battleground
synopsis: you hated your co-president, kim seungmin. but, it's your last year of high school and prom planning is up to the two of you. you just expect getting work done and leaving school. what you don't expect however, is kim seungmin looking after you (considering you never do) and you coaxing him into being your prom date.
pairing: non-idol!seungmin x fem!reader
genre: academic rival to lovers, crack, fluff, high school au, angst if you squint
warnings: swearing, mentions of eating, mentions of fatigue and fainting, sickness and overworking, slight themes of stalking, panic attack but not mentioned as such, mentions of alcohol, overconsumption of alcohol, a shit ton of pop culture references (i'm sorry)
word count: 21k words (?!)
requested by: @starlostseungmin (hi kaisey ily)
playlist: gorgeous - taylor swift, true love - p!nk, CHILL - stray kids, make you mine - madison beer, teenage dream - katy perry
a/n: real life men are better of as just enemies. my fictional rendition of seungmin, however, is not. (also i hope it isn't obvious that i have never been to prom.)
"you ruined my life, by not being mine"
"Was that an attempt of trying to flirt with me? Cause, wow, you need to step your game up," Seungmin told you with a smirk.
Sunlight streamed through the library windows, illuminating the dust that covered the bookshelves. They were proof of the lack of visits to the old haven of knowledge. Settled in an armchair was Kim Seungmin, book in one hand, glasses slightly crooked and one legged propped upon the other.
You let out a puff of breath in an attempt to calm yourself down because, who did he even think he was? "No, Kim, it wasn't. I am literally a teenage girl and yet, you are the most delusional person I have ever meet," you spit out, "The principal's calling us. Let's go."
"Alright, fine," Seungmin responded lazily. He stretched his long limbs and got up from the armchair he was cozily tucked up in.
He joined you on your walk towards the principal's office while you told off whatever force was above that caused you to be walking to impeding doom with Kim Seungmin on a Friday morning.
You both had a bitter rivalry that began your first year in high school. Coinciding with the fact that the said high school was also a boarding school, there was no escaping Seungmin. You couldn't even pinpoint when your feelings towards him changed from indifference to animosity; but having been pitted against each other for all your academic life at Park Academy, it certainly did make sense.
It wasn't that you didn't respect Seungmin. He was good at everything he did and a worthy opponent in all your endeavors. But he just made it so difficult for you to like him.
Your already dysfunctional relationship with him only took a turn for the worse this high school senior year. Both of you had decided to run for student council president. Despite all the campaigning and emotional blackmailing, you both had tied for the position.
Your incredible school, instead of holding a tie-breaker, deciding to make you both student council presidents. The idea of writing 'student council co-president' on your college applications physically made you wince.
But the worst part? Seungmin and you actually worked really well together. Deciding to keep your rivalry out of anything student council related on your first session (the banter continued though, nothing could take that away), you both had built up one of the best councils the school had seen under your shared leadership.
You didn't know just how well you both would get along when it came to matters as such, but that didn't lead to either of you warming up to each other. Conversation between you both strictly consisted of official matters and jabs at each other.
In fact, you hated each other's presence so much that you both almost instantly decided on splitting responsibilities to avoid running into each other. Oddly enough, you both seemed to agree on a lot of things. You always just brushed it off with a, great minds think alike.
Not that you would ever confess to Seungmin that you considered him to be someone with a 'great mind'.
The both of you walked towards the principal's office in silence. When you eventually got there, the receptionist quickly ushered you both inside. You smoothed down your skirt and sat down with your hands in you lap. Beside you, you noticed Seungmin drape his blazer over the back of his chair and take a seat.
Your principal was on a call and winked at the both of you, pointing towards the phone and turning her finger around in a circle near her temple. Seungmin flashed her a strained smile while you hoped that the expression of judgment on your face wasn't obvious.
For some reason, Principal Kim thought that she was your friend. When she finally put the phone down, she snorted, "Superintendents, am I right?"
Seungmin and you laughed weakly in response. Principals, am I right? was the phrase you were currently trying very hard to bite back.
Coming closer, Principal Kim laced her fingers together and leaned onto the table. "As you both know," she began, "We have around five months till prom."
A buzzing grew in your stomach, excitement engulfing your senses. Prom. Your sole respite, the event that you had looked forward to your entire high school life. From watching Disney movies romanticizing prom at a young age, to subsequently moving onto books that did the same, you felt like prom would be the pinnacle of your time in school.
"Now," continued Principal Kim, "While I do know that you both have a tendency to work separately, I would like you both to chair the prom committee together this year. We are thinking of making this year's prom one of Park Academy's finest. Take your time and compile the best Prom committee you can and get started on everything."
She clapped her hand and leaned back, beaming at her best students. "That is all," she smiled softly, nudging a tray of toffees towards you both.
Seungmin looked mortified at the thought of eating something from the principal's office like he was six. In any other circumstance you would have too, but the giddiness of both prom planning and not having had anything for over twenty four hours compelled you to take one.
"Aren't you excited?" you asked Seungmin as you both walked out of the door.
You were opening the toffee wrapper when he responded with a curt, "No. I personally believe that prom is a waste of time. I'll help in the committee planning and be present if I need to, but you can rightfully assume that I will not be enjoying any of it."
You were slightly shocked at his response but responded with a scathing, "I didn't know that the Kim Seungmin was too high and haughty for prom."
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to make eye contact with you. "Prom is like a playground for bullies and confused teenagers. It's a battleground for snarky comments and raging hormones and, might I add, brings out the worst in people."
He quickly turned on his heel and walked away before you could utter a word. You slowly let out a deep breath to control you anger and headed in the same direction as him, towards the cafeteria. You can hear the chatter of students and the sudden influx of sound momentarily causes your world to spin.
You're leaning against one of the lockers trying to steady yourself when feel an arm around your waist hoisting you up.
Hyunjin clicked beside you in disappointment. "Don't make me start feeding you now."
You just sighed in response and leaned your head against his shoulders. He was right, of course. You had the horrible habit of putting your health second (to last) with regards to anything that had to do with university and getting in. One of those things was skipping meals in favor of studying.
"I don't understand how people who sleep eight hours a day get shit done," you whined against Hyunjin.
"Well, has it ever occurred to you that people usually don't have as much shit to do as you do?" your best friend responded wisely. You lightly tapped the side of your sneaker against his.
Hwang Hyunjin was practically your brother in every aspect possible. He was lovable, caring, annoying and wanted to make you rip your hair out. All of this was what you assumed having a sibling was like, being an only child yourself. Ironically, he was one too.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You first met Hyunjin during an art class that you had to take for your first week of school. You struggled with drawing a straight line, while embarrassingly using a ruler. He was sitting beside you and calmly sketched one of the most incredible monochromatic landscapes you had ever seen.
When fourteen-year old Hyunjin gave your drawing a practically dangerous side eye and when you looked at him with eyes pleading to help you, the foundation of your friendship was laid. Later, when you handed him half a Snickers bar as a means of saying 'thank you', your friendship was cemented in chocolate and pencil shavings.
You both were joined at the hip ever since.
Your other best friend, Jeongin, had a habit of seemingly materializing out of nowhere and startling you in the process.
"Hi," he said, his face spawning in front of yours.
His wild hair and crazed smile caused you to yelp in surprise and hit your arm against the water fountain. Hyunjin laughed at your misfortune while Jeongin apologized with an extremely unapologetic smile. You resorted to glaring at both of them.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The story of how Jeongin turned your duo into your trio was a tale in itself. Jeongin was a year younger than you and Hyunjin, currently a junior. You had first spotted him on his first day of school, him waddling around like a lost duckling and you unwittingly (and unwillingly) taking on the role of a mother hen.
Hyunjin had seen young Jeongin standing in the crowd, desperately trying to act cool. Jeongin's shoes were a painful pattern of key lime and hot pink that most definitely did not match together. He wore an oversized jacket and sent a small nod towards everyone who looked his way, hands jammed in his jeans pocket.
"That one," Hyunjin declared while dragging you along with him, "We're adopting that one."
And so two became three.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Presently, you scoffed at Jeongin. "How did you even become student council vice president?"
Jeongin beamed at you, counting off his fingers as he listed of his campaigning winning qualities. "I'm hot, rich, smart and funny."
Hyunjin snorted in response, him on one side of you and Jeongin on the other. "Innie, you are several things but smart is not one of them."
You were compelled to nod in response as Jeongin responded with a gasp, "You too? How could you betray me as well."
You would have issued a sarcastic reply to what he said, but you were too distracted by Hyunjin being distracted. He had suddenly stood still at the entryway of cafeteria, staring at something in the distance.
When you followed his line of sight, you suppressed the urge to burst out into laughter. Jeongin, however, did not.
"Gosh Hyunjin," he wheezed between laughs, "Just ask Riya out. Watching you suffer in this down bad, unspoken friend zoned phase is pitiful."
Hyunjin had been in love with Riya Rai for well over two years. You could obviously tell why; she was gorgeous, smart and a part of Hyunjin's dance class. You were truly rooting for them to start dating, Riya being one of your roommates.
You still remembered the way Hyunjin gushed over her classical dance audition. ('I couldn't understand the words but it was like she was flying!') Jeongin too, was subject to Hyunjin's hopeless love for her. Being the kind of person Hyunjin was, he fell for her hard and deep.
You were happy for Hyunjin, you truly were. But a part of you longed to feel a love like that for somebody. Not even a relationship, just feel love dripping into your heart until it rushed in like a torrent.
You were always so busy with proving yourself to others, that you never really took the time to introspect your own desires.
"Hyunjin," you asked impatiently once you remembered what exactly you wanted to talk about.
"Hm?" he responded as you both grabbed your food and sat at a table with your regular friend group.
Riya slid in beside Hyunjin and you could feel him visibly tense. You couldn't understand why he was so nervous to profess his feelings for her. Any girl (apart from you, because ew) would be willing to date Hyunjin.
Riya brightly made her pleasantries after which you asked solemnly, "Guys. Would you do me the honor of being part of the prom planning committee?"
Riya and Hyunjin were the few people who shared the enthusiasm for prom which you did. Riya mouth slowly hung open while Hyunjin sharply took in a breath.
"Really?" he whispered in awe.
You nodded happily as Hyunjin hugged you from one side and Riya clambered over to where you were sitting to wrap her arms around you. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou," she repeated like a chant while Hyunjin excitedly began plotting décor ideas.
Maybe you wouldn't need romantic love while you had them.
You were busy people watching and tuning out Riya and Hyunjin's enthusiastic chatter when you caught site of Seungmin. He was sitting with his best friend, Lee Felix. You found their friendship quite odd. How could the embodiment of happiness be so close with the devils spawn?
I guess opposites attract platonically too.
You lamented at the thought of co-heading a prom committee with a partner who hated prom until an idea struck you. If Kim Seungmin hated prom, you could teach him how to love it. That lunch break, you made an executive decision that, unbeknown to you, would inevitably change you life.
You decided to open Kim Seungmin's eyes to the brilliance of prom.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - five months.
Seungmin stood next to you as you both waited for the rest of the student council members to make their way for your impromptu Saturday meeting. The two of you stared up at one of the most monstrous things you had ever seen in your lives.
A large banner with a blue background and the words "T-5 MONTHS TILL PROM!!!" in an ugly orange text stared back at you.
You gaped at the banner, seething with anger. "Let me find the person whose amazing idea this was and rearrange their body proportions for them."
Seungmin just responded calmly, "Maybe this is a sign from the universe to get our act together, delegate responsibilities to the committee and actually get started on prom."
"Not all of us are as optimistic as you, Kim," you told him dryly.
"Not all of us have an insatiable bloodlust, candy cane," he retorted monotonously.
Your mouth pressed into a thin line as you turned to see Seungmin's eyebrow cocked in a persumed sense of superiority.
You despised the nickname, a knowing jab at your short stature. Seungmin first called you candy cane when he noted how your height was nearly equivalent to the candy canes lining your school halls in your junior year.
It had stuck when you both were privately conversing with each other ever since.
His indifference slightly bristled you, but then again you were known for having a slightly short temper.
Chatter flowed in through the library's door, accompanied by the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor. People who you and Seungmin had individually contacted, along with most student council members, began entering the room.
You noticed Hyunjin making his way to sit next to Riya, who was busy in conversation with Felix. The three of them were known for being close due to dance club. You shot Hyunjin an encouraging smile and he gave you a slightly crooked one.
Jeongin bounded up to the front to assume his rightful place as vice president. You ruffled his hair and he pinched your arm in retaliation. Your little squeal and his irritated grunt earning an annoyed look from Seungmin.
He cleared his throat loudly, instantly commanding the attention of the entire room. Faces turned to look at him when his voice called out, "I hope you all know why we have gathered here today."
He turned to look at you, your cue to begin talking. "As you may be aware, you all have been selected as this year's Park Academy Prom Committee!"
The room burst into applause as Seungmin continued, a routine familiar to you both. You didn't know how the two of you did it. Without even prior conversation, you two fell into sync when it came to addressing the crowd in front of you for your co-lead student council meetings.
Once again you chalked it up to, great minds think alike. There was no way you and Seungmin had anything else in common, apart from the occasional train of thought.
Right?
When your long sermon was finally finished, the room was buzzing with excitement. Teenage hormones and the onset of prom brewed a recipe for eager anticipation. This is it, you thought, this is the last piece of my childhood I have left.
On the advice of Principal Kim, you and Seungmin split the overall committee into three groups: one for decorations, one for publicity and one to arrange entertainment.
Jeongin had proclaimed himself the 'god of social media' and sauntered off to the group in charge of publicity. Hyunjin, Riya and Felix automatically were presumed to be part of décor, with Hyunjin elected head of their group. ('I will not let my team down. Over my dead fucking body,' he told you in complete seriousness later that day.)
Finally, you and Seungmin were left handling booking and anything else payment and transaction related. Principal Kim's vehement repetition of how she only trusted the two of you with cash was seared into your brain.
As you both took rounds of the large library hall, something kept nagging at you, itching the back of your brain. It disheartened you to see how warmly everyone interacted with Seungmin in comparison with you.
What bothered you even more, however, was how warmly Seungmin, interacted with others when compared to you.
Being likable was one of, if not the biggest goal in your life. Knowing that a single person disliked you sent you into a frenzy. Call it your upbringing or society, either way you felt like everybody you knew had to find you to be a good person, or else you weren't.
Other people's opinions were like medicine to you. Gaining external validation became such a large part of your life that sometimes, you forgot that what you thought, what you wanted, mattered as well.
And in this draining people-pleasing process, you weren't quite 'friends' with everyone. You were friendly and appreciated among your students, yes. But you didn't have a large friend group full of people who cherished your very existence, like Seungmin.
That was probably why you called Hyunjin and Jeongin were your best friends. It took away from the fact that they were your only friends. Seeing them with their own, other friends hurt, but it was too late now.
There was no point making more friends when you would be gone anyways. And despite how much you wanted to, you knew that creating deeper connections only to break them away would prove pointless.
You and Seungmin settled into the small bean bag pods which were propped up against the empty library walls. He scrolled through his phone with utmost concentration as you did the same, tapping away at your laptop keys.
"We'll have to sit with Lily for planning the budget," Seungmin broke the silence while referring to the committee treasurer, "But she has texted me the overall amount we have in the trust."
Seungmin opened the message and angled his phone towards you, eliciting a gasp from your mouth.
"That is an insane amount. Do you know what this means? We truly can make this Park Academy's best prom yet!" you excitedly began listing off the non-existent limits to which the money could spent.
"You forgot something," Seungmin added, stunning you to silence. What could have you forgotten about prom which Seungmin could have remembered?
The stoic expression on his face, however, told you it was nothing good.
"We need to show extreme constraint while using the money and be strict on the group," Seungmin huffed.
You blew in anger, "The entire point of having an extensive budget is to let loose! God, you're like the Grinch of prom or something."
"Please sweetheart," he snorted, "I'm far better looking than him. Even you can't deny that."
And as infuriating Seungmin seemed to you, he was correct. Seungmin was drop dead gorgeous. Even in a plain school uniform, he had the power to turn several heads. In fact, you would be lying if you said that you didn't find him a teensy bit attractive.
Not that he would ever obtain that information.
Seungmin went back to work, looking for banquet halls and hotels open to being the venue for prom. You observed him carefully, trying to figure the psychology behind why he hated prom. Then, you realized that to to succeed in your mission, you didn't have too.
The Grinch fell in love with Christmas too...
"I have made an executive decision," you announced to no one but Seungmin in particular.
He looked up, an expression of boredom and confusion coating his features.
"How exactly, darling, did you take an executive decision without consulting half of the executive. I thought you were smart enough to know how decision making takes place," a smug smile adorned him.
You rolled your eyes at him, "I will make you like prom."
Seungmin scoffed, "As if. You know what, Y/N? I bet you can't."
You sighed in fake defeat, cheering inside. One thing about having an academic rival was predicting their moves to the point where you knew how to trap them. It was like a game of chess, where Seungmin thought he had the upper hand, but you were one move away from checkmate.
You understood what made Seungmin tick, what ignited passion in him and what triggered him. You knew how to get a rise out of him and get him to calm down. More terrifyingly so, you knew that he knew the same.
You likened it to years of shared dislike, denying the fact that you both maybe were alike.
"I mean, considering our role in the entire organization of prom, we'll be stuck together all night anyways," you lamented in disappointment, "Truthfully speaking, I honestly did expect you to decline my invitation to formally attend prom with me as my de facto date."
"Although I wasn't planning on calling you that," you included for good measure.
You decided to deviate from telling him the real reason why you wanted to take him to prom. Out of everyone in this school, Seungmin was the last person left whose good books you didn't have so much as a footnote in.
You knew that this little social experiment of yours to leave school with everyone singing praises about you was highly selfish, but you needed this to feel worthy of graduating. You needed this to feel worthy of being a part of a social communities.
You could practically see the anger teeming from Seungmin at proving you right. "Fine," he spit out, "I'll be your date."
Checkmate.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - four months and 16 days.
With final assessments right around the corner, physical committee meetings came to a halt. All conversations took place through group chats and the occasional locker meetups. In all the frenzy of studying, you were once again indulging in sleepless nights and nutrition-less days.
Seungmin had gone into hibernation mode and as had you. All your phones were on do not disturb and casual fun was out of the question. Today, you had taken release in the library, headphones on and coffee in hand.
You were (pathetically, to some, advantageously, to you) on a first name basis with the resident librarian. Because of you often staying late nights (correction: all night) in the library, you even had your own spare key to lock up when you were done. It was a little secret you both shared.
Today, however, you felt uneasy. A transfer student by the name of Benji had been unceasingly making romantic advances towards you the past week. Although you reject him multiple times, his feats of grandeur only grew.
He was currently sitting a few tables away from you, the only other person in the library apart from librarian Kang. Even though he attempted to look busy and engrossed in the book in his hand, he kept stealing glances from you.
It was late, very much so. Everybody would be asleep and you didn't want to disturb anyone. You calmed your nerves but reached your breaking point when Kang asked Benji if he planned to leave anytime soon and he refused.
In a state of both fear and fatigue, you dialed the number of the only person who you knew would be awake at this time and waited for the call to ring out.
"Hello?" came Seungmin's bewildered voice. You rarely called him and even then, never at this hour.
"Seungmin, hi. I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?" you asked him, hoping to suppress the anxiety in your voice.
He must have noticed though, because his voice was alert. "Sure, what's up?"
"You know how Benji has been treating me, right?"
He hummed in acknowledgement. Of course he knew. Benji boasted so much that everyone knew.
"Well, I'm in the library and so is he. He's the only one here and it's kinda freaking me out. If it's ok with you, can you please just stay on call with me just in case? You can put me on hold or something, just please be active. I'm really sorry but you're the only other person who I knew would be awake right now."
You heard rustling in the background and his voice finally came back, "Wait. My dorm is loud anyways so I'll meet you there."
"Oh, okay, okay."
To your extreme relief, Seungmin did not hang up the call. Instead, you could hear his footsteps. All the mundane sounds of him locking his dorm, shoes slapping against the concrete and heavy breathing (due to running, but that didn't make sense) oddly calmed you down.
That was, however, until Benji walked over to where you were sitting. He gave you a venomous smile and leaned over to books right above your head. Pulling out a book from the shelf above your head and walked away, something sharp glinting in his hand.
You breathing quickened. "Seungmin, he has a sharp object. I have assessed all possible escape routes. I would suggest that you leave as I will probably as well if the situation escalates."
"Are you fucking out of your mind?" he questioned, almost sounding angry that you had even thought of saying something like that.
"I'm not leaving you alone with him or giving him an opportunity to fuck with the students of this school. He may be here for only two weeks, but I'll make sure he doesn't hurt a single person."
The steel in his voice made you shudder. You did not want to be on Kim Seungmin's death list. The library doors swung open as librarian Kang let out an exasperated sigh.
"Another wannabe Einstein," she muttered under her breath as Seungmin made his way towards you.
He looked like a sight for sore eyes in his plain sweater and gray sweatpants. Seungmin gave you a subtle not and took a seat right beside you, pulling out his books and tablet. Soon you both started studying and, before you knew it you both were engaged in a heated competition to see who could solve as many trigonometry problems as possible correctly, in the least time.
Throughout this duration, you didn't find out much personally about him, but saw a more carefree side of him. In fact, you liked this carefree side of him.
He winced when you pointed out the simple mistake he made that caused him to lose in the end. "I can't believe I've forgotten what the division symbol looks like."
You giggled and poked his arm, legs underneath your feet. "Is this what letters in math is doing to you?"
Seungmin shrugged sheepishly with a tiny smile. "Go ahead, shortcake, gloat."
Instead, you posed him with a question, "Why do you always insult my height? Like, that seems to be your favorite."
Maybe, just maybe, you were imagining it, but you saw a light blush scatter over Seungmin's cheeks. He cleared his throat and, in what must have been a moment of vulnerability said, "You are good at literally everything else. Your height is the only thing I can ask you about."
You stared at him slightly open mouthed at his sudden respect. In an instant, the room felt to hot and Seungmin's face felt to close to yours. The moment was broken, however, by the simultaneous and not at all harmonious chorus of a chair scratching against the floor and you're stomach rumbling.
Benji was gone and but your appetite was back. Seungmin must have heard it too because his right eyebrow was ticked up.
"When, exactly, did you last eat?"
"Today," you admitted sheepishly, "Morning. At 6."
"And what was it?"
Another gulp. "A banana."
Seungmin shook his head in disappointment and rifled through his bag. He pulled out a mushed granola bar and handed it to you.
"Eat," he commanded.
"Okay," you said meekly. "Wait, this is my favorite brand!"
"Yeah, I think you mentioned that before," Seungmin said nonchalantly, but you noted the slight quiver in his voice.
You took a bite and it felt like your body was screaming at you. It felt so good to eat after just having six in the morning bananas for the past few days, that you little out an embarrassing little squeal in content.
"I'm surprised you remembered," you referenced Seungmin earlier statement and folded the wrapper in a neat rectangle. Putting it in your pocket to throw away later, you waited for Seungmin's response.
It never came. His head was bent and he was hard at work, evidently ignoring. Seeing this as an indication that the conversation was over, you got back to your own work. That wasn't, however, without a feeling of something new that wasn't hate - adjacent.
You felt a little blossom of affection in your stomach for the boy flipping through the pages of his notebook beside you.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - it's finals!
You slammed your Astrophysics textbook against your desk, yet again unable to get stuff to fit in your brain. It was your last final and while you crammed for your other subjects, Seungmin had told Hyunjin that you were back to your old habits. Hyunjin and Riya had then joined hands and blackmailed you into (yuck) taking care of yourself.
"Seriously," you grumbled, "How do people who get eight hours of sleep get their shit done?"
Finally coming to the conclusion that you were helpless, you reached for your phone to text all your questions to Seeun, the assistant teacher. Seeun was a university student interning at your school, and an alumni as well. Citing how she was very much close in age with the students of your grade (if six years is considered 'close'), she insisted that you all call her Seeun and not Miss Choi.
You were in such a rush that you didn't even check for typos, tackling another chapter while waiting for Seeun's response. You still had one more day to study, considering that your exam was the day after tomorrow, you were going to use all twenty four hours and more to your advantage, not wasting a single bit.
Finding it odd that Seeun still hadn't responded considering how bored she always said she was and her frighteningly quick response times, you decided to check your phone. To your horror, however, you found out that in your rush, instead of sending your questions to Seeun, you had sent them to Seungmin.
His responses were almost instantaneous.
[8:18 AM]
You: [sent attachment]
You: Hi Seeun, I had a few questions regarding these topics. I was wondering if we could meet up tmrw to discuss them? Thx!
[8:20 AM]
kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): i'm not seeun, but i could help
kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): i tutored a few seniors taking this class last year
kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): if you want, how does the coffee shop down the street at eight sound to you?
You were practically smiling at your phone. It obviously had to do about the fact that it was someone offering you help, not that it was Seungmin specifically. (Duh?) After waging a long, internal war, you finally opted to sacrifice what little dignity you had in front of Seungmin's eyes and take him up on his offer.
[2:47 PM]
You: really? omg thx!
You: see you then
[2:48 PM]
kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): k, ig i'll see you there
Huh. Weird. Seungmin was notorious for being known to reply to people after a minimum of at least two hours, if they were lucky enough not to be left on read.
Not reading to much into it, you went back to work. Work wasn't just work though. It was an influx of nervous butterflies accompanying it. Not that it had anything to do with Seungmin, of course.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
When you got to the coffee shop that morning, it was technically 7:55. But, as you had always been taught, five minutes early is on time. Seungmin must have abided by that philosophy too, because soon he stumbled through the door.
You hadn't even picked a table to sit at when he tapped you shoulder and said, "Hey."
You turned to find Seungmin with the same green, battered back pack he took everywhere slung over one shoulder. His hair was tousled in an endearing way that made you want to squish him. His eyes were surprisingly warm and his lips were turned up.
"Like what you see sweetheart?" he teased.
You rolled your eyes at him, "No, of course not. It's like looking at something so hideous that you can't peel your eyes off of it."
He gave you a good natured laugh and walked alongside you to the coffee table.
After much deliberation, which mainly consisted of you and Seungmin arguing over the pros and cons of a window seat, you finally settled on a seat close enough to the large glass window for Seungmin's satisfaction and far enough to not prove distracting to you.
When your sugar packet tower fell down in the process of building it, he grinned at you again. It felt nice, having Seungmin's smile directed towards you.
Whoa, slow down there. Are you ok?
Without even realizing what you were saying, you asked Seungmin, "Why do you always cover your face when you laugh?"
Seungmin's smile slightly faded. "When I was in middle school, I used to wear braces. The kids... they found it weird, which meant they found me weird."
You were shocked. How could anyone dislike his smile? Seungmin's smile was one of the prettiest smile's you had ever seen. And mind you, you used to hate Kim Seungmin.
Used to. Now, it was more like you were tolerating him, sometimes even appreciating him. Wow, something really is wrong with you.
You snorted. "If I could travel back in time," you declared, "I would deck those dumbasses in the phase."
Seungmin choked on the coffee that the waitress had dropped off a few minutes ago. He surprisingly remembered your order, despite you only mentioning it to him during his student council coffee runs only once or twice before.
"Y/N, I'm pretty sure that's a crime," Seungmin snickered.
You raised your eyebrows in response. "And if you don't help me with this, I'm about to commit a crime, and you won't be in a position to testify."
With that, the lessons began.
Seungmin was an extremely good teacher. He was well known among the student body for being the kind of tutor that took F grades and turned them into a B+ or A-. Even you wanted to start tutoring, but your patience often wore thin faster than it did for others.
Seungmin though, didn't break a sweat. He revised concepts over and over again until you understood, making sure that at the end, you didn't have a single semblance of a doubt in your mind when it came to the related topic.
Two hours later, you were finally done.
"Now," Seungmin announced, "We will have some fun and let loose."
You were putting your books inside when you clicked a pen in your hand restlessly. "You, prim and proper Kim Seungmin, want to 'let loose' and 'have some fun'?"
Seungmin clicked his tongue in exasperation. "Look tiny, I'm disciplined, but I know my limits. You have already studied everything to the T. Plus, your exam is tomorrow. Get some fresh air and take a break now, then revise once more in the evening."
You wondered how he could be so careless when he probably had an exam tomorrow too. "What about you? Don't you have to study as well?"
Seungmin sent you a devious grin and you felt your knees go weak a little (No. What?)
"I had my last exam yesterday, honey," he happily shared, patting your head in mock pity in the process.
Honey, that was new. You were so used to the reoccurrences of 'darling', 'sweetheart' and terms related to your height that the new nickname caught you slightly off guard.
You hoped the expression on your face clearly conveyed that you found his actions traitorous. "How dare you prey on a vulnerable young woman just to quench your loneliness?"
"Come on," Seungmin coaxed, "We can hit the boardwalk, get lunch and go back to the dorms. You and I both know that we aren't invited to Saturday gatherings due to unfortunately being classified as 'nerds'."
In the end, you relented. After all, who can say no to someone whose beaming smile rivalled the shine of a rainbow and whose honeyed voice washed over you like a soothing balm?
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Boardwalk was the name that the students had given to the all year amusement park reminiscent set up that was just a few minutes away from the dorms. You had come here several times, but rarely with someone else and mostly to clear your head. (And watch toddlers shrieking on the carousel).
The moment you got your pink wristbands, Seungmin dragged you to the stalls where you played to win a plushie. He was so intent on winning something that you found it almost adorable.
"You do know that these are all scams, right? There's no way you'll win," you stated confidently, disregarding the mammoth scowl on the game operators face."
Seungmin lazily picked up a dart and aimed for the balloons hung on the wall. He cocked his head towards you and gave you a wink, "This one's for you, sweetheart."
To your utmost surprise, the dart hit the balloon perfectly. Even Seungmin looked stunned. The operator offered him another dart and you a self-assured smirk. He once again hit the dart again, with a satisfying pop!.
"All right folks," the operator droned, "Pick a stuffed toy."
Seungmin nudged you slightly, "Which one?"
You glanced at him, "You won, so it's only fair that you choose."
Seungmin smirked at you, "Nope. I recall mentioning that that one was for you."
Heat pooled in your stomach, which shouldn't have. Especially when the cause were Kim Seungmin.
"Okay," you jutted out your head to make eye contact with him and turned back to choose the lucky stuffed toy.
You pointed at a medium sized elephant plushie and grabbed it eagerly. Holding it tight to your chest you said, "What should we name our child Seungmin?"
He presented you with no reply and a face contorted with judgement.
Pouting, you mockingly told the elephant, "Look, your father doesn't love you."
Feigning an offended gasp, Seungmin promptly snatched the elephant from you, "Don't listen to your mother, Ello."
"Ello?" You laughed.
"Shh," Seungmin chastised, "Let my inner European be free."
The mild spring breeze whipped your hair around and you took of your jacket, wrapping it around your waist. You spotted a fallen rose and quickly went to pick it up. It was still in pristine condition and in a random bout of girlhood, you tried to tuck it behind your ear.
Silently, Seungmin motioned towards you taking Ello and you handing him the rose. Seungmin somehow managed to break of the thorns without cutting himself.
Delicately lifting up the hair behind your hair, he began to adjust the rose in place. Since he was considerably taller than you, Seungmin leaned in front. You could see every valley and crevice in his face and for some reason, you wanted to hold it in your arms.
A rush thumped through your chest. As silly as it seemed, nobody had ever quite touched you like that. Seungmin's breath smelled like chocolates and cinnamon.
A rebellious part if you wondered if that was what he would taste like.
Lightly clearing his throat, he continued walking and you followed wordlessly. A few random rides later, you both finally found yourself in front of the Disco Pang Pang. A smile tugged at your lips. You were so going on this ride today.
Cheeks flushed from the fun you were having, you said breathlessly, "Let's go."
Seungmin visibly gulped, "I don't know."
"Aw come on, don't tell me you're scared." Seeing the petrified expression on his face however, you quickly retracted your statement. "It's fine, we don't have to,"
"No, it's okay," Seungmin managed weakly, "Just, hold me please."
Handing Ello to one of the fair volunteers, you both clambered up the metal stairs and took a seat on the foam benches. Seungmin was right next to you, his arm around the railing of where you sat.
Your initial excitement of experiencing this wore off, however, when the machine suddenly lurched forward. It threw Seungmin on you and his arms instinctively curved around your waist.
The warmth from his body radiated into you and for a moment stayed frozen, eyes glued on each other. You felt electric shocks where he touched you and trembled slightly.
Catching his breath, Seungmin began to apologize profusely. "I'm sorry I didn't mean too-"
The machine lurched again and again. Seungmin had figured out how to maintain his balance and stayed the distance of an arm's length away from you. When it was finally over, you both stumbled onto solid ground, clutching your stomachs.
"That. Was. Awesome!" You decided, delight etching your face.
"I'm convinced you're a six year old boy stuck in an eighteen year old girl's body," Seungmin groaned.
Agreeing upon this being enough fun for one day you both walked back to the dorms and went your separate ways. Astoundingly, Seungmin's advice of taking a break in between studying did help and you noticed that you were retaining information better.
You wanted to thank him and grabbed your phone.
[7:26 PM]
You: ty maybe.
You: I *kinda* had fun today
[7:30 PM]
Ello's dad: just admit it darling
Ello's dad: im fun
[7:31 PM]
You: in ur dreams Kim, in ur dreams
[7:32 PM]
Ello's dad: well then, ig I'll be dreaming of you tonight
You smiled despite yourself and went to bed.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - three months and twenty-five days.
Your relationship with Seungmin was somehow significantly improving. Yes, you still did indulge in your regular banter, but you both now had the ability to have full conversations without actually insulting the other person.
Your exams were finally over and, as presumed, both you and Seungmin had equal grades. What you didn't expect however, was even sharing the title of valedictorian with Seungmin.
The you before your impromptu study session would have been spitting fireballs. The you currently was looking forward to embarrassing Seungmin a little bit (in all good fun), during your moment in the spotlight.
In the fast paced environment of writing finals, wrapping up college applications and facing parents at parent - teacher meetings, the prom committee had forgotten one, extremely crucial component of prom planning: Picking a theme.
It was so stupid, really. None of you even realized until the décor committee was busy trying to decide on decorations and Felix meekly articulated, "Uh, guys. I don't think we ever decided on a set theme."
Seungmin eyes grew wide and you took in a sharp breath. How could you forget something so important? Frantic chatter arose and in a futile-ish attempt, you yelled out to the students, "Guys! Let's just come up with ideas, but in an orderly fashion."
In an instant, the room began quieting down and hands were raised, full of ideas. Seungmin gave you an impressed look and everyone slowly began suggesting various prom themes.
"What if," Noelle screamed from the back of the room, "We had a Paris inspired theme? I know, Paris nights!"
The entire room let out a collective groan. If Korea had koreaboos, then Noelle was some fucked up version of a French-boo. She boasted to whoever would listen that she had French blood, if being named Noelle and visiting Canada for two weeks constituted French heritage.
Riya ears perked up however, and she asked, "How about Aphrodite's Garden?"
You and Seungmin exchanged a look. "Elaborate," asked Seungmin.
Hyunjin gave Riya an encouraging shove and she stood up, "How about a spring theme, but instead of the classic flowers and leaves, it's more sensual and inspired by Greek mythology?"
The room broke into excited conversation, seemingly approving of Riya's idea. Hyunjin stood up next to her, "Riya and I could prepare a mood board and send it to the group chat."
"All in favor," Seungmin asked. A clear majority.
"Perfect," you smiled, "Then it's settled. The theme will be Aphrodite's Garden."
The room went back to it's raucous state as you stepped aside for a moment, head pounding from a headache. You had a cold and staying up all night studying for scholarship tests did not help. You knew you had to pass them though. You weren't willing to give your parents another reason to demean you for being a burden.
You were massaging your temples when Seungmin came up from behind you. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with concern.
"Yep," you tried to muster a positive tone, "Just a headache. I'm peachy."
"Peachy?" Seungmin inquired, his eyebrow cocked upwards and tone full of mischief.
"Don't assume that I don't use the word peachy unironically," you huffed.
Still, Seungmin's apprehensive expression and the exponentially increasing pounding in your head made you feel your gut that something bad was brewing.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You, Jeongin and Hyunjin waited patiently in the computer lab the next day. Hyunjin and Riya had made the mood board for Aphrodite's Garden, but wanted the input of you, Seungmin and Jeongin.
All three of you stood near the window, peering out of the glass and observing the ant-like players on the soccer field below. You wondered what was so appealing about kicking a ball on a Saturday morning.
Hyunjin looked troubled, "I want to ask Riya to prom. But I don't know how."
You let out a sneeze in response and Hyunjin wordlessly handed you a tissue, the despair never leaving his face.
You slightly understood the reasoning behind Hyunjin's thinking. It was promposal season, people planning elaborate and innovative ways to ask each other to prom. Considering the high school you were at, this more often than not involved Rube Goldberg machines and periodic table confessions.
Jeongin let out an audibly exasperated huff of breath. "If you like Riya, just ask her out. The worst she could say is no."
Before you could add onto Jeongin's admonishment, a voice cut through the room.
"What?"
Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand to your mouth. Hyunjin felt himself stumble backwards and Jeongin muttered a low "Fuck" under his breath.
Judging by the tone of the voice and familiar sweetness, you knew it could only belong to one person. Time felt like a concept out of grasp as you, Hyunjin and Jeongin turned to face Riya, standing in the doorway with shock painted on her face.
"I- I can't," she tripped over the doorstep, "Look, I'll just send them to you, I-"
Riya steadied herself, holding on the the doorframe, and then fled the room. Hyunjin glanced at you, his eyes full of pleading.
"Go, quickly," you commanded, and he rushed out of the room in Riya's stead.
"See, this is why you're my favorite," Hyunjin told you while ruffling you, scowling at Jeongin. You sniffed in response as Jeongin's jaw clenched.
Just then, Seungmin entered the room, giving both Hyunjin and Riya and irritated glare. "Weren't they supposed to show us something?"
"They'll just send it to one of us," you told Seungmin, your voice coming out weaker than expected.
"You know what," Jeongin threw his hands up in the air in rage, "Fuck this. If they are out, I am out."
Seungmin stared at you quizzically, as if trying to unravel the pieces of the puzzle that made you, well, you. His eyes must have taken in your sickness - stricken state because the curiosity on his face morphed into concern.
"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked, stepping closer to you.
"Fine," you choked out, but you knew you weren't.
Your head felt like a thousand drills were screwing into it. You felt hot and cold at the same time, throat parched and dry. Your body felt like lead, being weighed down at ever movement. You knew these were the textbook symptoms of a fever and then some more.
You tried to walk forward, but couldn't hold your balance. Dazed, you felt your consciousness slowly slip away due to the lack of sleep you were forcing yourself to put up with it. Exhaustion didn't come to you in raindrops, it came to you in a torrential shower.
The last thing you felt was Seungmin's arms holding you up as your entire world shrouded in darkness.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
When you came to, you were still in the classroom, water droplets running down your face. Seungmin looked guilty and the bottle of water in his hand told you everything you needed to know.
"Sorry," Seungmin said sheepishly, "I didn't know what else to do."
You waved him off, still trying to fully gain control of your senses. You blinked slowly and languidly, adjusting slowly to the light. The sudden shift from complete darkness to windows that let in natural light was slightly painful.
You placed your palms flat against the floor, where Seungmin had most likely placed you. The cool sting of the marble tiles was a welcoming sensation, the bite of it rebooting your brain. You straightened your skirt but your head was still fucking hurting.
"What exactly happened?" you asked weakly.
You knew that women were often taken advantage of in such situations. You knew you could trust Seungmin with your life though. He would never hurt you in any sense, and the past few weeks only solidified that fact for you. Still, asking was like second nature for you.
"Oh, uhm, you fell and I caught you and somehow managed to lean you against the wall," Seungmin stuttered.
He let out a weary sigh and rubbed his eyes vigorously. It was almost as if he was the one who had just fainted and was sitting on a cold marble floor. The thought made you laugh, but the way your chest constricted in pain when the laugh travelled up your bones made you push it down.
"Let's-" you managed until you let out a sneeze, "Let's get back to work. Hyunjin or Riya must have sent the designs by now."
Seungmin looked at you, appalled. "No. Are you insane? You probably are. I'm taking you back to your dorms and making you something warm to eat, no questions asked."
"Seungmin, you don't have to," you let out, your voice hoarse. But despite your mental and vocal protests, your body couldn't fight it anymore. It was begging, screaming for help and you had ignored it wrong enough."
Seungmin set you a look that could kill and held out his palm. You grabbed onto it, and with his help stood up. You legs were so weak, however, that you fell forward again. The world was spinning and you were falling and falling until you weren't.
The entire time, only one thought rang over and over again in your head, like a sickly song.
Was success, was making the people around you proud, was your hard work really worth this form of self inflicted torture you were putting yourself through?
Seungmin's arms steadied your waist as you arms flew up to his shoulders. You were in close proximity now, close enough that you could see your reflection in his eyes. God, you looked like shit.
The concern in his eyes and the pain you were both mentally and physically going through finally made you snap.
Without warning, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks. You were so, so tired. Seungmin didn't say anything, but he understood. Of course he understood. You couldn't deny it any longer. Being compared and set against each other didn't make you two poles on other sides of your respective worlds; in fact, it did the very opposite.
You were so accustomed to the thought of each other, that you had become a reflection of each other. There was no Y/N L/N without Kim Seungmin and no Kim Seungmin without Y/N L/N.
Your lives had become so intricately intertwined that the thought of a world without Seungmin, without the jabs and maddening nicknames, without the warm smiles that were solely reserved for you when somebody made an out of pocket comment at one of your student council meetings, felt impossible.
You felt your arms effortlessly slip down Seungmin's shoulder and around his waist. Your head automatically found a spot on his chest. You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, you knew that you were helpless and vulnerable, but you didn't care.
Seungmin kept you anchored as your mind swam through every dark tunnel that dug itself throughout your life. This time, you weren't frolicking in them. This time, you weren't finding solace in them because of your self proclaimed incompetence.
This time, you were sealing them shut for good and the only reason you could was because you knew Seungmin was there. He was there, he was there, he was there.
When Seungmin lightly placed his chin over your head, you didn't mind being short. His hands soothingly smoothed your hair over and over again as you noiselessly let out all the pent up emotions and feelings that grew into this black hole that was sucking the life out of you.
You stepped back. "I'm sorry," you sobbed.
"It's fine, you're good," he whispered softly.
Holding you forearm gently, he walked you out of the room you both were in and in the direction of your dorm. You furiously rubbed at your cheeks, attempting to lose any indication of you previously pathetic state, but you stopped when a shot of something you hadn't felt in a long time rushed back to you: indifference.
In this moment, you didn't care that the regality with which you held yourself in front of Seungmin and the world was soiled under your feet.
All you cared about was that you finally had a person who would hold you while you break and pick up the pieces with you when you were ready, mending you and healing and hell, loving you back to a state of somewhat living.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Your hands were shaking so much and your vision was so blurry when you tried to unlock your dorm room door that Seungmin had to ease the key out of your finger. He slid it in and with a click, the door swung upon.
You pulled out strength from the nooks and crannies of your being to actually change into something comfortable. Seungmin surprisingly also had a change of clothes in his bag, until you later remembered that he had baseball matches every Saturday morning at dawn.
You came out of your room wearing cat faced pajamas that were a little big for you but cozy nonetheless. Seungmin looked you up and down with a smirk on his face.
"Shall I call you kitty cat now?" his tone heavy with fake torment and real intention.
There was no way you were getting out of this one.
"Shut up, puppy," you referenced the small puppy face on his t-shirt as you padded towards the bar stools that stood along your kitchen counter.
"Okay, kitty cat," he grinned while you groaned.
In the fifteen minutes Seungmin had spent inside your dorm room, he had located the medicine cabinet and slid a bottle of Tylenol and a spoon. You withered under his expectant stare and duly obliged.
"Fair warning," Seungmin said casually as he took out some instant ramen and a saucepan, "I'm a horrible cook."
You probably would have flipped him off for his easy-going tone while saying that he could food poison you if he wasn't the reason you were in the comfort of your home right now.
"Just don't give me acidity. I would probably die and if I do, best believe I'll come back to haunt your ass," you muttered.
"Relax," Seungmin's tone was slightly offended, "Have faith in me. I can make at least instant ramen."
"If you insist," you sighed.
Seungmin passed the bowl of steaming hot ramen towards you, vapor still rising from it. You blew on it and took a bite, the heat instantly making you feel better. Seungmin sat beside you and began eating as well. You both lunched in silence, only the sounds of your spoons hitting your bowls and the occasional slurp filling the room.
You let out a yawn and Seungmin was quick to tell you that the instructions on the instructions stated that you had to wait an hour before sleeping if you had eaten anything after administering it.
To kill time, you suggested watching something on television. Seungmin joined you on the couch. You wrapped a warm blanket around you while Seungmin shifted through your Netflix catalogue, evidently pleased with your taste in media.
You started speaking, "You know, I was thinking of watching -"
At the same time Seungmin began, "I was actually planning on starting -"
"Three Body Problem," you both finished at the same time.
Reflections, reflections.
Seungmin played the first episode and you both watched in transfixed awe and silence. Seungmin kept checking on you in between though. It was never something major, but small things, like handing you the only pillow on the couch and passing a bottle of water at regular intervals.
"Wow," you said breathlessly as if you yourself were in that setting, "Any theories?"
Seungmin gritted his teeth, "Multiple, actually, but I have read the books and that would be fair, would it kitty cat?"
You pouted at him and he laughed his devious laugh.
"You can go, if you need to," you told Seungmin, "I'll get some rest. Riya will probably be home soon for a few hours."
"No, I'll stay out of the goodness of my heart," Seungmin smirked.
You snorted, "Out of the goodness of your heart, or out of the goodness of wanting to steal something?"
"Maybe I'll take your bunny slippers. They're the only thing worth committing a crime in this dorm for," Seungmin mocked, the slippers you were currently wearing coming I'm intentionally violent contact with his leg.
"Seriously though, thank you for helping me. I wouldn't have expected it from someone who hates me," you said, not thinking much of it.
"I don't hate you," said Seungmin, and your worlds collided to come to a standstill.
Every perception you had for yourself was destroyed with the utterance of four words. I don't hate you. The walls you had built of rivalry and animosity, of surpassing him and opposing him came crashing down and burying you in rubble underneath.
If all you had worked towards was to dismantle the justification of Seungmin's fabricated hatred, and yet he never hated you in the first place, then what was the point? Does that mean that you were never truly doing any of this for yourself, and only because of him?
If he didn't exist, what would you be?
You realized that you were probably reading too much into it and let out a hollow, "I thought you did."
Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. I just considered you a worthy opponent that would help me improve myself. If anything, I respect you. In fact, these last few days have led me to see you as a friend."
You realized that it was time you apologized as well. "I'm really sorry too. I shouldn't have treated you so crossly."
Understanding and amusement flooded Seungmin's features. "No, please don't change. Bickering with you is one of the highlights of my day."
A smile tugged at your lips. "Okay, puppy boy. I'll go get some rest. What will you be doing?"
Seungmin winked at you. "Looking for things useful to steal, of course."
You lightly shoved his shoulder and he shook his head, shaking with laughter. Seungmin's hair bounced up and down as he laughed, pitifully, at his own joke.
You went to bed with a reducing migraine, a lighter heart and a new perception of you relationship with Kim Seungmin.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were completely knocked out. When you woke, you felt weirdly feverish. You sighed bitterly, knowing that it would take you time to recover.
You walked out to the living room the check up on Seungmin. The sight which you found before you made you mentally melt into a puddle.
In front of you was a sleeping Kim Seungmin, legs brought to his chest and cheeks puffed out. His chest heaved rhythmically and small puffs of breath escaped his mouth. His hair covered his eyes and he was in the most compact position you had seen. You suppressed a snort.
You knew the kindest thing you could for him was to let him sleep. You knew the kindest thing you could do for yourself was to take pictures for blackmail material. Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you quickly snapped a picture.
Foolishly, you forgot to turn off the flash and Seungmin stirred in his sleep. He got up with a start and blinked slowly. His eyes found yours and he blinked once more.
Then, with a slow smile, he said, "Hi."
If you thought you were a puddle before, you were now a stream rushing towards the ocean. "Hello."
Seungmin sprang up, "Feeling better?"
"Hm," you responded.
You watched as Seungmin made his way to the kitchen, shuffling with the cups you had inside your mildly messy cupboards. "I'll make coffee. Two sugars right?" he asked matter of factly.
"Yep," you replied in slight surprise, "It's crazy how you still remember. It's been... what, six weeks since your last student council coffee run?"
Seungmin's back was to you, mixing away the milk and coffee granules. "I remember everything about you."
You heart shouldn't have stuttered the way it did, and for once, you didn't try to stop it.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - three months.
"Han Jisung," you yelled into your phone, "I will kill you!"
Static emerged from the other side, but you could still make out Jisung's muffled giggle. "Y/N, bestie, bad bitch, my ride or die, just get cookies."
You hung up the phone call in irritation as Seungmin leaned against the window of the bus stop, observing you with a smile. You shot him a grimace which was poorly disguised as a smile, and he burst out into a fit of laughter.
"Cookies it is I guess," he snickered at your misfortune.
"We're splitting the bill," you announced haughtily, and you both walked side by side to the local grocery store.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The cold air of the grocery store nipped at you, making its under your shirt and through your jeans. You rage towards a particular Han Jisung, however, propelled you towards the baked goods and sweets section. Seungmin tailed behind you, his hand holding on to your jacket sleeve.
The conquest in question was to get one of the people in your grade, Jisung, to help provide entertainment for the school prom. Him and two other seniors who had already passed out, Chan and Changbin, were part of a trio named 3racha. The entire school knew of their laurels; they had been signed to a famous company before even graduating high school.
Jisung told you to meet at their studio after school to discuss prom, assuring you that they would provide music and maybe even dj on the side. Right before you and Seungmin were going to leave however, he had the absolute audacity to tell you that his hyungs needed a lot of convincing.
You scanned all the decorative tin boxes, trying to pick out something cheap that would also suffice for the treacherous endeavor you were about to undertake. Sometime during this process, the familiar tug of Seungmin's hand on your sleeve vanished.
You surveyed the room to find where he was, like a mother looking for her son. When you finally spotted his familiar tuft of hair and tall frame, you let out a slightly fond and extremely exasperated sigh.
While you were actually working, Seungmin was busy waving two cones of ice cream towards you. You grabbed the box of cookies you were eyeing and walked towards him.
"Really, Seungmin?" you dryly questioned.
"I have an unnatural craving for butterscotch. If you don't let me have it, I'll go Edward Cullen on you," he retorted.
You seriously regretted persuading Seungmin into watching Twilight with you. Ever since the little sick spell you had which prompted Seungmin to spend time at your dorm, you both began a mini tradition of watching a movie together once every week.
You would play the movie on your respective laptops and call each other, listening on mute bar the occasional theoretical conversations and joint rants about the main character's absolute stupidity.
It all started when he began pestering you about table colors for the prom banquet ("but I don't see the difference between ivory and off-white!"), but you interrupted by saying that it movie night and that you were rewatching Interstellar. Both your movie preferences and haywire sleep schedules being very similar led to Seungmin asking you if he could watch as well.
The rest, as they say, was history.
You finally relented and you and Seungmin stepped out of the store with a split bill, a box of cookies under your arm and ice creams currently being devoured. You opted for Belgian Chocolate while Seungmin wolfed down butterscotch. You finished your ice creams and tossed your wrappers in the bin outside.
You noticed a spot of ice cream near Seungmin's lip. Without thinking anything of it, you pulled your sleeve and swiped at it, cleaning it in one go. Seungmin glanced at you with a mixture of awe, shock, and something you assumed was adoration.
"It's just ice cream," you mumbled, but the atmosphere of comfort and domesticity hit you just as much as it healed him.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The two of you got on the bus and found two empty seats beside each other. After you vehemently listed the cons of sitting in an aisle seat, Seungmin finally conceded into letting you sit near the window. He didn't do so without insulting your height (again), claiming that since he was tall he would need to stretch his legs, but you wouldn't be having such issues at all.
The bus ride to the 3racha studio would take a good forty five minutes. Not because it was far, per se, but because traffic was a little shit.
You both were on your phones, and you scrolled aimlessly through social media. You let out a groan of annoyance.
"What is it?" asked Seungmin.
"Just Riya and Hyunjin being disgustingly adorable. Go ahead, take pleasure in my despair," you offered, full of snark.
"I mean, if you insist," Seungmin grinned.
Ever since Riya and Hyunjin's dramatic love confession and Victorian romance-esque scenario, you had been third wheeling to the point where you were third wheeling without even being near them. Hyunjin and Riya being in a relationship did make you crave one of your own, but you were kind of to not let an innocent victim (see also: Yang Jeongin) fall captive to the perils of being a third wheel.
You were drifting in and out of reality, immersed in a science fiction eBook loaded onto you phone. Or at least, you were, until animated video game noises came from Seungmin's phone. You peered over his shoulder to see what he was doing, and burst into a fit of stifled laughter.
"How can you be so bad at Fruit Ninja of all games," you giggled.
Seungmin glared at you, "As if you're any better."
"I am, in fact," you snorted, your tone full of invitation and open to challenge.
It took just those four words and the smug expression on your face for Seungmin to quickly switch to multiplayer mode. The two of you vigorously tapped at your screens, slicing watermelons and mangos. Seungmin swiping was so arbitrary that he couldn't even cut through a fruit half the time.
You shoulder was pressed against Seungmin's and your chin hovered over it. You thought you both were being soft enough so as to not disturb anyone, but an old woman sitting in front of you coughed in what you assumed was contempt.
Blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment as you and Seungmin both bowed apologetically. You were expecting a lengthy sermon on public discipline, but the old woman broke into a smile instead.
"Always cherish your childhood friendships and childhood loves," she winked at the two of you, "Especially when it seems to be a love as free as the one you both share."
You and Seungmin exchanged confused looks.
"We're not-"
"About that-"
You were tripping over your words, stumbling and falling until Seungmin finally mustered, "We're not dating, or in love or anything."
The woman just laughed in response. She got up from her chair and left with an "If you say so!", leaving both you and Seungmin stunned in her wake.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You and Seungmin sat cramped in the 3racha studio couch. You couldn't quite call this room a studio. It was more of a musically inclined man cave.
Jisung, Changbin and Chan sat across from you, their legs ridiculously crossed over the other at the exact same angles. Jisung nibbled on the cookies that you brought. He smiled at another one of your death glares.
Chan clapped his hands together, "You know what? We would love to play at your prom. Changbin and I are alumni and Jisung is bitchless anyways."
Jisung swatted at Chan's arm with his cookie while Changbin swooped in to claim a cookie of his own. Amidst the chaos, you and Seungmin let out a sigh of relief.
"You can send us the transaction details at our email," said Changbin, scribbling it on a notepad. His booming voice made you jump in surprise.
"Cool, we'll do that soon. Before we go, can I use the restroom?" Seungmin inquired.
Chan rattled off the directions to the restroom and Seungmin left with a pat on your head and a "Don't miss me too much, darling."
"We'll get back to work now, Y/N," Chan said kindly.
You shot him a smile which remained on your face until Changbin snickered, "Yeah, Jisung can keep you company."
The two of them went inside their studio booth, erupting with giggles that turned into fake coughs which once again morphed into real coughs. You shot Jisung a quizzical look. "Oh, that's because I used to like you," Jisung said through a mouthful of cookie.
You weren't taken aback, unfazed by his sudden admission. Jisung has had a crush on almost the entire student body, regardless of gender. You would be kidding if you said that you didn't have a soft spot for Jisung though. He was your seatmate in chemistry class (a horrible one at that), but also the reason why you ran for student council president in the first place.
"You would be good at it," he encouraged you, even though you knew his ulterior motives.
You were presently reaching for a cookie when Jisung stated casually, "I didn't know you were dating Seungmin."
You choked on your cookie. "What? We aren't. Why would you think that?"
There was no way in hell you and Seungmin could ever be mixed up for a couple. Yes, your feelings of hatred towards him had considerably dampened, but that didn't mean that you liked liked him. Everything you felt towards him was strictly professional and only had to do with prom planning, as you would regularly reassure yourself.
Jisung shrugged. "The nicknames, the looks you were giving each other. I mean, you both are alike. It wouldn't be that out of the blue of you were."
You responded with a huff of indignation, assuming that this was Jisung's way of asking you if you were single.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
"We are not watching Twilight," you told Seungmin sternly. He pouted at you but you wouldn't budge, not even an inch.
Seungmin and you were back on the bus, the sky painted in beautiful shades of blue. The bus was quiet, you and Seungmin being the only passengers on there. Deciding to kill time because evening traffic would cause the bus to take even longer, Seungmin suggested watching something on his tablet.
"Let's watch the Vampire Diaries instead!" Seungmin said in excitement.
You stared at him, mouth agape. "What is it with you and vampires?"
"It's either that or Mean Girls," Seungmin offered.
You instantly knew what you would watch. Suffering through Seungmin watching Mean Girls and adopting Regina George's personality would be pure agony. There were many things you could tolerate in life, but Seungmin taking up the persona of his favorite characters after watching something knew was not one of them. Knowing Seungmin, you didn't have a shred of doubt that his favorite would be Regina.
"Vampire Diaries it is," you agreed, "But Damone is mine."
Seungmin offered no objection and handed you one side of his wired earphones. You had to sit in extremely close proximity to Seungmin, close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek. Your head subconsciously dropped on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against your hair.
Seungmin smelled like cinnamon and rain. You wondered what perfume he used, but then realized that it would be pointless since any and all perfume would have worn out by then. After that you began to ponder about what Disney movie he had stepped out of to smell so good and look so good despite spending hours either outside or in a cramped studio.
Finally, your train of thought took a sharp, final turn.
You were comfortable, pressed up against Seungmin and making sarcastic comments every so often. It felt normal, natural even. It struck you that your head fit under Seungmin's chin like a missing puzzle piece.
The pieces of your brain and the pieces of his heart joined together to form a beautiful mosaic of shared chaos and resilience that was unique only to the odd relationship you both shared.
Maybe it wasn't so absurd that two people had assumed that you both were in a relationship. Maybe you didn't want it to be so absurd. Maybe you wanted it to be something that wouldn't cause you and Seungmin to dismiss with hurried explanations and laughs full of ridicule.
That was enough thinking for today.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
[10:17 PM]
puppy boy: i have come here to tell you that i am willing to risk our friendship
[10:18 PM]
You: /what/ friendship?
[10:18 PM]
puppy boy: fine, i'm willing to risk out not friendship for claiming damone salvatore
puppy boy: talk to hand if you have any arguments
puppy boy: ✋🏻
[10:19 PM]
You: lmao not you acting like damone would choose *you* over *me*
[10:19 PM]
puppy boy: ...
puppy boy: ok well i can't rly argue with that
puppy boy: if i was damone, i would choose you in a heartbeat
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - two months and twenty six days.
The most fascinating thing that you had studied about in your astronomy class were binary stars. They were the most common multi star system, found regularly in pockets of the universe. They were immensely important, aiding in the calculation of things like mass of celestial bodies.
But one could not exist without the other.
A binary star was useless without it's counterpart, just another ball of glowing gas drifting about in the universe. You reckoned that humans also had their version of binary stars, people whose lives were so intertwined with each other that having one without the other stripped both entities of their meaning.
In astronomy, they were called binary stars. On earth, they were called soulmates.
That was what you and Seungmin were, stars that shone brightly in your shared skies but instead of dimming the other, only amplified it. You both were natural satellites, celestial bodies gravitating into each other's pull like a two magnets.
Seungmin drew you in like nobody else did, and you were tired of repelling it. If the earth had reversed it's poles so many times in the past, then in the grand scheme of things, you reversing your perception of Seungmin should have been nothing that would warrant a big deal.
But to you, this was your entire perception of a black and white reality being ripped away and slowly rebuilt in color.
Considering that the person behind all of it was Seungmin, these colors were more often than not so vivid and vibrant that it left you craving more of what life could be like if he would be there mending every crack in your universe.
It left you craving more of what life could be like if the term my universe in your dictionary changed to our universe.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You and Seungmin were sitting together in the library. Well, less sitting together and more having a habit of happening to be there at the same time (which was almost all the time). This caused you both to strike up a habit of unknowingly taking a seat beside the other person.
Seungmin was leafing through a book while you silently observed him. "What is it?" he piped up, his eyes never leaving his book, "What do you want to ask me?"
You placed a finger between the pages of the book you were reading and shrugged. "Nothing much, really. How did you know I was wondering about something anyways?"
He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I just know. Now, what is it?"
His impatient gaze and curious eyes tempted you into telling him what was making rounds in your head. You found yourself thinking for the umpteenth time how his hair fell into his face so perfectly, making him a vision that seemed like a painting encased in a Parisian museum.
"Your eyes," you whispered, your tone so imperceptible that a another human being would have barely heard you.
Seungmin always heard your voice, though.
"What about them?" he chuckled.
You titled your head to the side, wondering if you yourself were imagining all of this. "Did you know your eyes change color when you look at me?"
It was true, at least to you. You noticed that whenever Seungmin's gaze caught onto yours, his eyes darkened. Not in the terrifying way often associated with bloodlust, but in the puzzled way that made you feel like he was trying to figure you out, just as you were trying to figure yourself out.
"It's just a telling sign for my animosity towards you," taunted Seungmin, attempting to ignite a fiery response out of you.
It somewhat mildly worked.
"Oh yeah," you gasped, "Ello will be troubled to know that her parents are fighting.
"Hm," contemplated Seungmin, "Who's gonna be the one to tell her that she's a child of divorce?"
Seungmin's comment caught you off guard. Child of divorce? It was so out of pocket that even the tantalizing curve of your lips that had been making you feel unnatural things as of late couldn't distract you.
"We aren't even married, Seungmin," you pointed out.
In response, Seungmin put his book down on the table in front of him. He placed his elbow on the aforementioned table and smoothly removed one of the two rings that he was always wearing: the smaller moon ring to his larger sun ring, you noticed.
He motioned for your hand and in one gesture, slid the moon ring onto your ring finger. "There," he declared proudly, "Now we're married."
He seemed so casual, so unfazed about it, that it enraged you.
Did he not just feel like an entire carton box of fireworks had gone off in an empty parking lot that was his stomach? Did he not get his breath taken away from a gesture that was so simple that a passerby wouldn't even have batted an eye at it? Did he not feel perplexed, terrified and astonished that such a feeling was even possible?
Because you did.
You felt like your world was tilting on it's axis and you couldn't keep letting the lava simmer under the surface anymore.
It felt like the entire universe was in your grasp, like electricity crackled at your fingertips. You felt euphoric, your brain buzzing and mind spinning.
You felt like someone shattered the vase of feelings that contained all you had ever experienced and glued it back together with gold in its cracks. You felt like someone placed rose-tinted sunglasses on your eyes and that you never wanted to go back to normal vision after gaining a taste of what this felt like.
You knew that what you felt was, according to the countless books and movies you had watched, a horrible illness that constituted a crush. But you didn't know that it felt so good? Even more frighteningly so, you didn't know when you stopped seeing Seungmin as a rival and as a friend.
You frighteningly didn't know when you started seeing Seungmin as someone you were capable of loving until you did and it scared you to death concretely only knowing that your brain provided not a single fucking objection to this flurry of feelings.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - two months.
In the time that you had come to the realization that you had feelings for Seungmin, and all the moments post that day, you were in a tumultuous state of mind.
You hadn't told anyone about your feelings, because you weren't sure if they were genuine or if they were a product of you romanticizing the entire atmosphere surrounding you.
You would be so cruel to Seungmin before a few months ago, so neglectful of his feelings that you thought it was foolish to think that he would ever like. It baffled you that he even saw you as a friend; hoping that he would see you as a lover would be akin to grasping for non-existent straws.
You should have told Hyunjin, who viewed love so beautifully that you envied him for it. You should have talked to Jeongin, who didn't see love as poetically as Hyunjin, but had so much of it to spare and never seemed to run out. But you didn't.
Instead, you chose to exist in torturous turmoil, over thinking each and every shared moment you had with Seungmin. If this was what experiencing supposedly unrequited like was going to be for the rest of your life, you sincerely hoped you never went through the pain of it again.
If this was what experiencing supposedly unrequited like was going to be for the rest of your life, you sincerely hoped it didn't become unrequited love.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
"And we'll have to meet Felix for his cousin, you know, Lee Minho, who said he'll be open to catering for prom," you finished with an air of finality.
Seungmin bobbed his head in agreement and walked with you towards you locker. He stepped normally, slowing down to keep pace with you. You felt like your legs were lead.
Being near Seungmin made you simultaneously want to combust and make you want to fly.
You reached for you locker and twisted the knob according to your combination, as you did almost everyday. This was like second nature to you, so when you opened you locker, put your books inside and turned around with the intention of facing Seungmin, you certainly weren't expecting what you were met with instead.
Renjun, one of the students of your grade, stood facing you with a bouquet. You had spoken with Renjun a few times at most, striking up conversation very rarely. You had no idea what warranted him looking at you earnestly, hoping that he was waiting for someone else.
Of course you were wrong.
"Hey Y/N, um... I have liked you for a very long time and I wanted to ask if you would go to prom with me," Renjun stuttered.
To say you were in shock was an understatement. Dating was the furthest thing from your mind, regardless of whether or not you had feelings for anyone, Seungmin included. While you did feel a surge of ego at being asked out for prom, you weren't in any way, shape, or form, expecting it.
This also meant that you weren't prepared for what you were going to do if you wanted to accept a promposal, which in turn meant you had even less of an idea of what to do if your intention was to reject a promposal.
You instantly felt pity on him and remorseful for what you were about to do.
"Oh Renjun, I'm really sorry but I barely know you. On top of that, I'll be really busy with student council and just be the reason your night to be ruined," you told him softly.
Renjun looked at you crestfallen. "Oh yeah, no, you're right. I'm sorry for bothering you. Can we grab coffee sometime though?"
Before you could respond, Seungmin interjected. "Yes, yes, that's all nice but we have to go. People to see, places to be. Just text her when and where."
With that, Seungmin dragged you away. You wanted to protest but were internally cartwheeling instead.
It was probably your imagination, probably caffeinated emotions, but you thought you saw a flash of jealousy in Seungmin's charming eyes.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
"What was that about?" you snorted.
"That was me having to be inconvenienced because my partner doesn't know how to respond when a guy asks her out," Seungmin snapped.
Not friend. No colleague or co-president. Not even your name. But partner.
You weren't sure how to feel about that.
"Why do you hate prom so much Seungmin?" you sighed, changing the topic.
Seungmin shrugged in response but you pressed on. "It's okay puppy. No matter how embarrassing, I won't judge."
You crossed your fingers over your heart, but Seungmin just looked at you with melancholy in his eyes. Your teasing smile fell.
"It's a long story," Seungmin said. His hands were in his pocket and he was kicking at a rock on the pavement.
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," you told him, your voice full of guilt for asking.
"No, I will," he responded, "You deserve that much."
Seungmin finally began, "You know how I have an older sister, right? She's in college right now, but back when she was in high school, she was really smart. Smarter then me smart. I know right. Crazy? Anyways, she was very much type casted as a nerd and even though she was well liked, nobody wanted to date her. That was, until, prom came around. A guy asked her out and she was over the moon."
You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, knowing where this was about to go.
"She wasn't even romantically interested in him, but was so excited that someone had for once, shown some interest towards her that she instantly said yes. I still remember how she wouldn't stop talking about it. She got ready, buying her own dress and everything, using money from her part time job that she was saving for university. She looked ethereal that night. I still remember all of it, even if it was five years ago. But she was stood up. Turns out the entire was a dare, a sick joke. Her final straw was when she saw the guy who asked her out walk into the prom venue with another girl on his arm."
Your heart broke for Seungmin's sister. You couldn't even imagine how it must have felt. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, however, Seungmin opened his mouth once again.
He continues bitterly, "She was so heartbroken that she went to one of those afterparties, that's basically a rave. She drank so much alcohol that it got to the point where she was passed out on someone's hospital. We had to rush her to the hospital and get all of it pumped out. It felt so painful, being thirteen and watching my sister just suffer in pure agony."
Seungmin's voice broke, "She almost died last night, physically. But mentally, she was wrecked. It was on her hospital records, this incident. None of the Ivies, or any university even remotely good accepted her. She finally got into Stanford, but that was after writing several scholarship tests and paying a hefty fee. She's never really been the same since."
When Seungmin's sermon came to an end, you felt his hurt ten times over. Tears glistened in his eyes and without warning, you pulled him in for a hug. You felt Seungmin let out a shaky breath and held him close.
"Your hair smells like strawberries. It's highly concerning. Fruit based shampoos are dumb," he mumbled into your hair.
"Shut up and stop ruining the moment or else I'll let go," you warned.
In response, Seungmin just held you tighter. When he let go, he swiped at his eyes and gave you a grateful smile. "Sorry. And thank you," he told you with a tight smile.
You just nodded in response. "Hey, I understand why you hate prom. I can take over for you on the actual night," you offered with a squeeze of his hand."
Seungmin shook his head in response, "No, I'll be there. It wouldn't be fair to all of you if I wasn't. But you should go with Renjun. Being tethered to someone who has an outlook like me would just make the night boring as hell for you."
The possibility of going to prom with Renjun when Seungmin was right there was something you found utterly ridiculous. It made no sense, no sense at all to go with someone you had no feelings for. Going to prom with Renjun would hurt both him and you.
Seungmin's glazed expression sent an arrow straight into your heart, piercing and deafening. You refused to let him drown in sorrow. "Absolutely not, Kim Seungmin. If I said you're coming to prom with me, you're coming to prom with me."
You didn't allow any room for further argument, shutting Seungmin up with a defiant stare. You wanted Seungmin to enjoy prom, you truly did. But you knew that this wasn't the complete truth. You had a much more selfish, concealed motive.
You were going to make Kim Seungmin fall in love with prom, while falling in love with you as well.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - one month and three days.
[9:06 PM]
You: oi seungmin
You: we still meeting up at the library to wrap up all the finally details?
[9:07 PM]
seungmine (hopefully someday): Yep.
You could somehow tell that something was bothering Seungmin, just by reading that last text. You caught your lip between your teeth as you got ready to go to the library, his dry tone throwing you off. Seungmin was pretty much a dry texter, but always followed it up with something absurd. Today however, he didn't. Hell, he even used proper punctuation.
The entirety of the mini 'meeting' that you had consisted of only you talking and Seungmin responding with one or two words. If you were lucky, he would look your way, but your luck mostly fell short.
You snapped your binder shut and asked, "Everything good?"
Seungmin just blinked in response, the boredom and sense of being done evident in his eyes. He didn't reply and instead proceeded to swing his bag around his shoulder and stand up.
You tried once again. "I was going to go shopping for prom dresses. Do you want to match colors? Let me know what you plan on wearing."
Seungmin spared you a half glance. "Yeah sure, wear whatever. I don't really care."
You felt tears prick in his eyes. How could he just not care? You were willing to give up fun and sacrifice romance so that Seungmin could have someone to spend time with. You were doing all this and for what? Being told that he didn't care?
You felt so heavy that you spit out, "You know what? Fine. I wanted to go to prom with you so that you would have someone to be with. I knew, I knew that we would have to be stuck together all night, socializing and making sure nobody burns the school down or spikes the punch bowl. But that doesn't mean that I don't want prom to feel authentic, to go as a normal teenager."
You continued, "I'm not even asking you for the grand promposal that I have been dreaming about since I was nine. I'm just asking you to do the bare minimum, if not as my prom date, which you agreed to might I add, but at least as the person who I share the title of co-president with. You cannot keep disregarding my feelings Seungmin. I'm sick and tired of it. I understand that you hate prom but it's you who keeps insisting on coming, it's you who keeps saying that it won't be fair if you aren't there which is ironic, because you most definitely aren't being fair right now."
Seungmin stared at you, jaw slightly hung open, but the fire inside you kept raging.
"I know you don't see me as a date and that's fine but at least show me some modicum of respect. You didn't even let me complete my question; it wasn't me asking about matching prom attire. It was Principal Kim who suggested asking you about it. And you know that a suggestion from her is nothing short of law."
The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill out now as you mentally cursed yourself for ever even thinking that you could have feelings for someone like him.
"So, Kim Seungmin, if you don't want to go prom, or if you want to be a whiny little bitch about it, it's fine with me. Text me if you're going. If you won't, I'll just assume you aren't. You can do whatever the fuck you want because I'm sick for pitying you when you clearly aren't deserving of it. Go ahead and fucking ruin prom for yourself, but don't you dare tarnish the experience for me."
Before Seungmin could even anything, you grabbed your backpack and walked away, blinking back tears as you thought about how cold and lonely prom would be without anybody by your side to spend the night with. Hyunjin had Riya. Jeongin had a roster of senior girls willing to go out with him.
But you? At the end of the day, every single day, you were all alone. You let your intrusive thoughts in, swirling in your head and nearly paralyzing your capacity to think.
What if the reason why you were alone was all your fault? What if you were too pushy, too rude for your own good? None of that mattered, though, because thinking about the situation never changed the situation.
You would be alone, no matter how hard you tried otherwise, and that was the bitter truth you had to learn to live with.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
[5:28 PM]
Kim Seungmin: i am so sorry y/n
Kim Seungmin: please answer my calls
[6:36 PM]
You: I have sent the details regarding the electronic equipment.
You: Make sure to contact them.
[6:36 PM]
Kim Seungmin: please let me make it up to you.
Kim Seungmin: please.
[7:05 PM]
You: Let me know once you contact them.
You: Don't bother texting me otherwise.
You: My phone will be on dnd since I'm going out.
You: Call me only if it's urgent. I think you should be more than capable of handling the situation now, but just in case. Don't expect me to respond to you about anything else.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You were avoiding Seungmin as if he carried a deadly virus. You dodged him in hallways and expertly deflected any and all of his attempts to talk to you. The one place you couldn't avoid where you knew he would be, however, was the library.
You needed to return one of your library books. Today was the last day and not doing so would led to you paying a fine. You couldn't afford a payable fees right now, since most of the savings from your part time job and the money your parents would regularly send you would be going towards buying your prom gown.
Okay, fine. Maybe you wanted to give Seungmin a chance to properly apologize. But that's absurd and not important right now.
Your headphones were jammed in your ears, music pounding through them while you walked in its direction. People thought that you had an affinity for listening to classical music since you came under the categorization of an 'over-achieving nerd.'
You knew that society also known as your school, would break out into scandal if they ever found out that Kendrick Lamar was your top artist on Spotify.
That thought brought you back to Seungmin, as you giggled at the memory of his confusion while you were explaining the entire Drake and Kendrick beef to him. His nose was scrunched up and his eyes were squinted, listening to you as if you were preaching about the secrets of life and the universe, not ranting about rap music.
Oh wait. You were supposed to hate Seungmin. Not giggle at the memories of the time you spent together like a middle aged woman recounting her college days.
When you got to the library, you placed your bag on Mrs. Kang's table and took out the book you were supposed to return.
You handed it to her with a strained smile. "Hey, I am on time though, aren't I Mrs. Kang? Plus, this is just a first time offence. I'm sure you can let it slide."
Mrs. Kang raised her eyebrow. "Fine, just this once," she slid the book underneath the scanner and mentioned, "Oh, you should go check out the Romantic Literature section; we finally got sent The Vicar of Wakefield."
You looked at her, puzzled. You were never really interested in works that emerged during the age of early eighteenth century Romanticism. She must have mixed you up with somebody else, but you began to walk towards the shelves anyways. If anything would help lighten your spirits, it would be re-reading Pride and Prejudice.
When you got there however, the most unexpected sight awaited you.
Your eyes drank in the sight of Seungmin, standing wearing a varsity jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. Dried rose petals littered the length of the aisle. Seungmin was holding up an open book with it's pages folded to form the word 'Prom?'
As much as you hated to admit it, the sight took your breath away.
Seungmin cocked his head to the side. "I had to bribe her with my limited edition copy of Frankenstein."
"What- what is this?" you asked, your brain still numb from shock.
Seungmin bit his lip and looked at you. "This is me apologizing. You were right. I completely sidelined you when I shouldn't have. I truly respect and admire you and feel horrible that I made you feel like this. And I figured, that I should ask you to prom the way you deserve: with all the grandeur in the world."
His apology was one that you could have never imagined being the recipient of. Even fiction didn't predict something as thoughtful as this. Seungmin preparing an entire promposal for you, over just a hissy fit, was enough to thaw your temporarily frozen heart.
You looked at him open-mouthed. "But I thought you didn't even like me that way."
Despite how hard he tried to contain it, tones of mischief slipped through Seungmin's voice. "Would it be so bad if I did?"
What? This couldn't be real. This was most definitely not happening. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren't dreaming, because never in your wildest dreams would such a scene have ever taken place.
Seungmin must have somehow read your mind because he quickly stuttered, "Not that I do. I mean I like you. But not in that way. Like, I asked you since we have to spend the entire night together anyways. I'm sorry for making this weird."
You let out an exhale, chiding yourself for being so gullible. It was just Seungmin being Seungmin. You spared a glance at his eyes, full of anticipation. You wanted to say no. If you didn't, you knew you would be in too deep.
You took a step forward to refuse his request when your eyes fell on his hand. The sight awaiting you knocked the wind out of your body.
You already noticed Seungmin's baggy eyes, attributing it to lack of sleep because he was busy doing whatever guys do. But his hands told the other half of the story.
They were adorned with paper cuts. Small scars like moons were imprinted on him in various stages of healing. One even had a bit of blood on it.
"Uh, yeah," said Seungmin, noticing your eyes drift down, "I spent all night making it. Let's just say that I'm really bad with paper and folding in any context and leave it at that."
"Seungmin," you whispered, your eyes tearing up. He offered you a tight smile.
"I should go. This was weird. I'm sorry."
"Wait!" you said in a tone that startled him, "I'll go. I'll go to prom with you. Officially."
Seungmin's eyes reflected a question of whether you were doing this genuinely. You hoped that your eyes reflected that you were. Seungmin may not ever come to like you romantically, in any sense. But you were happy with what you were being offered.
You were happy that Seungmin was the first person you thought yourself to have the potential to love.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - shit, it's prom!
You couldn't sleep all night.
The frenzied prolepsis that clouded your mind refused to escape. 'What if's?' and 'Should have's?' regarding the event clouded your head. You thought that you would feel more nervous about your experience at prom, but it was all the planning that got to your head.
If you were a wreck, however, then Seungmin was a fucking natural disaster.
He texted you without pause, your phone blowing up so much that even Riya had to ask you if everything was okay. His chats varied, from long rants about how Die Hard is not a Christmas movie, despite Felix's apparent protests, and immense worry about how prom would turn out.
You didn't blame him. You were just as anxious as him, even if you weren't as vocal about it. This mammoth event was like yours's and Seungmin's baby. You were so concentrated on making sure that everything went according to plan, that the idea of you going to prom with Seungmin was pushed to the dark and dusty corner of your brain.
"You have been texting Seungmin a lot lately," teased Riya as she curled her hair.
"Shut up," you told her smoothly, already armed with blackmail material, "Or else I will smack you and tell Hyunjin about your Shah Rukh Khan shrine."
She effortlessly shut up.
You ran from one room to the other, your dorm house common room and back, pacing and placing calls and confirming and reminding people of what had to be done. You were in such a rush that you hadn't even started to get ready.
In your panicked chaos, you slammed into an already ready Felix. His white suit was immaculate, small roses embroidered on the sides. His blond hair was tousled and his easy smile gave you a bit of reassurance amidst the hectic situations you were constantly throwing yourself in.
"Felix! What are you doing here? You look amazing, by the way." You pulled him in for a quick hug, distracted by a call you had to make.
"I'm here to pick up my date, Jeongin," Felix smirked.
You let out a cough. "What?"
Felix laughed. "I didn't have a date and thought that he deserves to come since he has helped so much. So, I offered him my plus one ticket."
Ah, that made sense. You wondered why Jeongin didn't go with one of the senior girls on his roster of ladies in waiting. Then you remembered that he thought of himself as some sort of a chivalrous gentleman.
"Why haven't you gotten ready yet?" Felix questioned.
"Oh, I was just-," you began, before Felix sternly interrupted you.
"Don't you dare say you were wrapping things up. You and I both know that your definition of wrapping things up is frantically quadruple checking everything," Felix scolded, "You will stop worrying and get ready."
You just sighed in response, "I wish I could but-"
"No buts," he said, his eyes softening. "This night is yours as much as everybody else's. If anything, it's mostly yours."
Before you could sweetly respond to Felix with a resounding refusal, Jisung, per usual, appeared out of thin hair. His suit coat looked a little small and you vaguely remembered yearbook pictures of Chan during his prom, wearing almost the exact same suit coat, minus the little hand stitched lightening bolt on the side pocket.
"This," Jisung motioned towards you with a flourish of his right hand, "Is unacceptable."
Felix promptly agreed. You flashed him a withering glare and he slightly wavered, but it was of no use. You had lost the battle before it had even begun.
Twenty minutes later, you, Jisung and Felix were in your dorm room. No matter your protests, they insisted on helping you get ready for prom night. The two of them did your hair and makeup while you pondered on how you couldn't do it yourself half as good as they did.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
When they were done, you gasped in surprise. They made you look a beautiful you thought you weren't capable of outwardly being.
Your dress in itself was majestic, at least in your eyes. It didn't exactly fit the theme, but the moment you saw it, you knew you needed to have it. It marveled you to no end about how someone could leave something that looked so incredible in a small thrift store next to the coffee shop you frequented.
The dress was silver, shimmering in a shade of what you only knew to be 'almost white' when light struck it. The bodice was in the shape of fairy wings, the sides laced crisscrossed and showing the smallest bit of skin. The back was covered, and the dress flowed down to reach your feet like a cascading waterfall. It was sleeveless, and so you wore long, winding silver bracelets on each hand.
Your make was done almost professionally by Felix. He used a colour pallet of silvery white, not exaggerating your make up. He brushed your hair calmly and tied two strands of it in a braid, pull them back to make a sort of halo. Felix clipped butterflies into your hair and made you feel like a mythical creature stepping out from a fantasy novel. Narnia, maybe.
Jisung on the other hand, provided food, gossip and entertainment. You would never reveal this to him, but you found that very vital to the process of getting ready as well.
"You are so good at this," you gushed at Felix.
He looked at you calmly. "I have two sisters, and I'm the middle kid. As a consequence, I was often my older sister's model for all things fashion and my younger sister's personal stylist."
Jisung munched on a piece of cake which you had no idea was even there in your kitchen. He sat on a barstool and clapped when you came out and gave him a spin. His feet rocked back and forth while he cheered you on.
"See," he said to Felix pointedly. "I am a better wingman than you."
Felix looked immeasurably hurt. "Not as good as me though. You didn't even help me!"
"I did, didn't I?" Jisung looked at you with those boba eyes that you found extremely hard to resist.
In response, you ushered them both out of the house in order to not get pulled into conflict and be the cause of an unsatisfactory prom night. Plus, you wanted to get there early and check on the venue.
Well, that and also to (mostly), see Seungmin.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You spotted him before he could see you.
Seungmin looked ethereal in his silver suit, his hair swept to the side and hands in his pockets as he engaged in easy conversation with one of the teachers.
He looked like a song you could listen to for the rest of your life until you were maddened by it but never turn it off. He looked like a painting that you could stare at as it dried, like a work of art you spend countless hours and dollars just to catch a glimpse.
And, he matched with you.
When you mentioned to him in passing that your prom dress was silver in colour, you hadn't actually expected him to wear something of a similar, much less the same colour. And yet he did, and you went down a spiral of feelings once again.
Seungmin's eyes must have found you because he sauntered over to you like a man with a purpose.
"You look beautiful," he whispered in awe, "But then again, you do everyday."
You blushed, hoping that the shitty lighting would hide it. "You look incredible yourself Seungmin," you said lightly, "And you somehow look good everyday, despite only running off of caffeine and spite.
Seungmin threw his head back an infectious laughter that had caused you to laugh as well. Someone called his name from the background in the middle of your laughter. Another louder, more insistent call of his name floated towards your general direction. Seungmin dipped his head in apology and walked away.
He had told you that you look beautiful. Not your dress, not your make up, not your hair. Not the meaningless, material attire that clung onto you like tinsel on a Christmas. But he said that you, you, look beautiful.
Seungmin wasn't looking you up and down when he said so, like men in the movies did. He didn't look like he was trying to memorize your body, memorize the dips and curves where he could place his hand and mold his being into yours.
No, he looked you in the eye when he said at, as if he didn't believe that it was the clothes that made you look beautiful. He looked you in the eye as if everything that made you, well, you was what made you so beautiful in his sight.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You stood in a moment of peace, finally standing still since reaching the venue.
The moment you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, however, a guttural screech and the sound of howling teenage boys flooded your ears. Sighing in irritation, you opened one eye to asses the situation. Deciding that it warranted you opening the other eye as well, you walked over to the culprits and sternly told them off.
You probably jinxed any peace that would possibly be coming your way by stealing away those five minutes for yourself.
Bad karma, bad decisions.
Seungmin was watching the entire altercation with a faint smirk. He walked over to you and tapped you on the shoulder. You didn't know it was him, and were about to tell him off as well until his familiar scent reached you.
You glared at the gaggle of seniors who has no right to be called seniors and turned to Seungmin.
"May I please have this dance?" he asked with a smirk.
You raised an eyebrow at him and placed your hand in his. "The theme is Aphrodite's Garden, not 18th century Regency era Bridgerton," you quipped.
Seungmin was subject to torture at your hands, also known as, watching Bridgerton with you. He would never admit it, but you knew he liked it. In fact, he may have even enjoyed it more than you. Either that, or you were hallucinating him being on his Simone Ashley Twitter fan account.
Your arms went around his neck as Seungmin guided you to the dancefloor. "I can't really dance," you murmured, the close contact between you both making your head go haywire.
"Neither do I," he winked.
Seungmin's eyes bored into yours and you licked your lips self-consciously. Considering you incredible luck, the song was slow and sensual. Considering your incredible luck, less than twenty seconds into the song playing, a loud crashing sound was heard in the background.
You prayed to God to help salvage prom, and no, that god was not Taylor Swift.
"I'll handle it," Seungmin reassured you.
"I'm a big girl," you bristled, "I can handle it as well."
"I know you are," Seungmin mused, "But I also know you well enough to know that those heels are absolutely killing you right now."
You pressed your lips in a thin line. No matter your feelings for Kim Seungmin, you still hated when he was right. You flashed him the tiniest smile in a way of saying 'thank you', since you were too proud to actually do it. He took it in stride and went away to handle whatever it was that needed handling at the moment.
He left you alone with your thoughts if such situations weren't confined so momentarily and were instead something you could enjoy for eternity.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You decided to step out of the venue for a bit, to finally clear you head. The atmosphere of prom buzzed with electricity and it wasn't the good, energetic kind; it was more of the kind that made your hair frizz.
You were standing, staring at the stars when you felt the air shift beside you. You knew who it was even without sparing a glance at them.
"The stars are beautiful tonight," you whispered to him.
"They are, but I have seen sights today that even rival them," Seungmin said. His voice was missing his trademark sass.
Your heart thumped incessantly as you asked, "Trying out cheesy pick up lines on me now, are we?"
Seungmin laughed, "Now would that be so bad?"
You both stood in silence. You bent down, opened your heels and set them to the side. You felt Seungmin looking at you, but you kept looking at the sky.
The sky, which was ever changing, yet reflected the same shades everyday. The sky, that served as a medium of rain and thunder, sunlight and rainbows. The sky, that was always there in you life, unwavering and never faltering.
Sky, which was coincidentally Seungmin's English name. It suited him.
"I really like the constellation of Orion," you told him with a sideways glance.
"I know. I remember."
"How? I mean, how do you remember all this?"
"I remember everything you tell me," Seungmin repeated, like he did all those months ago.
"Why?" you asked. You asked because you wanted to know, needed to know and repent your mistake of not asking earlier.
Seungmin turned to face you. His eyes held no glint of mischief, no edge accompanied by teasing. Instead, you felt locked in his gaze. It was the kind of intense stare that made you think that he was about to spill all his sins at your feet, right here, right now.
"I remember everything because it's you who says it. I used to remember because I wanted to beat you, be better than you. Then I started to remember as a habit, noticing the smallest quirks about you. Now I remember because I want to be there for you, to help you."
This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. But how much longer would you say that to yourself until you were imbibed with it?
"There is an ugly mix of feelings inside me regarding you, Y/N. They went initially from animosity, to something akin to friendship, to now, the desire for something with you that's more than just platonic."
He gulped. You swallowed. Silence.
"I am drawn to you, Y/N L/N. From the moment I have met you, it has felt like my life is irreversibly tangled with yours. I am propelled towards like it's pre-destined, and I always have. There are times where I feel like I cannot exist if you do not exist. And I'm tired of brushing these feelings aside, acting like they're non-existent."
"I like you, and not telling you has quite nearly driven me to the brink of insanity. It's alright, if you don't feel the same, but please don't walk away without an answer for me."
His gaze averted yours when he finally finished. You looked at him in awe, unable to express how you felt his brilliance radiate off him when he perfectly articulated all the feelings that restlessly capsized land in the empty spaces of your mind.
"For someone really smart, Kim," you breathed, "You are extremely stupid."
"You mean..." Seungmin's voice trailed off. Now it was his turn to look at you in awe.
"I have the feeling that you're trying not to kiss me, and I give you permission to just do it," you announced.
Seungmin gave you a wild smile before his lips swooped in to meet yours. They tasted like fruit punch and chocolate cake, like promises and forever.
You might have been imagining it, but for one cosmic moment, it felt like the stars were shining brighter than the usually did. Two binary stars had finally found each other, finally made their way into each other's orbits, never to stray again.
His lips left yours with a small gasp. "That was my first kiss," you mumbled sheepishly.
Seungmin fiddled with the flaps of his suit coat nervously. He started babbling, "Really? This was, I think, my third. Once at camp and once last year but that was just spin the bottle-"
You cut him off with a smirk. "Let's make it a fourth time, shall we?" and you promptly shut him up by placing your lips on his.
You weren't jealous of the other people Seungmin had kissed. God knows how awful this entire experience would have been if you both were going into it as novices. If anything, you were glad you were the third person he was kissing, because in that celestial moment, you made a vow.
You may not be the first person Seungmin had kissed, but you would make damn well sure to be the last.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
t - girl, it's the epilogue!
Seungmin yawned and wrapped his arm around your waist, practically caging you to the bed. He let out whine when you tried to get out of his grasp and just pulled you closer. You poked him in the side until he yelped.
"Kim Seungmin, you are not skipping work today. I know this display of affections is just so that I concede and let you stay home for cuddles," you told him sternly.
"But it worked last time. And the time before that. And the time before-"
"Well, it won't work this time," you announced with an air of finality.
If anything, being in a relationship with Seungmin only increased the penchant for banter you both had. You both rarely disagreed on things, but went back and forth for fun anyways. You knew your boundaries and never crossed them, but argued like cats and dogs nonetheless.
Well, you called it arguing. Seungmin called it flirting.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You both finally pulled up at Seungmin's workplace and you snorted when you saw the building gates. Seungmin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and looked at you with a smile that you gave back. It was his first day on the job as Principal.
It had been ten years since you stepped foot on the campus of Park Academy.
"The legacy of Principal Kims continues," you giggled, proud of yourself for making that joke.
"That's because Kims are superior," Seungmin declared.
"That is literally so offensive," you flicked him arm lightly.
Seungmin's eyes met yours and a familiar look in it made you outwardly dread and inwardly prepare to rebut whatever he was going to tell you.
"You shouldn't say that," he snickered, "Considering that you'll be an honorary Kim yourself soon."
Oh. Oh.
It would be a week until students started coming to campus, there classes yet to start. When Seungmin mentioned this to you, you asked if you could come along to see the campus once. The campus where you fell in love with him.
"You might be a hot shot CEO," Seungmin relentlessly teased, "But it's good to go back to your roots sometimes."
It was ironic how you called his mother more than he did.
Your feet subconsciously guided you to the library. You loved this library. It was the place where you spent some of the best moments of your life. This was where you slowly fell in love with Seungmin, uncovering him layer by layer until you could call him yours.
You felt a laugh bubble up your throat when you made your way to the Romantic Literature section. Seungmin gave you a poor attempt at a smile as he observed you. In fact, he looked extremely nervous, a sharp juxtaposition to the flirty demeanor of his just a few minutes ago.
You could count on one hand the amount of times you had seen Seungmin being nervous.
It must have been anxiety surrounding the promotion. You reached over to squeeze his hand and give him a reassuring pat. Once you were sure that he would be fine, you turned back to prodding at the books shelved on the wall as if they were part of some lab experiment.
Once you were satisfied, you turned to give Seungmin the signal to go, when you stumbled backwards at what was in front of you.
Seungmin stood down on one knee, a box in his hand, with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen inside it.
"What?" you asked, your voice shaky. Tears instantly began to spring up in your eyes.
This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. But it was. The man you had loved for a decade was here, in front of you, wordlessly asking to turn those ten years into the rest of a shared forever.
"I had a really dramatic speech planned," he rambled, "But I forgot since I'm kind of terrified and you do always tell me to speak from my heart so here goes nothing."
"I have probably mentioned this thousands of times, but I have felt a magnetic pull towards you since the moment I first interacted with you. I didn't know what it would turn into then, but I knew it was going to be something, and I have been eternally grateful that it was love."
"To put it simply: every single infinitesimal particle that makes me in hopelessly in love with every infinitesimal particle that makes you. I love you, so, so much. I have been yearning for a forever with you before I even knew it so; will you marry me?"
He stopped with a sniff and swiped the sleeve of his sweater across his eyes. "Shit, I wasn't supposed to cry."
It all came full circle, didn't it? Ten years ago, he asked you to prom. Ten years later, he offered you eternity.
You let out a laugh and threw yourself at him, peppering him with kisses. "And you said you didn't want to come to work today," you laughed in between your cuddle attack.
"So, this means yes?"
You face palmed. "This means yes, Seungmin. Yes, I will marry you. In every universe, I know that I will spend the rest of my life with you."
Seungmin gathered you in his arms and kissed you like he was burning and you were oxygen. Binary stars, burning and burning, bleeding into each other in every reality because, there could never be you without him, one without the other.
Ten years ago, you swore that you would be the last person Seungmin would ever kiss.
Ten years later, nobody could say that you weren't a woman of your word.
please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3
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Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part Two
Text Divider by @saradika-graphics
SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.
It’s him. It’s always been him.
WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of Substances and Alcohol; Complicated Relationship Dynamics.
PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader
WORD COUNT | 13.2k
Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!
A/N | Not beta read. ;)
She sits at Aemond’s kitchen counter, her eyes wandering over the photographs sprawled out in front of her. Each image captures the haunting beauty of the ruins of Valyria, a place Aemond has been passionate about for ages due to his heritage. The smell of French toast wafts through the air, mixing with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He pours her a mug and slides it over to her.
Just for a second, the domesticity of it all makes her want to blush.
She has been seeing men, yes. Ever since she got to college, there have been no shortage of men who want to date her; but she has been hesitant about letting any of them close. Perhaps it is the idea of being touched once more, or the comfort she has grown for herself that she refuses to let anyone in - she does not know.
But not Aemond, seems like. He’s been her bedrock ever since she moved to Oldtown, and sometimes, he does little things that make her feel warm.
She has a hard time figuring out what it is, but it’s certainly not feelings. She’s had them before, for Daeron - it’s a lot more intense, usually.
This is easy. Too easy. It is easy to be attracted to Aemond, he’s got that about him. But he’s also Aemond - Daeron’s brother. It is quite messed up. It is easy to be infatuated, she feels. But she’s not quite ready to do anything about something so miniscule - especially given what he means to her.
It’s all a bit of fun, really. A mindless little crush. All of it goes away in time.
And there’s also the fact that he seems to like someone else, and not her.
Aemond moves gracefully around the kitchen, flipping slices of bread in a sizzling pan. His expression is animated as he recounts the details of his recent trip. "Valyria is everything I imagined and more," he said, his voice filled with awe. "The architecture, even in ruins… phenomenal.”
She picks up a photo showing a grand, crumbling archway, its intricate carvings still visible despite centuries of decay. "This is incredible," she murmurs, tracing a finger over the image. "Like walking through time.”
He smiles, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Exactly. Every piece of rubble, every shattered column… and the dragons… you can feel their presence, even now."
She looks up at him, curiosity piqued. "Did you find anything related to your family?"
"I did. There were symbols and inscriptions that matched the Targaryen coat of arms. There was this…” He turns quickly to rustle his hands through the photos, trying to find one that he probably intends to show her. When he spots it, he slides it to her by the fingertips. “This old stone tablet with the Targaryen dragon carved into it, still intact despite the centuries.”
"That's incredible. It must have been surreal to see it in person."
"It was," Aemond agrees, his voice tinged with reverence as he went back to the stove. "There were also ancient manuscripts, or what was left of them. The text was almost completely eroded, but you could still make out references to my ancestors. And there was a mural, faded and cracked, but you could see the dragons soaring over Valyria in them, with what we believe were the early Targaryens among them."
He placed the plate of French toast in front of her and sat down, his eyes glowing with excitement. "I even found a piece of what might have been a dragon egg, petrified but still recognizable.”
Wylde takes a bite of the French toast, savoring the warm, cinnamon flavor, but her mind was captivated by Aemond's discoveries. “How’d you end up making the trip? Thought it was closed for like… government reasons or something?”
“Right, so… Aegon-”
“That never ends well.”
The edge of his lips twinges upward and she clocks his faint smile. “He's the creative director of The Kingslander now.” She has heard of it. Aegon Targaryen was quite the flighty boy growing up, with little to no focus on anything low-key. He would always have an eye for anything creative and aesthetic though, and had a unique style. Alicent spotted an early opportunity for her eldest son, and had him intern at The Kingslander, one of the many magazines that Targaryen Consolidated owned. Soon enough, he had something to channel himself into, and it showed. From fashion photography to various directed photoshoots, he was in his element.
But at heart, Aegon was never meant for the desk lifestyle. So when Sara Snow - an archeology professor - tumbled into his life and told him she was to leave on an expedition for half a year, he took the opportunity to let loose and chase her across the globe. She had him enrolled into the documenting team so he wouldn’t be twiddling his thumbs, and he seems to have taken to it quite well.
‘So I’m like, into history now.’ She can clearly hear him say it.
“I don’t know. He likes this girl, and he got access, so he invited me to go along because there may never be a chance again.”
“Sounds like such an Aegon thing to do,” she says wistfully as the last bits of her food disappear from the plate.
“What?”
“To put his heart on the line and take risks that involve going halfway across the globe to a restricted area for a girl.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“You wouldn’t do it?”
Aemond pauses, contemplating the question. "It's not that I wouldn't. It's just... different for me."
Wylde raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Different how?"
“He’s so… out of control. I’d not prefer that.”
“Hm. Or perhaps you haven’t had your crazy grand romantic moment yet.” Red blooms over his cheeks as he faces away, taking her plate to dump it into the sink. “Speaking of. You mentioned you met someone months ago! I’ve been here for three months already and you’re yet to tell me anything!”
“It’s very casual.”
“Liar. You’d not be hiding her like your life depended on it if it was.”
“Hm.”
She stands up, gathering her books and bag, ready to go home. She begins to assemble all the photos, carefully placing them back into the box. As she reaches for the last few, her fingers brush against a small, delicate emerald locket she hadn't noticed earlier. She holds it up, admiring its intricate design.
"Is this from the expedition too?" she asks, curiosity evident in her voice.
Aemond turns, scratching the back of his neck as he answers, "No, that's a friend's. She was looking at the photos earlier." A faint blush creeps up his cheeks, but Wylde notices it immediately.
"And is this the same… friend that you're trying to hide from me?" she teases, a knowing smile on her lips.
"Perhaps," Aemond admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
She chuckles, and stores at the back of her mind the observation that whoever he’s seeing comes and goes to the flat, just like her. "Good taste in jewelry, I'll tell you that much. I like her already."
She walks up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug and planting a friendly kiss on his cheek. The tingling feeling is back again, but she ignores it like the plague.
"Food was good. One of these days you'll give Criston a run for his money," she jokes - to lower his tension or hers, she does not know.
Aemond mutters his thanks, his blush deepening. "Don't get your hopes up too high."
She strolls through the lively streets of Oldtown, her phone pressed to her ear. The scent of fresh pastries from a nearby café mingles with the distant hum of conversation, and the old world charm brightens up her day.
“Hey… been a while!” she says, her voice bright with genuine enthusiasm. “How’s everything at KLU?”
There’s a brief pause before Daeron’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Hi, yourself! Things are going great here. Campus is even more lively than I expected, classes are alright. How’s Oldtown treating you?”
You could have found out for yourself if you’d followed through with me, she thinks. She’s quick to kick her bitter thoughts to the curb though.
She glances around at the charming storefronts and the lively crowds. “It’s been a whirlwind. The courses are intense, but I’m getting used to the pace. I’m really enjoying the city - it’s everything I hoped it would be. So different from home, but in a good way. Aemond and I spend a lot of time together, so that’s nice.”
“Yeah, Oldtown is amazing,” Daeron agrees, his enthusiasm unwavering. “I remember going there to visit grandpa often as a kid.””
“Oh yeah!” Her curiosity gets the better of her, and her question tumbles out before she can stop herself. “How’re things with you and Floris?”
There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line. She can almost hear Daeron shifting, his voice a bit more guarded when he replies. “Oh, Floris is… she’s doing well. She’s been really busy with her studies and all. It’s been a bit hectic for her, but she’s handling it. You know how she is - always on top of things.”
No, I don’t know how she is, actually.
Her brow furrows slightly as she walks past the café, where the smell of coffee and baked goods wafts out into the street. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something feels off to her. “That’s good to hear. But you sound a bit... dull. Everything okay?”
Daeron let out a nervous chuckle. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’ve just been caught up in our own worlds lately. It’s a lot to balance with everything going on. But she’s fine, really. We’re fine.”
He’s lying. She knows. She knows him like the back of her hand.
Arianne Martell approaches her in the distance, her bright smile unmistakable. She sighs into her phone, deciding to let the topic drop for now. “Hey, Daeron, I’ve got to go. Catch up later, yeah?”
“Okay, bye. And hey-”
“What?”
“I miss you.”
Much and more has happened between them, but she can’t help but smile all the same. “Me too. We’ll talk soon.”
Heart warmed by the fact that she can have a conversation with him again without wanting to pull his spun silver hair out, she picks up the pace to join Arianne.
They queue up at the cart, their conversation slipping into the familiar rhythm of college gossip. Arianne’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she leans closer. “You won’t believe what I heard about Margaery Tyrell. Apparently, she’s been sneaking off to meet with Lionel Hightower.”
Wylde raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Margaery? Really? I thought she was with-”
Arianne nods enthusiastically. “Renly Baratheon, yes. But my brother saw him and Loras Tyrell making out at one of his parties.”
“Well. Fair enough.”
Arianne grins, clearly enjoying the drama. “Oh, it gets better. Apparently, they’ve been trying to get Cregan Stark to join them but he’s much too prudish for a threesome.”
“Prudish or just uncomfortable with them?”
“Who knows?”
As they walk past the cart, Wylde’s gaze drifts toward the window of a nearby restaurant. For a moment, she spots a familiar silhouette through the glass. She wants to think it’s Aemond, but it would be a reach to assume every tall man in a black hoodie is him.
But she spots Vhagar parked out front, and now she knows for sure.
Aemond is seated with his back to her, and she can tell by his posture that it's him. He’s accompanied by an obscured woman who gestures animatedly as she talks. They seem engrossed in deep conversation, and Aemond’s face is animated, his focus entirely on the woman before him.
Her curiosity is piqued, but she quickly refocuses on Arianne, who is now recounting the latest gossip involving the drama club’s lead actor.
It feels wrong to be peeking into Aemond's life like this.
Arianne’s laughter draws her attention back. “Anyway, I have a date with Arys tonight!”
“STOP! Really?”
“He finally asked me out, thank the Gods. Thought he was going to drag it out forever!”
She laughs, the earlier sight of Aemond slipping from her mind.
“Yeah so, you’ll come in and help me get ready?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
They are sprawled on his plush leather couch, the glow from the laptop illuminating their surroundings. The soft hum of a wildlife documentary is heard, the narrator's voice a soothing backdrop to the scenes of the Sarnor savannah playing out on the screen. Bowls of snacks—popcorn and chocolate-covered almonds—are scattered around them, within easy reach.
She is nestled comfortably against Aemond’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around her, fingers idly tracing patterns on her arm. They are so close, their bodies glued together that it’d be so easy to assume that they were a couple, rather than friends who’ve known each other their entire lives. Every so often, Aemond’s hand dips into the bowl of popcorn, bringing a few kernels to his mouth, while she picks at the chocolate almonds. She feels the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the warmth of his body seeping into hers.
As his fingers trace gentle patterns on her arm, she feels a shiver run through her. It’s a simple touch, yet it sends her heart racing. She’s hyper-aware of every point of contact, every subtle shift in his posture. The way he holds her, casually yet protectively, makes her wonder if he feels the same way. Does he know how much these small gestures mean to her?
He’s just being friendly to a girl he’s known almost his entire life.
She steals a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the laptop screen. His sharp features are softened in the dim light, and she notices the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates on the documentary. She resists the strange urge to smoothen out the lines on his face and help him calm down.
She sighs contentedly, but soon a dull ache begins to build at her temples. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the headache persists. She groans softly, bringing a hand to her forehead.
Aemond glances down at her, a look of concern crossing his features. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a headache,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and leaning further into him. “It’s been a long day.”
Without a word, Aemond begins to gently massage her scalp, his fingers working through her hair with practiced ease. His attention remains fixed on the laptop screen, but his touch is gentle and soothing, each movement easing the tension from her temples.
She feels a flutter in her chest, a familiar sensation she’s tried to ignore. The crush she has on Aemond, usually kept carefully in check, creeps up on her as he continues to massage her scalp. His touch is both comforting and intimate, sending shivers down her spine.
Hormones are a nasty little thing, she surmises as her mild feelings refuse to go away. How could they, when he’s holding her like this?
She feels the need to speak if only to calm herself down.
“Daeron and I spoke today.”
His hands stop immediately, and his face hardens as he looks down at her. She looks up to meet his gaze, and she refuses to think of how close she is to his lips. She won’t.
Perhaps she is a little attracted to him.
It’s natural, and honestly? An inevitability. He’s Aemond. Anyone with proper vision and a sound mind would be attracted to him. She’s just lucky that she knows him well enough to be part of his space.
It’s stupid and even a bit silly. She’ll be over it just fine.
She moves away from him, sitting facing him with crossed legs. “What did he say?” He asks, and she spots the defensiveness in his tone.
“Nothing to worry about, it was nice actually.” She smiles, still very fond of her long-time best friend. “We just caught up and he was telling me about KLU. He also said he had plans to visit here in the summer, so I’m quite excited!”
“And how can you be sure that he’s not going to let himself be pulled away again?”
“About that…” She sighs. Regardless of how messy their equation had been towards the end of school, she has grown back her affinity for the youngest Targaryen brother. She supposes all they needed was time. “I asked about him and Floris today, he seemed very hesitant with his answers.”
“Hm.” She hears the pop of each of his knuckles as he cracks them with a concentrated look on his face.
“I don’t know. I think he’s lying.”
“You’re sure?”
“I know him. I know him well, like the back of my hand. I know when he’s lying. He didn’t sound like himself. I worry for him.”
“It’s not your place to do anything until he asks for help.”
“But I didn’t even-”
“You know him and I know you. You’d trip over yourself trying to help him.”
Her shoulders slump as she realizes he’s right. It is in Daeron’s nature to come to her when he’s down, and it is in her nature to be there for him. She’s wired that way, truly. How can she not be, when she’s been that way for as long as she’s known him?
“I’d rather you not be hurt again. Daeron is… careless. He and Aegon never consider anything beyond the next ten minutes, and they leave a big mess in their wake.”
She smirks. “Are you using me as an excuse to take shots at your brothers?”
She sees the corner of his lips twitch, and she brings her hands together as she sighs once more. “I just… I’ve had time to get over the fact that we drifted apart. But it made me quite sad that he felt the need to lie to me and smooth things rather than actually tell me what’s going on, you know?”
“Happens.” His replies are curt and his disposition is rougher. She doesn’t know why, and she refuses to let it grow. “Nothing you can do about it,” he adds.
“Hm.”
The sounds of the documentary keep the room from being pin drop silent, and she gets off the sofa to go to the fridge. “We’ve run out of cheesecake.” She says, coming back to where she was sitting before.
“Yeah, I need to get more.”
“You could have gotten some when you went to Moonbloom a few days ago.”
Aemond’s nervousness was almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him well. But to her, the subtle shifts were as clear as daylight. She noticed how his jaw tightened just a fraction, the way his eyes seemed to flicker with an almost invisible tension. His usually steady hands would still, fingers curling ever so slightly into his palms. He’d draw in a slow, controlled breath, his chest rising just a bit higher than usual.
“When did you see me?”
The eyebrow of his functional eye lifts just a little, almost as if he’s asking her how she knew. "I saw Vhagar parked outside. Figured nobody else had a bike that looked similar. Thought you may be with someone, so I didn’t want to intrude."
"Professor Rivers," he replies, his tone dangerously neutral. "I was working on my papers about the expedition, using them for my semester submission, and we bumped into each other."
"Oh, okay. Weird, isn’t it? To bump into professors outside of campus. Like people let out of their natural habitat."
"Hm. Perhaps." His cheeks take on a faint pink hue, and she can’t help but smile.
"Why are you blushing?" she asks, laughing heartily, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "You don’t have a crush on her or something, do you?"
"Gods, no," he replies quickly, the words almost too quick. It’s a lighthearted quip to her, nothing more, but the slight tilt in his tone lingers in her mind, a small seed of curiosity planted.
“I mean, she is pretty. I wouldn’t blame you.” She laughs, trying to tease him further and he disappointedly nods side to side.
A few hours go by as they continue to pass the time, but Aemond seems a little tense from thereon out. He’s quieter - if that’s even possible - and his responses, more measured. She notices the way he occasionally bites the inside of his cheek, a habit he has when something's bothering him. His fingers tap lightly against his knee in an uneven rhythm, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.
When she asks him a question, he pauses just a moment longer than usual before answering, as if carefully choosing his words. The slight furrow in his brow, the way his gaze occasionally drifts to the floor, and the almost imperceptible sighs he lets out - they all speak of an unease that she spots effortlessly.
These are the times when she hates knowing the Targaryen children as well as she does.
She watches him closely, feeling a pang of guilt. He’s not the kind to take these things to heart usually, but something about her teasing seems to have unsettled him this time. She no longer feels welcome, and she knows he’d rather be left alone now and to find her when he’s ready for her again. She doesn’t like that it has to be this way, but giving him his space is the most she can do.
She stands abruptly, murmuring something about an early class in the morning and how she has to go. He immediately softens then, and stands idly with his hands in his pockets as she packs her bag.
She doesn’t like leaving him like this, but just as she moves to the door, she turns at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand, holding onto her wrist. With his other hand at the back of his neck, his look is almost sheepish. “Listen, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable-”
“I’m sorry too. It wasn’t funny to tease about your professors. Didn’t realize you were quite touchy about it.”
“I’m not, just… I don’t know what happened.”
Her gaze is fixed at his strong hand holding hers, and she looks at it for too long before he notices it and drops it like hot coal. She misses the warmth of him immediately with a strange overwhelming feeling she cannot put into words. It’s not her silly little crush on him, it’s just a natural physical reaction, she tells herself.
She softens and melts immediately at his peculiar attempt to smooth things over with her, and it is heartwarming to her that he tries. “Aemond, it’s okay. You’re fine. If anything, I should apologize and I am sorry.”
“Neither of us should be apologizing, this is a non-issue.” He says, and she recognises the finality of his tone. There is no space for debate; and in all honesty, she doesn’t know why a throwaway statement became a big deal anyway.
“Okay.” As is her habit, she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him on his warm cheek before saying bye. Tonight however, neither of them seem to want to leave each other as they continue to be glued to where they stand. She notices the ring on his finger and remembers Daeron, her mind racing to the conversation they had once more. Her mind travels to every word he said on their phone call, and the words rush out of her before she can help herself.
“You wouldn’t ever lie to me, would you?”
He sighs, leaning on the doorway with his hands folded into his chest. She cannot deny how effortlessly good he looks right then.
“I’d never hurt you.”
“Okay.” She absentmindedly nods as she repeats the words to herself and she bites her lip. She clutches onto her sling bag as she finally moves away.
She doesn't quite dwell on the fact that he promised not to hurt her but didn't exactly promise never to lie.
The thrum of music pulses through the packed house, every beat vibrating through her bones. She scans the crowd, trying to spot Arianne, but her friend has disappeared into the sea of bodies. She shrugs, taking another sip of her beer. The alcohol has dulled her senses just enough to make everything feel a little softer around the edges.
As she leans against the wall, Willas Tyrell saunters over, a confident smile playing on his lips. They’ve been eyeing each other all night, and now, with eight rounds of beer warming her veins, she feels bolder than usual.
"Hey, lost your friend?" he asks, his voice smooth and warm.
"Yeah, Arianne's somewhere in this madness," she replies, laughing lightly. "But it's not so bad. I found you."
He chuckles, taking a step closer. "Lucky me. What are you drinking?"
"Beer. Not my first choice, but it does the job."
"Well, if you're up for something better, I’ve got some whiskey upstairs," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Interested?"
She arches an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Whiskey, huh? That does sound tempting. Is that all on offer though?"
"Why don’t you come and find out?" he teases, holding out his hand.
Without hesitation, she takes it, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrap around hers. They weave through the crowded living room, climbing the stairs to a quieter part of the house. The music grows fainter, the air cooler, as they reach an empty room at the end of the hall.
He closes the door behind them, and she turns to face him, her heart pounding with anticipation. They are inches apart, the charged energy between them palpable.
"You know," she says, her voice low. "I've always thought you were kind of cute."
"Kind of cute?" he repeats, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I was hoping for more than 'kind of.'"
"Well, you might have to work for it," she challenges, stepping closer until their bodies are almost touching.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small flask, unscrewing the cap and offering it to her. "How about some of this?"
She takes a sip, the burn of the whiskey warming her insides and adding to the haze in her mind. She hands it back to him, their fingers brushing in the exchange, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Not bad," she says, licking her lips. "Maybe you do have good taste."
He laughs softly, his eyes darkening with desire. "Glad you think so. Now, where were we?"
"Right about here," she whispers, closing the distance between them.
He doesn't need any more encouragement. Willas cups her face with one hand, the other sliding around her waist as he pulls her in for a kiss. It is slow and deliberate at first, but quickly grows more intense, their mouths moving hungrily against each other. She can taste the faint hint of whiskey on his lips, mingling with the lingering taste of alcohol on her own.
Her hands roam over his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles through his shirt. He responds by sliding his fingers under the hem of her top, lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. His touch is electric, sending shivers down her spine as he deftly unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor.
"You’re full of surprises," she murmurs, her breath hitching as he kisses down her neck.
"You have no idea," he replies, his voice husky with need.
He pushes her onto the bed, the world around them narrowing to just the two of them. She lands on her back, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and haziness, the room spinning slightly around her. Willas hovers above her, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of her bare skin. He leans down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss, his hands exploring her body with a desperate urgency. She arches into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him closer.
Their kisses grow more frantic, each movement a testament to their mutual need. He trails his lips down her collarbone, pausing to nip at the sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp from her. His hands slide lower, brushing against her waist, before moving to undo the button of her jeans.
She’s caged between his strong arms, with nowhere to move. For a fleeting moment, the sensation is thrilling. But then, as Willas's hands slide lower, the room spins faster, and the walls seem to close in. Her breath catches in her throat, and she’s suddenly transported back to that night in school with Jason Lannister, his oppressive presence, the helplessness, the terror.
A cold sweat breaks out on her skin. The memory floods her mind: Jason's hands on her, her desperate attempts to push him away, the fear that froze her limbs. The room spins more violently now, and the warmth of Willas's body becomes suffocating.
"Stop," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears.
Willas doesn't hear her, his kisses growing more insistent. The panic rises in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Stop," she says again, louder this time, but it still feels like she’s shouting underwater.
Her heart races, and her vision blurs. She tries to push him away, her hands trembling. "Willas, stop," she says more firmly, her voice cracking.
This time, he hears her. He immediately pulls back, his eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with worry.
She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't... I can't do this. I'm sorry."
He moves away quickly, giving her space. "Hey, it’s okay. It's okay," he reassures her, his tone soft and understanding. He sits beside her, not touching, giving her the room she needs.
She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. The room still feels like it's spinning, and her thoughts are a jumbled mess. Willas watches her with genuine concern, not pushing, just waiting.
After a few moments, he reaches for her discarded top and hands it to her along with her bra. "Here, put this on. Take your time."
"I'm so sorry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Don’t apologize," he says softly. “You’re good, just breathe. You’re fine.”
She nods, focusing on her breathing, trying to regain control. The panic begins to ebb, replaced by a shaky calm. Willas stays beside her, offering quiet support.
"Thank you," she finally manages to say, looking at him with gratitude and a lingering hint of embarrassment.
"Anytime," he replies with a gentle smile. "Do you want me to call someone?”
“No, I… I think I’m gonna just… go.”
“Let me help you.”
“It’s okay. Can you just… I need a moment, if that’s okay. I’m so sorry if I ruined tonight for you.”
“You’re alright. I don’t feel good letting you go off alone like this though.”
“It’s okay. Thank you.”
She steps out of the house, the cool night air hitting her like a splash of cold water. The noise of the party fades behind her, replaced by the quieter sounds of the street. Scattered red cups and empty beer bottles litter the front yard, remnants of a night that feels distant and surreal now. A figure lies passed out on the lawn, oblivious to the world as others continue to mill about inside.
She walks to the corner of the pavement, her steps slow and unsteady. The streetlight above her makes the world feel too bright and too stark. She sits down, her knees drawn up to her chest, and tries to steady her breathing. The cool concrete is a small comfort, grounding her as she struggles to calm her racing heart.
With trembling hands, she pulls out her phone and dials Aemond’s number. The ringing seems to echo in her ears, each tone stretching into what feels like an eternity. Finally, the call connects, and she hears the distant, muffled sound of conversation.
“Aemond,” she says, her voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. “I—I need you. I’m… I’m outside Margaery Tyrell’s party.”
There’s a brief pause on the line. She hears the faint hum of a cheerful woman’s voice, laughter floating in the background. A pang of guilt hits her hard. She feels like an intruder, her mind racing as she realizes she might be interrupting something important.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “I—I’m really sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t mean to interrupt… whoever you're with. I just— I’m so scared. Can you… can you come get me? Please?”
Her breathing comes in ragged bursts, her words tumbling out in a breathless, almost incoherent rush. The panic clawing at her chest makes it hard to focus, and the alcohol hasn’t worn off one bit.
“Wylde?” Aemond’s voice is suddenly urgent, cutting through her frantic apologies. There’s a concern in his tone that makes her stomach clench. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon. Just breathe, okay?”
She struggles to calm her racing heart, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her voice trembling with desperation. “I’m really sorry… I just… I can’t… One minute we were kissing and the next I’m crying, I can't breathe...I-”
“Wylde, listen to me,” Aemond says firmly, but gently. “It’s okay. I’m on my way. Just stay where you are. I need you to breathe and stay calm. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
The call ends abruptly, and she is left in the cold night air, clutching her phone with shaking hands. Her breaths come out in shaky, uneven puffs as she tries to focus on Aemond’s calming words. The street feels both stark and surreal, the shadows around her stretching long and foreboding. She pulls her jacket tighter around her, trying to find comfort in its warmth while waiting for him to arrive.
As they arrive at his apartment, the familiar rumble of the motorbike fades as he turns the keys. Aemond helps her off the bike with a gentle but firm hand, guiding her carefully up the stairs and into his apartment. The door swings open to reveal a cozy space, bathed in the dim, warm glow of a few scattered lamps.
He holds onto her with one hand, using his free hand for everything else. Her head rests under his chin, and she can’t help but nuzzle herself into his neck and make herself at home as his warmth pervades her dulled senses.
He leads her inside and guides her to the bathroom. With a tender touch, he helps her sit on the edge of the tub. The gentle hum of the apartment and the soft rustling of his movements are a soothing backdrop to her foggy consciousness. He rummages through a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of water and painkillers.
“Here,” he says softly, handing her the water and pills. “You should take these. They’ll help with the headache.”
She nods weakly, managing to swallow the medication with a few sips of water. Her head feels heavy, and her thoughts are a jumbled mess, but the care in his voice and his steady presence offer a small measure of relief.
Aemond helps her to her feet and guides her to the bedroom. The room is dim, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp. He pulls out a clean pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts from a drawer. Gently, he helps her out of her clothes, the fabric of her dress feeling foreign against her skin as it’s removed. He helps her into the comfortable shorts and oversized t-shirt, the soft material a welcome contrast to the night’s chaos.
As he tucks her into bed, pulling the sheets up around her, he is both careful and attentive. She shifts under the covers, trying to get comfortable, but her eyes are heavy and her body feels weighed down by the evening’s events. She feels his warm lips on her forehead once more, and she reaches out to hold onto his wrist before he goes away.
“Stay. Please.” she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she begs.
Aemond’s gaze softens. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her, settling down on the edge of the bed. He sits there for a moment, his hand gently stroking her hair, the motion soothing and familiar.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice wavering slightly. “I’m sorry for all this.”
She hears the faint ticking of a clock as her heartbeat calms down. The rustling of sheets as Aemond adjusts himself to join her. The warm golden glow of the bedside lamp. The warmth of her hand in his under the sheets. The feel of his thumb gently moving over her knuckles. The softness of his hands as he brushes off stray hairs off her face. The strength of it as he cradles her head like it’d break if he pressed further.
Aemond wakes in the middle of the night, his hand instinctively reaching out to the empty space beside him. The cool, undisturbed sheets where her warmth should be jolt him fully awake, a sudden surge of concern piercing through the remnants of his sleep. He sits up quickly, the room around him still cloaked in the deep shadows of night, and listens intently. The faint glow emanating from the kitchen draws his attention, a small beacon in the darkness.
He slips out of bed, his bare feet silent against the floor as he pads softly toward the light. Each step feels measured and deliberate, his senses heightened in the quiet stillness of the early morning. The corridor seems longer than usual, the dim light at the end creating an almost surreal atmosphere, as if he’s moving through a dream.
As he approaches the kitchen, the scene gradually comes into focus. She’s sitting at the counter, bathed in the soft, warm glow of the single dim yellow light over the countertop. The rest of the kitchen is enveloped in darkness, the contrast making her appear almost ethereal. Her presence is both comforting and concerning.
She’s wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of his shorts, her bare feet resting on the lower rung of the counter-height stool. The loose fabric drapes over her frame in a way that makes her look even smaller and more vulnerable. Her posture is slightly hunched, and she’s absently stirring the contents of a mug, the soft clinking of the spoon against the ceramic creating a gentle, rhythmic sound that fills the otherwise silent space.
He takes a moment to observe her, his heart aching at the sight. Her hair falls messily around her face, and her nose looks flared. She seems lost in thought, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid in the mug, as if trying to find answers in its depths. The tension in her shoulders is palpable, and he can see the strain of the night’s events weighing heavily on her.
He doesn’t yet know what’s happened. All he knows is that she’d been in a bad time once more, and it’s one too many times for someone as sensitive as she is. Her eyes are downcast, lost in thought, and she seems miles away, even though she’s right there in front of him.
Aemond watches her for a moment, noticing the way she grips the mug tightly, as if drawing strength from its warmth. Stepping into the light, he moves towards her with a quiet grace, not wanting to startle her. She looks up as he approaches, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and relief. He pulls out a stool beside her and sits down, their knees almost touching, creating an intimate, comforting space amidst the darkness.
“You should be sleeping,” he says softly, concern evident in his voice.
She lets out a small, tired sigh, her fingers tightening around the mug. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just… it feels too much.”
They sit in silence for a while, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotions. She slowly sips from the mug—warm milk, he notices. His eyes wander to the honey bottle at the far end of the counter, suggesting she had been stirring it in when he came in. The soft clinking of the spoon against the mug fades into the background, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of their breathing.
His hand rests gently on her thigh, his fingers making slow, soothing movements that help to calm her. She feels the warmth and comfort of his touch, and instinctively, she settles her hand over his, drawing strength from the simple contact. Time seems to slow down, and they remain like this for a while, enveloped in the stillness of the moment.
He looks at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, and he remembers the first time he realized he had some sort of feelings for her - fleeting, if not definitive. Back in King's Landing, in her bedroom, he had been so close to her that he’d had half a mind to kiss her. But she had been so troubled, and he knew from seeing Aegon and Helaena, that no good comes from entering into anything when you're not quite yourself.
He thought he would ask her out when she came to Oldtown, imagining a fresh start in a new place. But by then, the distance had played its part.
His feelings, once intense in the way that only teenage introverts could experience, had started to dissolve, replaced by the new experiences and people that college inevitably brings into one's life. And then there was Alys. With Alys, there was no power play or domination that one would expect from a relationship with the age gap that they have - just two people who understood each other's interests and passions deeply, like no one else in their lives did. They were kindred spirits, and being with her felt easy and right. Alys was good to him, and their relationship felt solid and mature - regardless of how shaky the existence of it would seem to everyone around him.
Yet, as he sits here with her, he takes in her soft face, framed by her hair and lit up by the golden dim light. It is then that he realizes that his feelings - no matter how mild, how fleeting - never completely went away.
Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice gentle and full of concern. “What happened?” he asks, his eyes searching hers for answers.
“I was at the party, and Will Tyrell and I were flirting.” His hand tightens over the smooth expanse of the skin of her thigh. “I’d had like… ten rounds of beer or something. One thing led to another and next thing I know, we’re making out in an empty room and…” She exhales with more effort than is required for her to live, and he encourages her to go on. “It just took me back to Jason Lannister for a moment and I started panicking. Couldn’t breathe for a moment there, really.”
“Hm.”
She leans her head down to be eye level with him, and she takes his hand in hers before she lets out a playful smile. “You’re like… my knight in a black motorcycle now, you know? Twice now I’ve had weird things happen to me at a party, and you've come to the rescue both times.”
“It’s not funny,” he says. He’d genuinely felt his heart stop when he heard her panicked voice over the phone at Alys’ house.
“It’s not. Sorry, I’m just grateful for you.”
Her hand leaves his to cradle his cheek. She’s the one who was found reeking of alcohol and vomit, and somehow he’s the one that needs comforting. “You’re always so serious, hm? So serious…” He grunts in response.
“Thank you. For being with me.”
He’s never been good with compliments, and this is a heavy one that he cannot wrap his mind around. He lets it wash over him like a calm evening breeze.
When her mug is empty and they come back to his bed, neither of them are in the right mindspace to wonder about how easily intimacy comes to them.
Instead, she chooses to watch him, his silhouette. She’s still tired and hazy from the alcohol, and given the moment they’ve just had and the complete darkness of his bedroom, she can’t help but say it.
“You’re pretty.”
He doesn’t react, so she feels emboldened enough to continue. “You have such pretty eyes too. I always thought about it, but you always hated talking about your eyes so I never quite bothered with telling you.”
“Hm.”
Her quiet knight on a black motorcycle.
How the fuck is she supposed to get over him now?
She wakes slowly, the world coming into focus as the soft light of morning filters through the blinds. She feels the warmth of Aemond’s chest against her back, his arm draped loosely around her waist. There’s a quiet comfort in the way they’re entangled, as if this is exactly where she’s meant to be. She’s still wearing his clothes - his t-shirt and shorts - and somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Her gaze drifts over to the bedside table, and she spots his reading glasses resting on top of a copy of Ten Thousand Ships. She thinks about how she never wants to see a table without his glasses again.
The thought lingers, surprising her with its intensity. She tries not to move, not wanting to break the spell of the moment, and instead lets her eyes take in the little details around the room.
The leather jacket hanging neatly on a hook behind the door catches her attention, standing out in what she could only describe as clinical cleanliness. The pale walls, the simplicity of the space - it’s all so Aemond. Everything is meticulously arranged, no clutter in sight, just like him. Every little thing in this room reflects who he is, and she finds herself memorizing it all, as if trying to hold onto this feeling for as long as she can.
Before her thoughts can go further, she hears him stir behind her, his voice low and groggy. “Morning,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
She turns her head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him. “Morning,” she replies softly, a small smile playing on her lips.
Aemond tightens his arm around her waist, pulling her just a little closer, and she feels her heart swell with a warmth that she isn’t ready to let go of. This, right here, feels like everything she didn’t know she needed.
She shifts slightly in his arms, just enough to face him. There’s a comfortable silence between them, one that feels both familiar and new. She traces lazy circles on the back of his hand with her finger, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.
“This is nice.” she says with a playful grin, trying to keep things light despite the weight in her chest. “Girlfriend behavior. Waking up in your bed, wearing your clothes… I’m basically halfway there.”
Aemond raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “Is that so? You’re already planning our future together, then?”
She laughs softly, shaking her head. “We’d probably spend our weekends at bookstores and museums. You’d drag me to some obscure historical sites, and I’d make you try every new coffee shop in town while I move around taking photos.”
“Sounds terrible,” he deadpans, though the warmth in his eyes betrays him.
“Absolutely dreadful, the most boring couple ever.” She agrees, her tone just as teasing. “But, hey, I’d get to borrow your shirts all the time, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”
Aemond smirks, but his expression softens as he looks at her. “Are you alright?” His voice is gentle, laced with concern.
She nods, trying to brush it off with a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He doesn’t let it go, though, his thumb brushing lightly against her side. “Really?”
Everywhere he touches, her heart seems to follow. It skips a beat at the sincerity in his eyes, and she feels the familiar tug of emotions she’s not quite ready to name. “I promise, Aemond. I’m fine.”
He studies her for a moment longer before finally nodding, though the worry doesn’t entirely leave his face. “Hm.”
She can’t help but laugh at his persistence, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly. “I’m alright, I swear.”
She presses a hand to her forehead, feeling the dull ache settle behind her eyes. “I’ve got a slight headache,” she admits, her voice a little groggy. “And I could really use some food.”
Aemond nods, concern flickering across his face. “I’ll make us breakfast.”
They both slide out of bed, and she follows him to the bathroom where they keep spare toothbrushes for each other. It’s a simple, unspoken thing - having brushes at each other’s places because they often sleep over - but this is the first time she’s woken up with his arms around her. As she brushes her teeth beside him, the domesticity of it all makes her blush. It feels so natural, so easy, and yet there’s something about it that sends her heart racing.
After rinsing her mouth, she drinks a glass of water to ease the remnants of her headache before heading to the kitchen. She takes her usual place on one of the bar stools behind the counter, turning on the coffee machine. The sound of it humming to life is oddly soothing, and she watches as Aemond walks in, already rolling up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt to get started.
He pulls out the ingredients, his movements efficient and practiced. Wylde offers to help, and he nods her over without hesitation. As she steps closer, he lifts a small slice of cut avocado to her lips, eyes not moving away from the chopping board - habitual, it all seems habitual. She grunts, leaning in to eat it straight from his hand before taking over with slicing the bread.
They work together in comfortable silence, moving around each other with the ease of familiarity. Aemond cooks the eggs while she toasts the sourdough, and before long, they’re sitting at the counter with plates of food in front of them. The avocado is perfectly creamy, the eggs just the right amount of runny, the toast crisp and warm and her coffee is just right.
Then she remembers he found her a right mess last night, and he’s simply being nice to a friend who had a bad night.
She wonders if the girl he’s hiding from her is perfect for him. She wonders if she ever embarasses herself in front of him like she clearly did last night. She wonders if he’s made her toast. She wonders if she’s woken up to the warmth of his lean arms wrapped around her waist. She wonders-
“What’s on your mind?”
She nods from side to side, a reassuring smile that is convincing enough that he doesn’t push further.
They eat in peaceful silence, exchanging small smiles as they enjoy the meal. It’s a quiet moment, but there’s a warmth in it that neither of them can ignore. When they’re done, they clear the dishes together, and for a brief moment, she lets herself imagine that this is what it could be like - easy and comfortable.
She wanted to catch him by the shoulders. She wanted to hug him till it hurt and her feet left the ground. She wanted to tuck her head into his neck and breathe in the smell of him, bask in the warmth of him.
Choose me, choose me, choose me, choose-
She wants him.
Gods.
She says thank you and leaves instead.
The next few weeks pass in a series of moments - each one small and seemingly insignificant, yet all of them add up to something much larger in her heart. It’s as if the universe has conspired to put Aemond in her path at every turn, and with each encounter, she finds herself falling deeper into feelings she’s not quite ready to name.
In the university hallways, she always spots him first. He’s usually leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book he seems completely absorbed in. The early morning light filters through the tall windows, casting a golden hue over him. She notices the way his hair catches the light, the soft strands glinting silver against the dark fabric of his jacket. He looks so focused, so utterly engrossed in whatever he’s reading, that she almost doesn’t want to interrupt. But then he glances up, meeting her eyes, and a small, rare smile pulls at his lips.
“Morning,” he says, his voice low and smooth.
“Morning,” she replies, feeling her own smile spreading as she walks over.
The rest of their walk is silent until their hands reach out to graze at each other for just a few moments before they go their separate ways.
A few days later, she finds herself in the library, hunting down a book for one of her Foundation of Art in Essos assignments. The place is quiet, the scent of old paper and ink filling the air, and she’s completely lost in the stacks when she hears a familiar voice.
“Looking for something?”
She turns to find Aemond standing just a few feet away, a small stack of books in his arms. His eyes flicker to the title in her hand, and she swears she sees a hint of amusement in them.
“Yeah, just…this one,” she says, holding up the book she’s just found.
He nods, stepping closer. “That’s a good one. You might also want to check out the one by Mallister - it gives a different perspective.”
She takes his word and joins him at his table. She lets herself blush and be bothered by their feet touching under the table occasionally.
In their one shared class, she finds herself sneaking glances at him more often than she’d like to admit. Aemond always sits a few rows ahead, his attention fixed on the professor. She watches the way he takes notes, his handwriting neat and precise, and the way he occasionally pushes his hair back when it falls into his eyes. It’s such a small thing, but it makes her smile every time.
One day, he catches her looking. Instead of brushing it off or ignoring her, he turns slightly in his seat and raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. She feels her cheeks heat up, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she raises her own eyebrow in response, a silent dare.
After class, they walk together, discussing the lecture and the points that stood out to them. Aemond’s insights are sharp and thoughtful, and she finds herself hanging on to every word he says. There’s something about the way he sees the world - so different from anyone else - that fascinates her.
Then again, he could tell her that the dragons have come back to life - and she’d find a way to believe that too.
Cafe Moonbloom - her favorite cafe at Oldtown - becomes another place where their paths cross. It’s a cozy spot, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and soft, ambient music. She often comes here to study or relax, and more often than not, Aemond shows up too, as if drawn by the same comforting atmosphere.
One afternoon, she’s sitting at a corner table, sipping her usual lavender latte, when he walks in. He spots her immediately, and after ordering his drink, he joins her at the table without hesitation.
She smiles. Seems it’s all she’s capable of doing in his presence these days.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, each of them absorbed in their own work. But every now and then, she finds herself looking up, catching glimpses of him as he reads or types on his laptop.
At one point, he reaches across the table to take a sip of her drink, curiosity in his eyes. She lets him, laughing softly when he makes a face at the taste.
“Not a fan?” she teases.
“Too floral,” he replies, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes her heart skip a beat.
“You say that each time.”
“That’s it,” she declares, looking over at Aemond, who’s deep into his notes. “We need a break. A real break.”
Aemond glances up, raising an eyebrow. They’re sitting in her flat, surrounded by textbooks and empty coffee cups. She closes her laptop with a decisive snap. “A break,” she repeats, leaning back against the couch and stretching her arms above her head. “We’ve been drowning in work for weeks. Let’s take a day off tomorrow and just… see the city. No papers, no studying. I can’t anymore.”
He considers her words for a moment, then slowly nods, a small smile forming on his lips. “Alright.”
When tomorrow comes, they’re on his motorbike - and she has no idea what he has planned.
The decision is made in a heartbeat. Aemond’s nod is all the confirmation she needs, and by morning, they’re zipping through the streets on his motorbike. The city blurs around them as the wind whips through her hair, the sound of the engine filling her ears. She clings to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, trusting him completely as they speed through the early morning light.
They weave through the streets, bypassing the usual morning traffic as the city slowly begins to wake up. The cool morning air carries the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby river. Her excitement only grows as they approach the Honeywine, the river shimmering under the pale sunlight.
Finally, Aemond guides the bike down a quiet lane and comes to a stop near the edge of the river. She can see the Quill and Tankard ahead—a tall, timbered building leaning slightly southward, the dark wood exterior glowing in the morning light. The pub is nestled on an island in the middle of the Honeywine, connected to the rest of the city by an old plank bridge.
Aemond parks Vhagar, and they both dismount. She removes her helmet, her hair tousled and windswept, and follows Aemond as he leads the way to the bridge. The wooden planks creak slightly underfoot, adding to the charm of the place. She glances over the side, watching the water ripple below, the sound of the river soothing after their wild ride.
“You brought me to the Quill and Tankard?” she asks, her voice filled with pleasant surprise as they reach the other side of the bridge, her fingers brushing against his arm.
Aemond glances at her with a small, knowing smile. “Good spot to start,” he replies.
As they step inside, the warmth of the pub wraps around them like a cozy embrace. The common room is inviting, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and sunlight filtering through the tall, narrow windows. The smell of bacon, eggs, and freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making her stomach growl in anticipation.
They find a table near the window, the perfect spot to enjoy the view of the river and the old apple trees outside. Aemond shrugs off his leather jacket, draping it over the back of his chair, his movements casual but undeniably graceful. She follows suit, but can’t help but notice how effortlessly he commands the space around him.
When their breakfast arrives - thick slices of sourdough toast topped with peanut butter, peaches, and pomegranate, alongside a pot of rich, dark coffee—she sighs in contentment, her eyes sparkling as she glances at Aemond. “This is perfect,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.
He nods, the corners of his lips lifting into a faint smile as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m glad,” he replies, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. She thinks her heart actually skips a beat.
They eat slowly, savoring the food and the easy conversation that flows between them. Every now and then, their knees brush under the table, sending a little thrill through her that she tries to ignore, though the faint flush on her cheeks might give her away. Aemond seems to notice, a small, teasing smile playing at his lips whenever their eyes meet.
After they finish, they linger for a while longer, sipping the last of their coffee and enjoying the calm, the comfortable silence between them punctuated by the occasional shared glance and knowing smile. When it’s finally time to leave, she feels a reluctant tug in her chest. She doesn’t want the morning to end, but she knows they have the whole day ahead of them.
As they cross the old plank bridge again, she reaches out and takes Aemond’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. His skin is warm against hers, and she can’t help but notice how naturally their fingers intertwine. He glances at her, his expression softening as he squeezes back.
“Where to next?” she asks, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she tilts her head, her eyes searching for a clue.
Aemond smirks, his eye glinting with the hint of another surprise. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
When they finally arrive at the Starry Sept, she hops off the bike, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the towering structure before them. The sept stands like a sentinel over the city, its seven-pointed star gleaming in the sunlight.
“This is incredible,” she breathes, her excitement palpable as she hurries ahead, eager to explore. She glances back at Aemond, who trails behind with a small smile on his lips, his phone in hand as he quietly captures the moment—the soaring architecture, the play of light and shadow, and her own vibrant enthusiasm as she moves from one point of interest to the next.
She leads the way, her steps light as she marvels at the intricately carved statues and the colorful stained-glass windows that adorn the sept. Every now and then, she turns to share her excitement with him, her voice animated as she points out something new—a particularly beautiful mosaic, a hidden alcove, the way the sunlight pours through the windows, casting rainbows on the stone floor.
Aemond, as usual, is quieter, but she can see the way his gaze softens whenever he looks at her, how he pauses to take photos not just of the sept but of her too, capturing the way her eyes light up with each discovery. There’s something in his expression, a quiet contentment that makes her heart flutter whenever their eyes meet.
They wander deeper into the sept, through narrow corridors that twist and turn like a labyrinth, the ancient stones cool under their fingertips. She is in awe of the place, her footsteps echoing in the silence as they venture further inside.
When they reach a section that is clearly marked as restricted, she hesitates, looking at him with a raised brow. “Are we allowed in there?” she asks, a mix of curiosity and caution in her voice.
Aemond’s response is a single word, spoken with quiet confidence. “Otto.”
She laughs softly, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. “Of course. Should’ve guessed.”
With a smirk, he pushes open the heavy wooden door, leading them into a part of the sept that few ever see. The air here is different, almost sacred, and she feels a shiver of reverence as her fingers brush against the rough stone walls.
At one point, her foot catches on an uneven flagstone, and she stumbles, a startled gasp escaping her lips as she feels herself begin to fall. The world around her seems to tilt, the ancient stones rushing up to meet her, but before she can even process what’s happening, Aemond is there. He moves with a speed and grace that never ceases to amaze her, his strong arms enveloping her in a firm, protective embrace.
His hands settle on her waist, fingers splayed wide as if to shield her from the world itself. The sudden, intimate contact sends a jolt of electricity through her, making her pulse quicken and her breath hitch in her throat. For a moment, they are frozen like that, their bodies pressed close together, and all she can hear is the rapid pounding of her own heart.
Aemond’s chest is solid against her back, the warmth of his body seeping into hers, calming and steadying yet igniting something deep within her. His breath is warm and steady, ghosting across her ear in a way that sends shivers down her spine. She’s hyper-aware of every point of contact—the way his fingertips press gently but possessively into her sides, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the subtle scent of leather and pine that clings to him.
She turns in his arms and for a moment, she thinks he might kiss her. The thought is dizzying, and she’s caught between hope and fear, between wanting to close her eyes and lean in, and wanting to pull back before everything changes. But then, almost as quickly as it began, the moment shifts. He blinks, the intensity in his gaze softening just a fraction, and she sees the flicker of restraint, the conscious decision as he takes a step back, putting a small but significant distance between them.
The loss of his warmth is immediate, almost jarring, and she feels the absence of his touch keenly, like a missing piece she hadn’t realized she was holding on to. He’s still close, still within reach, but the spell between them has broken, the moment passed, leaving behind a lingering sense of what might have been.
She gives him a small, grateful smile, though it feels a bit shaky, her heart still pounding in her chest. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice quieter than she intends, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile understanding they’ve just shared.
He nods, his lips curving into a faint smile, though there’s something in his expression that she can’t quite read, something that leaves her wondering if he’s as affected by the moment as she is. His hand drops from her waist, but not before his fingers trail lightly down her arm, a touch so fleeting it’s almost like an afterthought, yet it leaves a trail of fire in its wake.
Eventually, they reach a small, secluded courtyard, open to the sky and bathed in golden light. She lets out a soft sigh as she looks around, her eyes wide with wonder.
Something has shifted. This much they both know.
The ride back to her flat is quiet.
They’ve spent the entire day together, yet there’s a weight in the air between them, something that hangs in the silence. The Starry Sept, the Quill and Tankard, the moments that lingered just a little too long - all of it circles in her mind, and she wonders if he’s thinking about it too.
She holds onto him just a little tighter.
As they near her apartment, she breaks the silence with a light-hearted comment. “You know, if someone told me a month ago that I’d be exploring the Starry Sept with you, sneaking into restricted areas like we’re in some spy movie, I’d have laughed them off.”
Aemond chuckles softly, the sound almost drowned out by the bike’s engine. “Guess you’re more adventurous than you thought.”
She grins, resting her chin on his shoulder as she speaks into his ear. “Or maybe you’re just a bad influence. You and your… Otto connections.”
He smirks, though she can’t see it through his helmet. “I prefer ‘resourceful.’”
She laughs, a light, musical sound that makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t quite explain. “Resourceful, huh? I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need to get into a restricted section of the library.”
He shakes his head, amused. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re too serious,” she teases, nudging him gently with her knee. “You need to loosen up, Aemond. Enjoy life a little.”
“I enjoy life just fine,” he counters, though there’s a trace of defensiveness in his tone.
“Oh, really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you could use a bit more fun.” She tilts her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. I bring the fun, you bring the… brooding?”
“I do not brood,” he says, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
She raises an eyebrow. “You totally brood. It’s your thing. That, and being all mysterious and - ”
“And what?” he interrupts, genuinely curious now.
She pauses, the words hanging in the air between them as they finally pull up to her building. He turns off the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. Slowly, she slips off her helmet, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders as she considers her next words carefully.
“And… thoughtful,” she finally says, her voice softer, more serious now. “You notice things about people. You’re observant, and you care. Even if you don’t always show it.”
Aemond is quiet for a moment, processing her words. He steps off the bike, standing close to her as she sits on the seat, their proximity making her heart race. His voice is low, almost vulnerable.
“More than you might think.”
There’s a moment of silence as they look at each other, the air between them thick. She bites her lip, her usual playfulness replaced by something deeper, more intense. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
Aemond takes a step closer, his hands resting on either side of the bike, his body inches from hers. “You do?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
She nods, her eyes searching his, looking for the truth in his words. “Yeah. I do.”
Aemond’s eyes hold hers for a long moment, the violet of his iris darkening as his gaze drops to her lips, then back to her eyes. She can see the conflict there, the way he’s holding himself back, the tension in the air between them charged with tension every passing second.
She inhales deeply, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the heat spreading through her body. Her fingers flex slightly, still gripping the edge of the seat, a lifeline to steady herself as she teeters on the edge of something she’s been avoiding for far too long.
He shifts closer, the space between them shrinking to almost nothing. His hands hover just above her thighs, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. She can feel the roughness of his breath against her skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he fights the same battle she is.
Pull him in, or let him pull away.
And then he’s moving, slow, deliberate, one hand lifting to trace the line of her jaw. His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, the contact so light it sends a shiver down her spine. She parts her lips slightly, instinctively, her breath catching in her throat.
Aemond watches her, his gaze intent, burning, like he’s committing every detail to memory. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes flutter as she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, the way her breath hitches as his thumb drags down, grazing her chin.
She’s the one who leans in first, just enough for their noses to brush, for his breath to mingle with hers. “Aemond…” she murmurs, barely a whisper, a plea and a question all at once.
He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, his hand slides to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he closes the distance between them. His lips meet hers in a kiss that starts slow, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far she’ll let him go.
But she’s not holding back, not now. Her hands move to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as she pulls him closer, her lips parting to deepen the kiss. He responds in kind, a low sound escaping from the back of his throat as he presses against her, the kiss turning heated, urgent.
It’s not a gentle kiss, not after all the tension, the words, the stolen glances. It’s everything they’ve been holding back, all the frustration, the longing, the need crashing together in a tangle of lips and tongues and breathless gasps.
She shifts on the bike, her knees brushing against his thighs as she pulls him closer, needing more of him, needing to feel him everywhere. His hands slide to her waist, fingers digging in as he lifts her slightly, positioning her so she’s sitting on the very edge of the seat, her legs parting to make room for him.
Aemond steps between her thighs, his body pressing into hers, the kiss deepening as he takes control, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that leaves her dizzy. Her hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping tight, as if she’s afraid he might pull away, that this might be a dream she’ll wake up from.
But he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses closer, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, mapping out every curve, every inch of her that he’s been dreaming of touching. His mouth moves against hers with a desperation that matches her own, a need to make up for all the lost time, all the moments they could have had but didn’t.
She tilts her head back slightly, giving him better access as his lips move to her jaw, then down to her neck. He kisses a line down to the hollow of her throat, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his clothed shoulders.
“Aemond,” she breathes out, her voice shaky, needy.
He pulls back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark, intense, filled with something she’s never seen before. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough, barely controlled. “Tell me, and I will.”
“I thought you were seeing someone.”
“Tell me to stop.” The sentence holds no space for argument, almost as though he knows for certain that she wouldn’t stop him.
She couldn’t even if she wanted to.
Instead, she shakes her head, her fingers curling around the nape of his neck as she pulls him back to her, her lips finding his in a kiss that says everything she can’t put into words. She does not want to think, she simply wants to be.
The world falls away. There’s no more fear, no more doubt, no more holding back. It’s just them, tangled together in a mess of heated skin, breathless kisses, and a desperate need for more.
Time seems to slow down and speed up all at once, the kiss stretching on for what feels like an eternity and yet not nearly long enough. She feels like she’s drowning in him, in the way he tastes, the way he feels pressed against her, the way his hands hold her like she’s something precious, something he’s afraid to lose.
And when they finally pull apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, she realizes that this - whatever this is - was inevitable. They were always going to end up here, at this moment, with everything they’ve been holding back finally spilling over.
The streetlamp glows, the light flickering over them. The air is cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of rain, though the clouds have long since parted to reveal a sky dotted with stars. They hear the occasional whoosh of a car passing on a nearby street, tires hissing against the damp pavement, the sound growing louder before fading into the distance. Somewhere nearby, a dog barks once, twice, before falling silent, leaving the night to its quiet.
The scent of the city surrounds them - a mix of wet asphalt, a hint of exhaust, and the faint, lingering aroma of coffee from the cafe on the corner. But there’s something else too, something she only just notices now - the subtle, clean scent of Aemond’s cologne, mingling with the smell of leather and the faintest hint of smoke, clinging to his clothes and skin. It’s comforting, grounding her in this moment, making it feel all the more real.
The soft thud of her heart is almost louder than the ambient noises around them, each beat echoing in her ears as she takes in the scene - the way Aemond’s hair catches the light, the way his eyes seem to reflect the stars above them, the way his breath mingles with hers in the small space between them.
You’re seeing someone else, she had said. He hadn’t disagreed.
She wants to reach out, to shake his shoulders, to demand that he tell her what this all means. She wants him to choose her, to see her in the way she sees him - more than just a fleeting moment, more than just this night. The urge is so strong it almost frightens her, this need to make him say it, to make him admit what they both know is simmering between them. But she holds back. She swallows the words before they can form, feeling them burn in her throat, a quiet ache that spreads through her chest.
She could ask him, right now, what this means for them, whether this is something real or just another moment that will fade with the dawn. But the fear of his answer, or worse, his silence, keeps her rooted in place. The thought of hearing him say that this is nothing, that they are nothing, is more than she can bear. So she says nothing.
Instead, she stays silent, feeling the weight of a barrier that she both wants to break and keep intact. Because asking him, forcing him to confront whatever this is, might ruin it. Might turn this into something complicated, something messy.
She’s not sure she’s ready for that. Not yet.
She decides, in that moment, that she would rather have him like this - halfway, uncertain, but here - than risk losing him entirely. So she bites her tongue, swallows her fear, and chooses to stay in the safety of their unspoken connection. It’s easier this way, she tells herself. Easier to take what he’s willing to give and leave the rest unspoken, untouched.
“This is real.” He nods.
She leans into the warmth of him, feeling the press of his hand on her thigh, the steady beat of his heart against her own, and lets herself have this.
For now, it’s enough.
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