#bc he doesn’t wanna deal with this shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellecdc · 9 months ago

Note

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.”

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore.

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you.

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy.

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right.

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet.

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet.

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion.

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off.

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near.

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them.

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely.

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you.

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly.

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you.

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together.

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no.

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms.

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper.

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face.

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month.

#poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #wolfstar x you #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #self insert #reader insert #ask elle #marauders fanfiction #hurt/comfort #ellecdc fics

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koqabear · 1 year ago

Text

love fool ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

♫: Seven, Jungkook // Lovefool, The Cardigans // I only want to be with you, Tommy february6

“In which Yeonjun is more than willing to show you the lengths he’ll go for you.”

yeonjun x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, inspired by “Seven” mv, fluff, angst, smut

Word count: 10.6K

warnings: don’t take this story seriously pls. it’s ridiculous. yj is clingy. and emotional. and a bit pathetic. the mc is avoidant… and a bit of a bitch ! Lack of communication smh, a bit toxic if u squint ur eyes but it’s supposed to be cute idk (seven mv type toxic skdjdj) yj is a frat boy & a himbo (pick a struggle, pls), arguing, mc has acrylic nails, use of the phrase “boyfriend-girlfriend” bc i’m obsessed w it

smut warnings: mean dom!mc, sub!yj, (mentions of dom!yj) service top!yj, unprotected sex, manhandling (m. rec), hairpulling, name calling, (bitch, stupid, slut, etc) pet names (baby, good boy), dry humping, biting, marking, scent kink (?), scratching, dumbification, dacryphilia, forced orgasm (kinda), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, yj rambles. a lot. breast play, handjob, humiliation, creampie, subspace, implied oral (f. rec) (lemme know if i should add anything!)

Notes: fucking hate arguing with men w/ pretty puppy eyes like i will fuck the shit outta y-

Yeonjun hates when you’re mad at him. It makes him feel guilty and leaves him with a gross feeling in his stomach, pouty and annoying as his friends are always left to deal with the mess.

It doesn’t happen often— he tries his hardest not to make you mad, always saying yes and going above and beyond with you— he loves to please you and make you happy, which is exactly why it hits harder when you look at him like you never want to see him again.

“I don’t want to see you around, don’t talk to me!”

But sometimes, he just can’t help it.

He seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong— there were no anniversaries forgotten, no plans he stood you up on, no petty arguments— and yet, here he sits, sinking into his couch and burrowed in blankets as his friends try to get him to come out of his cocoon, all with no success.

“Is she mad at you again?” Beomgyu asks, his voice muffled despite sitting on top of Yeonjun— literally, he couldn’t feel his legs— and he hears him groan at the sight of Yeonjun nodding under the mass of blankets, cursing quietly to himself and undoubtedly rolling his eyes, “dude, what did you do?”

“I don’t knowww,” Yeonjun cries out, throwing the blankets off him and onto Beomgyu as he whines— he watches as Beomgyu flails about for a second, running his hands through his hair as he continues to stress about you, “she— she said she didn’t wanna see me again, but I miss her…”

“Fuck, she’s probably just saying that because she wants space— dude, are you crying?”

“What if she was breaking up with me?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu is amazed to see the way his wide eyes are welling up with tears; god, he’s actually crying now, the sight childish and unhinged as he watches his (older) friend sniffle and hiccup through his sentences, “what if— what if she— she, she, she really meant it— god, I don’t wanna break up, I don’t even know what I did wronggg!”

“Okay, okay,” Beomgyu grimaces, watching the way his friend breaks down before his eyes; his hand is stiff and awkward as it pats Yeonjun’s back, trying his best to comfort him, wincing at the way Yeonjun only cries harder, “It’s… probably nothing, I’m sure she’ll talk to you again tomorrow, or once she’s calmed down.”

“You think?” Yeonjun asks, peeking through his hands and up at Beomgyu with sparkling eyes, full of hope as Beomgyu can only crack a nervous smile.

“Yeah,” he says, patting Yeonjun’s back again in reassurance, “Yeah— just, be patient, okay?”

Patient is the last word one would use to describe Yeonjun.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

MONDAY

This is it.

Yeonjun has been waiting all weekend for this moment (Or just Sunday, to be more accurate), restless on his feet as he finds himself pacing back and forth— he’s nibbling at his lip nervously, arms sore and tired from the weight of the gift he holds in his hands; a bouquet of your favorite flowers, pristine and in full bloom— it’s large and quite heavy as it practically covers his face, but Yeonjun knew that a small bouquet would do nothing to show his love for you.

He would try to talk to you as soon as your class ended. He needed to know what he did wrong, and he sure as hell would not do it again. You didn’t text him after the argument, and it only left him uneasy at the thought of you really wanting to end things.

He didn’t want to lose you. Not like this.

Admittedly, he got a bit ahead of himself— he’s been waiting outside for the past half hour, arriving much too early as he stood out in the hall awkwardly— at some point, he tried peeking into the small, rectangular window next to the door, hunched over slightly and pouting as he scanned the room for you.

When he spotted you, he was delighted to see you had already been looking at him.

He couldn’t contain the wide smile that stretched across his face, waving at you excitedly in hopes you’d do the same— unable to realize that the whole class was now looking at him, he was confused to watch the way your face screwed up into an expression of sheer embarrassment, shielding your face with your hand and looking away as some students began following his line of sight.

Why did you do that? You were ignoring him, and it hurt like a bitch as Yeonjun frowned. His mind was racing as he began wondering what he might’ve done wrong— he was so focused, in fact, that he failed to notice the professor blocking his view, his reaction time much too slow as his eyes flickered up to meet the man’s gaze. Flustered, he backed away quickly, his face heating up as he bowed in apology— he hugged the bouquet close to his chest as he did, mumbling out a soft sorry the man probably couldn’t even hear.

You, on the other hand, could hear the way your professor laughed at Yeonjun’s actions, absolutely mortified by the way he turned around and began to joke to the class, saying that “It looks like someone here has an admirer,” whilst looking in your direction, your classmates laughing along before he went back to his lecture.

Shit, this was so embarrassing.

Yeonjun is so fucking stupid, you cry to yourself, peeking over at the doorway in hopes that he took the hint and left— but no, he definitely didn’t, because you could still see his figure through the window, leaning against the wall and holding an item the size of his whole upper body close to his chest.

The last thing you wanted to do was go outside and see him— but that’s exactly what happened anyway, even if you lingered behind once class ended in hopes that Yeonjun would get impatient and wait— patience was never his strongest virtue, after all.

But for you, anything could change.

This is exactly why you find him outside the door, face hidden with what is, to your surprise, a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Fuck, you seriously don’t want to talk to him right now. Gritting your teeth, you use this moment to sneak past him, a slight guilt tugging at you as you look back, spotting the way he seems oblivious to the fact that you’ve left already.

Looking back was your first mistake.

Because Yeonjun, in a truly creepy fashion, is almost able to sense it, whipping his head to you and perking up at the way you only walk faster— then begin sprinting, refusing to look back again once he starts chasing after you.

“Baby,” you hear him call out to you, the ridiculous rustling of his bouquet slightly muffling his words as his footsteps thud against the tiles; for an athlete, you’d expect him to catch up to you already, but you quietly pat yourself on the back for the slight head start you gave yourself.

“Baby, wait!” he continues to yell, ignoring the strange stares from those passing by, “Please, let me talk to you!”

“I don’t wanna talk!” you growl out, your emotions taking over as you remember why you’re mad at him, “leave me alone!”

You’re outside now; you’re a huffing and sweaty mess, but you refuse to slow down for even a second, the threat of Yeonjun hot on your heels fueling your stamina.

“Can you please tell me what I did wrong?” He yells, exasperated as he watches you run off the sidewalk— you’re attempting to lose him, but countless running drills and morning runs have prepared him for this moment— without a second thought, he’s following you, attempting to peek over his— inconveniently large, he must admit— bouquet, watching the way you simply continue to run, glancing back every once in a while to see if he’s still there.

“Please, can we be civil and talk about this?!” his words have you turning around to send him a glare— instead, you stumble to a stop as you watch Yeonjun trip, eyes widening at the dramatic sight before you.

He’s fallen flat on his face, a puff of petals blowing up around him as you wince— he’s face-first into whatever’s left of the flowers, the rest of the petals fluttering in the air around him and falling delicately on his figure as you stare, the place eerily silent save for the chirping birds and rustling leaves.

He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even attempt to get up, left splattered all over the grass as you stare at him in slight concern.

“Yeonjun?” you call out uncertainly, shifting on your feet as you pause. He doesn’t respond— he’s left frozen on the ground, and you’re frowning at the sight as you slowly make your way to him; you approach him slowly, as though you were approaching a wild animal, tense in your movements as you lean in to observe him.

“Did you die?” you ask quietly, taking in the way he still hasn’t moved. Not an inch. You feel more concerned than you want to admit, crouching down in front of him as you bite your lip in worry.

“Do you hate me.” the sudden words have you flinching, staring down at Yeonjun, who’s still eating dirt and flowers. You frown, scoffing at the way he weakly reaches out for you— swiftly, you slap his hand, watching the way it flops back onto the ground.

“No— yes— a little,” you stutter out, angry at the way you bounce between responses just from the mere pathetic sight of him.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks, the words muffled as it takes you a minute to decipher what he may be saying— you can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

“For what?” you ask, picking a petal off his back absentmindedly as you wait— if he could answer properly, you might consider giving in.

“For existing.”

God, Yeonjun was such a sap. It has you biting back a smile as you resist the urge to stroke his hair, mused and riddled with petals from his grand gesture— but his answer was not the one you were looking for, and you’re standing back up and readjusting your clothes without another word.

“pleaaaaseee,” you hear him whine, watching the way he shrivels up into a ball— then, he’s sitting back on his legs, whipping his head up and looking at you with wide, teary eyes.

“Please take the flowers with you at least,” he pouts, thrusting the bouquet— or, whatever was left of it— up at you with pleading eyes.

Pressing your lips together, you sigh; a moment passes before you’re taking the gift from him begrudgingly, ignoring the way he perks up happily at your action.

“I’m still mad at you,” you hiss, and he immediately deflates at your words, “Don’t visit my class like that again. Please.”

He says nothing, left to watch as you turn your back to him and walk away; he has yet to get up, his heart pounding against his chest as he watches the way you hug the flowers close to you, shaking your head at the state of them.

This was… progress.

But you’re still mad at him.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

TUESDAY

Visiting you in class was a big no.

Visiting you in general, however, wasn’t off-limits.

You don’t want to talk to him? Fine, he can understand. In fact, he won’t talk to you at all— a feat much greater said than done— but hey, he always loved staring at you anyway.

Well, it’s a little hard to stare by the way you’ve propped up textbooks around your face like a fort.

He’s staring. He’s still staring. You can practically feel his puppy-eyed gaze burn into your brain telepathically; no matter how hard you try to focus on your work, it’s become damn near impossible with the way you can feel Yeonjun’s presence, your neck beginning to ache from the way you’ve remained ducked down this whole time.

It was easy to deal with at first; you chose not to do anything the moment you saw Yeonjun emerge from the staircase and onto the top floor of the library— otherwise known as the quietest level.

He wouldn’t be able to talk to you without disturbing the peace of others— and potentially being asked to leave— so you decided to not make a scene and go back to studying, even when you felt his eyes lock on your figure and beeline to you.

He sat across from you first. Though, you were quick to move, pretending as though you were looking for a book as you quickly ran away to the other side of the library. You felt the way his eyes followed you the whole time— he looked like a kicked puppy, and damn did that stupid tactic of his always work, because you even felt yourself pausing for a second, wondering if you should give in and talk to him.

But, you are a horrendously petty person.

You were holed up in some random corner. You didn’t even know there was a table there until today, the spot so secluded and quiet that you silently celebrated getting him off your trail.

It was peaceful— for like, a good ten minutes.

You didn’t think much of it when you first heard it; footsteps, slow and calculated as they rounded about the bookshelves. You could hear the sound of books being pulled out clear as day, though you chose to ignore it all and keep focus on your assignments instead.

After a moment, the footsteps disappeared.

It was back to being completely silent. And, in your bored state, you began to look around the area you were huddled up in; curiously, you allowed yourself to walk around, reading the spines and pulling out books that seemed to pique your interest even slightly.

There seemed to be another person here as well— maybe it was the same person as before, or maybe it was someone new— you didn’t pay mind to it nonetheless, continuing your journey as your eyes locked in on a particularly colorful book.

Slowly, you pulled it out— on the other side, you watched the book adjacent to yours slowly get pulled out as well, and a smile tugged at your lips at the odd coincidence.

Then, your eyes met with Yeonjun’s.

His gaze filled with admiration was only returned with a mean scowl from you. You were quick to shove the book back into its place, storming off to your table without a moment’s hesitation.

Yeonjun was quickly able to find your hiding spot— one might think you could cry from the way you buried your face into your hands defeatedly, refusing to look up from your dark refuge as the sounds of a chair scraping against the carpeted floors met your ears.

That’s how you found yourself here, ignoring what people might think as you hide behind your fortress of textbooks. You didn’t feel good staying in a secluded area with Yeonjun— not because you thought he might try to do anything— but because you were afraid of your own resolve crumbling, especially after you’d spent so much time trying to ignore him.

You wonder if he’s still here. Who are you kidding, of course he’s still here, though you can’t really bring yourself to check and see for yourself.

After a while, you hear scribbling sounds.

You can’t hide the way you jump as a piece of paper hits your head, folded into a perfect heart and landing in front of you with a dull thud.

Open me :( it says, and though you wish you could say you were strong enough to ignore it, you definitely aren’t.

Can you pls let me look at u at least?

You don’t get much of a moment to process the message. Another paper lands directly in front of you, shaped into a heart and scrawled with the same words as the last— slowly, you open it, dreading what might be written inside this time.

I miss you so so so so so much.

You shake your head at his words. Sliding the paper to the side, you ignore his request, choosing to focus on your work instead of giving in to his silly tactics. After a moment, you wonder if you’ll be getting another paper— instead, nothing happens; the sigh of relief you let out is almost comical, your body relaxing a bit as you allow yourself to wonder if he’s finally left.

That was your second mistake.

Because after a few minutes, another paper hits you. It’s another heart, and you find that you don’t need to open it this time, the message scrawled on top for easier access.

I’m sorry.

Another paper flies over your fortress.

I’m sorry.

Then, another.

Pls forgive me.

Then another. And another, and another, and another.

Pls, I hate making you mad. I feel so gross and sad rn. I seriously can’t go a day without you. I miss you sm, pls :(((

You feel like you’re under attack— the way he continues to throw paper after paper is rhythmic and almost impressive, the endless stream of hearts covering your keyboard and forcing you to sweep them to the side after seconds.

It’s useless to study. How can you, when Yeonjun keeps throwing his apologies at you? It’s stupid and childish and is enough for you to take your textbooks down, your jaw clenched and your eyes pointed in a sharp glare that has Yeonjun pausing in his actions.

There’s a small pile of hearts next to him.

Neither of you move— he’s frozen mid-throw, his eyes widening as though he can’t grasp the fact that you’re actually looking at him— even if it’s filled with rage and annoyance.

Slowly, the corners of his lips curl up— you can’t find it in you to react as he throws the paper in his hands, feeling the way it smacks right onto your forehead before it falls to the table.

Can I show u how sorry I am??

You don’t seem to think of the consequences as you reach for your bag in the seat next to you— devoid of anything except a few pencils and your hoodie— and throw it at him, watching the way he yelps in surprise, your bag spilling out it’s few contents all over the floor. The sound is enough to have the people around you glancing at your table, curious or angry at the sound of the ruckus.

You’re worked up and huffing as you watch Yeonjun scramble to gather the spilled contents of your bag, watching as he stutters out whispered apologies between his actions.

“Excuse me,” the hand on your shoulder is firm as you twist your head to look at the librarian, your expression falling at the realization of what you’ve just done.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Whipping your head around, you meet eyes with a sheepish and guilty Yeonjun, gritting your teeth as he holds out your bag for you to take.

Wordlessly, you snatch it from him, shoving your computer and the rest of your items into it before you’re turning around to face the librarian; you whisper out a soft “I’m so sorry” as you bow in apology, waiting for her to leave before you’re facing Yeonjun again.

I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, he mouths to you, though you ignore it all as you choose to whack his shoulder with your very-full bag instead; the pained whimper he lets out has you gritting your teeth in irritation, watching the way he pouts up at you as he rubs his arm pathetically.

“Don’t pull this shit again,” you hiss out, storming off before he can get another word out.

There goes all his progress.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

WEDNESDAY

Today has been an oddly nice day.

It’s nice— too nice, you wonder, pondering what may be different enough to have you walking with a smile on your face, appreciating the beautiful weather in a light mood.

A guy your age is leaning against a tree up ahead. He holds a bouquet of roses, and you smile at the way he seems to be passing one out to every person that passes him. That’s so sweet, you think to yourself, and you can’t help the way your stomach twists in anticipation the moment his eyes meet yours.

“Would you like a rose?” he asks you, his blond hair shining under the sunlight as he sends you a bright smile— you don’t hesitate to say yes, taking the flower from him with a cute thank you!

The flower is in full bloom as you twirl it between your fingers absentmindedly. The smile on your face is seemingly permanent as you make your way to your favorite cafe, though as you think back to the interaction, you can’t help but wonder if you know that man from somewhere.

It isn’t until you stop at a crosswalk that you notice it— there’s a tag on the rose, and though you initially thought it was just a price tag, you realize that it’s something else; pausing before you cross the street, you take a moment to tilt your head and read it, feeling your jaw drop as your brain registers the words in disbelief.

Yeonjun says he’s sorry.

“What the fuck,” you mutter to yourself, ripping it off without hesitation and shoving it into your pocket— you definietly recognize the man from earlier, you realize— that was Hueningkai!

You roll your eyes at Yeonjun’s weak ploy to talk to you— you can’t help the way it leaves you irritated as you stand in line to order, trying your best to recite your regular order to the barista with a smile on your face, the man before you giving you a dimpled smile before he’s off to make it.

By the time you get your order, you’ve calmed down— you’re quick to exit and make your way back towards campus, using this small break between classes to study again. (without Yeonjun around, hopefully.)

Your fingers are absentminded as you trace over the printed sticker on the side of the cup that has your order printed on it, glancing down at the text before you take another sip.

Yeonjun is really sorry.

…What?

You were more unnerved than anything. The lengths Yeonjun had gone through to communicate almost concerned you, though all you could do at this point was rip the sticker off and shove it in your pocket, ignoring it like the other one. You wracked your mind for answers as you began to wonder if you had seen that barista anywhere else, and after a moment, you settled on the vague conclusion that you think you’ve seen him in Yeonjun’s frat house before.

He’s so annoying, you sigh to yourself, rubbing at your temples as you fear an upcoming headache.

You’re startled back to life at the sight of a puppy running up to you— you’re frowning at the sight, unsure of what to do as it stops right at your feet, jumping up on you and barking excitedly— almost like it recognized you— squinting, you observe the dog.

Oh god, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you do recognize this damn dog.

“Matcha, who let you out,” you huff, leaning down to scoop the tiny dog into your arms— in the distance, you can see someone running in your direction, though you choose to ignore it as you notice Matcha’s brand new collar.

Yeonjun misses you more than anything.

The words are wrapped around his collar, leaving you to throw your head back and groan at the sight; the footsteps are much louder than before, and you’re looking forward again as you spot yet another familiar face.

“Beomgyu,” you sneer, shoving Matcha into his awaiting hands. All he can do is laugh sheepishly, muttering out what a coincidence! Petting Matcha, he pauses, giving you an expectant look that only leaves you confused.

“Could you forgive him?”

“Go away!” you say in return, weaving out of his way and practically running off to the library; you can hear Matcha barking at you, though you choose to ignore it as Beomgyu’s calls of your name fuel you further.

You feel out of breath by the time you finally enter the library, finding the nearest help desk and beginning to rummage through your bag for any books you need renewed— the librarian simply smiles at you patiently as he waits, adjusting his glasses before he quickly turns around to get something— by the time he’s back, you’ve laid out your books for him, thanking him quietly as you watch him renew them quickly.

When he slides them back towards you, you frown— there’s a bookmark on top of your small stack of books, laminated and shiny under the lights as you pick it up to get rid of the glare— reading it, you can already feel the need to tear it, though it seems as this cheeky worker is already one step ahead of you.

Yeonjun just wants to talk to you again.

Three ways to better communication in a relationship:

The glare you send the worker— Taehyun, his name tag reads— is lethal, though he doesn’t seem to be affected by it as he simply sends you an innocent smile. Without another word, you gather your books, shoving them into your bag as you turn to leave.

“Ignoring him won’t solve anything,” he calls out quietly, though you don’t seem to appreciate the advice by the way you don’t even bother to turn back and react. Instead, you walk right back out, storming home as you type on your phone furiously.

my baby :((

stop using others to relay messages damn it!!!

my baby :((

and don’t use matcha against me you loser!!!!!!

Through his end, Yeonjun is just happy that you’re texting him— though, the mean name is not much appreciated.

Choi Yeonjun.

can you pls let me talk to you instead?

You don’t bother opening the notification.

That was your third mistake.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

THURSDAY

Today has been relatively peaceful. You have yet to be bothered today— no Yeonjun, no Matcha, and certainly none of his friends.

Maybe because he was aware of your plans today; you did tell him a while ago about your reunion with one of your friends, always chatting his ear off about how excited you were to finally see her again—it slightly warms your heart to know that he actually listens to you.

Well. Most of the time.

“You’re fighting right now?” Tzuyu asks, leaning forward in her seat with wide eyes. You didn’t expect this sudden change of topic, but you can only nod grimly in response, watching as she sighs in dismay at your situation.

“Wow, you guys never fight— at least, not to this level,” she’s deep in thought over your relationship as she frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares down at her empty plate— you both chose to forgo dessert, and now you wait patiently for your check.

“Well, what are you guys even fighting about?”

“It’s just—“ you’re cut off by your server placing the check in between the two of you, thanking him with a smile on your face before you’re freezing; you’re unsure of what to make of the plate that he places before you, stuttering out unintelligible sentences that you didn’t order… whatever this was.

“Free of charge,” the man says, before bowing politely and scurrying away; you’re barely able to get a word out before you huff in defeat, looking back at the treat in front of you as you take in Tzuyu’s amused laughter.

“What?” you ask, frowning as you watch her turn the plate towards you— you’re left a bit speechless by what you see, mouth falling open as your brain attempts to comprehend how you should react to this.

It’s dessert— well, more specifically, three full scoops of ice cream, the caramel drizzle and other toppings decorating it to make it look like a cat; more specifically, a sad cat. All along the plate, more caramel drizzle decorates it to form a sentence.

I miss you. Please, talk to me. YJ.

Your head snaps up in the direction the waiter went in; looking out the small window of the kitchen door, you spot none other than Yeonjun, his eyes widening before he’s ducking out of the way like a deer in headlights.

“How the fuck did he get back there?!” you cry out, running a hand down your face in disbelief— but no, one more glance back in his direction is enough to catch him peeking at you again, flinching in surprise before he’s ducking out of your sight once more.

“Who let him in there?” you hiss, placing your head in your hands as Tzuyu merely laughs; you ignore the way she begins to dig into the dessert after you express that you won’t touch it, humming happily that it was a sweet gesture.

A moment’s thought is able to remind you where you are— in Beomgyu’s older brother’s restaurant, of course.

Defeatedly, you open the checkbook to offer to pay— though the price has your eyes practically bulging out, reading and re-reading the strange excuse of a check this waiter has brought to you.

Your meal was free.

The only thing you read on the paper was a poor excuse of Yeonjun replacing the food items with “i miss you”s and “i’m sorry”s, the sight baffling you as Tzuyu turns the check towards her in curiosity.

“Interesting,” she hums, closing the checkbook before she’s fishing for tip money, “Are you sure you wanna lose a guy like him?”

You take a second to think her question through.

Yet another mistake on your part.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

FRIDAY

Remembering what happened today is enough to have your head hurting— so, you’ll keep it short.

You were working— working, minding your own business, prey to unsuspecting events— when it happened.

Fridays were always rush days. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think to pay attention to your surroundings, to the blasting music, the yell of your coworkers calling out drinks and names, or to the endless chatter of the customers around you.

You should have paid attention— maybe, if you did, you would’ve been able to spare yourself the embarrassment— another mistake of yours, if you will.

The break of music from the radio was not what caught your attention— radio hosts do it all the time, speaking in between songs with useless chatter as they find a song to play next— no, what did catch your attention, however, was the eerily familiar voice, and worse, the eerily familiar message he broadcasted all over your local station.

“This next song is called Seven,” he spoke, smooth, suave, and relaxing as the track rolled in quietly in the background, “a song about a man more than willing to show how devoted he is to his to his partner— ___, come home, the kids miss you— well, more like Matcha, but still.”

You could feel your coworkers freeze around you. You could feel their gazes slowly drift to you, could feel the way customers got a good look at the decorated name tag you once showed off proudly.

“Is— is he…?” your coworker whispered beside you, watching the way you caved into yourself in attempts to hide your nametag, “is he that frat boy you were talking about?”

“No.” you say, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you focus on making your drink instead, “No. That’s not him. This isn’t about me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“___, I’ll keep waiting for you patiently. Have a good shift today.”

Christ!

Your coworkers could only laugh lightheartedly at his words— they found it cute, which was even worse for you, because all you could wonder was how the fuck he was able to get into the broadcast station— this time, you seriously couldn’t figure out any ties between him and the place.

“Looks like he won’t give up,” to say you were horrified at the way a customer told you this was an understatement, her eyes alight with amusement as she spoke to you with a tone so genuine you almost thought she was in on it— fuck, maybe she was— “if anything, you should turn him down soon before he goes too far.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out, tired of these constant antics as you thought over her words, forced to go through the rest of your shift pretending as though Yeonjun hadn’t broadcasted his pleading message to the whole city— well, more like anyone who was listening to the local radio station willingly.

You feel like you’re on The Truman Show, or something.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

SATURDAY

You were scared to talk to Yeonjun.

Scared— why were you scared? You don’t know why, but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him a text message, pacing around your room like an idiot instead as you wondered what you would tell him.

Would you talk? Would you finally break up with him?

The way your stomach sank with dread at the mere thought of the second option was enough of an answer for you— no, you shouldn’t break up with him.

However, it was storming today— there was no way in hell you would be going outside to meet him in such weather, so you opted to psych yourself up to send him a text message asking to meet up instead.

You were pacing around your room again when you noticed it.

There’s a bright umbrella outside— shit, you recognize that umbrella, you realize with a heavy dread, walking up to your window and pulling your curtains open as you stare out in dismay.

Why the fuck is Yeonjun outside right now?

It’s perfect timing, the way his umbrella raises to show his figure; oh my god, you think to yourself, biting your lip as you take his expression in, he’s crying!

This was not your intention. You never meant to hurt Yeonjun like this, but you also were not ready to see him yet— so, with a slight pang in your heart, you shut the curtains again, leaving just enough of a crack to make sure that he’ll leave.

Instead, he stayed there. In true Yeonjun fashion, squinting up at your window in hopes that you’d at least tell him to go away. Instead, he watched as you peeked through the crack of the curtains, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you thought you were being discreet with your actions.

Slowly, Yeonjun turns his phone to you; there’s writing flashing by in his phone, though you have to squint your eyes and wait for the whole sentence to roll by to see what he’s trying to tell you now.

I know you don’t… want to see me… right now but I … seriously just need… to know what I … did wrong.

God. Fuck. This whole “ghosting” ordeal was harder than it should be when someone like Yeonjun was involved.

It’s been like… a week and you… still haven’t talked… to me.

Oh, the guilt is seriously eating you up right now. You weren’t supposed to ignore him for days on end, but each time Yeonjun reached out for you, you couldn’t control the way you ran away in return, still hurt by the things he didn’t even realize he did.

You’ve finally gotten a good grasp of his obliviousness.

I’m sorry… I love you… I love you… I love you…

Only three words are rolling by on his phone now. You think you’ve gotten the gist of what he’s trying to tell you as you sink to the floor, out of sight and exasperated as you reach for your phone to make a call.

“Hello?”

“Please come get Yeonjun. He’s outside my apartment in the freezing rain.”

“Uhm, let him in then?”

“I— I can’t,” you mutter sheepishly as you feel your face heating up, your stomach sinking as you hear Beomgyu scoffing on the other side of the line, “I don’t want to talk to him right now. Not like this.”

“Then I guess he’ll stay out in the freezing rain.”

“He’ll get sick!” you say, and it’s only now that you feel stupid for this push and pull you’ve created, “please. I’m begging you.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“I want to. I will.” you say, placing a hand on your forehead as you sigh, “Tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

A pause. Then, you hear rustling, and the sounds of Beomgyu grumbling quietly to himself.

“I’ll go get him,” he says, and you can feel yourself sink further against the wall in relief, “you better not back out on your word, okay?”

“Okay.”

You hope you’re not making a mistake.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

SUNDAY

This is awkward. You feel awkward. You probably look awkward, too.

Yeonjun, for once, looks just as awkward and tense before you. His whole body is rigid as he sits on your couch, feeling more like a stranger in your home than the man you’ve spent the past few months with, the way his eyes wander around making you feel like it’s his first time here.

“Yeonjun,” you sigh out, catching his attention as his eyes zero in on you immediately; you feel nervous under his gaze, unsure of what to say as your brain begins to stutter, your mouth opening and closing in hopes that a proper sentence will come out.

“What did I do wrong?” he cries out, snapping you out of your troubled reverie as your eyes meet his— they’re glossy, and you’re afraid he might just start crying again if you look away, “can we start there?”

“You— you seriously don’t know?” you ask, bewildered by his question as you sit back on your couch— Yeonjun simply shakes his head reverently in response, and you’re blinking owlishly at him as you stare at him in disbelief.

“We didn’t have any arguments before this,” he says, nibbling on his lip as he thinks back to the moment you yelled at him, tearing his arm off you as he attempted to keep you from running away, “You just snapped at me then disappeared— I, I want to know what I did wrong, at least.”

“Yeonjun you—“ you’re dragging a hand down your cheek as you clench your jaw, taking a second to breathe to not snap at him again, “that’s the problem, you’re just so— so oblivious, I seriously thought you’d be able to put two and two together by now!”

Oh, oh this is embarrassing; you should not be getting worked up right now, your hands immediately coming up to hide your face as you hear Yeonjun cooing out your name softly— he’s next to you at the speed of light, attempting to take your hands away as he quietly tells you to breathe in his stupid, calming voice.

“You’re always at those stupid parties, you stupid frat boy—“ you’re stuttering through your sentences, the heat in your face humiliating as you feel your emotions finally tumbling down, “and I know I told you I’m okay with it— I am, I really am— but what I’m not okay with is how fucking flirty you are!”

You can feel Yeonjun’s hands stiffen; slowly, his mouth drops in shock, his face beginning to pale as he realizes just why you’re mad at him.

“I’ve told you— time, and time again— that, that I don’t like when you feed into people like that, that you never reject advances and tell them that you have a fucking girlfriend,” you know he never means it in a harmful way. You know that, nine times out of ten, Yeonjun doesn’t even realize those advances are happening, but it’s always just as painful to watch, knowing that charming attitude and cheeky voice is exactly how he got you, “and it just makes me feel so… so stupid and jealous and unwanted!”

You feel out of breath by the time you finish. Though you remain silent and try to calm yourself, you instead begin to feel more anger festering inside you as you take in Yeonjun’s face, full of dread and realization as he begins to think back to how he was acting back at the frat party that caused this mess.

Yeonjun was used to people acting the way they did around him. It never fazed him, and most of the time he simply followed along because he found it fun. No, he never thought of having anyone else but you, you’re his everything— though, he does realize how inconsiderate he’s been of your feelings now.

“Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his words genuine and filled with guilt as he cups your face gently, “I didn’t know.”

“Fuck!” Your response is unprecedented as you shake his hands off you, pushing him back and forcing him to lay across the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. He’s unable to do anything as he watches the way you throw your legs on each side of his waist, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him up as you sneer at him.

“That’s your problem, you just don’t know—!” pushing him back on the couch, he lets out a soft oof! unable to help the way his stomach swirls in anticipation of your next move, “You’re just too stupid, you don’t know anything unless someone spells it out for you!”

Shit. Yeonjun has never seen you like this, frustrated and restless as you shift above him, your eyes alight with rage as you begin tugging your hoodie over your head; his eyes widen comically at the action, shifting nervously under you as he realizes that oh, you’re not wearing a bra.

“You’ve seriously left me wondering if you’re even taking this relationship seriously, it’s ridiculous!” Yeonjun feels like he’s been left on autopilot as he lets you tug him up again; he’s sitting up, hands hovering precariously as you glare at him, the sight enough to have him gulping nervously.

“I— I do,” he stutters out, watching as you send him an accusing look, “I do, I do I do, I take you so seriously, and fuck, I haven’t been thinking of anyone but you all week.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, patronizing and unexpectedly mean as you look down at him, “You never fucking act like it.”

“Yes I do—!” he yells out, though it’s cut off by the way you sit down firmly in his lap, a hand threading into his hair and yanking at the roots as you tug his head back cruelly, “I’ve shown you this whole week just how much I think about you…”

Yeonjun is hard. Painfully so, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get turned on so quickly— it’s enough to have you laughing breathily, tugging on his hair again and listening to the way he only lets out a high whine in response.

“What you’ve shown me this week,” you hiss, bringing him close to you, your lips grazing against his as you speak, “is that you’re a desperate bitch that doesn’t know how to be patient.”

“You were ignoring me,” he fights back, letting out a breathy wince at the way your grip tightens on his hair, “you’ve been so mean to me—!”

Yeonjun doesn’t get another word in on the matter. The way you bite his lip ruthlessly and sneak your tongue into his mouth has you feeling the way he practically turns to putty under you, his cheeks just as red as his lips as he gasps against your own, feeling the way you begin to grind against his cock without remorse.

“Me? I’ve been mean to you?” you wonder out loud, hands running down his chest before you’re tugging his shirt up; you don’t bother taking it off as it rests against his chest, leaning him back and running your hands over his skin as you take in the way his stomach twitches in response. “do you know how many people think they’ve actually got a chance with you, all because you refuse to use common sense and say, oh, I’ve got a girlfriend!”

Yeonjun shakes his head; there’s no way your words are true, especially when he’s literally obsessed with you. But of course, you’re always right— which is exactly why you’re fueled to rake your nails down his skin, leaving him to hiss and twitch at the feeling of your acrylics digging into his stomach and leaving bright, red scratch marks— acrylics he paid for because he thought they were pretty, the reminder only making his cock twitch pathetically.

“There’s no one in this world that has a chance with me but you,” Yeonjun insists, pouting at the way you only scoff at his words, “I’ve never done anything to fuel other people’s strange fantasies.”

“God, you’re stupid,” you say, and Yeonjun thinks he must’ve lost his mind from the way he can feel a whine building up in his throat, “and to think I found that endearing.”

“You’re so mean,” he pouts— though he’s quick to regret it, letting out a loud cry as you begin grinding against him, able to feel the warmth of your pussy through the thin shorts you wear, your breast bouncing from the way your body begins to move.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, tilting your head to watch as he merely shakes his head in response— all you can do is plant yourself to where you can feel his length pressed up against your slit, throbbing against you as you pout at him in false pity, “no you don’t like it, or no you do?”

“I— I…” he doesn’t know how to respond; it seems as though Yeonjun hasn’t figured out the response for himself, but you can feel it from the way his hips buck up into yours, stuttering and without rhythm as he remains defenseless under you.

“You do like it,” you say, mocking at the way he only whimpers from the feeling of your nails digging into his hips, “Feels nice to be on the receiving end, baby?”

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, this was strange and new and Yeonjun was definitely enjoying himself more than he thought he should, a melted pile of remorse and love as he pathetically waited for your next move, doe eyes staring up at you as he felt his mouth part, unable to say anything as he gave in to the mean look you sent him.

“Been waiting patiently for me, hmm?” you ask him, thinking back to his earlier words as you watch him nod eagerly in confirmation, “So you bothering me every day of the week was you being patient?”

“I just wanted to talk,” Yeonjun whines out, chest heaving at the way you begin rolling your hips against his, your rhythm firm and dangerous as he feels weak moans leaving him like a stream, “but you— you kept avoiding me, I wanted to get some confirmation that you didn’t break up with me that day…!”

“Yeah?” you mock him, your voice just as whiny and breathy as his as you lean down to him; placing your hands on his chest, you tilt your head, grinding your cunt against him in a way that has him panting and looking for someplace to grab onto, “and did you get your answer?”

Yeonjun doesn’t even think he registered what you said. All he knows is that the way you’re sitting on him is genuinely cruel, especially with the way he hasn’t felt your body against his in so long. His mind is muddled and he can feel himself losing control from the way his hips begin to buck up, his brain going blank except for the thought that he hasn’t felt you against him in what seems like ages, his body so pent up with frustration that he can’t help but chase after the slight pleasure you offer him.

Yeonjun’s mind has blanked out. You can see it in his face, the way it’s twisted with pleasure as he fails to respond to you, body bucking up into you so wildly that you have to steady yourself with two hands pressed firmly against his chest, your balance getting screwed over at his attempts to fuck up into you.

The feeling of your warm hands is enough to bring Yeonjun back, eyes widening in realization as his eyes meet yours, clouded with so much need that it has Yeonjun slowing his pace immediately.

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he stutters out, eyes widening at the way your cunt is practically leaking onto him— he can feel it through the layers of clothes, “wait wait wait, I’m so— ah, please— so… sososo close, baby, please…!”

“Wait?” you echo, brows furrowing as he nods frantically in response, “thought you didn’t like waiting?”

“No, please, please,” he whimpers, though his hips don’t stop their mindless rutting into your warm cunt, “please, don’t wanna come like this, wanna be inside you.”

“No?” you repeat, the mocking tone of your voice making his eyes screw shut, “why don’t you stop then? It’s all up to you.”

Oh, of course he can stop— though, that doesn’t mean he will, your hips slowly grinding against his as you watch the way his mouth falls open, not a sound falling past it before his hips buck up into you wildly— slowly, you feel a warmth spread beneath you, Yeonjun’s eyes screwed tightly as tears begin to peek from the corners.

“Nooooo nonono, no, not like this,” he cried quietly to himself, ever the hypocrite as his hands fly to your waist, riding out his orgasm with loud, shameless moans.

“Oh, my baby,” you say, pouting at the way he apologizes to you under his breath, “Is that it? Are you done now?”

“No, not done,” he’s quick to respond despite his rattled state of mind, looking up at you through bleary eyes.

“No?” you hum, taking a moment to watch him carefully.

“No,” he repeats, breathless as his grip tightens on your hips— even through the sensitivity, you can still feel his hips roll up into yours, quiet whimpers and whines leaving him as he does so— though, he can’t find it in himself to stop, at least not with the way he has yet to feel you around him.

“God, this is so pitiful,” you say, frowning at the way Yeonjun struggles to sit up underneath you; you’re cupping his face as he looks up at you, teary eyes and flushed face unable to say anything as he simply leans into your touch— the way you coo softly has him pouting, and you can’t resist the urge to hover over his lips, teasing him with a smile as you brush over them, placing chaste kisses that only have him chasing you for more.

“What a good bitch,” you hiss, feeling the way his hands have wandered up to play with your breasts, obsessed as always as his fingers tug and circle your nipples, eager to feel them harden under his touch, “doesn’t matter how many times you cum, hmm? Just need to make me feel good?”

“Yes, yes yes yes,” he babbles, wincing and moaning at the way your lips have begun to wander along his neck, nipping and sucking and leaving enough marks that a person could spot from far away with ease; the way your teeth sink into his skin practically has him crying, and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest the moment he feels you pause, your nose nuzzling into the spot behind his ear, your breath ticklish on his skin as you laugh.

“Are you wearing my perfume, junie?” You mumble, hearing the way he can only whine in embarrassment; he doesn’t answer you, and you bite at his earlobe softly as you wait, silently demanding a response as his hands fall to your hips, gripping them pathetically as though his life depended on it.

“I missed you,” he repeats, the words making you roll your eyes as your hand finds itself in his hair; you’re tugging at it, tilting his head and exposing his neck to you as you begin to nose along the column, closing your eyes to confirm if this is really your scent, “couldn’t smell you on my clothes anymore, love your scent s’much, ah…”

His neck has always been sensitive; that’s exactly why you choose to focus on it so much, not leaving until it’s covered with your marks and his tears have run down them, his soft sniffles making you glance up as you take him in, overstimulated and a mess as he bites his lip in an attempt to quiet himself.

“Too much, baby?” You coo, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back comfortingly, watching as he shakes his head adamantly, his wide eyes shiny and tear-filled as he looks up at you.

“No,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you towards him; his face is buried in your chest, and you can’t hold back the gasp you let out as his mouth immediately attaches itself to your breast, plump lips sucking at it as his tongue runs along it, messy and spit-filled as he looks back up at you, grinding you into him with weak whimpers, “want you to use me, you can do anything you want to me, just wanna please you.”

“Such a good boy for me, junie,” you say, his eyes fluttering close at your fond comment. “Are you gonna listen to me, for once?”

“I always listen to you,” he insists, and you feel irked by his words as you scoff.

“Like hell you do,” you sneer, easily angered as he shrinks down from your cold gaze, “Show me then— strip.”

Yeonjun is eager to listen, eager to please; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get undressed so quickly, kicking off his pants and throwing his shirt off in some random direction as he looks up at you expectantly, his cock a mess and already beginning to harden as your eyes fall to it.

“Hard already?” You muse, watching the way his cheeks blush red at your comment. Your hand is teasing as you wrap your fingers around his length, your perfect nails shining under the light as you slowly begin to move up and down, the cum from his previous orgasm guiding your movements as he begins to twitch under you, crying softly at the overstimulation.

“Guess you weren’t lying,” you sigh out, finger swiping over his throbbing tip as you hear him yelp at the feeling, “just a cute body for me to use, hmm? You’re nothing but a dick for me to get myself off on?”

Yeonjun is mindlessly agreeing with you— your words are clearly affecting him, his cock leaking and throbbing in your hand, making a mess of it as his head falls back, throat displaying all the marks you left on him earlier like a trophy.

His head is snapping back up the moment you sink onto him. You’re warm, tight, and so fucking wet, his body jolting at the feeling of you clenching around him, taking him inch by inch as he feels the way your walls stretch to adjust to him.

“Fuck…” you hiss, your arousal practically dripping on him from how good he feels— “Yeonjun, shit.”

“Waiiittt, wait, oh god, no— don’t say my name like that, fuck,” Yeonjun begins moaning, your lips quirking into a smile as you watch his eyes screw shut, already knowing what’s coming from the way he holds onto you tighter, head buried into your chest as he tries to still your hips.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” You ask, feigning innocence as you roll your hips into him, moaning dramatically as you do, “Oh, Yeonjun, Yeonjun— fuck, junie, you feel so good, feel so full…”

He’s shaking his head hopelessly; you know what you’re doing to him, and he feels pathetic by the way he loses his senses the more you sink onto him, his cock twitching in you uncontrollably as he warns you to stop, stop, stop before I…!

“This is embarrassing, Yeonjunie,” you pout, feeling the way a warmth spreads inside you the moment you sit on his hips snugly, feeling him bottomed out inside you as he attempts to muffle his sounds. His ears are bright red and he refuses to show you his face as he keeps you close to him, his arms still hugging you flush against him as you feel the valley of your breasts become wet with his tears.

“Why are you crying, hmm?” You ask him, looking down to see the way he still hides his face, “You’ve already come twice, shouldn’t you be happy? You’re so easy, Yeonjunie.”

Your words are degrading, your voice cold as continue to mock him— and though you pretend otherwise, you can feel the way he ruts his hips into you with every mean comment, clearly enjoying himself more than he lets on as he lets out a broken cry against your skin.

“Fuck, are you seriously getting off to this?” You snap, bored with pretending as though you don’t feel your boyfriend clinging to you tighter as you degrade him, “You’re such a fucking slut— you get off to anything, don’t you?”

The way you pull him away from your skin is sudden and rough, a soft yelp leaving him as he’s finally forced to face you, eyes fluttering open and meeting your own, your face twisted in annoyance as you look down at him.

“Acting like a bitch in heat, already came twice from nothing,” you grit, rolling your hips against his as you watch the way his eyes roll back— your other hand comes up to grip his cheeks, digging into the flesh and squeezing them together as he pouts at you, eyes welling with tears as he feels your nails dig into him.

“Don’t you feel bad? How am I supposed to get myself off if you can barely keep your dick up for more than a minute?” Your eyes darken at the way he simply lets out a pathetic sorry, ‘m so sorry baby, “What? I don’t think I heard you right.”

Your pussy feels so good around him; Yeonjun is barely able to think straight from the way you’ve begun to bounce on his cock ruthlessly, the sight of your breasts bouncing before him hypnotizing as you jerk his head back up to look at you, towering over him and demanding as you slow your hips to a mean grind.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whines out, his words incoherent and mushed together as you keep a hold of his face, listening as you hiss out for what? “‘M sorry for being so impatient— ah, ah, please— ngh, sorry for coming too soon, sorry for…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He can’t find the ability to, distracted by the way your sounds have picked up, your fingers rubbing circles on your clit as you continue to use his cock like a toy; his cheeks feel sore as he stares at you with wide eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure, your rhythm become sloppy as you feel your legs getting tired.

You didn’t think Yeonjun would pick up on it; without any warning, you find your back colliding against the couch, your eyes widening as you feel Yeonjun still settled in between your legs, cock still nestled deeply inside you; he’s still a pouty mess above you, hands gripping onto your hips as he begins rutting into you, his thrusts rough and out of control as he takes in your figure hungrily.

“Sorry for making you feel unwanted,” Yeonjun babbles, feeling you throw your arms around his neck from the sudden confession, bringing him in close as you feel his face hover above your own, “I only want you, want you to use me and mark me so others know who I belong to, I’m all yours baby— please, please please please tell me you’re close, wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna make you feel good, missed you, missed this pussy, fuck, mmh, ugh, feel so good, so good, soso good, please, baby—“

Yeonjun thinks you’re something of an aphrodisiac to him; at least, that must be the explanation if he’s able to cum the moment he feels you unravel around him, unrestrained and addicted to the feeling as he listens to your pretty sounds, practically melting as he hears your voice purring under him— so good, fuck, you’re all mine Yeonjunie, all mine…

You don’t think you’ve ever felt Yeonjun cum this much— his cock continues to twitch and release inside you even after you’ve come down from your high, the man above you burying his head into the crook of your neck as he cries softly at the feeling, unable to help the way his hips buck forward to ride out his orgasm.

This shift in dynamic is new— but it’s addicting, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the way Yeonjun clings to you, his head hazy and needy for your comfort as he lays on top of you, uncaring of how heavy he may be as he wraps his strong arms around you.

Missed you s’much baby, missed you, please don’t do that again, you could hear him mutter into your skin, a bit out of it as he peppered kisses along your collarbones.

“Alright, alright, I won’t,” you breathe out, running your fingers through his hair soothingly as he leans into your touch like a cat, “I’m sorry I kept running away from you.”

“But then again,” you trail off, tightening your grip on his hair teasingly, feeling the way he immediately whines softly, “you should’ve given me space when I asked you to. It was kinda cute, but don’t do that again— okay?”

“Okay. Of course. Whatever you say,” his response is immediate, not an ounce of hesitation as he stares at you with eyes shining with devotion. After a second, his lips part, and he’s hovering over you again as he looks down at you in wonder.

“Does that mean we’re boyfriend-girlfriend again?”

You laugh.

“You idiot,” you coo, placing a soft kiss on his lips, unable to control your laugh as you do, “We didn’t stop being boyfriend-girlfriend. I was just mad at you.”

“Hmm. Then, can I eat you out?” His words have you freezing, looking at him in bewilderment as he simply smiles at you sheepishly, “To like. Show you how sorry I am.”

A pause.

“…And, because I really missed eating you out.”

You sigh— and try not to show how eager you are as you nod softly. Yeonjun however, is shameless as he immediately pulls out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s sinking to his stomach— you’re gulping at the sight.

“You’re insatiable.” Your comment doesn’t faze him— if anything, it makes him smile, his pretty eyes staring at you with enough adoration and love that you’re squirming slightly under him.

“For you, yeah.”

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

On Monday, the sight of Yeonjun on campus is enough to have you spinning on your heels and running in the opposite direction. He wears nothing but a thin tank top, wondering why you’re yelling at him to cover up the moment he answers your phone call.

“Why? It’s hot outside— …and, like, I wanna show everyone who I belong to.”

(You refuse to stand by his side until he covers up—though, you can’t ignore the way his words send butterflies through your stomach.)

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun ff #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun oneshot #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #sub yeonjun #sub txt

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Note

okay we know rafes help reader in situations like with electricity and no car and such. but maybe it’s the first time where he knows he’s in love with her and she’s the one for him, where she doesn’t go to him for any help. and it’s maybe like not having enough money to buy groceries for herself, or how she walks to work still bc she can’t afford gas. and he gets so mad, and she thinks it’s an inconvenience to him. but it’s actually because rafe will always be there for her, and no matter what the problem is , he can fix it just for her

you got me overnight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(bartender!reader universe) warnings: first fight and confession 🫂

Rafe knew convincing you he was worth a shot was the easiest part of your relationship.

You were absolutely perfect, made to be his. He could picture you right now, the way you’d smile at his stupid jokes, the warmth of your hand in his, or how you’d send him those random "good morning" texts that hit him like a gut punch every time. You were everything. It wasn’t just the way you looked, although that obviously had him floored, but the way you thought about things, the way you cared about people. It was all of it. You gave a shit.

That was something new for him.

He never thought he’d get someone like you, someone who made him want to be better. It was months later, and he was hooked.

Totally gone. You were the real deal for him. Every time his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, it hit him in the chest. Hard.

So when you dropped it on him, casually, that you were walking to work because you didn’t have the gas money while he’d been away on a family holiday, it set off something inside him.

You said it like it was no big deal, like it was just another part of your day. He was losing it. The idea of you walking to work, sweating it out while he was chilling on vacation, made him feel sick. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He didn’t understand why you didn’t tell him earlier, didn’t ask for help. Why didn’t you call him? He could’ve handled it in a second, no problem. You didn’t need to be doing stuff like that.

“You’ve been walking to work?”

“Yeah… it’s fine. It’s not far,” you replied, brushing it off like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him. He knew how far your walk was.

He knew it wasn’t just around the corner. And you didn’t have to be doing this. Even if he hadn’t been there for the past week to give you a ride as he usually did, he could’ve taken care of it even if he was miles away. He was always here for you, even if he wasn’t physically there.

Rafe gripped the counter tighter, trying to keep his frustration under control, for your sake. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t tell me you were low on gas.”

You gave a little shrug, as if that was the end of the conversation.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s not your problem.”

Didn’t wanna bother him? Not his problem? You were his problem, the best kind of problem, and he couldn’t understand why you thought you had to handle everything by yourself. It pissed him off—not at you, but at the fact that you were doing this, struggling in silence. It was like you didn’t trust him to be there for you.

You didn’t trust him enough to lean on him when you needed something.

“What do you mean it’s not my problem?” His voice came out harsher than what he'd hoped for, and you froze, eyes wide.

“Whoa. Chill,” you said, holding your hands up defensively. “I didn’t think you’d get so worked up about it. I can handle it.”

But that wasn’t the point. You shouldn’t have to handle it. Not when you had him. You were supposed to lean on him, to come to him when things like this came up.

That’s what being together meant.

It was crazy to him. Every part of him wanted to protect you, to make sure you didn’t have to deal with anything like this on your own. The thought of you walking to work—tired, probably stressed out—while he was away doing nothing important...he hated it.

"You don’t have to handle it, though," he argued, voice softer now but still frustrated “That’s the thing. You don’t get it, do you? I want to help. I need to help. When you're struggling, that's my problem too. I wanna be there for you. Always.”

You looked at him like he was overreacting like he was making something out of nothing. “Baby, it’s not that serious. It’s just a couple of walks. You’re acting like I was in danger or something.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. "It's not about the fucking walks. It's the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me. Like I wouldn’t care.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples like you were tired of this conversation already. “I didn’t wanna bother you. You were on vacation. I didn’t want to stress you out over something so small.”

He didn’t know why it pissed him off so much, but it did. It was gnawing at him like a splinter under his skin, “You’re serious? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?”

You shifted on your feet, already defensive. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I figured I’d just handle it.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” he snapped, stepping closer to you, his hand gesturing wildly. “You figured you’d handle it? What the fuck? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know about something like this?”

“Because it’s stupid gas money, Rafe!” you fired back, your frustration bubbling to the surface now. “I didn’t wanna bother you with something so small! You were gone, and I didn’t want to make it a whole fucking thing.”

He could hear the irritation in your voice, but it just made him angrier.

You thought you were protecting him from being “bothered,” but all it did was make him feel like you didn’t need him. Like you didn’t think he could help, or worse, like you didn’t want him to.

“Small? Are you fucking kiddin’ me? You walked to work for how many days, in the heat, probably tired as fuck, and you think that’s small?” His voice was rising, and he hated that he couldn’t control it, but he was too worked up now. “It’s not about the gas money. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me. You kept it to yourself, like I’m just some fucking dude who’s not in your life like that.”

You crossed your arms, your own frustration clear. “Rafe, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I didn’t need to tell you because I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless.”

“That’s not what this is about!” he nearly shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “This isn’t about you being helpless or not! It’s about you letting me be there for you, letting me help you when things get tough. Shit. That’s what this is, what we are. You don’t fucking get it.”

“I do fucking get it, Rafe!” you snapped back, stepping closer to him, your eyes burning with misplaced anger. “But I don’t need to run to you every time something goes wrong. I’m not gonna fall apart because of a few days without a car.”

He was grinding his teeth now, trying to keep his composure but failing miserably. “It’s not about falling apart. It’s about the fact that you didn’t even think to lean on me! You didn’t trust me enough to just call and say, ‘Hey baby, I’m low on gas. Can you help?’ You shouldn’t have to figure it out on your own.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “I did figure it out! I walked. It wasn’t some huge disaster. I made it work.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the kitchen. “Why can’t you get that? You don’t have to handle shit like this alone! I want to be there for you. I need to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re acting like I don’t care about us because I didn’t ask you to bail me out. I care, Rafe. But I can deal with things on my own, too. I’m not just gonna dump every little problem on you like it’s your job to fix everything.”

Rafe shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time, pacing now because he couldn’t stand still. “It is my job, though. That’s the whole fucking point. I’m supposed to be the one you come to when things go wrong sweets, big or small. I’m supposed to be the one who makes your life easier, not the guy you hide stuff from.”

You let out a frustrated laugh, disbelief coloring your tone. “Hide? Seriously? You think I’m hiding things from you? It was gas money, Rafe, not some deep, dark secret.”

“It feels like it, though!” he shot back, voice cracking slightly, betraying the emotion he’d been holding back. “It feels like you don’t trust me. Like I’m not… like I’m not enough for you to depend on.”

You went silent at that, your arms dropping to your sides as you stared at him, the tension between you thick and heavy. “That’s not fair,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” his voice cracked slightly, “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m out here thinking I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back, but you’re just out there, dealing with stuff alone. It makes me feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m not even part of your life like that.”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, stepping toward him now, the fight draining out of your voice. “I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to worry. Not because I don’t trust you. I thought I was helping by not making you deal with it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Helping? You think it helps me to know you’re struggling and didn’t say anything? That’s not helping. Shit, that’s torture, baby. I’d rather know and fix it than find out after and feel like an idiot because I wasn’t there.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, exhaustion settling in. “Rafe, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious to me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now, the anger ebbing away, leaving only the hurt behind. “Because I love you. And when you love someone, you don’t want them to handle things alone. You want to be there. Always.”

You froze, eyes wide as you stared at him. What? He hadn’t planned to say it like this, not in the middle of a fight, but there it was—out there and real.

“I love you,” he repeated, quieter this time. “And I need you to understand that means I’m here. For all of it. No matter how small it seems.”

He said it. He loved you. Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but at least it was out of his chest. This man who had always been so intense, so fiercely protective, was looking at you like you held his entire world in your hands. And you did.

He loved you. That word—love—felt huge, almost too much. But it was what you had felt for him too. It was why you held back from asking for help, not because you didn’t trust him, but because you didn’t want to burden him with every little problem. You thought you were protecting him. Now, standing there, you realized maybe you’d gotten it wrong.

“You l-love me?”

“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now.”

“Rafe…” you started, but he shook his head, his jaw clenched like he was bracing himself for rejection.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, turning away, his hand running through his face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I just needed you to know.”

“No.” You stepped forward, reaching for his hand before he could pull completely away. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just say it and walk away like I’m not standing right here.”

His gaze shot back to yours, confused and a little bit guarded, like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“I love you too,” you said, the words feeling right as soon as they left your lips. You squeezed his hand, needing him to feel it. “I love you, okay? I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought I was being strong, handling things on my own. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t need you. I do need you,” you continued, stepping closer, your voice trembling slightly. “And I know now that I should’ve just called. That I should’ve let you help me, because that’s what we do. We’re a team. I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off him. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, his grip almost desperate. You melted into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the calming thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re not a burden,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’ll never be a burden. I just—I need you to let me be there for you. I don’t care what it is. Big or small, I wanna know. I wanna help.”

You nodded against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of his skin calm you.

“Okay. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. There was something in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before—relief, maybe, but more than that. Love. He felt you relax against him, your body molding into his.

“Say it again,” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “I love you, Rafe.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I need you to get something,” he said softly, his voice much calmer now “When I say I love you, I’m not just saying it. I mean it. Like… for real. I’m in this, all the way.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes wide “I—” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off gently.

“No, listen,” he interrupted, “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re everything. And I love you for it. I love every single part of you.”

He felt his chest tighten as he said it, like the words were coming from somewhere so deep inside him that he hadn’t even realized they were there until now. But they were, and they were real. He didn’t just love you—he needed you. He wasn’t sure if you’d even processed it yet. Then, slowly, you grinned, your eyes glistening just a little.

“This just… it feels so big. Holy shit, bigger than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“That’s because it is big,” Rafe said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours again. “It’s the biggest thing in the world to me. You are.”

Your breath hitched, and he could feel you trembling slightly in his arms. You reached up, cupping his face with your hands, and for the first time since the fight started, Rafe felt like you were really seeing him. Not just in that moment, but all of him—the guy who was scared out of his mind at how much he needed you, but who was willing to do anything to keep you close.

“I love you too,” you said it again, your voice shaking a little as you said it. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re in this together,” he kissed your knuckles, his own fingers gently brushing through your hair. “No more going through stuff alone. Not you, not me. We’ve got each other now.”

You smiled, and Rafe felt like he could breathe again, really breathe, for the first time all night. “Deal,” you whispered.

And right there, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

Because you weren’t just someone he loved—you were his person.

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gluion · 1 month ago

Text

wish you were sober — seok matthew

seok matthew x reader, slight myung jaehyun x reader

wc — 6.9k genre & warnings — fluff, light angst, crack, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, vomitting in one scene, kissing/making out, jealousy, zb1 friendgroup antics, HAOBIN AND GYUBRIK CANON SRY, boynextdoor and kiss of life cameo, reader has hair long enough to be tucked and held back playlist/inspired by — apt. by rosé & bruno mars // sober II by lorde // wish you were sober by conan gray // urs by niki // lovers rock by tv girl notes — wrote this mainly bc my life changed the moment matthew read my sign in the jebewon con, finished it the day matthew was @ the prada event. and in both instances, i've gotten significantly more ill, so here's this very self-indulgent, self-insert fic (where aspects are derived from my own experiences) <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

synopsis — as far as matthew knows, you still liked another man. yet, your friendship with him takes a sudden turn over a drunken confession... or three.

(or in other words, the three times you confess to matthew under the influence but he never believes you—until you tell him sober.)

the first time you confess to matthew happens on the night of hanbin’s graduation—no, not a confession of love but one of attraction.

if matthew has to be completely honest, he still doesn’t know what to make of your words. over the course of three years, he wouldn’t have suspected your interest in him. if anything, he’s under the impression you still like jaehyun. yet, everything shifts the moment he stumbles into the same bathroom as you.

“hanbin, have you found yourself a job?” gyuvin pops the long awaited question.

more than half of the group finds themselves in the kitchen. matthew knows that gunwook’s coming from soccer practice and yujin had to stay home for a doctor’s appointment the next day. as for you, he remembers seeing you with julie on the search for jaehyun and sungho.

the graduated fellow groans. “don’t remind me that i’m unemployed. this whole job search is going to kill me.” hao chuckles as hanbin rests his head on his shoulder.

gyuvin slings his arm around jiwoong’s shoulders. “oh, don’t worry! i’m sure this employed man can make something happen, right?”

“me? you should be asking ricky!” all eyes land on the blond who sips away on a drink. “he’s the one with a family business. i’m barely making it in that goddamn nine to five that i’m still mixing shit for you college students.”

ricky elbows jiwoong’s side, causing the man to yelp. “you could be asking me for a job if you really hated the one you have now.”

“really? you could save me?” jiwoong almost gets on his knees until matthew holds him back.

“please don’t do that. not everyone knows you here.”

the man complies and puts his hands together. “ricky, please. i might just kill myself if i have to deal with another overtime. i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i properly hung out with you guys.”

“i don’t think anyone expects you to stick with us all the time. you have a job.” taerae’s point only brings him to a fit of laughter as jiwoong tickles him.

regardless of how loud taerae and jiwoong are, the rest of the group continues to discuss hanbin’s dilemma. “but yes, i could make something happen if you really want,” ricky offers.

“really? thank you!” hanbin hugs him. “it’s almost impossible to find a job. i don’t know why.”

“tell me about it. i can’t even get an internship. i’m already willing to settle for an unpaid one but no one seems to be accepting,” taerae complains as he leans against the wall.

hao swishes around the alcohol in his cup. “that does make me wanna ask what the upcoming seniors are planning to do.” his eyes darted between taerae and matthew.

taerae grins. “the goal is to become a trophy wife.”

“of course it is.” gyuvin laughs before leaning against ricky. “i’m marked safe. i don’t know about you guys.”

jiwoong groans while taerae rolls his eyes at their public display of affection. “you don’t have to rub it in our faces.”

“yeah, whatever. what about you?” ricky looks at matthew. “are you still planning for medschool or is there another career crisis happening again?”

he shakes his head. “nah, i’m still pretty set on med school. next year is going to be hell for me.”

“ah, that means matthew is going to be the one providing for his partner! taerae, now’s your chance.” hanbin’s joke has everyone bursting into laughter.

taerae dramatically clears his throat, choking in between which only makes them wheeze. “matthew, can i be yours?”

matthew gets closer to his friend, his face only a few inches apart before saying, “not until you let me become yours.” at his double down, everyone starts to make gagging noises, including taerae who physically cringes.

“get a room!”

“damn, no kiss?” ricky’s joke in contrast to gyuvin’s complaint has jiwoong chuckling.

“yeah, you know what? fuck you, guys. i’m going to find someone at this damn party.” with that, taerae ventures off. jiwoong follows without another word.

gyuvin’s phone rings in his pocket. as he brings it out, he sees a message. “oh, gunwook’s already here! i’m gonna go grab him.” ricky trails behind his partner, leaving matthew with the other couple.

hanbin looks around before asking, “hey, where is y/n?”

“last time i saw them, they were looking for myungjae and sungho.” matthew chugs down his drink before letting out a sigh.

“i wonder when they’ll finally grow a pair and ask him out, or just do something about it,” hao wonders out loud as he stares off into the crowd. “it’s almost painful to watch. i feel like i need to play cupid.”

“wait, why haven’t you been helping them out?”

hanbin’s question has matthew laughing in disbelief. “you think i haven’t? i’ve done almost everything to push them. i even told them all the signs that show he’s clearly interested, but y/n won’t budge. i’m surprised they’ve been sane enough to not say anything even while drunk.”

it almost seems like their conversation summoned jaehyun into the kitchen as he comes rushing to them. “oh, speak of the devil. we were just talking about you,” matthew says with a smile until he sees worry taking over jaehyun’s features.

“guys, i think y/n had too much to drink.”

matthew stands up straight. “where are they?”

“in the bathroom with julie.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to you while jaehyun follows. “what even happened?”

“y/n was fine, i swear. with how they were acting, we all thought they were just tipsy. but it was like watching a sudden switch from that to… genuinely almost passing out.”

it’s not that matthew doesn’t trust jaehyun. if anything, he would trust him any other day to watch over you, but tonight’s events only show that jaehyun still has much to learn about you. the guilt in his voice only shows how much he cares.

as soon as matthew spots sungho and natty outside of the bathroom, he rushes to them. “oh, thank god you’re here. julie is helping them freshen up right now,” sungho says.

“we weren’t trying to get them blackout drunk, we swear. we really thought they were okay, but i don’t think they ate enough before drinking. me and julie were helping y/n as they were throwing up but they kept looking for you.”

matthew rubs his chin over natty’s explanation. “can i go in?”

“uh, let me check.” natty knocks on the door before swinging it open.

“matthew, we’re sorry. we really didn’t know,” jaehyun apologizes.

before matthew can say anything, julie exits the bathroom. “i think they puked out whatever they could. just make sure they stay close to the toilet.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to the doorway. he sees your hunched figure by the bathtub as you sit on the tiled-floor. in your drunken state, you don’t notice him as you quietly sing a melody.

matthew should’ve been filled with worry. yet, he thinks back to natty’s words, and the image of you looking for him plays in his mind—and it’s a smile that he can’t get rid of.

once he closes the door behind him, your eyes snap to him. “matthew! you’re here.” your slurred words bring him to a chuckle.

matthew remembers the last time you were this drunk; it’s funny to find you in the same situation after telling him multiple times that you wouldn’t drink that much ever again. he crouches to your side, taking in the sight of your disheveled state. “y/n, i thought we weren’t going to drink that much anymore.”

“i know,” you hiccup before your eyes shut, “i’m sorry.”

sure, you were always a mess whenever you drank this much, but you were never intolerable—never to matthew. (after all, he’d deal with you in your most intoxicated state over the others.)

his hand reaches out to tuck some strands behind your ear. at the presence of his warmth, your cheek snuggles against his palm. “you don’t have to be sorry. it’s okay.” you melt into his touch.

without thinking, his thumb caresses your cheek, etching invisible shapes onto your skin. he watches you twitch over the action, and your eyes meet him once more.

matthew’s ready to draw his hand back, help you stand up and escort you back to your place—

“you’re so pretty.”

his movements halt. matthew doesn’t know if he heard you right or if the alcohol is getting to him as well.

“huh?”

and the next thing you say stops him from breathing. “you’re so cute.”

it’s not unusual for you to compliment him, really, but something’s different about now. maybe it’s the alcohol or the distance between you two, but all matthew knows is that your words carried some weight different from other instances.

perhaps now is the worst time for matthew to be stuck in a daze. you’re drunk. he shouldn’t be making a fuss over the nonsense you spout, which is why he fails to catch the telltale signs of your impending nausea. (and you clearly wouldn’t have caught yourself in your intoxicated state.)

before you both know it, you throw up on yourself, and that finally snaps matthew out of a haze. he’s quick to grab the trashcan and bring it close to you. as you vomit, he holds your hair back. it keeps on going, and going, and going—at least matthew will take that as a clear sign that you’re done for the night.

on the next day, matthew asks if you remember what you said last night. when he’s met by your confusion, he knows better than to not think anymore of what you said then.

(and instead of sharing your slurred words, he tells you of the vomiting mishap in the bathroom. jesus fucking christ, i am not drinking ever again, you say in embarrassment.)

ever since that night, matthew has made it a habit to ask about your progress with jaehyun. it’s not that he’s running away from the events of that night. after all, hanbin’s right; matthew should do a better job in playing cupid for you and jaehyun. yet, all questions pertaining to your relationship with the boy were always met with a shrug and a refusal to dive into the details.

a few months pass. something romantic has yet to develop between you and jaehyun. at this point, matthew is feeling hopeless about the future you dream with that boy, but he isn’t the type to give up. he knows that there’s something between you two—all you need is a push.

“happy birthday, gyuvin!” everyone cheers as their cups clink against each other.

the birthday boy grins as he leans on ricky’s shoulder. “thanks, everyone. i’m glad you guys are here,” he mumbles. his cheeks have gone red and his words are starting to slur. considering how long the party has been going, matthew isn’t surprised to see gyuvin very much intoxicated.

for his birthday, he decided to invite his friends from his other social circles; basketball jocks, gaming nerds, and even student council folks take over his house as they talk and play over drinks. gyuvin thinks now would be the best time for all of his friends to meet. still, most of the group sticks together.

“you know, you should just hire me to bartend for your parties. everyone in this party seems to be chugging the drinks i mix for them,” jiwoong jokes as he bumps his shoulder against gyuvin.

“isn’t the next party going to be halloween? are we even planning to host one?” hanbin asks.

taerae tries to recall the previous arrangement. “didn’t we agree to spend halloween with yujin?”

“nah, we decided on christmas. yujin said he has plans for halloween, so we can host or just find another party to crash.” gunwook’s response brings the whole group to look at him. he raises his hands in defense. “don’t look at me! i’m not offering to host.”

“does myungjae not plan to host one?” hao’s question seems to be directed at matthew with how his eyes are on him.

jiwoong brings his hands together. “perfect! he might hire me.”

matthew rolls his shoulders back. ever since he tried playing cupid, he doesn’t know why everyone seems to go to him for anything related to you and jaehyun. first, it was when gunwook wanted to know about jaehyun’s schedule. next, it was gyuvin when he asked if jaehyun and his friends would be attending this party.

it’s not like matthew knew everything about myung jaehyun.

(unfortunately, it doesn’t help that he only has jaehyun’s schedule because he had to find a way to make you spend time with him. what doesn’t help his case any more is that he only knew of jaehyun’s attendance because he wanted to make use of this party to push you to do something.)

“i wouldn’t know.” matthew takes a sip of his drink. “and, wouldn’t hanbin know? he’s closer to myungjae than i am.”

“we should just ask him. where is he, anyway?” hanbin looks around.

“probably with y/n, or something,” ricky jokes before swaying in his spot with gyuvin. “any update on that? what’s been going on with them.”

all matthew does is shrug in response.

“guys, hear me out…” gyuvin calls on the group’s attention. “truth or dare.”

a beat passes.

“let’s go find myungjae.”

“yah! it’s my birthday.” gyuvin pouts over hao’s reaction. “don’t you guys think it’ll be fun?”

jiwoong scoffs at gyuvin’s question. “fun? the last time we played, it resulted in someone losing their clothes and me almost losing my job from a tweet you guys made.”

“i thought you hated your job, anyway.” taerae’s comment results in a scolding from jiwoong. “what?! i’m just pointing it out.”

while some were against the idea, others were onboard with gyuvin’s idea. “i’m sure it’ll be fun. let’s get myungjae and the others to join in as well,” gunwook suggests.

then, it hits matthew that this is it—this is the opportunity that he needs to push you. under the guise of a simple and fun game of truth or dare, he could maximize whatever option you choose. “i’m in.”

everyone ends up agreeing with gyuvin’s game. from there on, all matthew needs to do is grab you and jaehyun and hope that his plan moves forward. (and get his other friends to join, sure.)

matthew is lucky that he’s able to spot julie in a sea of students. while she’s busy chatting with the seniors, he realizes that you and jaehyun aren’t with her. he continues to move through the crowd. the last thing he wants is to see you too drunk to function, especially when the universe presented him with the perfect opportunity for you and jaehyun.

yet, it comes to his surprise that he sees you in the corner, whispering into the ear of your crush with your hand against his chest. the grin on jaehyun’s face is enough for matthew.

maybe you didn’t need your friend’s help. just from the distance (or the lack of it), matthew thinks you might have everything under control. that means that matthew can sit back and allow you two to unfold this romance.

but there’s a sting in matthew’s chest. he’s sure it’s not a heart attack; it should come in a form of squeezing, and the pain should spread throughout his body. yet, the one he’s experiencing is merely an ache. maybe he should hold himself back from drinking any more.

“have you found y/n?” gunwook rests his hand on matthew’s shoulder. before matthew can respond, gunwook spots you and jaehyun. “myungjae! y/n!” at his call, you two snap your attention to them. matthew can already tell how intoxicated you are from how you spin your head to his direction. “come! we’re gonna play a game.” with that, gunwook takes his leave.

matthew’s suspicions are further proven with your inability to walk straight to him. “matthew! there you are,” you giggle as your arm links with his. your hiccup brings matthew to look at jaehyun.

“how much did they have this time?”

“less than the last time, but i’d still argue quite a lot.”

while matthew and jaehyun try to find the group, you continue to latch onto matthew’s arm as you walk sluggishly. “do you not drink a lot?” matthew asks jaehyun.

the boy hums for a moment. “i do, but i think it’s better if i drink less when i’m around y/n. at least i’d be sober enough to take care of them.”

matthew has no reason to doubt jaehyun, especially with an answer like that. he knows that jaehyun would care for any of his friends; jaehyun’s always been the type to help out his friends with any task, but his choice to take that extra step tells matthew enough of his adoration for you.

“what are you guys talking about? are you talking about me?” you slur the question as you tug on matthew’s arm. “it better be good things.”

matthew can’t help but laugh.

as soon as matthew and jaehyun spot the rest of their friends gathering into a circle around a bottle, the three of you quickly find your own spots to settle into.

jaehyun takes a seat near sungho, leaving some space beside him. before matthew can go somewhere farther to sit, your grip on his arm holds him back. “hey, stay with me.” matthew’s eyes flicker between your drunken expression and jaehyun’s gaze fixed on him and you.

“you’re okay. you’ll be with myungjae.”

matthew’s confident that you would agree to sit beside jaehyun. after all, the boy took care of you for most of the night. yet, your grip never falters, and nothing could’ve prepared him for the last sentence you mumble, one only for him to hear.

“no. want you with me.”

matthew stills. the music becomes muffled and the chatter surrounding him falls silent. instead, the beating of his heart fills his ears as heat rises to his cheeks—and he doesn’t know why.

“hey! sit down!” gyuvin calls him out. with all eyes on you two, matthew doesn’t want to upset you any further. if he pushed to sit somewhere else, it would only cause a scene, and that’s the last thing he wants on his friend’s birthday. matthew finds himself sinking into a spot beside you.

the game proceeds accordingly, where most chug some more alcohol with every round that passes. secrets spill out of people’s mouths and laughter seems to fill the air. and for some reason, with all the times that’s passed, you stayed leaning against matthew.

at least you weren’t drinking along with the others.

after multiple interrogations and embarrassing dares, taerae spins the bottle. “please please please, don’t make it me again,” he prays as everyone watches the bottle go in circles.

“i’d laugh if you had to do another one,” gunwook says before taking another shot. “actually, i’m going to hope it lands on you!”

taerae tackles his friend to the ground over his comment, making him yell out complaints. yet, the universe works in taerae’s favor—and also matthew’s.

“oh my god, finally!” taerae cheers as he sees the bottle pointing at you.

you blink a couple of times. “oh, fuck me.” your head finds its spot behind your hands.

“i have been waiting for this one.” taerae rubs his hands together. “truth or dare?”

you have always been the type to choose truth. with the group’s history with dares, you weren’t the type to take that risk, which is why it comes as a surprise to everyone when you say, “fuck it, give me a dare.”

this is it. this is the opportunity that matthew needed. “i have a dare!” he beats everyone from spitting out any useless suggestion. as soon as all eyes are on him, he glances at jaehyun before saying, “i dare you to do seven minutes in heaven.”

your eyes go wide over matthew’s suggestion. “what the fuck?” you smack his arm. “no way in hell am i going to do that!”

“nu-uh! a dare is a dare,” ricky argues. “don’t try to get out of this.”

gyuvin speaks up, “if it helps, you don’t have to do anything with anyone. take this as your opportunity to bond with someone, get your heart-to-heart talk or something. but you can also make out with them, we don’t really care.” before he can take another shot, ricky stops him from doing so.

you groan at your friends’ insistence. “but with who?”

the stars are aligning for matthew. he’s about to chime in with the perfect name—

“what if we just spin the bottle again?” all hope shatters for matthew, and myung jaehyun is to blame. “that can determine who will be with y/n. it’s completely by chance.”

before matthew can interject, gyuvin claps at jaehyun’s suggestion. “you know what? you’re so fucking smart. let’s do that.” with how intoxicated the birthday boy is, no one seems to go against his idea, including you, and matthew fears what will unfold once that bottle lands on someone that isn’t jaehyun.

as soon as gyuvin reaches out to spin the bottle, matthew shuts his eyes in hopes that the universe would listen to him in the same way it did with taerae. he’s not even doing this for himself—it’s all for you. he wants you to win as much as you do with yourself. (he hopes that, at least. he needs you to believe that you have something with jaehyun as much as he does. if you didn’t, then this would go nowhere.)

“oh.”

matthew says one final prayer. he opens his eyes at the sound of gyuvin’s reaction, and what he doesn’t expect to see is the bottle pointing right at him. matthew’s convinced that the universe is going against him.

“well, lead the way, birthday boy,” jiwoong says.

matthew glances at you, expecting to see disappointment, but he only sees an expression he’s never seen before—and one he can’t decipher.

it doesn’t take a while until you and matthew are shoved into gyuvin’s walk-in closet. gunwook says they’ll keep the game going, but matthew attempts one last time to get out of this dare, only for the door to be shut right in front of his face.

as the shuffling of footsteps grow distant, matthew finally accepts defeat. he looks back to see you sitting on the floor with eyes shut. maybe you need these minutes to sober up. after all, who is the best person to take care of you if not him?

matthew finds himself on the floor with you. seven minutes could easily pass with you two; not a single word needs to be said. but tonight, time seems to stretch into an eternity. matthew hates it.

he takes in the sight of you; your shirt’s disheveled and your nose scrunches from the heat of the room and alcohol. still, most things remain the same. your arms cross with every moment your eyes long for rest and your steady heart sounds throughout the room from every exhale.

since when did matthew notice all the small things about you? it’s not like you two were friends longer than he is with hanbin. he still finds himself forgetting trivial things about his friends—with you, it comes easy.

your eyes peel open, and for the first time, matthew’s nervous around you.

“you feeling better?”

you nod before sitting up straight. “yeah, i think the alcohol is leaving my system.”

“that’s good.”

seconds go by.

“so,” matthew clears his throat, “how are you and myungjae?”

a laugh escapes you, not like the ones whenever he cracks a joke but something he’s never heard before. “we’re okay.”

matthew waits a couple of moments until he realizes you weren’t going to expound. “oh, so now, i don’t get to hear you yap about your crush?” his comment manages to earn a laugh he’s familiar with.

but it’s turned into a reality. he can’t remember the last time you actually talked to him about myung jaehyun. if anything, it’s almost like you don’t want to talk about the boy to him.

matthew’s never been the type to force you to share anything, really, but he realizes it’s been a while since you mentioned the boy’s name. it’s impossible for him to ignore that. and tonight, he can blame his curiosity on the alcohol.

“are you hiding something?”

“it’s not that.”

matthew hums. “then, what is it?

silence falls on you two.

he takes the lack of your response as a sign. to not push any further. to not be curious. to respect your privacy.

to sit back and watch it unfold.

to forget all that you’ve said on that drunken night.

“myungjae and i are just friends.” matthew’s eyes snap up to meet yours. “we’ve always been just friends.”

“but that can change. i mean, i could help you! i’ve seen how much he cares for you, i’m convinced he likes you—”

“matthew,” you cut him off, “like i said, we’re just friends.”

he frowns. “i’m confused. just because you’re friends now doesn’t mean you can’t be something more.”

your breath hitches, and his confusion deepens.

“you really think that?”

it’s at this moment that matthew spots something different about you tonight, one he’s never been on the receiving end of to experience—your glossy eyes filled with strong, bittersweet yearning.

and he holds his breath before saying, “yes.”

the bass of the music fades away. the heat of the alcohol means nothing. matthew could care less about who he came with to this party.

right now, it’s just you two.

“i don’t like myungjae.” your reveal causes matthew to frown. “i haven’t liked him for a while.”

“oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

matthew has a million questions running through his head. what caused the change or heart? how long ago did you know that? is there something wrong with jaehyun and he never saw?

“i—”

“when—”

he shakes his head. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, it’s okay. what were you going to say?”

“it’s just… i wanted to know when you realized that.”

a chuckle leaves you. “even before hanbin’s graduation party.”

“you could’ve told me! if i had known, i wouldn’t have kept pushing you to do something with myungjae.” matthew hides his mouth in embarrassment.

you shake your head. “it’s okay. i didn’t tell you because…”

matthew notices your fingers fiddling with each other, an unconscious habit of yours whenever you’re anxious, and his confusion grows.

he doesn’t want you to think he can’t be trusted with your secrets, your stories, everything about you. after all, he wants to be your friend—your person—and how can he do that if you felt an ounce of shame to tell him that? he needed to let you know that—

“i like you.”

time stills for a moment.

for once, matthew doesn’t know what to say.

“time’s up!” the door swings open, revealing gunwook and taerae whose grins are lopsided. “did y’all enjoy the heart-to-heart?” gunwook’s question is an innocent, light-hearted one, but the silence hanging between you two is nothing of the sort.

before matthew knows it, you let out a giggle. “of course!” in your attempt to stand up, you almost lose your footing, causing taerae to reach out to you. “sorry. i don’t know why but i feel a lot drunker than before.”

your slurred words only makes taerae shake his head. “oh, my silly lil alcoholic. let’s keep it going!”

the three of you exit in high spirits. yet, matthew finds himself stuck in his spot.

stuck in his memories.

stuck in the last conversation.

stuck in your words.

stuck in denial.

“yah, matthew! hurry up! we’re still playing,” gyuvin shouts from outside of the room.

because you’re drunk. you probably didn’t mean anything you said, like how you didn’t mean what you said at the last party.

for the rest of the night, you continue to enjoy gyuvin’s birthday.

matthew attempts to do the same.

it’s been two months since that conversation. on the morning after the party, you admit to the group that you lost recollection of the events that transpired on gyuvin’s birthday. with how much the birthday boy drank, he found himself in the same boat as you. taerae says that it’s only best that you don’t remember anything from that night, mainly to save his pride.

but matthew remembers it all. he remembers how you looked at him that night, how your breath hitched, how long the silence was all before you lied.

and he knows you lied.

all it took was one sight of you on a date with jaehyun for him to realize that.

matthew couldn’t believe he showed up to the halloween party, not because he wasn’t the type to deny an invite, but because it’s being hosted by jaehyun.

he has nothing against him, really, but the conversation in the closet shifted everything; his dynamic with the boy, his thoughts surrounding your relationship with jaehyun, his feelings towards you. matthew prefers to keep his distance out of respect for you two.

that doesn’t mean he won’t talk about it with others.

“i really don’t think they’re together.”

“hanbin, did you completely forget what i said?” matthew shakes his head. “they were on a date.”

he finds himself in the kitchen dressed as saiki k with an almost-finished bottle of soju in his hand. while the rest of his friends were off somewhere, hanbin and hao, who were dressed in stitch and angel onesies, stayed with him.

hao takes a sip of his drink. “how’d you know it was a date? they could’ve been hanging out for all you know.”

“well…”

“see! you can’t even defend your point.”

matthew groans. “that doesn’t change anything. i’m sure of it. i mean, they came in a couples costume!”

“they’re matching with sungho, you airhead,” hao points out.

hanbin laughs before adding, “as the incredibles, too!”

their doubtful reactions causes matthew to roll his eyes. he chugs the remaining contents of his bottle before grabbing himself another. “i thought i could trust you two.”

“and you can!” hanbin tries to snatch the bottle but fails. “dammit. just be responsible, okay? it’s already hard enough dealing with jiwoong and taerae when they’re drunk.”

hao sighs. “and you know, jiwoong’s drinking heavy tonight because he got laid off. hoping ricky can help him out.” matthew twists the cap open and drinks straight from the bottle once more. “hey, i’m still saying you should trust what we’re saying. whatever y/n shared in that closet might not be a lie.”

despite their attempts to convince matthew, he knows the truth. there’s no point in trying to prove him otherwise. so for now, he’ll drink the night away.

“i’ll see you guys later, or something.”

“matthew—”

he doesn’t spare a second to hear their protests. as much as he loves his friends, he needs some space to wallow in silence. all he longs for is a quiet space away from everyone with enough alcohol to forget everything.

“matthew!”

this is the last voice he wanted to hear, especially at his state. he sees jaehyun and sungho together dressed in black and red.

“oh my god, you’re matching with riwoo! you’re saiki k, right?” sungho asks.

matthew forces out a smile before nodding. “yeah. incredibles?” he points at the logo on their chests.

“yep! you should take a pic with riwoo!” jaehyun suggests

matthew would’ve agreed any other day, but he couldn’t talk to him. he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with the boy just because of his emotions. “myungjae, i would love to, but i have to go.”

“are you okay?”

when concern paints jaehyun’s features, matthew is reminded once more that there is nothing to hate about him. he needs to get over this whole thing. if you’re happy with jaehyun, he should learn how to be happy for you, too.

a sigh leaves matthew. “yes, sorry. i just need space, if that’s okay.”

“of course. i hope you’re okay. do you want me to bring you to a spot where it’s quiet?”

matthew shakes his head before reassuring the host, “it’s okay, i’ll figure it out on my own.” and with one final nod from jaehyun, matthew walks off.

he passes through the crowd, exchanging brief greetings with familiar faces, until he reaches a hall filled with doors. most rooms were already occupied, and the last thing matthew wants is to know what they’re doing. all he cares about is finding an unoccupied room where he can drink the night, the confusion, the pain, away.

once he reaches the final door, he quietly begs the universe to give him what he needs. as he swings the door open, he notices that the lights are off, and that’s enough for him to believe it’s unoccupied. without sparing a second thought, he shuts the door behind him before letting out a sigh.

it takes him a few seconds for his vision to adjust. with the moonlight cascading over the walls, he’s able to take in his surroundings. as soon as he spots a shelf filled with poetry books, he realizes he’s in jaehyun’s room. matthew couldn’t believe what the universe is making him undergo. he found himself in the bedroom of someone he desperately needed to get away from, but he’ll make do with the last unoccupied space—or that’s what he thought.

“matthew?”

“holy shit!” he jumps along with his heart. as he clenches his chest, his eyes dart to the source of the voice—only to see his friend, his supposed something. your chin rests on jaehyun’s mattress as you stare at him; the same, glossy eyes he witnessed in the closet. matthew clears his throat before standing up straight. “sorry, i thought i was alone.”

you shoot him a tight-lipped smile. “no, sorry i didn’t say anything as soon as you came in.”

a beat passes.

“why… uhm, why are you sitting in the dark?” his chest throbs as he asks the question.

what if you were there to meet with jaehyun later in the night? or what if you had already met with him? maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason after all.

“needed to be somewhere quiet,” you answer. he watches you take a sip from a big bottle of vodka. “somewhere away from the party.”

if you need space, matthew is going to give you that. after all, you were in this room before he arrived. “okay, i’ll go leave,” he says as he turns his back on you.

“no, it’s ok—”

“it’s okay. you were here first, so—”

“matthew.”

how your voice wavers is enough to stop him. from leaving the room. from wallowing in pain.

from abandoning you.

he looks back, only to be greeted by the sight of you in tears. the moonlight shines against your figure, making you glow in the dark room, and he feels all resolve crumble.

matthew rushes to you. as he takes a seat beside you, he sets the bottle on the floor before his hands reach out to cup your face. “what’s wrong?” he asks as his thumbs wipe the tears.

you don’t spare him an answer; all you do is stare right back at him as the tears stream down your face.

matthew think’s he fucked up. was he busy with his issues to notice yours? did you need him? (as much as he needs you?)

yet, as soon as your hand reaches up to hold his, he realizes that this is all wrong; the distance, the physical touch, everything about this doesn’t respect what you have with jaehyun.

“i’m sorry.” he rips his hands away. “i shouldn’t have done that.”

his apology brings another flood of tears from you. “i thought we were friends.”

“we are friends.”

“then, if we’re friends, why couldn’t you give me an answer back then?”

matthew’s heart stills. “w–what?”

“i remember everything.”

the axis of his world tilts.

“from the bathroom to the closet,” you sniffle, “i remember what i said, and i meant everything.”

all he knew then meant nothing to the present.

matthew can’t tell if the alcohol was affecting his senses. maybe he’s hallucinating, or his intoxicated mind is planting delusions that he wishes were part of his reality.

but he blinks hard, and he still sees you.

“please say something.”

matthew takes one breath. “i just… i don’t understand. i mean, i’ve been going like, 5 months, thinking those were meaningless words. even in the closet, you said you were too drunk. and you always claimed you had no memory the next day. i even thought you were on a date with jaehyun the other day.” as you scrunch your eyebrows at his admission, he takes it as a sign to explain. “i don’t know. i saw you two alone a few weeks ago, and i just assumed so.”

“we were just hanging out. there’s nothing going on between us.”

he shakes his head. “well, how am i supposed to know that? when i’ve been going through these months thinking all you said was bullshit until now?”

when guilt flashes in your features, he takes a moment to let his words sink in.

he watches you fiddle with your fingers before saying, “i just want to know why you did all that.”

“is it enough to say that i was scared? i mean, i used the alcohol as liquid courage. but in both times, i couldn’t tell if you felt the same, so, i panicked and said i don’t remember anything.”

one thing that matthew knows about you is that you were afraid to take risks—no, not in decision making but in relationships. he knew that the first time you held yourself back from introducing yourself to jaehyun, and he remembers when you finally approached the boy with at least 5 shots into the night.

“can you say something? anything?” you ask.

and all times, he understood your hesitancy. every time you second guess yourself, he’s the only person who knows when to act as your safe space or a pushing force.

“tell me again. tell me what you told me in the closet, i need to hear it from you.” but when your mouth parts open, ready to repeat the three-word phrase, he cuts you off. “when we’re sober.”

this time, he wants to know if he’s a risk worth taking—without the alcohol.

“tell me when morning comes, then you’ll know.” he sees confusion flicker in your eyes. “because i can’t risk anything when we’ve drunk our hearts out tonight.”

if there’s another thing matthew knows about you, it’s that you hate unfinished conversations. yet, a nod from you is enough for him to know why it would have to wait until tomorrow.

from there, matthew stands up before taking his leave.

all he can hope is that you won’t forget the next day.

when morning comes, matthew can hear a knocking on his door. he makes his way to the doorway, rubbing the exhaustion off his eyes, before swinging it open.

“i like you.”

his eyes snap open to see you, whose eyes aren’t like the other nights but with something he’s familiar with—hope.

“i like you,” you repeat, “and i’m telling it to you now, without the alcohol.”

this time, matthew doesn’t have to doubt your words. he doesn’t have to shut down his friends’ attempts to comfort him. he doesn’t have to deny what he feels towards you.

without saying anything, his hands dart towards your waist before pulling you close to him. shock casts onto your features. as one thumb finds its way under your shirt, etching constellations that you two will only know of, his other hand reaches to tuck your hair.

his lips meet yours. as his hand travels down to caress your face, your arms slowly find their place around his neck. somehow, everything feels right, almost like you two had done this before. yet, the taste of your lips is one he’s never had. as your nose brushes against his, he can’t help but breathe you in like you’re the last thing keeping him alive.

as you attempt to pull back, he tries to chase your lips. “matthew,” you call out his name before he draws you back in for another intoxicating kiss, one where the buzz of alcohol could never compare to.

“don’t,” he mumbles in between, “let me have this.” he pulls you into his dorm with ease and shuts the door behind you. matthew pushes you against the door with his lips still on yours, hands exploring your figure.

from there, you don’t protest.

maybe he’s wanted you much longer than you did. maybe he’s wanted you ever since you revealed your crush on jaehyun and he never allowed himself to dwell on his own feelings. maybe he’s wanted you since the first time he’s ever set eyes on you.

but one thing he knows is that he wants you—much more than you do with him.

(and he’d never allow you to think he wants you any less.)

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