hell, when did he stop responding with any kind of regularity? How could he lose the very person who was his anchor in this world?

Come back to me, like you used to/ Now I could see what a life is about

Chris had always been so worried about you forgetting him but he didn’t realize he was forgetting you. He hadn’t ever had to live life without knowing you were right there with him, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to. You were his best friend, you were the love of his life. He would do anything in his power to be able to reach you. If he was adrift, he can only imagine how you were feeling; Not only did you feel as though you had lost him, you felt like you had lost the kids as well. His eyes finally turned away from the note and to the box of hoodies. It was a long shot, but he had to try.

I see you come back to me

He knew that if he were ever to be worthy of getting you back into his life, he’d have to learn to balance everything better. He couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times you changed your plans for him, for the kids, for the schedules. When was the last time he moved things around for you? When was the last time he put anything on pause for you? When he left for Korea, you both knew that he would get a thousand times busier, but he had made a promise to always be there for you, to always make time for you. When did he start breaking promises? He wanted you back, but he needed to be a better him to come back to. 

You are my pain, divine, divine

Without your light, Chris’ life had become dull and gray. Had anything ever hurt like this? It had felt like someone had reached into his chest and ripped his very heart out. For all the love he held, for so many aspects of his life, he had known no greater love than what he had with you. He knew, deep in his soul, that the love between you two was still there. It was palpable. He could see traces of it in every careful fold of his hoodies, in the careful strokes of the pen in the note that came with them. He could see it in the way that despite everything, you still cared enough about him to ask the kids to watch after him. To still show your support. No, your love was broken, and it was largely to do with his own negligence, but it wasn’t gone. He could still fix this. 

You don’t have to be anything you see/ Tryin’ not to be that something in this sea

If Chris were less selfish, he would let you go. He just couldn’t bring himself to do that. However, he would prove that you were his priority. No more missed call after missed call. No more special days pushed by the wayside to be forgotten. No more traditions left in the dust. Honestly, he even had a hoodie for this year’s contribution to the pile already picked out. One that he had picked up in his travels, that was soft and just a tad oversized on him. It was stuffed into his closet, ready to be sent off. If he had been paying attention to the date, paying more attention to you, he would have never forgotten about it. Grabbing a piece of notebook paper, he wrote what he hoped would help build a bridge back to you.

You are my pain, divine, divine 

I see you come back to me