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moonlit-han · 4 years

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a truth universally (un)acknowledged | chapter five

(artwork credit to @jisungieart)

genre: rivals-to-lovers, fluff, college au, theatre au pairing: han jisung x reader chapter word count: 5k warnings: suggestive, swearing, a wee drop of angst request: yes (@jisungsjheekies)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

{prologue} {chapter one} {chapter two} {chapter three} {chapter four} {chapter five} {chapter six} {chapter seven, part one} {chapter seven, part two}

chapter five

✧ the middle of november ✧ y/n’s point of view ✧

It was a lovely November day, despite the slight chill in the air. As you checked your appearance one last time, and then one last time again, before your date with Jisung, Miri strolled into the bedroom with a mug of coffee in one hand and an orange in the other.

“Ooooh, where are you off to?” Miri said as she set down her coffee, then flopped down on her bed and started to peel the orange.

“I just need to get out—planning for finals is really taking it out of me. I think I’m gonna go wander around town, maybe head to the bookstore,” you said, knowing you told only a half-truth. It was completely plausible, since the local bookstore was a frequent haunt of yours; and, even if she didn’t say so, Miri would rather do anything else than simply spend the afternoon looking at books. (Not that she didn’t like reading, but she’d rather actually read the books than browse). So, it was a safe bet that she wouldn’t randomly appear around a bookshelf while you were there with Jisung.

“Ah. Well, I’ll just be here minding my own business and probably working on homework.” She sighed as she picked at a particularly tough patch of the orange’s skin. “I wish I could go out, but I got slammed this weekend with work. Have fun, though!”

“Sorry, babe,” you said, fixing Jisung’s scarf in place so that it wouldn’t fly away in the wind. “Maybe next time we can both go on a jaunt together! Also, do you want me to pick anything up for dinner or are we good with what we have here?”

“It’s fine. You deserve a break, especially since you’ve been rehearsing and tutoring and who knows what else.” Miri popped a slice of the orange into her mouth and smiled. “Nah, I’m sure we have enough stuff here.”

You stood in front of your best friend and opened your mouth like a begging three year-old. With surprising accuracy, Miri tossed an orange slice into your mouth; no wonder she’d been smiling—it was delicious. “I’ll let you know when I’m heading home,” you promised. “Do I look okay?”

“Lovely as ever,” Miri replied. “You really like that blue scarf, don’t you . . ..”

“Yep, I do! Bye!” you sang as you quickly grabbed your bag, slung the strap across your body, and tried not to look like you were racing out the door to avoid being questioned more.

As you approached the spot where you and Jisung had agreed to meet, your heart raced. What if a friend had dissuaded him from going out with you? What if he forgot? What if? What if? The thoughts chased each other around in your head, trying to convince you to turn around. You weren’t even sure how you’d a) fallen for Jisung, b) ended up making out with him at rehearsal, and c) decided to go on a date with him. No, that was a lie. You knew full well how that’d happened. You’d slowly fallen for Jisung without realizing it. It’d all happened so quickly and you had to remind yourself that going on one date didn’t mean you had to marry the man. Not that you were complaining, though.

But, your fears were unfounded. Jisung, who’d been waiting on a bench, stood up as soon as he saw you. A grin lit up his face, as bright and warm as the summer sun, and he strode toward you with excitement clear in his every movement.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung said once you reached him. “Um, may I hug you?”

“Hey! Oh my god, yeah, of course. We’ve made out so much that you really don’t need to ask for something as simple as a hug.”

“I just wanted to be respectful of your space, is all,” Jisung said, shrugging. “So . . ..” He held out his arms.

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Jisung’s waist, resting your head on his chest. His coat made a nice pillow and he hugged you tightly. Craning your head back, you looked up at Jisung, who smiled sweetly and gave you a quick kiss. It was so casual you barely registered that he’d done it; although, the way your cheeks burned was a clear indication. You buried your face in his chest as you hugged for a moment longer, then broke apart.

“Let’s get going, then, shall we?”

It was a pleasant walk into town, with the wind seeming to blow everywhere but around you. You still had to bury your nose in the deep blue scarf, though. Instead of going for coffee as you’d originally planned, Jisung had suggested getting boba. Halfway to the shop, Jisung caught your hand with his and put your linked hands in his pocket. After a moment of completely baseless embarrassment, you decided that holding hands with Jisung was really quite pleasant. Plus, now one of your hands was wonderfully warm.

When you’d almost reached the shop, you had a moment of panic. The boba shop was a popular hangout spot for students. What if someone you knew saw you with Jisung?

As if reading your mind, Jisung said, “Y/N, come on. It’s not a big deal if someone we know sees us out and about. We can just tell them that we realized the error of our ways or something.” He kissed the top of your head. “Let’s just enjoy the boba, yeah?”

Of course, Jisung was right. It was your silly pride and, quite frankly, your terror of being seen as a liar that kept you from wanting to make your relationship—was it that at this point?—with Jisung known to all and sundry. It wasn’t as if there was some rule against you dating. The only thing that stood in the way of you brazenly announcing the fact to the world was you. Jisung was smart enough to understand your hesitance and not push you, especially if it meant he’d actually get to date you.

Hands still clasped together inside Jisung’s pocket, you entered the boba shop; you knew none of the people there, and immediately relaxed. As you both decided on which flavors you’d get, Jisung pulled you closer and rested his cheek on your head. It’d been a long time since you’d shared casual touches like this, but it was easy with Jisung. So easy that it shocked you.

Jisung ordered a creamy strawberry tea with the smallest tapioca pearls possible, while you chose a peach and ginger one with pearls and only half the usual sugar in it. As you sat down at a table and waited, you chatted of the most mundane things—the exam schedule, the weather, Jisung’s friend Chan and his music (and his love life, somehow), possible plans for rehearsals. Oh, and the deep blue scarf you still wore.

“I meant to give it back to you,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Jisung said, waving away your attempts to return it to him in that moment. “Just keep it. It looks good on you and you obviously like it. If I ever need or want it back, I know where to find you.” He reached out and tucked the scarf into a more even position, brushing a lock of your hair back into place in the process.

He really is smooth, you thought, impressed.

Just then, your order was called and you went to fetch the drinks. Since it was cold outside, you agreed that staying inside to drink the teas would be best. Jisung insisted that you try each other’s. Full of delicious tea and still flirting back and forth, you headed outside. Even in the short period of time you’d been enjoying your boba, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped.

After a mercifully short walk down the street, you arrived at the bookstore. Channeling his most gentlemanly self, Jisung held the door for you as you stepped in out of the wind.

The smell of paper, the glues used to bind the books, and wood immediately met your nose. Despite its size, the bookstore was hushed. Excitement at being in the presence of so many books coursed through your body. It was as if the books themselves absorbed sound so that all attention could be paid to the words they contained. Bookstores, you’d often thought, were a bit like shrines to literature. People went to them to either browse or buy the books, to revel in the wonders of the written word. There was the distinct sense that, if anyone dared disturb the hush of the bookstore, dire consequences awaited—most likely from the books themselves. They were both that which was worshipped and the gatekeepers of their sacred place.

*✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

✧ jisung’s point of view ✧

As he took off his coat, Jisung let out a little sigh of contentment; it was warm inside the bookstore and the quiet was a lovely counterpoint to the howl of the wind outside. Glancing over at you, he saw that you’d left on his scarf—it really did look good on you. He watched you pause to take in the rows and rows of shelves containing thousands of books. It probably seemed like a paradise to you. When you turned round to face him, you had a wide smile on your face.

“Isn’t it lovely?” you said, excited but careful to keep your voice down.

“It’s the best,” Jisung replied, knowing you’d take his words to mean the bookstore and not your joy. “Where to?”

“Poetry, of course,” you said, and grabbed his hand. He was surprised you did, since, so far, he’d been the one to initiate touch. Maybe being in a place you clearly loved so much had leveled your inhibitions.

Jisung was curious to see which poets you liked. He’d read enough poetry from different genres, time periods, and even languages, to feel confident that he’d know at least one of the poets, if not the works, you showed him.

As you walked to the poetry section hand-in-hand, Jisung thought over how normal it felt to be with you. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting, since you’d been sustaining some sort of grudge against him for so long. But, with the misunderstandings and admissions of pride out of the way, you’d opened up to Jisung. Yes, you were still a little shy, but he’d expected that. And, found it extremely endearing.

Combing the poetry section with you fascinating for Jisung. You’d open a compendium of Modernist works one moment, a volume providing an overview of the works of Victorian women poets the next, then flit to a small book of Latinx poetry that was published just the year before. Your sheer joy to be reading so many different kinds of verse was palpable. All Jisung could do was watch, reading anything and everything you excitedly thrust in front of him. Later, Jisung would remember this as the exact moment he started to fall in love with you.

It was a perfect date.

After that first date, Jisung realized he could discuss poetry with you. In fact, he could talk about anything and took full advantage of that fact. It was the best feeling knowing that twice each week, he got to spend at least two completely uninterrupted hours with you. And, he got to act! The best thing was that playing Darcy and Elizabeth meant sanctioned making out. No one could fault you for practicing the kiss, or getting into character by flirting.

You’d still requested that he not tell anyone you were dating—well, besides Chan because Jisung couldn’t keep anything from his best friend, even if he wanted to—and he’d honored the request, knowing that, when the time came, everyone would know. Dates and spending time together had to be carefully planned, but didn’t they always?

It was the first week of December and the third week of you—was dating the right word? To Jisung it was. With that day’s rehearsal finished and your coats, scarves, and shoes back on, you caught Jisung’s hand as he made to exit the classroom.

“Hey,” you said softly, “let’s stay here a moment. I want to talk.”

“Okay.” Jisung’s heart raced as he tried not to make any assumptions before you spoke. But one thought kept pushing to the front of his mind: She’s going to leave me.

“Jisung,” you said, looking up at him seriously, “these past three weeks have been so, so lovely. No, Ji, please let me finish. I- Well, I never thought something like this would happen. I didn’t expect someone to treat me like you do, to understand me so well . . . to really care.”

“Of course, I care,” Jisung said, unable to stop himself. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I know, Ji, but this is all so new and different, especially because I thought about you in such a different way for . . ..” You paused, thinking. “Yeah, it was actually years. I’m having to relearn you, Jisung.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Jisung didn’t want to sound angry, but he couldn’t stand the suspense, not if you were going to leave him behind like so much chaff. “Y/N, please just tell me.”

“Well, I want to spend more time with you, Ji!” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling brightly up at him.

All Jisung could do was stare at you, astonished. He didn’t notice the small trickle of tears leaking from his eyes until you reached up and wiped them away.

“Ji?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Jisung couldn’t even speak. He wrapped his arms around you and clung to you, burying his face in your hair. You stroked his hair, murmuring that it was okay and asking what was wrong. It took Jisung a moment to gather himself enough to respond, his relief was so great.

Finally, still holding you in his arms, he said, “Y/N, I thought you were going to dump me. You were so serious and the way you were talking . . . I really thought you were going to end this.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you breathed. “I’m so sorry. No, it’s not that at all. Like I said, I want to spend more time with you because I do like you. I like you a lot—more than I would’ve ever expected. Don’t worry, I’m here to stay, Ji.”

“So, you really want to spend more time with me? To be with me?” Jisung repeated, as if repetition would somehow reveal the truth or catch you in a lie.

“Yes, I do, Jisung. Really.” You were smiling, and Jisung was no match against your smile.

“Oh, thank god.”

You laughed softly, and said, “Rehearsals are a fine place to see you, but I’d feel bad if we used them as an excuse to be together, rather than as actual rehearsal time. I don’t want to worry about someone bursting in on us, you know?”

Jisung had to shake the mental picture of Professor Greystone walking in on you and him kissing—it was, quite frankly, a terrifying prospect. “What if we spent Saturdays together? You could always just come over to my place,” he said hopefully.

You still had your arms around Jisung’s waist, your hands a comfortable but slight pressure at the small of his back. “Hmmm, that might work. I’ll just say that I’m babysitting if anyone asks.” Your eyes went wide. “Shit, what about Chan?”

“Chan usually goes to the recording studio on Saturdays, and I’m sure he’d stay out if I asked him to,” Jisung offered.

Jisung felt you sigh against him. “That would be nice,” you said, sliding your hands into Jisung’s back pockets, “as long as he doesn’t come back at an, um, inopportune moment.”

“Are you planning on there being inopportune moments?” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows at you with a wicked grin on his face.

“Maybe,” you said with a wink, then rested your head against his chest. Jisung loved the feeling of having you so near. “We should go, just in case someone decides to come to the classroom.”

Still thanking his lucky stars that you hadn’t walked away, Jisung hummed in agreement.

*✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

✧ the middle of december ✧ y/n’s point of view ✧

You still weren’t sure how you’d managed to keep the fact that you were dating Han Jisung a secret from Miri. Her usually perceptive nature seemed to be dulled by the stress of impending exams, and, although you hated to see her stressed, you were secretly glad. Your excuse of babysitting on Saturdays so the parents could have a day to themselves had somehow held, especially because, so far, you’d actually gotten homework done with Jisung. You couldn’t guess what you’d tell her if she found out . . ..

Saturdays were now the day you looked forward to all week long. You and Jisung texted constantly, sometimes a little too late into the night, to the point that you had to stuff your blanket in your mouth to stifle your giggles. While you were still nervous about what others would think or say if they knew you were dating Jisung, it didn’t bother you half as much as it used to, and you knew that your fears were, in reality, nothing to worry about. You knew you were being silly, but couldn’t help it. Slowly, you grew more confident about the relationship and almost, just almost, wanted to tell someone.

The first time you went to Jisung’s, Chan was still there, and he winked at you on the way out the door. It made you blush. Later, Jisung told you, in all sincerity, that Chan thought the two of you weren’t doing homework or anything else that didn’t involve a bed. The second time you arrived, Jisung answered the door still in his pajamas with wildly tousled hair. This also made you blush, since Jisung’s idea of pajamas didn’t include a shirt.

Your time with Jisung truly was like a page out of someone else’s life. Whether you watched movies, grudgingly wrote papers, baked, or even just napped together, you considered the time well spent. You’d never had such an easy relationship before, nor one with someone so unfailingly caring. As exams started, being with Jisung calmed you and kept you sane. He always made sure that you both took breaks, even if it was just to scream into a pillow for five minutes. Thankfully, exams passed without any snags.

Both you and Miri headed home for the winter break, since on-campus housing closed unless special accommodations were made. You said goodbye to your best friend, promising to see each other over the break. You’d also made plans to see Jisung, since he was staying with Chan, who lived relatively close to you. You’d told your parents that you had a boyfriend, but weren’t really expecting them to be that fussed. They weren’t. They even offered for Jisung to come stay with you for a bit, and you weren’t about to pass up that opportunity.

On New Year’s Eve, Jisung came to stay with you for a week. A full week! Chan drove him over in the mid-afternoon, and nearly booted him out of the car.

“Go be with your girlfriend, you dork,” he called out the window as Jisung lugged his bag up the walkway to the house.

You’d come to open the door when you’d heard the car pull up, and laughed to see the stricken look on Jisung’s face.

“Come on in, Ji,” you said, kissing his cheek and waving to Chan.

It turned out that your parents loved Jisung. You both thanked any god that would listen for that stroke of luck—you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if they hadn’t. Jisung helped make meals, clean up, and generally participated in your home’s daily life. He seemed to fit perfectly.

Your family’s New Year’s celebrations were simple but joyous, with wishes for health and happiness for everyone. As the clock struck midnight, Jisung spun you around and dipped you, kissing you thoroughly. Holding you in the dip for a moment longer, he whispered in your ear, “Happy New Year, love,” while your mother clapped in the background.

During the lazy evening of New Year’s Day you decided to run your lines together. You might as well take the time you had now to memorize them. Plus, it would be far easier with two people. Pleased that you were holding your promise to yourself to memorize your lines before the spring semester began, you sat cross-legged on your bed, two pillows behind your back.

“Ji, can we try that bit again?” you asked. “Maybe try something like flippant rather than sarcastic, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah, that should work better,” Jisung replied, and began his first scene with you again.

You each did your best to rely on memory rather than the script, although neither of you had really memorized much.

After more fine-tuning of lines, it didn’t take long until Jisung was sprawled on the bed next to you. He was tracing spirals onto your thigh, causing the skin to tingle a little, even though the fabric of your leggings. Somehow, Jisung always managed to deliver his lines perfectly, despite seeming distracted. He’d even wormed his way up the bed so that his head rested on your chest, since you’d also slipped down your support of pillows. Working through scene after scene, you got closer to Darcy’s proposal. By now, Jisung had decided to lay fully on top of you, looking into your eyes as he delivered his lines.

As Elizabeth, you described your misjudgment of Darcy and the folly of both your actions and words. Now more than ever, you felt keenly aware of the similarities between you and Elizabeth Bennet. As you spoke, Jisung slowly kissed up your neck from your collarbone, occasionally nipping at the skin. You threaded one hand through his hair, gently carding it as you continued to read from the script. There was no trying to memorize now. It was getting more and more difficult to concentrate on your lines, especially once Jisung began to pepper your face with light kisses that reminded you of a butterfly dancing across your skin. You felt the heat and pressure of his body radiating to yours, causing your heart to race.

When the time came for Jisung’s lines, he paused to glance at the script just once. Then, he kissed you deeply, taking all the time in the world. His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt.

“My dearest Y/N.” Jisung spoke the first phrase against your lips and you smiled at his substitution of your name for Elizabeth’s.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do,” he continued. Jisung kissed you again, this time lingering at your mouth before kissing your cheek. With one hand in his hair, the other at his waist, you simply enjoyed the feeling of Jisung’s kisses.

“My feelings will not be repressed.” Jisung pressed his hips more firmly to yours and where his fingers ghosted across your skin were like little lines of fire. You exhaled, almost moaning, and caught his lips with yours.

Releasing your lips, Jisung murmured, “I do not know the month, the day, or the hour I fell in love with you, but my affections have not waned.” Then, as if kissing you were necessary to live, Jisung kissed you again. You nearly forgot that you’d been running lines.

Jisung propped himself up, and between nearly every word of the last sentence, he kissed a different part of you.

“You—he kissed your right temple—must—your forehead—allow—your nose—me—the corner of your lips—to tell you—he kissed the palm of your hand—how ardently—now he kissed your neck—I admire—then, your collarbone as he slid his body lower—and—your now bare shoulder—love you.” Jisung finally kissed your mouth again, and you knew there would be no more running of lines for the rest of the night.

Later in the week, you and Jisung were again occupied in your bedroom. Slipping off to kiss was one of the many things you did together, and today you were tangled together on the bed. You faintly heard a knock on the door downstairs and your father open it, welcoming however it was. You simply continued kissing Jisung, who was doing a very good job at making you breathless.

“Helloooooo,” a familiar voice called on the stairs. “Y/N! You up there?”

You started. Miri.

“Ji. Aaahh,” you gasped. You had to hold Jisung’s head away from your bare shoulder. “Jisung, stop. That’s Miri on the stairs,” you whispered. “Get under the bed—now!

Jisung rolled off the side of your bed with a loud thump as you straightened your shirt and patted down your hair. Quickly getting off the bed, you sat on the floor in front of your bed; thankfully, there was a large compendium of Shakespeare on the floor next to you. You took it up and opened it to a random page: As You Like It—of course, it was the play from which you’d first performed a monologue in college.

Just as you placed the book on your knees, Miri opened your door. “Hey, Y/N. Why didn’t you answer?” She looked down at you. “Oh. Why are you down there?”

“I was reading,” you lied smoothly, and hoped, yet again, that your lips weren’t too swollen from kissing.

“You always do dive into the world of whatever book you’re reading, don’t you. I heard a thump—you good?”

“Yeah. I just accidentally dropped this book off the bed, and then decided to stay down here with it,” you said. You felt Jisung’s hand on your back and you had to stop yourself from jumping at the contact.

“Just wanted to stop by to say ‘Hi,’ and to borrow your textbook from Dramaturgy I. You had to take that, right?” Miri sometimes took theatre classes, and would borrow books from you.

“Oh, yeah. It’s over on the bookshelf,” you said, glad to not have to get up, since you were sure Miri would be able to see Jisung if you did. And, he now hand his hand under the hem of your shirt.

“Thanks! So,” Miri continued as she got the book from the shelf, “what’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, not much. Just been enjoying time with my parents,” you said, trying to inject an air of levity into your voice. You desperately hoped it worked.

“That’s all?” Miri seemed incredulous. “You haven’t been, for example, going on dates or anything?”

You had to force yourself to take a breath before speaking. “Nope, not even dates, Mir.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. You could use a significant other . . ..”

“Well, maybe next semester!” you said brightly. Jisung, thankfully, had taken his hand off your back by now. You looked back down at the page you’d been supposedly reading.

Miri sighed. “You’re still in school mode, aren’t you. Well, I guess there’s no having fun with you when you’re like that.”

You looked up at your best friend, a rueful smile on your face. “Sorry, Mir.”

“It’s okay, babe. How about we get together next week, okay?” Miri said as she left your room.

“Sounds good,” you replied, keeping perfectly still with the smile on your face until you heard the front door open and close.

You let out a the breath you’d been holding and set down the book. Jisung squirmed his way out from under the bed.

He sat next to you with a smirk. “So, where were we?”

You could scarcely believe that you’d only been dating Jisung for a month and a half—it felt much, much longer. As you spent even more time together and, in fact, lived together, it was surprisingly easy to fall into a routine. You had known each other for the past three years, after all. Unlike some couples, you weren’t starting from barely knowing each other, either; yes, you didn’t know the deepest secrets of your hearts (yet), but you had been, at least, known to one another.

And now, you most certainly knew one another.

You and Jisung now had ample time to simply be together. More often than not, you’d be touching, whether holding hands or curled together on the couch. Your favorite thing was falling asleep in Jisung’s arms. It usually happened while you were watching a show or movie, or reading, together. You would lay on top of him, on your back, with his arms around you; you always held your clasped hands to your chest, as if to keep him close to your heart. After you’d fallen asleep like this twice, you realized that you must look like sea otters. In these quiet moments, Jisung’s hands fascinated you. You played with his fingers as your hands were intertwined, running your thumb over his in soft, slow strokes. Or, you’d trace patterns into his skin with your index finger, sometimes writing words across it or just following the lines on his palms.

Just Jisung’s steady breathing and heartbeat lulled you into that pink world between sleeping and waking. If you looked up at him with puppy eyes, he’d hum a little and you’d fall asleep even faster. Though, upon waking, you’d pepper him with kisses anywhere you could reach—his cheeks, chest, biceps, wrists, nose, shoulder, wherever. Just to gently press your lips to his skin was enough for you. Small, simple acts were how you liked to show affection.

You were so comfortable with Jisung now, and, really, you were glad of it. You liked having him as your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. What an amazing idea. If, at this time last year, someone had told you you’d be dating Han Jisung, you would have surely laughed in their face. But now, you couldn’t imagine having it any other way. In the deepest recesses of your heart, you felt love begin to stir.

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