#and guess which restaurant they might visit

[dragonbonez]

Mother knows best.

[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[gi4hao]

🗓️ ᡣ𐭩ྀི ˎˊ- anniversary dates with seventeenྀི

hyung line version! (scoups -> woozi)

had a really sunny weekend so please enjoy these sunshine-fueled scenarios!

— seungcheol

turns out your anniversary took place during a vacation together, a week-long holiday near the beach. on the d-day, he refuses to say anything about his plans, no matter how many times you ask, to the point where you end up blindfolded as he leads you to his surprise. when you take the blindfold off, the only thing you can see is a white boat awaiting on the shore. at first you’re scared he might have actually bought the boat, but he ‘only’ rented it for a private dinner. the sun has just started to set and you’re glad to have picked one of your cutest outfits because you just know he’s going to be taking as many pictures of you as he can. you might be admiring the sunset, but he'll be admiring you the whole time.

— jeonghan

he truly racked his brain to find the per-fect date idea. on the day, he keeps you guessing with more than vague hints (like “we talked about doing that one day” as if you didn’t talk about literally doing everything together). but he’s confident in his surprise and rightfully so: at first you think it’s just a regular picnic, which would have been fine on its own, but as more people start to gather around you, you realize that a lantern festival is actually taking place here tonight. together, you scribble your wishes and dreams for the future on your lantern. and you love how he’s not even trying to hide what he’s writing: one thing about jeonghan, he’ll never try to conceal anything about his feelings for you.

— joshua

this one has a proud smirk plastered on his face the entire morning, hinting at a surprise. you get in his car around 9am and drive for about twenty minutes until he stops in front of a fancy looking building. “you know how we always talk about moving to a bigger apartment yet never actually visit anything? well i figured today would be the day…”, he tells you excitedly. and it’s only when the realtor meets you on the street that you realize joshua has actually booked a visit. more than one, in fact: throughout the day, you visit four apartments, walking from one to the other hand in hand, already fantasizing about what life is going to look like for the two of you.

— jun

both having a busy schedule, you recently told jun you missed having a proper dinner together and it’s given him the best idea for your anniversary: a nice dinner together without the practical difficulties of going to a fancy restaurant. when you come back home that evening, you find your place tastefully decorated with various candles, flowers and fairy lights. as for jun, he’s done his hair the way you like it best, dressed in an outfit you love, wearing the same perfume from when you first started dating. with a sheepish smile, he guides you to the balcony where the table is set, revealing the stunning city view from your apartment.

— hoshi

his plan for today is to make you feel as loved as ever, and that requires day-long dedication, starting with mandatory prince.ss treatment all morning. around 11, he tells you it’s “time to go” although you still have no idea what he’s talking about. but a 45 minutes drive later, you can make out the blueish color of the sea in the horizon. with him by your side, you know it won’t be just any beach day: picnic on the sand, a long walk along the shore spent saying “look, it’s us!” when you see two relatively close rocks, and most of all, soaking up the sun together in the water, all while being that clingy couple who cannot stop swooning over each other.

— wonwoo

this morning, wonwoo wakes up particularly early to cook breakfast for the both of you. you’re already awake by the time he’s done, but he looks so adorable trying to balance the tray while opening the door with his foot that you pretend like you’re still asleep. later, he surprises you with a gift which looks… a bit odd. you didn’t really expect a QR code. but you scan it anyways, and then everything starts to make sense: the QR code brings you to a website, a shelter website more specifically. “are we…”, you start, a huge smile already on your lips. “going on a shelter date to get a cat? absolutely”, he replies, glad you’re enjoying his surprise as much as he hoped.

— woozi

to him, this is the perfect day to show how much your relationship means to him, because he fears you might not know it well enough (you do). so he’s got a little something prepared… the first part of his plan is to fake an apology: “i’m really sorry, i completely forgot…”. second part is to say he’ll take you to movies another day, which you accept, still half-upset. and finally, last part is to welcome you home on the d-day, takeout ready on the table but most importantly, with a homemade outdoor cinema right in your backyard. thick mattresses, fluffy pillows and a large white screen facing a brand-new projector, he went all out to make sure you feel as cherished as he always does.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[brooooswriting]

hiii it’s my first time making a request and I saw that you were looking for Leighton Murray x reader requests.

So I was thinking about Leighton x reader, where reader knows Leightons dad and he tries to match them up. And she’s like the whole package, she plays soccer with Whitney, is an Lgbt advocate and also joins Leighton’s advanced math class. Leighton feels threatened so it’s like academic enemies to lovers.

You're better than me

“Hello,” you greeted Leighton and the other two people in the room as she walked into her advanced math class. She was new in there after her family forced her to take harder classes. The other two greeted you happily while Leighton only rolled her eyes. You had to hold in a scoff, even if she wasn't the biggest fan of you, was it so hard to say hello?

While Leighton wished that this was the only time that she had to see you, it wasn't. You were also on the football team with Whitney and you often visited the women's center. So, she wasn't safe anywhere cause Whitney liked to bring you into their dorm to study since you were pretty good in all your classes.

This was precisely why Leighton could not be more excited for the family weekend, which was crazy because her family was exhausting. But at least you would be busy too, or at least she guessed that you would be.

“Hey Dad,” she said as her father got out of the car. He immediately walked up to hug her, holding her too close for her to get any air.

“Hello, how are you? How is Essex treating you?” he asked, not really hearing the answer as she had to mumble into his chest. “I can't wait for dinner tonight, I want you to meet somebody” he added as he finally let her go.

“Meet somebody? Please tell me you don't have a side chick.” She frowned looking at him.

“Leighton! No, of course not. Now, let's go. I believe we have a packed schedule.” She nodded and followed him into the building, constantly thinking about who she might have to meet. The blonde had to say that the day went quite well, it mostly did when she was alone with her dad. They talked about college, her mum and Nico, about what she might do after her years at Essex and how his job was going.

After some long hours, it was finally time to go eat and she would finally see who he would want her to meet. As they walked into the restaurant her heart stopped when she was to whom her father was walking. There you sat in a women's suit, with some makeup and heels. God, she hated the fact that she was attracted to you right now.

“Y/n, it's so lovely of you to meet us here,” her dad said as he hugged you, making her nearly gasp. You gave him a smile as you hugged him back.

“No problem, Henry!” you told him and again the blonde nearly gasped. You turned toward her and sent her a big smile. “Hey Leighton, it's nice to see you,” you said as you pulled out the chair for her. Henry did not tell you that he would bring Leighton tonight which made the whole thing kinda awkward. You actually liked her but she seemed to hate you.

She sent you a tight-lipped smile and sat down, you and Henry then joining. “So, it seems like you two already know each other,” Henry said, giving you both a big smile while his daughter rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, we do. But, just out of interest, how do YOU TWO know each other?” the girl who hated you asked, aggressively pointing between you and him.

“Oh well, after you came out your dad wanted to know what to do, and how to act. You know it can be hard for parents of gay kids, even when they accept their children for it. They never know what is too much and what is not enough” you started to explain but didn't get far.

“Can you maybe skip all this shit and just answer my question?” she snapped making her father furrow his brows.

“Yeah, of course. Since I am an LGBT advocate your dad asked me for help” You gave her a short nod when you finished your explanation.

“Why would you ask her dad? And why would you want me to meet her?” It wasn't hard to see that she was annoyed, by you, her dad and just life in general you guessed.

“Well, she's a great woman Leighton. She plays football, has a scholarship for it, she is great at math, she is part of the lgbtq and she is exactly your type” You wanted to disappear so bad right now and it seems like Leighton wanted the same thing. For you to disappear. Her eyes were wide and her brows raised as she stared at him with disbelief.

“Dad! I told you we’re not gonna talk about my dating life. Not ever. Got it? And especially her” well, that hurt. Henry gave her an unhappy look before giving you a sorry one. You only gave him a short nod to signal that it was alright.

“Leighton that’s enough! I’ll go to the restrooms real quick before we eat” he stood up and walked away. As soon as his back was turned towards you the blonde was on her phone.

“Look,” you started and pushed her phone down so she could look at you “I know that you hate me for some weird reason but your dad was really nice and asked me to come so I said yes. I didn’t know that you were coming alright? So how about you use some manners and act like you can at least stand being in a room with me huh?” She only picked up her phone again making you sigh. “I don’t get why they talked about you so nice in the women center” you mumbled out making her look up from her phone.

“What did you just say?” She couldn’t believe your audacity. Who did you think you are that you go and talk to her and about her like that? Especially mentioning her ex. God, she hated you. You were so annoying and she didn’t even know why.

“I said that I do not understand why they said that you were nice and shit. I was really happy when I heard that you were in my advanced math class, but you only acted like a bitch the whole damn time. You even do it when I visit Whit, and the only thing I ever said to you there was ‘hi’” you ranted, happy to finally say what you’ve been thinking of for so long. Luckily for you, Henry came back before the blonde could say anything else.

“So, did you guys decide what you want to eat?” He asked as he sat down.

That was one of the most exhausting dinners you ever had. And after hours, Leighton still kinda ignored you and Henry ordering his drink extremely weird you were finally out. “Are you sure you don’t want us to drive you back to college? It’s quite far” the man asked again making you chuckle.

“Yes Henry, thank you tho. I’ll walk, need a bit of fresh air and exercise” it was a lie. You didn’t really feel like walking but the thought of sitting in a car with Leighton was not even close to what you dreamed of, so walking seemed like the best idea.

And after a really long discussion with Henry, he finally let you go. “Wait, I think I will walk with her dad. Then you can make your way back home, it’s late already and I could use the fresh air too” you sighed internally but didn’t want to make this awkward in front of the older Murray.

You waited for them to say goodbye before making your way back to college. “Why?” You just asked after a few moments of walking as you just couldn’t keep your curiosity at bay anymore.

“Didn’t wanna discuss this whole thing with him” you chuckled at her answer, it was clear that she didn’t wanna talk so you just shut up and kept walking. At some point you looked over to see the blonde hugging herself, goosebumps covering her arms. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before deciding what to do. Right now, you hated her as much as she hated you. Why did she have to be so endearing and cute while being a goddamn asshole at the same time?

“Here” you mumbled as you draped your jacket over her shoulders, making sure that it would stay.

“What the fuck? What the fuck am I supposed to do with your cheap ass jacket?” She asked, but her voice wasn’t as harsh as it usually was as she noticed the goosebumps now covering your arms.

“Get warm. Just accept it, it doesn’t mean that you have to like me or anything. Look, I’ll even fall back ok? You can walk in front of me so nobody realizes that we were somewhere together” you immediately slowed down and let her walk to get some distance but she stopped too.

“This is a bit much don’t you think? It will be even weirder when we do it like that”

“Why do you hate me? I’ve been nice to you, you hate me. I ignore you, you still hate me and try to bully me. Why? What did I do to you? I was really excited to meet you” you looked her straight in the eyes, this time you weren’t going to break it first.

“No particular reason” she shrugged but it was a lie, this time it was obvious. So you just kept staring at her, challenging her to go with her lie. “Fine, I just feel like you may be smarter and a bit more academically advanced than me which made me… I don’t know. I just don’t like it, and then you also have to be hot and trained, I mean even now I can see your damn abs” you couldn’t help but grin as you finally knew why she hated you.

“You know, if you really feel like I am smarter than you, then I can’t say anything else other than would happily tutor you” you joked, breaking out in laughter while Leighton hit your shoulder, an unamused look on her face. “Alright, I’m sorry. But I think the same thing about you, you’re extremely smart. Way smarter than people think you are and as if that wasn’t hot enough, you also look hot. Like damn. But I was so excited to meet you because I’ve been crushing on you since you came to one of our games” you smiled, this time it was a real smile.

“And… even after I treated you like shit, would you still be open to… you know?” She asked, her voice unsure.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t have my jacket right now. So, do you wanna go on a date?”

“You really still wanna go?”

“Yeah, I do”

“Then I would love to”

“Finally” you mumbled as you walked closer to her, one hand slowly going towards her waist. You moved slow enough for her to move away, but were more than happy when she stepped closer too. After she didn’t make any sign of discomfort you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, kissing her softly.

“I should have stopped being a bitch way earlier” she mumbled before kissing you again, the kiss getting more passionate.

You walked her home, your hands brushing against each other every now and then making a warm feeling spread in both of your stomachs. “Alright, so we will go out tomorrow after math?” You confirmed, smiling when she gave you a nod. This time she leaned in first, kissing you again before giving you your jacket.

“I cannot believe you beat me by one point in this damn math game” Leighton complained on the way to the restaurant you were taking her. You chuckled as this had been going on for about 15 minutes.

“Well you said it yourself, i am smarter than you” you joked, petting her back to assure her that you were joking. By the time the blonde finally shut up about this game you had arrived.

“Go y/n, go Whitney” Leighton screamed as she stood up while watching you and her roommate play, her body clad in your soccer jacket. The sight making you smile every time. After the game was won you quickly ran to Leighton pressing a kiss to her lips. “You did So well” she praised.

Her roommates watched from the other side as you and her smiled at each other, a similar happiness adorning your faces. A happiness no ex of Leighton had ever put on her face.

You couldn’t wait to see Where this relationship would lead.

[joanquill]

Valentine's Day Headcanons

How the Moriarty brothers and Sherlock ask their significant other to be their Valentine's and how they would spend the day with them.

Albert, William, Louis James Moriarty, and Sherlock Holmes

Albert James Moriarty

The day Albert was planning to ask you to be his Valentine, you were out on a mission.

Ever the opportunist, he took the chance to surprise you when you came home.

When you entered the manor, the entrance was lit with romantic candlelight, rose petals on the ground, and Albert holding a bouquet of roses as soft music played.

Albert happily showed you what he had prepared for your evening.

The dining room had a table decorated, sporting candles and flowers in the middle. It even had neatly folded napkins, as if you were in a high-end restaurant.

The bathroom even had a bathtub filled with bubbles and scented candles.

By the end of dinner, he asked you to be his Valentine, which you happily agreed to.

He definitely has something grand planned for the occasion.

Unfortunately, some nobles started making their move, making you and Albert work on a mission.

Nothing says romance like hunting down corrupt nobles <3

Luckily, you two finished before the end of the day and had time for Albert's plans for Valentine's.

It might be weird to see you two run towards the train station while laughing, but you both didn't care and were relieved to catch the last train.

The rest of the trip went smooth sailing... if you ignore the fact that you forgot to pack some essentials.

Nothing a shopping trip couldn't fix.

Either way, it was a Valentine's you couldn't forget.

William James Moriarty

I think William's way of asking would be either of the two, simple and sweet, or a full-on treasure hunt... or both!

He will ask you on a library date inside the manor to unwind and relax for the afternoon.

The only thing is, the book you picked had a note inside.

It was a riddle, and you could tell at first glance it was William's little game.

You looked for him and saw him acting innocent as he read his book in his nook.

You playfully rolled your eyes as you played along to his game, making William hide his smile as he tried to focus on his book.

Each clue was filled with memories and inside jokes only the two of you shared, leading you to the last clue, which only told you to turn around and answer a question.

You did as it said and saw William holding a basket of lilies and your favorite things.

He asked you to be his Valentine's, and you happily said yes.

On the day, you and William visited Durham University and enjoyed the sights and date spots his students happily suggested.

While you two enjoyed the day, you didn't expect avoiding his students to be a side quest.

You also heard some of them joking about catching their professor on a date, hoping he would heed their advice.

Good thing William came prepared with disguises.

As the sun was about to set, William led you to the university, letting you guess what his last surprise was.

While sneaking into Durham University to use the observatory for stargazing was not one of your guesses, it was definitely a delightful experience.

Louis James Moriarty

He practiced asking you in person countless times in front of the mirror.

How to approach you, making sure he was saying it right, not fumbling in his words, and asking you confidently.

In the morning, he tried to approach you, but he either backed out at the last minute, you two were busy with chores, or someone else was in the room.

He tried to ask again at lunch while you were preparing the food, but Master Jack entered the kitchen, offering a helping hand.

Night came, and Louis was practically defeated.

But he settled in leaving you an extra treat during dinner to ask you instead.

It didn't help his nerves when you sat beside him at the dinner table, though.

As Louis prepared everyone's desserts, you had an extra small plate of elegant chocolate-covered strawberries with chocolate syrup writing: "Will you be my Valentine's?"

In shock, you looked at Louis, who was facing away from you as he gave everyone their dessert.

You smiled as you waited for him to finish.

As Louis gave the last dessert, he hurriedly over to his spot, trying to avoid your gaze as he sat down.

You softly tugged his sleeve and whispered yes, making Louis freeze up as he tried to settle down his burning face.

Fortunately, everyone thought he just had too much to drink that night.

For Valentine's Day, Louis prepared a cozy date for you two to enjoy in the manor. (his brothers made sure no one would bother you two on the day)

Cooking together, making chocolate, trying new recipes, dancing while no one's looking, reading books, snuggling under the covers, and just spending the whole day together sums up your Valentine's.

Sherlock Holmes

Romance isn't exactly this man's forte.

You were walking to 221B Baker Street as Sherlock asked you, but you were surprised to see no one was there.

You carefully walked up to their flat and saw the surprise on the table.

He will most likely leave a real human heart in a glass container with a card saying: "Will you be my Valentine's?" to ask you.

How is it still beating in there? You will never know.

But hey, at least he's got the spirit!

When you check the card, you see it had instructions to open a specific drawer.

Debating whether to ignore or follow along and be greeted by a human brain, you complied and opened the drawer carefully.

Inside were paper iris flowers, a small teddy bear, chocolates, and a pen with another card written Yes and No on it.

You circled yes.

You found out he, John, and Miss Hudson were hiding nearby, unsure how to face you if you didn't agree (despite already dating)

If there isn't a case during Valentine's, he'll likely have a date all over London. He'll take you to places and spots he saw or visited during investigations and wanted to take you there.

During your date, he'll probably get you the most random stuff he wants to give you, ranging from random flowers to a peculiar antique he'd think you like or wants you to have.

When a case does come up, he'll try to put it on hold. But you could tell he really wanted to take it, so your date became an investigation.

He still tries to make it romantic and fun for both of you, thanking you for letting him work, but you reassured him it was still fun watching him deduce and work on a case.

[claraswritings]

Luca and R go back to ever for the funeral and she’s pregnant and they’re married, maybe everyone knew he had a thing for her back then?

Awww, I love soft/fluffy Luca. I love that he’s a tall, blonde, tattooed, mentally stable man who can cook so in my head I’ve just decided ‘aha he is my perfect man. Gimme’

ALSO SOMEONE GIVE HIM A LAST NAME 😭 And make it cute. I’m terrible with making up names.

You placed one hand over your stomach some what self consciously, wondering if the dress was flattering against your bump.

“Do I look pregnant or do I just look like I’ve ate a whole cake?” You asked Luca quietly, you were half joking but still getting used to it. Your baby bump was small but still noticeable against the floaty material of your black dress. He loved seeing you pregnant, he thought you were always beautiful but knowing you had his baby in you just exemplified that tenfold.

“I think people might guess there’s my little baby in there but…” he paused, Luca linked your hand with his and lifted it to kiss. “But….you are married to a pastry chef darling, so I’d be offended if you weren’t eating cakes. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room either way, my love”

You smiled and stood on tiptoes to get closer and Luca leant down and kissed you softly, hands instantly balancing you around your waist to support you.

“I’m married to the best pastry chef.” You smiled, muttering a compliment against his lips.

“The best, eh?” Luca asked “that’s high praise”

“The best.” You reiterated with a nod.

“How’d you come to that conclusion, love?” He rose an eyebrow, waiting for your response, teasing but enjoying how much you liked his baking.

“Well…” you started “I have a theory…”

Luca bent down to kiss you again, moving a hand around to hold your small bump. “Go on?”

“You’re the pastry chef at the best restaurant…in the capital of the country known for pastries. Therefore you’re the best.”

He laughed “Can’t argue with that flawless logic.”

“You can’t argue with your pregnant wife anyway. Its against…the law in every country” you tease “you knocked me up…you have to agree with me”

There was a moment of silence before.

“I love you so much.” Luca said softly and pulled you in closer to him for another gentle kiss.

You carried on, you on tiptoes pressing soft kisses to his lips in the quiet hallway of a restaurant. Something about it felt a little teenage, stealing kisses at a ‘funeral’, even though you were both well past your teens.

“I love you too.” You whispered against his lips.

You carried on like this, a few gentle kisses before a cough sounded and you separated again like teenagers rather than a grown married couple.

“Luca?” followed by your name.

Carmy hadn’t changed. He still had the same wide blue eyes and curly hair.

“You…you two got together then huh?” He said looking between the two of you,

He’d always been kind of quietly intense. You’d put it down to just single track focus with perfecting whatever dish being his only goal. He was, of course, the best at what he did. Today he looked like his mind was elsewhere.

“And you’re…you’re pregnant? You’re having a baby?”

Nodding you smiled.

“Wow…um, congratulations” he offered Luca and handshake which Luca, being ever friendly turned into a hug before he did the same with you.

“I did sometimes wonder why you weren’t together earlier yknow,” Carmy said “Luca always…I thought you were together already from way he talked about you…”

“We got there eventually… took the long way around” you joked, a reference to how you and Luca had been close friends for well over a decade before you’d both confessed your feelings as more than friendship.

“How’s the restaurant?” You asked.

Carmy’s pastry chef Marcus had visited Copenhagen last year. He and Luca had stayed in touch but you were interested to hear from Carmy himself.

“It’s…uh…it’s going.” He nodded, his mind looking elsewhere “you two should come in. On the house of course”

Luca grinned “We’d love to, mate. Would be great to see how Marcus is getting on too. I have this brilliant new technique for glazed creme he’d love.”

That was something you loved so much about Luca. He was so patient, so kind, so willing to share ideas. The fact he was excited about getting to talk techniques with a friend was so…sweet to you. Your lovely pastry nerd. You smiled up at him and then let the two of them catch up for a few minutes, wandering off to board full of photos to look. It wouldn’t be long before you felt Luca’s arm around you.

“I always thought he fancied you.” Luca commented, he leant down for a kiss, having said he’d see his friend inside.

“Carmen?” You laughed “I don’t think he did.”

“Oh he did. Remember when he came to visit us? In Copenhagen? Before we were together?” Luca held you close to him as you nodded. “I kept thinking he’d steal you away…”

Luca’s tone was light but you could tell there was a hint of insecurity there. You’d been there when they’d first worked together and Luca had found himself second best in a lot of things. It had been tough on him, lots of ranting and late nights and obsessing until he’d opted to learn from Carmy rather than force a competition.

Eventually Luca got better and better and they found different culinary paths which eased a lot of the tension however of it still lingered a little when it came to you.

“No one ever could.” You said to him. “I was yours even before I was yours”

“I thought he was trying with his lamb, juniper and sea herbs dish” Luca whispered to you half jokingly, reassured by your emphatic words.

You laughed thinking back to one evening when Carmy had cooked for you all and then looked up to Luca, staring up at him “Yeah, It was delicious…but you know I’m a dessert girl.”

“I know you are.” Luca grinned and leant down to kiss you once again. “Because you’re my girl”

After a few seconds it clicked.

“Wait…Is that why you bought me the L?” You rose an eyebrow, looking down at the little silver L necklace that Luca had bought you a few weeks ago. “The wedding rings and the matching initial tattoos not enough? The baby bump?” She joked.

Luca could feel himself going a bit pink but kissed you anyway “maybe…” he hummed “but you like the L”

“I love the L” you replied

“And I love you” Luca grinned and your hands couldn’t help find the way to hook the little L out of the neckline of your shirt.

****

“And you’re head pastry chef at Noma, Luca? That passionfruit and kiwi dessert there was the best I’ve ever had!” One chef complimented Luca and you felt the pride swell as he thanked the man

“Thank you, it was a real labour of love, see the inspiration behind the passionfruit and kiwi is my wife.” He squeezed your thigh “she had this incredible passionfruit mousse in Aalborg when we went to celebrate the baby and she loves kiwi so I thought I’d make this curd that’s…”

God he was cute when he went on.

“Luca! Did I just overhear you refer to this lovely lady as your wife?” Chef Terry, or rather Andrea, asked “And you’re pregnant?”

Luca met his former mentors eyes and nodded equally as enthusiastic about you and the baby as he had been about breaking down his dessert. “Yes Chef Te- Andrea, we got married six months ago and baby is three months.”

“How exciting! Do you know the sex?”

“Not yet, Luca is getting one of his chefs to bake us a cake and we’ll cut it on the boat just the two of us” you explained. “We’re so excited”

“Well that sounds lovely” Andrea smiled “Have you got any inklings?”

You put a hand over your small bump “I don’t mind. I think it’ll be a boy…but as long as it has Luca’s eyes…and my football team” you joked.

“Ah…” Luca went to protest only for you to gently place a hand over his thigh. It was a playful argument you’d had about four times already.

“Luca, babe… when you birth the baby, then you can pick their team.” You teased back in the way you always had.

He cocked his head and gives you a wry grin, conceding you’d made a good point “Or we can have a second?” Luca lifted his hand from your thigh and lifted it to cup your jaw, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

“Maybe…” you teased “Let’s let baby come out first before we start planning the second.”

“Love, I’m already planning the third” Luca pecked your lips once more before dropping his hand to hold yours over the table.

He wanted three. He’s always wanted three. You’d be happy with two but feel like if they have his beautiful eyes and soft blonde curls, you won’t be able to say no to three. Secretly you hoped they did.

“You two are adorable. I always knew he liked you as more than a friend” Another woman, older this time says.

“When did it click?” Andrea asked interested “Was it when he made that whole collection of nostalgia desserts for you? Those really were special Luca, I think that’s when we all realised how truly creative you were at pastry. That was one of the most cohesive projects one of my chefs has ever done”

Luca smiled, thanking his former mentor again.

“Remember when he kept his hair longer for well over a year because she called that little black hairband cute?” Another chef commented. “Or when he made the discontinued chocolate bar as a fancy dessert for her? Remember how late he stayed? Folding wafer?”

Luca was going redder and you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again. Deciding to spare his blushes, you spoke up.

“Hey if anyone should be embarrassed it’s me” you quickly said “I had this gorgeous man completely in love with me and I didn’t even realise! I was just like that’s Luca, he’s just so lovely.”

Luca gave your hand another squeeze as a silent thank you.

“You were worth the wait” he looked at you causing someone to ‘aww’.

“So were you”

“Maybe you’re both idiots” someone else chimed in breaking the tension and causing a laugh.

“And clearly the two of you caught up quick. Married and baby on the way after what? Eighteen months?” The older woman asked again.

“Sixteen” you said quickly. “But he’s been my best friend for years before that so…”

“Best friend is light. She always been my greatest inspiration and the love of my life” Luca lifted your hand and kissed it.

Luca was the love of your life. And you’d never been happier.

[blood-and-pizza]

Notable Details from the original "Into The Pit" story (PART 1)

Upon the mill's closure, Oswald's dad works part-time at the deli counter in a store called the Snack Space (a 7-11 equivalent, basically), which requires a red vest as their uniform. Oswald is embarrassed by the fact his dad is wearing the vest as he drops him off at school. Just a neat bit of world-building.

Oswald has a best friend named Ben who moved into the next town over.

Oswald's bullies, including Dylan Cooper, call him "Oswald the Ocelot" after a cartoon character they saw as pre-schoolers, a big pink ocelot named Oswald. Again, more world-building.

Oswald is described as having freckles and a cowlick in the original story.

Oswald has no modern electronics in his home, save for one laptop he shares with his family. His phone is an outdated model he's embarrassed by.

Oswald's teacher, Mrs. Meecham, puts on a movie for her class on the last day of school, which is described as "about a farm with talking animals", "too babyish for a roomful of fifth graders". I'm guessing they might have been watching the animated adaptation of Charlotte's Web... or it could be wishful thinking on my part, since I love that movie.

Oswald has been drawing mechanical animals ("bears, bunnies, and birds") for reasons even he doesn't know, other than lack of anything better to do when he's bored.

Oswald's mom works at the hospital from 12PM to 12AM... yikes.

Oswald's dad can't cook to save his life. If it can't be boiled in water or heated in a microwave, he has to buy his meals... how relatable.

Blue-box macaroni and cheese exists in FNAF, meaning Kraft and its products likely exist, too. Just thought that was funny for some reason.

Oswald's dad squirts ketchup into his mac and cheese. I just think knowing he's the kind of dad who does that is really funny... kinda reminds me of my stepdad's love of ketchup, to be honest.

Other pizzerias that once existed in Oswald's town were Gino's Pizza and Marco's Pizza, both of which closed not long after the mill closed. Both Gino's and Marco's are described as good restaurants, while the food at Jeff's Pizza is described as "decent".

Oswald is into B-grade Japanese horror films, including kaiju movies like Zendrelix vs. Mechazendrelix. Zendrelix is apparently FNAF's answer to Godzilla, making Mechazendrelix an equivalent to Mechagodzilla. They're described like this: "... Zendrelix just looked like a giant dragon thing, but Mechazendrelix reminded him [Oswald] of the mechanical animals he drew when he stripped them of their fur." Zendrelix is also described as being portrayed by "a guy in a rubber suit", solidifying the connection between him and Godzilla.

Oswald and his dad both really love bacon. I just thought that was cute.

When Oswald visits the library, a place he finds "actually kinda fun", he shows interest in a science fiction book from a series, as well as a manga he liked. Based, IMHO.

The library Oswald visits frequently allows homeless people to use their computers and other resources. WE NEED LIBRARIES AND THIS IS EXACTLY ONE REASON WHY!

Oswald's mom, being a nurse, is a bit of a germaphobe and won't let Oswald play in places she considers dirty. A ball pit would be considered one such place.

The pizza Jeff serves comes in huge slices too big for the paper plates they're served on, and very greasy. As someone who was born in NYC and used to eat greasy New York pizza... I think I would have liked eating at Jeff's. Maybe.

Oswald reads a library book while visiting Jeff's Pizza, about "a world where kids with secret powers went to a special school to learn how to fight evil". I wonder how many books that describes...

Oswald plays an online fantasy game at the library that's free to play, but Oswald gets to a point where he can't progress without money. I wonder what game it could have been...

Oswald's dad and mom used to date in high school, often frequenting a roller rink, and are great skaters as a result. Oswald himself can't skate and needs his parents to hold him up.

Oswald's dad only ever buys vanilla ice cream.

There's a video rental service Oswald's family uses called Red Box, but I don't know if it's meant to be the same as the actual existing Redbox. Maybe it is?

Oswald's mom is very good at playing Clue... oh, and Clue exists in the FNAF universe.

Oswald's dad prefers practical effects over CGI in movies. Oswald is the exact opposite.

Oswald's dad is a fan of country music. Oswald... is not.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for snapping at an autistic person?

I (28F) was invited to my friend and coworker "Anna" (27F) birthday dinner. There was around 15 people there, including her boyfriend "Josh" (late 20s M), some of our coworkers, childhood friends and Josh's best friend "Kurt" (late 20s M). She made a separate get together for her family, so there were only friends there.

At some point in the night, Anna asked why my girlfriend didn't go and, after I told her she was in her hometown visiting her family, Kurt asked if I was a lesbian. The question was a little blunt, but I only answered yes and thought this would be the end of it. It wasn't.

Kurt started to ask more and more questions, and they would be increasingly invasive. Have I ever experimented with men? Didn't my girlfriend and I missed "it" during sex (I tried to take it lightly and asked "Missed what, not having an orgasm? Not really" which, looking back, might have made him think I was okay with him talking about my sex life with me)? Do you use toys? I think it's important to note that's the first time I met Kurt, we're not friends and not even distant acquaintances, we were total strangers.

I was doing my best to not be reactive because that was Anna's birthday, but then he asked if I would like to do a threesome with my girlfriend and him, and I guess he was kidding, but I just exploded. I told him he was extremely rude and I was trying to be a good sport about all the nasty shit he was saying to me ever since he found out I'm a lesbian, but enough is enough and no, I didn't want a threesome with him, actually I wanted nothing to do with him, and if he could refrain from talking to me for the rest of the night, I would be grateful.

He was blushing out of embarrassment and tried to say it was only a joke, then I asked him to look around and see if there was anyone laughing. I finished saying we were merely strangers and if he thought it was okay to say those kinds of things to a complete stranger, then he should rethink his actions. After that I payed my part of the bill, left the restaurant and texted Anna apologizing for the scene.

The following day, Josh texted me telling my reaction to Kurt's jokes was extremely unnecessary and that Kurt is autistic and struggles with social cues. I replied that what Kurt did was sexual harrassment, that it was invasive and humiliating and being autistic doesn't excuse the way he treated me. Josh told me I was being ableist to expect Kurt to act like a neurotypical and I said he was being sexist and a homophobe to expect a lesbian woman to just shut up and accept sexual harrassment from a strange man she didn't even know was autistic in the first place. Josh stopped talking to me after that.

Anna agrees with me about the whole situation and she says Josh is overprotective of Kurt because they're childhood friends and Kurt suffered a lot during his teenage years, but that isn't an excuse to not take him accountable for the times he fucks up. I know this situation took a toll on Josh and Anna's relationship because Kurt's behavior is, apparently, the reason for a lot of their fights.

So, AITA for the way I treated Kurt?

What are these acronyms?

[ghostgirl-22]

a mistletoe artrick story? 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt my lovely 💜 This ended up being completely SFW so I’m either very sorry or you’re welcome. Either way I hope you like it <3

—-

It happened once last year at the winter formal. Patrick won prince or king or something like that so he already had a lot of attention on him which meant people were watching when he pulled Art to the side to ask about something… Art barely remembers what it was. What he remembers is that they ended up under the mistletoe.

“Guess what? Now you have to kiss.” Someone shouts followed by a lot of laughter and chatting.

Art isn’t used to being the center of attention and as embarrassed as he is there is a small, small distant part of him that likes it. Still he doesn’t want this kind of attention. He wasn’t even going to do it but someone said it’d be bad luck not to. Come to think of it that someone was probably Patrick.

Art doesn’t need anymore bad luck. So he lets Patrick pull him closer, wearing one of his goofy grins.

“It’s the kiss you’ve all been waiting for,” Patrick announces to their classmates. Most people are laughing but some are actually cheering. Patrick’s girlfriend Madison rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.

It’s theatrical, Art knows that. And Patrick knows how to put on a show. Still, Art shivers a little as their lips touch. It’s probably nothing. Patrick has soft lips. But it’s nothing. Everyone laughs it off makes the obligatory vaguely homophobic jokes and they continue to dance all night.

None of that’s the weird part actually. What’s weird is what happens the next month. Patrick does well on an exam he was dreading. “I got a B+” he exclaims and he kisses Art straight on the lips.

Art rubs his mouth idly but Patrick looks like he’s already forgotten about it and he runs to call his mom. So Art forgets about it too.

And then in February. Valentine’s Day, actually. Art got a bunch of Hershey’s kisses from his new girlfriend Christina. Patrick sneaks one off his desk and later says, “I guess I owe you.” And he cradles Art’s head and plants a kiss right on his mouth. He grins after as Art stares at him dumbfounded and shrugs. “Kiss for a kiss.” And without another word he leaves to go wash up for his date with Madison.

It gets to be normal after that. Their first doubles win of the tennis season. Patrick kissing him right on the court. Just so quick you wouldn’t think twice about it. But Art can’t stop thinking about it.

He gets a kiss on his birthday. Twelve midnight Patrick crawls into his bed while they’re finishing homework.

When he gets his acceptance letter from Stanford. “I don’t think you should go but good job.”

When Christina breaks up with him for Tim Lyons because “he’s just a better player.” Patrick’s making a face, “Tim? Really?”

On the Fourth of July. Hidden away in the boat house on Patrick’s family’s estate.

And the kisses are changing too. Sometimes it’s short and sweet. Other times it’s slow and intimate. Sometimes Art thinks he might have feelings all tied up in this.

They kiss like that, in front of Tashi Duncan. Just the most beautiful girl Art’s ever seen. She seems to be into it— the kissing. And poor Madison is history after that.

He hates Patrick a little bit after the junior US Open final. But that doesn’t keep him from letting Patrick kiss him something quick before they go out to search for beer.

By September they’re kissing in Arts bed just because it’s Tuesday.

On Halloween Art can’t recall what it was like before the kissing became normal. Patrick visiting Tashi at Stanford but staying in Arts room and before they all go to some dumb Halloween Party. Patrick kisses him. They meet Tashi for drinks and he kisses her.

Art’s in this weird place where he doesn’t really know who he’s more jealous of.

It’s December when they go out to eat at some themed restaurant to celebrate the end of their first semester. Patrick’s ordering drinks with his fake ID. Art leans next to him on the bar. Tashi taps his shoulder and points up at the feature where wineglasses are hanging and she’s smirking at the mistletoe draped just above them. “Guess that means you two have to kiss right?” She says.

Patrick grins at Art and Art feels his skin heating up. It’s some kind of kismet obviously.

“Oh come on,” Tashi teases, gently rubbing Art’s shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal. Cause I know for a fact you’ve done it before.”

[yunxi-11085]

Jing Yuan x reader & our child yanqing!!

I just want baby yanqing being a lil silly troublemaker and reader(you) just letting him go no matter what because he's so freaking cute??? you couldn't help it when he showed you his super move of puppy face.. later on Jing yuan might need to learn it from yanqing hehe but jing yuan would be upset, like yanqing broke his favorite cup but he just gets a little scolding and can go back to playing w/ toys... with the excuse of him being too cute that you must let him go

time skip to when yanqing is a teen and jing yuan finally gets to take his revenge by hiding some of yanqing's favorite swords

that would make yanqing superrr upset but he doesn't know who stole his favorite swords.. so he can't confront them abt it and then because you know who stole his lil swords so you secretly gave yanqing some allowance to buy more swords? jing yuan doesn't even know where all that money comes from keke

reminded by this small comic(?) where Jing yuan is disappointed at yanqing for buying new swords but you couldn't help but give him more money when he asks for it because he's tOO cute (( like even if I weren't related to him I'd do ANYTHING to make this baby smile like this aaa

a few sword buying trips later and jing yuan started noticing n he gets jealous~~ you're little hubby getting jealous of the son you both adore~~

so during this morning when you n your hubby wakes up together in bed, he asks "what are your plans for today?" today you are supposed to accompany yanqing to meet some officials! which is the job other people should be doing but you wanted to spend more time with your son.

"how about we go on a date today, just the two of us." he said. but wasn't he supposed to be at work today? "I'm sure the diviner would be willing to let me have a break once in a while" he was sure, but you weren't sure.

he stands up and reaches out for your hand, "it's been a long time since we've went out together"

you were tempted to go with him but you still had to meet up with qingque too right? you promised her that you wanted to learn mahjong from her.

and then you looked back up at his face— oh my.... yanqing??? the general of the cloud knights, looking at you with such puppy—

"uh... sure then" you shyly said, it's a once and a lifetime to see this face... you must treasure it in your brain for years to come even though you already have yanqing's puppy face in there too

nn~ Jing yuan hides you from yanqing the whole day

I'm gonna add more tmrw I need to sleep aaa

update :: I'm now awake and leTs continue

Jing Yuan x reader w/ our child yanqing (jelly Jing yuan time~~)

you don't know but, Jing yuan purposely brought you to restaurants where he knew that yanging wouldn't be in and disrupt the little love time you both have. yesterday while he was sulking in the divine foresight he went and calculated where is the best route to not see yanqing for a day ImAO

imagine doing that to your son

anyways, Jing yuan was being super nice and caring the entire time, if you wanted a little teddy bear he'd buy it for you, etc. etc. if he caught you ogling at some cupcakes or sweets from the window he'd bring you inside and let you taste every one of them!

if you didn't notice, some people were giggling and smiling at your cute interaction. the general of xianzhou on a date with his cute s/o!

it was near afternoon now and you've already visited all the places you wanted to go.

"hm I know the perfect place to go, angel" imagine Jing yuan calling you angel while you call him hubby ImFaokskmskandn I'm single af why am I writing this

you both go on a walk together while holding hands.. the sun is setting and.... oh this man is so pretty. you know it, we all know it. but even all the years of marriage nd being together you still couldn't get over how your hubby is so so pretty.

the radiance of the sun from behind him while he looks at you with those loving eyes.. your heart flutters at the sight.

and guess what? he brings you to a small cafe, and it was full of cats.. and birds. >> you know whose the biggest bird n cat lover here

you squeal at the sight and almost immediately jump inside to pat the little furries...

the last part of the date was so romantic. the staff was super welcoming and the tea tasted so good. It's like our first date all over again. you chuckled and Jing yuan laughed as well.

"we can consider this as our first date together as a married couple then" which funny enough truly is, because every other time it's the three of you together on a family trip.

when the date is over, and you and Jing yuan walk back. he holds your hand tightly with fingers intertwined. he makes sure he walks side by side because of the major size difference between you two.. and if he walks how he usually does you will probably have to run to catch up to him every step

'maybe we should do more of these in the future..'

when you arrive home, you will probably bring out a sandal to Jing yuan because he failed to tell qingque that you are going when you reminded him to atleast tell someone to send a message to her.

yanqing runss to you and you barely had time to react before Jing yuan picks the young boy up with his two large hands by the waist.

"WAh-

"slow down yanqing, we need to rest." Jing yuan says before putting the boy down.

hm? I'm not tired though?

Jing yuan got the message but nonetheless he drags you to your shared bedroom leaving the poor boy behind

hah...

jelly Jing yuan is my thing now I need him to be a jelly little baby for me hehe

I'm probably gonna make more yuus

[tumbleweed-run]

Hello! I love your writing <3 May I ask, do you have any headcanons for Gale? I have a few (eg: his mother raised him alone - he's an only child - as much as he enjoys homecooked meals he's very well known in Waterdeep's fine dining establishments) I'm interested in hearing what you imagine about Gale outside what the game tells us!

Lighter stuff

I agree with you on pretty much all points

Gale might appreciate wine but he strikes me as a fancy whiskey boy. It's a vibe I get

His mother hates the beard, which is why he didn't grow it out until the hermit stage

He loves all books. Magical tomes, history of Faerun, tawdry bodice rippers. And he has a system to his library but it makes no sense to anyone who is not Gale

Personally, I think he's well-known in all Waterdeep's dining establishments. He's in the Yawning Portal at some point as an adult but I also feel like he visits the finer restaurants- probably with his mother

he was raised wealthy, I know he like "oh I haven't dabbled in wealth" but my dear boy was Top Teir middle class at best. I don't think they were 'own the world wealthy' but I believe he grew up with more than just a housekeeper, not having to worry about money. Mama's got Sea Ward money

And of course (because I pointed out his 'tower' is in the Dock Ward) I think as an adult Gale moved to the "rough and tumble" part of town to prove himself. (which is probably why they know him in the poorer establishments )

His tower is a freaking row home, maybe its like two floors taller. But it is a house. Gale is just a fanciful man. Or he's manifesting that shit, idk

I also think he goes home to mama in the sea ward at least 2x a week

Gale is a sorcerer

Gale is 300% a sorcerer whose mother(not magic) was fed up with her shit being set on fire, so she sent him to train in magics the way she was most familiar - Wizard Apprenticing

Less Light Stuff

Gale mentions 'parents' once (I think during the I was denied a kitten speech) I think his father was there at first and then left. Maybe he couldn't handle Gale, or he was just a shitty guy. I think that was the road to Gales "I'm not enough, I must prove I'm enough" syndrome.

I also believe he first encountered Mystra in the Sea Ward at the 'House of Wonder' which is a temple devoted to her. I believe he was young like 13/14 but my guess is she was aware of him from a younger age. (Most wizards apprentice starting at 13... and usually have no spellcasting abilities which is...)

I don't think his favorite color is purple. I think it was Mystra's color and therefor it became his favorite (which is why I like dying all his clothes NOT Purple). Judging by the only room we saw, it's red/maroon/burgundy- but he doesn't know that

I think some of his stunts at Blackstaff were not just his own hubris though he sees it that way, but also at "hey mystra look at me" thing. Which I think she encouraged

I also believe that he was a young adult when the muse-to-lover transition took place. Maybe a few years after he left his apprenticeship, he was old enough to be a 'man' but it was definitely a product of grooming.

I don't think he was ever truly her Chosen. Most gods bestow cool powers (look at the dead 3) or at least protections. She just... screwed him? Taunted him with stuff she knew was going to keep him hooked on her?

When he saw Mystra's interest waning he panicked because he didn't have very many friends (his only named or mentioned friend is Elminster who has the most messed up history with Mystra) and he'd certainly not taken a lover once she 'chose' him. And I assume this was years before the netherese orb disaster. He probably did increasingly dangerous things/adventures to keep her attention, just like he did as a boy.

[jainydoe]

Misdirection, Ch. 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Dinner at Bar Vorgoth.

She’s somewhat shocked she’s arrived first. The afternoon had been spent listening to Classical FM, Nevarra’s Very Best All-Classical Station. She’d write down the names of the artists they played, Brahms, Chopin, Schubert, her voice lilting up and up a class or two and exaggerated as she practiced her Oh, I would simply Adore another glass, thank you, Jeeves. Neve laughed into her hair and finished placing little diamond pins, small and powder blue. Making her hair look magicked and wistful. Like a fairy dream. Rook snorted. 

“This guy knows what I’m like, now, you know. That I’m no lady. Just a fucking carwreck. Not even serious enough to get promoted to trainwreck, but hey, I’m working on it.” 

“All the more reason to give him whiplash.”

Neve’s closet was suited to her and her only, but a satin number and some gold adornments might tickle his fancy, they figured. They’d made an event of it. Rook would describe him, his strangeness, his vaguely familiar yet saran wrapped tone, down to the shoes, the way his presentation was a mix of bruised earth, ripe fruit and the dazzle in the rough, and together, they crafted Rook: Serpentine She-Devil. Rook: Angel of Death. Rook: The Smiling, Beguiling Wildling. Rook: Emmrich Devourer. Each its own box-office hit. 

Neve was a chronic gumshoe who hated cars, which meant having to take the tube to the part of town Rook never visited. Tonight, she’d deign to stalk its corners. Grace them all with her laugh and textured history. Her embellishment of monotony. Seduce them with her unflinching youth. Maybe it was in her head, but the air was colder here. The nighttime - a more familiar companion. Whatever, she didn’t need a coat. Coats were for suckers. She hoped her nipples were hard in a cute way and not sleazy as she looked up at the entrance to the place. It was a hotel. Jesus, alright. They hadn’t discussed sex. And, frankly, she was a little surprised he’d be so, well, quick about it? Nonetheless, she smoothed a hand over her hair, lifted her chin, You’re posh, you’re posh, you’re posh, you’re posh, and saw on the right hand side of the lobby was a restaurant. She approached. Goddamn, if these heels were any louder I’d kill myself. 

“Hi, uh,” Wrong. Incorrect. Try again. “Hello. I’m meeting someone for dinner.” 

The hostess, are they called hostesses at places like this, had a molasses stare, slow and thick and too uninterested to focus. As if saying obviously you’re here for dinner, genius. What’s this look like, the barn you hoofed from? “Name.”

Fuck. Reservations are under last names. She didn’t know his last name. Maybe it was on his profile? But she didn’t wanna check and it’s probably an alias, anyway, and this lady’s just staring and she’s so skinny and Rook’s wasting her time, there’s no one behind her but she’s, like, actively making her shift worse, so she shrugs, lifts a hand as if to say fuck if I know, bitch but instead says, “Emmrich?” She guesses it came across in a way that’s bored and unimpressed because when she says his name, the hostess straightens. She actually smiles, eyes widening. It’s fucking off-putting. 

“Ah, right this way, miss.”

Miss. Right. Okay.

They glide through the seating, tables littered with suits and gowns who don’t look her way, purely enraptured with each other. She sees a girl, blonde and grinning, just about ready to eat her date. And the way he looks at her. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was someone he paid for, too. But to him, it’s a deal. He’s managed to secure the world and she only costs a small fortune. She feeds a bite of something decadent onto his tongue, and wraps her lips around the spoon to lap up whatever crumbs he’s left for her. It feels wrong to watch them. This foreplay. This exchange. But she’s studying, so actually it’s perfectly fine and she should honor the fact she’s rubbing elbows with the greats. Rook tries to memorize everything about her in the seconds it takes for the hostess to guide her to an elevator. 

“There’s a second floor?”

“For our elite guests.”

It’s a covered patio with a single table at the center, something nouveau-medieval about it. Maybe it’s the lighting, or the fact it runs long and decorated. She wants to order but figures a guy like this will wanna order for her. Hell, he’d probably have a better handle on what she should be drinking, anyway. Maybe she’ll discover new signatures tonight. New favorites. New desires.

She should’ve brought a fucking coat.

“Manfred, please, I implore you.” He takes his round, pale face in his hands, squishing his cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. “Enough with the Cocomelon.” His laugh was more of a wheeze, fingers grabbing at Emmrich’s ears in the way that meant it was time for Papa to make him fly. Like the elephant from that movie. The one that can fly. You know it. Dingo. “Yes, yes, Dingo Daddy will help you fly.” He lifted Manfred onto his shoulders, arms tucked tight under his chin as they descended the stairs. “Let us explore, Manfred! Perhaps the two of us can find that blasted babysitter.” He hoped murmuring to himself would keep his sentiments private. A fruitless endeavor when the boy was around. Emmrich could hear his little bl bl bl-s as he tried sounding out the words. At least it’ll be enough to distract him. He’s running behind schedule and it’s ages before the doorbell rings. 

“I’m so sorry, Professor, my car ran out of gas and I had to fill it and I had this paper I needed to finish reading for a friend and-”

“Bellara, stop,” he raises his hand, and for a moment, allows her to feel the weight of his importance. “How many times do I have to remind you to call me Emmrich? Should we begin a swear jar?”

She laughs, clearly shaken. Good. He’s late and Manfred snuck into the snack pantry before dinner. This means running through the living room, iPad videos on full volume as he crafts impromptu … creations. He doesn’t mention it, out of spite, but wishes her luck, nonetheless. He’d been hesitant to hire an old student to babysit, but Bellara simply adored Manfred. Freddie. And Manfred’s taken to her. Pretends her hair, its signature bun, is a crystal ball where he can predict futures yet to be metabolized. He’s utterly enraptured by her gadgets, and over the months, has come to expect that she shares some new gizmo, some electric marvel, each time she visits, his eyes shining by how truly wonderful Princess Bell’s world can be. And as their night comes to its end,  he, inevitably, curls against her chest, dozes off with his thumb in his mouth and snores, gently, like a fresh pup. Late at night, Emmrich cries. Goes over the case files of his spoiled relationship with Johanna, as if hoping to figure out how he could’ve made her stay for their son. If she could’ve been the mother he needed. Maybe if she’d gotten to share something with him, had him fall asleep in her arms, instead, perhaps if he saw limitless futures in her, she’d have stuck around. She might not have raised him into a good man, but at least she’d have raised him, at all. Maybe that would’ve been enough. Instead of a husk, a shell, an idea of a man playing house and trying not to snuff out Manfred’s zest for life too soon. Instead, he’ll kill Rook. Buy her prime and, in exchange, offer a hollow but beautiful future. One where she can mourn the loss of her girlhood in a penthouse. Sob away the memories of him taking every bit of her, but in a clawfoot tub with lavender bubbles and a glass of bubbly on permanent standby. He knows she must be miserable, already. Recognized that bite all street rats, like him, can’t shrug off. At least he can make her miserably rich. Like those purse dogs hanging by a thread, snarling, ready to strike at the closest sign of a warm hand. 

He’s five minutes late and sweating when he strides into Bar Vorgoth, smile prepped for Patrice. They exchange no words as she takes him to his lady in waiting. The elevator thrums. 

“Your,” she pauses, and he can see her nerves spike as she realizes her near blunder, “party, has already arrived.”

“Surprising.”

That makes her laugh. He gives her a grin that says thanks for the discretion, I’ll tip well for it and steels his shoulders for his entrance. You’re fine. You’re calm. You’re loaded. You’re 

The doors open and she turns, quickly, flicking a cigarette over the balcony and waving away the very present evidence of smoke. Like a teenager caught sneaking her mom’s Virginia Slims. Cute.

“I’m sure you’ll forgive me for being late.” Yeah, good going, rub it in that she was tardy last time. No matter the fact she was literally saving her best friends from starving in the woods. What’s your excuse, old man? Life Alert take too long to show up?

She lets her head fall to the side, peering up at him through her lashes. Her makeup is glittery and soft in a way he’s seen on the television, nowadays. A modern woman. Electric. 

“And I’m sure you’ll understand if I need a quick cry before we eat. Maybe I should smash a plate, or something.” 

It’s nice that she’s having fun. That they can joke. This is a good sign. They’re already laughing things off. And it’s not at each other. Not a battle. There was always a little part of him burned and stung with. You know who. His fondest memory is when she’d tackled him in the marbled corridor of the department, exam waving in his face. “I beat you, I beat you, I beat you, Volkarin! Eat it up! Suck it, chump! You fucking peacock! What grade did you get, again?”

“An A.”

“An A MINUS! HA! Idiot! Say it! Say you’re an idiot!”

“I’m an idiot.” 

“I KNOW! HA!”

The jokes stopped being funny when she got let go from the Bureau’s interview process. Turns out, grades don’t matter more than passing your psych evals. 

Johanna was an elevator. Thrumming up and up and up until she suddenly became a surprise canon and shot you out like cheap, homemade ammo. Left her gunpowder residue on your cheeks and lit you on fire, everywhere. 

There’s a part of her, Rook, that feels familiar in that way. Like she’s a live wire ready to shock him numb and zap him into comatose. It frightens him. It makes him want to curl into his sheets and keep crying. Put on something soapy and swear off women for good. But then he pictures her legs straddling him, burrowing under the sheets as she kisses his tears away and laughs, asking if he wants to stop being a baby and take Manfred out for something sweet. 

He’s too busy imagining a future with her, taking pleasure in the fear it sparks, that he doesn’t notice until they’re seated that she’s freezing. Don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down don’t

“Would you like my coat? Or scarf?”

She straightens her shoulders, smile tight-lipped and jaw pulled taught. “That, that would be lovely, yes, thank you.” 

It swallows her and drowns him in ooey-gooey lust. It’s been five minutes, Try to act like you’ve done this before. You’re Volkarin. The one who banged their Criminology professor and ran from her husband stark naked into the night. The guy who threw the best parties, ragers, bacchanals, saddled the hottest men in class and had the stamina to show for it. Stop acting like this is primary school and Rook is the girl with the prettiest hair. Though, to be fair, it is quite pretty. Very charming in the moonlight. She’s almost vampiric in the way she glows under the barest allowance of a twilight gleam. The night has claimed her its own. It almost makes him jealous. The stars oughtta hide their fires, already. Jesus. 

His coat isn’t scratchy or cool to the touch. It’s warm. It’s inviting. She’s embarrassed by the fact she almost nuzzles against its lapels, covering herself in him. This is the nicest thing she has ever worn and it’s as white-hot shameful as it is a simmering power. But then she remembers this is probably a little hot to watch, too, and lets herself stretch into it, arms wrapping across her chest like it’s the only thing keeping her from complete nudity. “I love your coat.”

“Thank you. A cosmic aubergine suits you.” Aubergine. Aubergine. Cos-mic Au-ber-gine. The tick of the tone up then three hops down, its own, sweet hopscotch. “It’s my belief a couple should,” he’s pink, “get to know one another.” Couple? “Where are you from?”

“Here and there.”

“What do you do for work?” “This and that.” He narrows his eyes, nodding. “Well, clearly, right now I’m taking a sabbatical from saving the world to indulge in more pleasurable pursuits.”

“And what’s your idea of pleasure?”

What’s his idea of pleasure? Mahjong? Feeding birds? Nevermind, it’s paying impressionable young women to gorge on decadent food and answer inane questions on their personal lives that will be forgotten before the evening ends. Perhaps if she were rolling in it, she’d find some sick draw to it, too. “Accompanying handsome men to rooftop dinners.”

“Then it’s something you do often?” It’s probably a trick of the light, the way his eyes harden, prudish and girlish. It’s familiar. She throws him a bone.

“No.” She stares at the table between them, scratches a nail down the tablecloth. “Not as much as I hope to, anyway.”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you see yourself entertaining any other,” he raises an eyebrow, “handsome men in the near future?” 

She wants to be angry at this unexpected possessiveness. What does he know? Maybe she’s got loads of messages from old-timers and midlife freaks. Maybe she’s considering hiring a personal assistant to manage her calendar and send out dainty envelopes with polaroids and sticky lipstick kisses. Xoxo, your Rook.

But somewhere dark and untouched, she’s flattered. That they’ve spent maybe an hour together and he’s already wanting to brand her. Stamp his initials on her neck and ass just in case she planned on wandering into any nearby pastures. She’s sweet on him. Maybe there’s something to this guy. Something even more familiar than a guarded sense of self. Something pathetic and desperate. Doleful and grotesque. Penurious and suppliant and craven. Wretched. She’s practiced this smile for the past two hours, the left corner of her mouth drawing up with a fishing line, predatory and cruel in its enchantment. “Now why would I do that when I’ve got you?”

She takes note of the way he crosses his legs but sets his sight. Like this whole time, they’ve just been setting the board, and now she’s played pawn to E4. He’s as en-garde as he is impressed. She feels like a minx. 

“Good.”

Dinner is served and this character she’s worn becomes faded and frayed. He doesn’t mind. She enjoys holding her glass of wine, lifting her shoulder, taking in everything around them. It gives him the chance to take in her. Far more reserved than she’s let on. Maybe not as experienced, but a quick study. She’s got stories that outshine his. He asks her what she did before signing up for the site and she flattens her hands against the table, buzzed and buzzing with energy, “Okay, so get this-” He finds himself swallowing down gulps of air to fuel his laughter, “Forgive me, you got corralled into signing up for a fight club? Not only that, but did nothing to prepare. And then they put you up to bat with the most formidable challenger available?”

She shrugs, as if this story is one of hundreds. He bets that’s true. “What can I say, ain’t no rest for the wicked.” He hopes he won't be just one of her stories. Knows it's inevitable, but hopes anyway. She asks what he does to afford such a high society lady as herself. “Let me guess, you’re, um, wait, I got this, I’m good at this, okay, so,” she places her fingers on her temples and scrunches her nose, “Banker.” He chuckles, low and satisfied. She turns her head, staring harder. “Nah, no way. You’re too interesting to be a banker.”

“What makes you say that?”

She shakes her head, stabs a fork into her lamb and points at him. “Look at the way you dress. You’ve got on, like, what is that, a bolo?”

He places his hand over his collar. “It’s vintage.”

“My point, exactly. And this coat, I mean, way too cool for someone who's devoted their life to numbers.”

He supposes that’s true. Takes a small pride in being thought of as hip. With it. Swankified and fresh. Do the kids still say fresh? He won’t ask. “So then what’s your guess?”

She leans back, chin up. Comfortable. He takes great pride in it. “I don’t know, yet. But I will.”

When dessert arrives, she’s so focused on the display of it, the flaming glory of one’s first Baked Alaska, that he lets himself take in the sweetness of her sincerity. The truth of her joy. And his eyes melt down the way his coat has parted, making room for her chest, her full belly, fabric creasing into every bit of her like something poured. She takes a spoonful, practically salivating, and he can see her almost offer him a bite. Something switches. Her eyes shift from giving to taking. She devours the cream and merengue and cake, cheshire and aggressive. His throat is dry. “I have one more surprise this evening.”

Her eyes widen. “For me?”

“Just you.” He passes her a card key. “The beds are divine and the bathtubs are small oceans.” He hopes he isn’t being too forward. This is just a kindness. He’s a patron. A sponsor. A friend. It must be a trick of the light, the way her eyes are just. Well. Disappointed. 

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.”

He swells and puffs up and is downright giddy as he feeds off her excitement. She practically dashes to the lobby elevator, flashes her key at the bellhop and whispers in his ear Penthouse, please!

He catches her eye before the doors close, and in a shock to them both, she blows him a kiss. Followed by a wink. She hold up her hand, mimicking a phone, mouths out a CALL ME and, at that, disappears. The world is a haze and life but a dream on the drive home. He’s electric. He’s a sparked canon. He almost gives Bellara a kiss on the forehead when he gets home, wants to jump up onto the kitchen counter and shout I HAD A DATE THAT ENDED DECENTLY WELL AND I THINK WE ACTUALLY GET ALONG AS PEOPLE, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!

He waves her goodbye and almost shuts the door, when something familiar lodges in his throat. That’s Rook’s car. 

They know each other. 

Good thing those stars hid their fires. 

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 66

The Seventh Doctor was once frozen in ice in the Antarctic for over a million years after a skirmish involving Ice Warrior prisoners. Over time, his clothes had degraded dramatically, but he survived because he had put himself into a coma. He was accidentally awoken by an Antarctic expedition in 2012. Despite having memory loss, he brought up the names of his companions, such as Mel, Ace, and Hex, even referring to a woman on the expedition as "Ace" while he tried to remember everything. (Audio: Frozen Time)

A "monster," or "the Green Terror," had stowed away on the TARDIS when it had been caught on the First Doctor's jacket as a spawn. It eventually attacked the Fourth Doctor and K-9 when the TARDIS materialized inside solid rock. (Short story: Stowaway)

Thr Capricorn Killer was originally an office worker who had been suddenly turned to a vampire one night. Following his change and an altercation, he started killing and drinking people's blood. Eventually, he encountered the Fourth Doctor and Romana. The Fourth Doctor said, "I'm afraid someone brought you into our world. This is the only help I can give you. Now hold still. This won't hurt a bit." He then proceeded to stake the Capricorn Killer with a walking stick, something which hurt quite a bit and caused him to dissolve to ash. Then the Doctor went about his day like normal as though he had not just killed a man without second thought, asking Romana if she wanted to go for a steak at a restaurant. (Short story: I Was a Monster!!!)

Edgar Allan Poe took part in a seance with the First Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and some others. During this seance, a young girl named Abigail was possessed by evil forces trying to come into this world, connected through a ram's skull carved with a pentagram. Poe knocked a candle onto the skull to stop this, causing it and Abigail to go up in flames. Poe later recounted this in his diary but commented that he felt as though he had opened another gateway to let the evil in by doing so. The very next day, Poe was found wandering the streets of Baltimore, disoriented, and he died not long afterwards. A "mysterious stranger" visited his grave and left him roses and a cognac bottle. (Short story: The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull)

Because of LaMort, or Death, the Seventh Doctor felt the same sharp, raw pain that he had felt when Susan had left him and when all of his other companions left. He described his companions leaving as "Little deaths as they'd left him. Sometimes bigger deaths. Real deaths." (Short story: Virgin Lands)

The Eighth Doctor has been known to wear eye shadow. (Short story: Growing Higher)

Jamie has been known to take the precaution of chopping up the Second Doctor's recorder, not that it ever stopped him from producing a different recorder from somewhere. (Short story: Twin Piques)

There was massive beef between K-9 Mark I and Mark II. They fought a lot in their missives to each other and only buried the hatchet when the Fourth Doctor regenerated. (Short story: Jealous, Possessive)

A copy of "The Diary of an Edwardian Adventuress" by Charlotte Elspeth Pollard is at the Library of Kar-Charrat, the same place the Seventh Doctor and Ace once visited (as Daleks were invading). (Short story: Apocrypha Bipedium)

The Master once became producer of a show called "Make a Star," where many singers competed to become famous. He wanted to release songs as of yet unwritten to unravel the timeline. The Master later teased the Doctor for not guessing that he was involved, given that "Make a Star" is an anagram for "aka Master." (Short story: Hidden Talent)

The day after Barbara and Ian left in the TARDIS, Barbara's mother, Joan Wright, reported them missing to the police. A year later, she had not given up hope of finding her, and she shared a dream with Barbara on board the TARDIS. Barbara told her mother that she would return. (Short story: A Long Night)

The Fourth Doctor was once attacked by an entity representing all of the people who have felt fear because of the Doctor's actions and who was attempting to make the Doctor also feel that same constant fear. The Doctor was not afraid when the entity put him in cave full of people missing limbs and a terrifying creature that bit off the Doctor's arm, when the entity made the Doctor an old man in a wheelchair being tended by nurses, or when the entity put him in a padded cell. The entity eventually sensed a thought from the Doctor - that he was afraid of losing his mind. (Short story: The Fear)

Chloe and Arthur owned a bed and breakfast that the Sixth Doctor once visited. In this bed and breakfast, Chloe and Arthur were killed by hundreds of other versions of themselves over and over every day. The next version would come knocking, and the current would go outside and meet their fate. Eventually, the Doctor came to stay and also joined the ritual of repeatedly dying. After dying enough times, the Doctor decided that none of them will answer when someone came knocking, thus breaking the cycle and freeing them. (Short story: The Death of Me)

Long before The Doctor's Wife, the TARDIS took on the form of a woman called Iraj. Iraj (who I will from now on refer to as the TARDIS) had encountered Romana I just before her regeneration and decided that she wanted to play a trick on the Doctor. The TARDIS took on the form of Princess Astra and was annoyed when the Doctor barely noticed her. The TARDIS proceeded to put on three other bodies, forcing Romana to stay put when she lost her temper. The TARDIS eventually put back on Astra's body, only this time wearing the Doctor's clothes. Romana was still frozen when the TARDIS eventually returned, telling her all about an adventure she had had with the Doctor with Davros and Daleks, but she was still annoyed that the Doctor had barely noticed her. After convincing the TARDIS that the Doctor does care for her, the TARDIS helped Romana regenerate, and to Romana's surprise, she took on the form of Princess Astra! (Short story: The Lying Old Witch in the Wardrobe)

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[astarion-approves]

The Waiter

'There stood the most gorgeous man Tav had ever seen in their life. Tall with pale skin, ruby red eyes, and hair as white as snow. There was a certain air about him, it felt like being charmed into bed without so much as speaking a single word in return.'

The reader falls in love with their waiter in the Czech Republic.

Modern day 'reader' x Astarion. 1.7k words

Slightly NSFT (no actual sex or descriptive sex), excessive second hand embarrassment, reader is a moron, some Czech, third person.

Thank you to @chenziee for your help on this. I only speak English and she was an absolute saint to translate some dialogue for me.

Keep reading for the full story.

The Czech Republic was seemingly a little peaceful country compared to America, but the food was… interesting to say the least. Time after time, Tav found themselves in search of something familiar to have during their vacation. They ended up spending more time having fruit, cheese, and wine than anything else.

Finally, their friend, Eliška, put her foot down, dragging Tav to a traditional restaurant and insisting they try the food that her country has to offer.

“I warned you before you came to visit,” the friend said with a soft laugh as they were both seated at a small circular table. “I knew you wouldn’t like our food.”

Tav crossed their arms over their chest in defense. “It’s not my fault all your food looks so…” They gestured to a plate being carried out from the kitchen, something that looked like raw dough covered in a brown gravy with some form of meat and cabbage next to it. “Whatever the hell that is.”

“Vepřo knedlo zelo,” Eliška spoke quickly, the foreign language beautiful but words Tav didn’t understand. “It’s roast pork, dumplings, and sauerkraut.”

Tav shrugged. “That doesn’t sound bad. I guess I could get that.”

“Nope,” Eliška shook her head and opened the menu that was sitting on the table. “I’ll be picking for you.”

“Oh shit,” Tav grabbed their own menu, hoping to see what monstrosity their friend might order for them.

But of course it was all in Czech.

“Anything but blood sausage, please.”

Eliška snorted but continued flipping through the menu, a menu with no pictures of course.

While she browsed you stared at what you assumed was the wine menu, ‘Víno’ was one of the only words Tav managed to learn thus far and being drunk on vacation was their plan for most of the trip anyway.

“Dobrý den. Máte vybráno?”

Tav looked up from their menu, their eyes meeting with the waiter, and they felt as if they’d been kicked in the chest.

There stood the most gorgeous man Tav had ever seen in their life. Tall with pale skin, ruby red eyes, and hair as white as snow. There was a certain air about him, it felt like being charmed into bed without so much as speaking a single word in return.

Tav leaned forward in their chair, trying to figure out if those red eyes were just a pair of contact lenses. He tilted his head and raised a single brow at them.

Fuck—that was adorable.

Tav looked to their friend, who was still studying the menu. They mumbled something to the waiter, which Tav assumed was ‘just a second.’ The waiter nodded and turned to leave—

“Is he on the menu?” Tav blurted out before the waiter was outside of ear shot. “Because I want a bite of that."

“Jesus Christ, Tav.” Eliška swung the menu across the table, successfully hitting Tav on the side of their head. “Don’t just say shit like that!”

“It’s not like he speaks English anyway!” Tav defended. They’ve only been in the Czech Republic for a few days but besides their friend and other tourists they haven’t come across many non-native English speakers that could understand Tav’s version of English. Plus, only much younger people seemed to be learning English, while their waiter looked to be in his early 40s. “Anyone who speaks English here can’t understand me, we’re fine. I speak too quickly, remember?”

Eliška glared at Tav. “You only say that because I do all the talking. Please just.. try to hold your tongue. You could offend him.”

Tav held their hands up. “No promises.”

Soon the waiter returned, carrying two glasses, one in each hand. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms riddled with thick veins. Tav sat back in their chair and just watched as the man put a glass down in front of them. How could forearms be that sexy?

“We need a new waiter, I’m going to melt just by looking at this man.”

“Tav,” Eliška hissed. “Shut the fuck up.”

He looked between the two of you in confusion before speaking, “Vybrali jste?”

“Dvakrát tlačenku s chlebem, džbán s vodou a sedmičku rulandy červené, prosím,” Eliška replied quickly, refusing to look at Tav while they spoke.

The waiter nodded, scribbling into a notepad with what Tav assumed was Eliška’s order.

“Did you get wine? If not put him in a tall glass for me—“

Eliška kicked Tav under the table, making them gasp in pain. Those heels were vicious.

“Ask him what his name is, I want to know what name I’m going to be dreaming of tonight.”

“Tav—“

“Oh my god we should ask him to take a picture with us to celebrate my first traditional meal—“

“Tav, stop—“

“Oh yes, kind sir, in my country waiters do take their shirts off for photos, it’s perfectly normal—“

“Tav, so help me god—“

“What’s ‘please fuck me’ in Czech?”

“‘Fuck’ is pretty fucking universal word, you idiot.”

“Just ask him his name, please?” Tav put their hands together, begging their friend for this one favor. This one obnoxious, ridiculous favor.

Eliška sighed and turned to the waiter, who still stood there looking confused but seemingly entertained at their interaction. “Já se moc omlouvám, mojeho kamaráda by hrozně zajímalo... Jak se jmenujete?”

The waiter chuckled, putting his notepad away and turning to Tav. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level with Tav. “Astarion,” he spoke slowly, softly, his voice deep and calm. Those red eyes stared back at Tav with ease, glimmering with amusement.

“Oh,” Tav breathed out. “Fuck, even his name is gorgeous… Astarion.”

Astarion smiled and stood back up, then Eliška thanked him and finally let him leave the table, the waiter pausing to look back at their table once before going into the kitchen.

“Astarion,” Tav repeated the name, enjoying the way it felt on their tongue. “Astarion—“

“Mhm, and not a common name in Czech at all, Tav.”

“Sounds Czech to me.”

“It’s not—“

“Oh he’s coming back!” Tav was grinning at his return, excited to see him again so soon, and carrying a bottle of red wine.”

Astarion opened the bottle with ease, pouring some into a glass and handing it to Eliška to be tested. She lightly twirled the glass before taking a small sip. But Tav wasn’t even paying attention to what she thought of the wine. They were more interested in watching Astarion as they worked.

“He opened the bottle so easily, Eliška. It's official. I'm in love.”

Eliška hummed and took another sip of the wine. “It’s literally his job to open bottles all day, Tav.”

“Bet he’s skilled with those long fingers then.”

Eliška ignored Tav and put her glass down. She spoke to Astarion, who filled the glasses and placed the bottle down between them.

Soon Astarion was leaving again, only to return shortly and carrying two plates to their table. Tav smiled as the meal was placed in front of them—

But the smile dropped into a frown when they looked from Astarion’s handsome face to the plate he just set down.

“What in the fuck did you order us?”

Eliška snorted into her wine, breaking into a laugh as she watched Tav stare at their meal in shock. “It’s domácí tlačenka.”

“Eliška, this looks like if you took bologna and made it evil.” Tav poked at the meat with a fork, unsure of how to proceed.

“Try it,” Eliška replied. “You’ll like it.”

“Astarion,” Tav looked away from their plate and to the now grinning waiter, at least he was being entertained by the silly picky American. “My future husband, can you believe she’s trying to make me eat this?”

“No.”

“See!” Tav pushed their plate away, refusing to try the dish. “Even this handsome god of a man doesn’t like it.”

“Uhhhh… Tav—“ Eliška tried to speak before being cut off by them.

“You can eat this weird ass dish, meanwhile I’m going to drag Astarion to the nearest hotel and let him be my meal instead,” Tav said and laughed at their own joke.

Eliška just stared at Tav in horror. “Tav… you need to stop speaking now.”

“Stop worrying,” Tav said and rolled their eyes. “He doesn’t understand me. Right, Astarion?”

“Right.”

“Just like I said, Eliška. He doesn’t speak a single word of English.”

“Not a single word,” Astarion said with a nod.

“Tav, please... take a second and think—“ Eliška grimaced as Tav cut her off once again. This time the woman keeping her mouth shut.

“I could go on for hours with everything playing through my mind right now with this man—“

“Oh my, please do tell.“

Tav laughed and turned their focus onto the waiter, who simply smiled back at them. “I’m here for two more weeks on vacation but I don’t want to see the sun again. I want you in my hotel room, fucking me until I can’t walk, fucking me until I forget my own name, fucking me until I lose sense of time and the Czech government comes to find me because I’ve been reported missing—“

“That is an awful lot of sex, not that I’m opposed to it—“

“I’m going to drag you back home with me, just so I can wake up every morning and see the most handsome creature in the world lying next to me every day of the rest for my life.”

“How romantic.”

“Then I’ll marry you and we’ll be together forever.”

“Fine. But only if we continue living here. American healthcare is a joke.”

Tav laughed and turned back to Eliška, smirking at them in a ‘I told you so’ kind of way.

“See? He doesn’t speak any English.”

“Tav… You are an absolute fucking moron.”

“What—“

Astarion hummed, drawing Tav’s attention back to himself.. “I can’t miss work, but I do get off in two hours. Let’s try a date first, before we get married. Alright?”

Astarion turned and left, the waiter laughing to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen once more.

“Wait…” Tav looked from the kitchen and to Eliška. “Did he just speak English?”

Eliška just shook her head in disbelief.

[babydollmarauders]

LAVENDER HAZE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n has been dealing with hate from Trevor’s fans and journalists constantly speculating when they’ll get married.

specific lyrics: “i been under scrutiny. you handle it beautifully. all this shit is new to me.” and “all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.”

not my gif

“y/n, when are you and Trevor gonna get married?” a reporter asks as i walk through the hallways of Honda Center, away from the Ducks dressing room and up towards the seating. i send a stiff smile their way and continue walking, effectively ignoring their question.

i’ve been dating Trevor since we were sixteen. five years together and you’d think i would be used to this by now, but it’s harder than one would think.

of course Trevor and i have talked about marriage, when you’ve been together this long, it’s inevitable that you’ve talked about it. but we’ve mutually decided to wait until it feels right for us. we’re only twenty-one after all. but it seems that it’s the only question i get asked nowadays.

sure, when i ran into reporters in the past, they may have asked me this question a couple times, but usually they just asked me what it was like to be high school sweethearts with an nhl player or what kind of things Trevor does at home to get ready for a game. but now it’s always ‘when are you guys getting married?’ and ‘y/n has Trevor proposed yet?’.

having been dating Trevor since his USNTDP days, it’s definitely different dealing with him now having real fans and him being approached at restaurants for pictures. i don’t mind it, but it can get to be a bit much when with his fame comes hate towards me. girls telling me i’m not good enough for him or that they could treat him better and whatnot. every photo i post on instagram has at least twenty comments saying such things.

**

i’m sat on the couch waiting for Trevor to get home from his game. i left right after it ended, Trevor texting me that he had to do interviews and that Jamie would drop him off at home.

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @jackhughes and 14,628 others

@y/n11: the secret is out, i’m actually just @trevorzegras personal photographer 📸

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@user1: y/n using her boyfriend for clout again lol

@user2: alexa play treat you better by shawn mendes

@jackhughes: i’m stealing Louie next time i visit

@y/n11: good luck, Trevor might actually disown you as a friend if you try

@jackhughes: @y/n11 sounds like a win-win situation to me

@user3: how has it taken me months to realize she changed the number in her username to match Trevor’s jersey number? didn’t she used to be y/n46?

@user4: yeah, and before that she was y/n9 to match his usa number. they’re so cute 😭 i wonder if she’ll change her username to y/nzegras when they get married

@trevorzegras: and you’re the cutest photographer there ever was

@y/n11: i wanna smooch your face 💋💋

@_alexturcotte: whipped

@trevorzegras: @_alexturcotte i don’t see you with a girlfriend so which one of us is really winning here?

@user5: oh look, another post of Trevor. anyone wanna take a guess on what her next post will be? hint: it probably won’t her ugly ass

@_quinnhughes: miss you! come visit soon!

@trevorzegras: aww miss you too Huggy!

@_quinnhughes: @trevorzegras did it look like i tagged you? you can stay in Anaheim

@y/n11: miss you too Hugs! i’ll come with Trev on their next game there and root for you! 🧸

@user6: lmao she’s rooting for another guy? slut. bet she’s bounced around to all Trevor’s old teammates + Quinn

—

i scroll through the comments on my recent instagram post, seeing all the girls insulting me or saying i use Trevor for fame. am i not allowed to post my boyfriend anymore just because he’s in the NHL?

i didn’t realize i had tears welling in my eyes until one drops onto my screen. wiping it off, i hear the front door open and shut, Trevor arriving home. i listen to the mundane sounds of him slipping his shoes off and dropping his keys into the dish by the door before i hear his footsteps coming towards the living room. i hastily wipe away my tears and sniffle before he can see that i’ve been crying.

“hey, baby.” i say, my voice not quite recovered from my throat being closed up while i was crying, but Trevor doesn’t seem to notice. he takes the seat next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so my head lays on his chest.

“hi, love. did you see that goal i made for you?” he asks and i chuckle.

“i did. you did amazing, babe. i’m so proud of you.” i tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist and squeezing him tighter to me. he drops a kiss to the top of my head and i can feel the smile on his lips.

“lemme see that pretty face.” he whispers, nudging my chin up with his hand. but when i look up at him, his smile drops. “hey, what happened? why were you crying?”

he rubs at my cheek with his thumb, tracing my puffy under eye with the tip of it. i shake my head slightly.

“it’s nothing, Trev.” he shakes his head and scowls.

“it’s not nothing if it made my girl cry. now tell me.” he says.

“it was just the comments on my instagram post. there were these girls—” i cut myself off, not knowing if i want to tell him what they said.

“hey, what? ‘there were these girls’ what?” he asks softly.

“these girls were commenting that i was using you for clout, and that i was ugly. and another one said that i’ve probably gotten with you and all your friends.” i whisper. his face contorts in disbelief before dropping into an angry frown.

“don’t listen to them.” he tells me. i open my mouth to rebut but he speaks again. “i’m serious, y/n. don’t pay them any attention. i know you’re not using me. i mean, you put up with my annoying, class clown ass in high school. if that doesn’t speak wonders then i don’t know what does.”

i giggle and land a light smack against his chest.

“i happen to have liked your annoying, class clown ass.” i tease.

“and i still wonder why.” he shrugs. “as for the other comments, you’re gorgeous, princess. you’re so beautiful. i still can’t believe i get to wake up every morning and see that pretty face. i can’t understand for the life of me, why you stay with me when you’re so out of my league. but i’m so grateful that you do, because i can’t imagine where i’d be and what my life would be like without you.”

i smile at his sweet words and lean up to kiss his lips.

“i love you.” i mumble against them.

“i love you too, babygirl.” he presses one more quick peck to my lips before pulling away “also, i know you’ve never been with any of my friends. i mean, c’mon, why would you want them when you can have this?”

he sweeps a hand down his body and i bark out a laugh. he smiles down at me, running his hand through my hair before he stops it at the back of my neck, pulling me in for another, deeper, kiss.

“you know, i’ve been thinking.” he tells me when he pulls back.

“oh that’s never good.” i say.

“ha ha ha.” he narrows his eyes at me, slipping the hand from the back of my neck in order to use it to shove my forehead, making me fall back onto the cushion of the couch behind me. “i was thinking, maybe next year?”

“maybe next year what?” i ask, face contorting in confusion.

“maybe next year we should get married.” he says. i pop back up into a sitting position quickly, nearly hitting my head against his. he chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Trevor Zegras did you just propose to me?” i ask, my tone incredulous. “on our couch?!”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he says. “what do you say? you wanna be my wife?”

“i could hit you right now.” i tell him.

“so, it that a no?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in questioning. i shuffle onto his lap, straddling him and grabbing his face in my hands.

“there is nothing in this world that i want more than to be your wife.” i whisper, leaning my forehead against his.

“oh thank god.” he sighs. he sticks his hand in his pocket, shuffling around in it before pulling his hand back out in a fist. he opens his fist to reveal a ring box. “because i’ve had this ring since we were eighteen.”

tears sting my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest as i pull my head back from his. he opens the box, showing off a beautiful white gold ring with a pear cut diamond and a twisted halo design.

“since we were eighteen?” i ask. “but that’s the year that we were fighting all the time.”

“yeah, and you stayed. despite all the stupid arguments, you still made sure we never went to bed angry at each other, and you stuck by my side.” he takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“i love you so much.” i whisper before capturing his lips with mine. he pulls back a second later to mumble out his own ‘i love you’ before he resumes kissing me.

but then a thought pops into my head and i pull away, furrowing my brows at him.

“why did you have the ring in your pocket right now?” i ask him.

“well i had this whole plan that i was gonna bring you out on the ice before warm ups and ask you there but, when it came down to it, it didn’t feel right. i wanted the right moment. and now felt right.”

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @colecaufield and 43,793 others

@y/n11: forever with you sounds pretty great @trevorzegras

comments on this post have been limited.

@trevorzegras: i’m pretty damn lucky that i’ll get to call you my wife 🤍

@jackhughes: finally! i was beginning to think he would never use that damn ring! congrats guys

@y/n11: you knew about the ring?!

@jackhughes: @y/n11 who do you think helped him pick it out?

@colecaufield: congrats you guys! can’t wait to be the best man

@jackhughes: think again bud, i’m gonna be the best man

@_alexturcotte: @jackhughes i think we all know that I’M gonna be the best man because Trevor likes me best

@y/n11: @jackhughes @_alexturcotte thank you cole! and i hate to be the bearer of bad news but the best man will definitely be Louie … gotta go 🏃‍♀️

@_quinnhughes: congratulations! so happy for you two!

@y/n11: thank you Huggy! get ready to go suit shopping because i can’t imagine anyone else being my man of honor

@lhughes_06: damn, Z beat me to it. i was gonna ask you this summer at the lake house! happy for you though 🥲😪

@y/n11: aww sorry Moosey! keep an eye out just in case forever doesn’t work out

@griffinzegras: can’t wait for you to officially be my sister!

@y/n11: aww you’ve been my baby brother for 5 years but now it’ll be legally true! can’t wait to boss you around!

@griffinzegras: @y/n11 i take it back @trevorzegras any way that you wanna take her back to the pound?

@trevorzegras: @griffinzegras nah, i like this one. i’mma keep her

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[rainiishowers]

heyy, I have a request for the brothers:

so imagine the mc was chosen for the exchange program as a child (like 10-12 years old) and after they leave they don't have contact with the cast for whatever reason.

how would the brothers react to seeing mc again 10 years later when they're all grown up, with their own job, apartment, maybe a partner and stuff?

if you don't feel comfortable doing this request I totally understand, no worries :)

Scenario: MC came to the Devildom as a child exchange student and touched the hearts of all the boys. However, they didn’t stay in contact with any of them after the year was up. 10 years later, guess who calls Lucifer and invites the brothers to come visit them in the human world?

Genre: Fluff

Content: GN! MC (They/Them), partner uses They/Them as well, platonic relationships between brothers and MC, brothers be protective

———

Lucifer

This man was very relieved and extremely happy when MC called him during dinner time, it honestly felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Obviously had to try and calm the others down, which did not work at all. Agreed right away to coming to the human world and visiting them, and worked extremely hard to get his brothers in order during the days upcoming to visit.

He nearly teared up upon seeing them again, and these tears only well up again when MC tells the brothers about their new apartment and job. He really did feel like a proud father, even if it was only a year they were in contact, a year can change a lot of things!!

Of course, when the new partner is introduced he, like mostly all of his brothers, immediately grow protective. He’ll do the whole “anything you do to them, I’ll do to you” shtick. Will probably rigorously test their partner with questions and possibly inhumane challenges if MC doesn't stop him

Mammon

The overwhelming amount of emotions this man felt when he heard MC’s voice. He was extremely happy to hear from them again and so glad that they seem to be doing well. He did settle down but was clearly bouncing up and down as the plan for the brothers to visit MC was set up. Despite his own excitement, he helped Lucifer get the brothers in order.

He would not shut up as they arrive in the human world. They met MC at a restaurant and he was superrrr shell shocked to see how MC matured. What do you mean it’s only been 10 years??? What the fuck??? Will be endearingly annoying about how much they have grown.

Of course, makes it extremely clear to the partner that he and his brothers will fuck them up if they ever do anything to hurt MC in any way. Will do a gesture as to say “I’m watching you.” And he will be, along with having his crows do some spying

Leviathan

He will live in denial for like.. a minute before asking Mammon if this is real (Mammon slaps him upside the head gently to prove to him it’s real, he’s not impressed). He also feels some sort of relief, knowing that MC actually did care about them. He also starts thinking about the anime that he can introduce to MC now that they are now an adult, since some of the stuff was way too violent for them when they were younger. Upon meeting them again, he let his tears fall, but they were tears of joy. Levi will not shut up about the DVDs he bought and will ask MC if they bought anything nerdy that he might like. Will demand to see their anime collection if they have one. Of course, when the partner comes into the frame, he starts to think that the partner is the reason they weren't in contact with the brothers, which causes a fit of jealousy that could only be stopped if MC comforts him. Like all of his brothers, will be keeping a close eye on them.

Satan

Is in a moment of disbelief for a second. Did… Is MC really wanting to meet up with them again? He’s a bit surprised too, did they save their contacts for when they grow older? Either way, it’s clear that he’s happy that they will all be able to see MC again.

Impressed and proud when they actually see them again. He’ll voice how proud he is that they matured so much, although does remember times when he got the 10-12 year old MC in on his pranks (because let’s be real, he would). When not many people are paying attention, he’ll ask MC if they wanna pull one (1) prank of Lucifer. (Totally not 7 or 8 pranks)

It doesn’t need to be said again that he would be extremely protective of MC when the partner is introduced, but he is also glad that they found love. May or may not recount embarrassing memories MC had (someone has to shut him up, probably by recounting some of his own embarrassing moments).

Asmodeus

He was waiting for this moment! Will probably be like “I knew our dear MC wouldn’t abandon us!” And probably make the phone call 10x longer than it is with the brothers freaking out.

Like Mammon, a bit shell shocked to see how much 10 years can change a person, which is understandable because in a demon’s life, 10 years is nothing. Asmo is also glad how much information MC took in from the brothers, for example how to do skincare properly. Of course, there are lessons that MC was taught that he would rather them have forgotten Mostly ones taught by Mammon

Is probably one of the only ones not giving their partner a death glare. He’ll say something like “You picked a good one, MC~” If MC or the partner asks of him, he will not flirt, although will throw in a ton of compliments.

Beelzebub

He is over the moon excited. He's so glad that they even want to see them again.. Especially considering what has happened in the past... Oh well, MC has said long ago that he shouldn't dwell on the past, so he should try not to. Over the course of the days leading up to the visit, he gets all the non-perishable foods and other foods that he remembers MC likes and puts them in a container to take with them. Beel actually gives it to Lucifer so he can hide it, so he doesn't accidentally eat it himself. He will give MC the biggest hug when the brothers see them again, forgetting his own strength and needing to be shoved away by MC as a gentle reminder. Beel will marvel at how much MC has grown, asking if they have been staying healthy and listening to their body. They better have, and if they haven't, they will get the biggest puppy dog eyes/frown combo from Beel, who will insist that they eat some of the snacks he brought. Obviously, he can't help but be cautious of this partner, but if MC trusts them, he can trust them as well. He's more imposing then some of his brothers, and he will use that imposing look to make sure that MC isn't harmed.

Belphegor

Has mixed emotions. Obviously very excited that they will get to see MC again, however, he is almost sure that he left a mark on MC's psyche, probably a negative one. Although, the others who attacked them probably did as well. Belphie pushes that aside and focuses on trying to be excited for the visit, trying to "catch up on sleep" (he tries to use this as an excuse to skip RAD). Surprised and gladdened to see MC is doing better. Perhaps they got professional help or there is another cause for it. Although, he still notices that MC is a bit.. cautious around him, seeming to be careful with their words when talking to Belphie and not really keeping eye contact with him. This is understandable. He tries his best to make it lighthearted. He definitely pulls Satan and MC into a few pranks on Lucifer.

Will get all hissy and protective when the partner comes into frame. Will not stop from glaring daggers into their soul. If they prove themselves to be worthy of MC, he won’t give them nightmares but if anything gives him a bad vibe, he’ll give them the most violent nightmares.