#chance encounter in the backyard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zreamy · 2 years ago

Text

won't let you go (this time)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: back home for good after a semi-unsuccessful first year at university in a new city, you’re looking forward to getting back into the routines of your old life in the town you grew up in but the one person you’d been desperate to see doesn’t seem too pleased about your return :(

genre: angst.. ......... fluff, smut, college au, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slow burn

warnings: minors dni, british in a way that's not vague (might be vague.. it's hard to tell when ur british), so so long, sad heeseung, long paragraphs..

word count: 36,007 .. (apparently, i'm in a competition with myself to see who can write the longest fic)

playlist: seasons wave to earth, understand keshi

author's note: writing this fic was like pulling teeth and then cooking pasta out of it.. bUT IT'S DONE !!! also one of these scenes is smth i reworked from a fic i posted to wattpad in 2021.. thanks @asahicore for the beta u rock ! and as always be lmk ur thoughts (positive/negative/anything) 🤍

fic taglist: @enhastolemyheart

Lee Heeseung had often imagined what it would be like when he saw you again.

Sometimes, he envisioned you standing on his doorstep, playing with the cuffs of your sweater. Other times he’d dream up a chance encounter at the local grocery shop, where you’d be distracted and bump the end of your trolley into his. He’d even pictured a sun-soaked vacation, a gorgeous white sand beach where the temperature would be inching past the thirties. You, laying out on a patterned towel, lost in the pages of a book, and your pretty face obscured by its cover. Yet, even with the sun in his eyes and his poor vision, he’d recognise you without a doubt.

Regardless of circumstance or setting, in all of his hazy daydreams, you’d look up at him with unbridled love in your eyes and say the words he wanted to hear all those months ago: I choose you.

Heeseung had always imagined that his heart might glow in his chest, through his shirt like something from Jane the Virgin, and you’d know you made the wrong decision.

But sometimes, typically when in an alcohol-fuelled state of despondence, these images would be rougher around the edges. Heeseung would be hot, with bleach-blond hair and thick dark brows—a walking, talking beacon of sexual energy when you’d see him. In his head, it would happen at a party or a club somewhere, and he’d be too busy talking to another girl to notice you, his arm hanging off of her, lust clear in his eyes. Somehow, even in sweatpants and an old hoodie of his, you’d still look as beautiful as always.

“Heeseung,” you’d say, completely crushed with tears welling up in your eyes under furrowed brows. “I choose you.”

Reluctantly, he’d draw his eyes away from the girl and notice you, finally, and a smile would spread on his lips, a mean one, condescending. He’d shrug, wrapping his arm tighter around the girl and say, “You’re too late.” He wouldn’t mean it, but he’d say it just to drive you crazy. Make you beg him to take you back for months until he felt you’d suffered enough—as much as he had.

These thoughts were few and far between and mainly followed by hot, guilty tears rolling down his cheeks because he knew it was his fault. After all, he was the one to let you go.

For now though, the little round table in Mark’s backyard seats four, and, in the arms of a balmy summer night, Heeseung chooses the seat closest to the fence. The garden light is still busted so in his seat of choice, furthest from the kitchen door, he’ll go completely unnoticed but still see anyone who might join him outside.

His phone is freezing when he takes it from his pocket and unsurprisingly holds no notifications beyond the outsiiiide text he’d gotten from Jake before the party started. Through Instagram stories, Heeseung watches the night play out from the perspective of people who are enjoying themselves while ignoring the voice in his head that tells him he could be one of those people if he tried.

Maybe he was a fool for believing that tonight would go differently and that the boys would keep their ‘bro’s night’ promise for longer than it took to cross the threshold—but it’s not like he blames them. Maybe he was a fool for believing he would find more company than his somewhat abandoned bottle of Peroni that watches him mockingly from the glass table.

He grimaces after taking a sip from it, remembering that he was only ever carrying it around so his friends wouldn’t feel the need to load him with shots. Now he’s not so sure that would’ve been a bad thing, seeing as he’s completely sober and aware of the tightness in his chest as he scrolls through the text thread he’s had pinned for years. Its end came abruptly; revived only by an ignored blue bubble saying: i heard you’re back home for the summer..

Seeing it now, he regrets hitting send even more than he did two weeks ago. Heeseung hates himself for believing the boys when they said it was a good thing that you opened the message right away. “Means she’s thinking of u 2 dude,” was Jake's message to the group chat (along with four bicep emojis and two red exclamation marks). Jay replied: i hope you guys can talk things out! And Sunghoon didn’t say anything.

All your conversations bring up memories that hurt more than the last but he has to take a break when he reaches a text you sent last January: i had so much fun tonight, hee, idk how to thank u enough :((( i hope ur not in too much trouble.. i love you i love you and i’ll love you forever !!!

He ended up getting grounded for three weeks and lost car privileges for months after staying out four hours past curfew, but he’d do it a million times over if it meant he’d get to see you as happy as you were that night on the two-hour drive back, running your fingertips over the Sharpie autograph of your favourite author on the book’s front page—“Heeseung?”

His jaw falls slack and his whole body stiffens. If you don’t count old videos in his camera roll, Heeseung hasn’t heard your voice in over a year. The back door slides shut and when he finally lifts his head, he wants to throw up. Even without the glow of the kitchen lights on your face, he’d still be able to make out the cute point of your nose, and the slight curve of your soft lips. Unfortunately, the breakup only seems to have made you even more beautiful and he hates himself for wishing you were having a hard time too.

“Hey,” you say. “Can I sit?”

Regaining his mobility, he moves his shoulders in a stiff shrug. The sound of your chair scraping the concrete makes him cringe and he hates that you chose the seat closest to him.

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

Heeseung scoffs, his brows furrowing defensively. “You didn’t think I’d be at my friend’s party?”

You set your jaw. “Okay.”

An unbearable silence follows, so heavy he can feel it sitting on his shoulders, weighing him down. There’s no way to know how much time has passed but he feels less tense when you start to hum, drumming your fingers against the table to the beat of whatever song the kitchen door is struggling to muffle. If he doesn’t think too hard about the lingering quiet, it feels like everything is okay between you two.

His heart races when you giggle. “You still do that?”

“Do what?”

You smile before mirroring his expression, puffing up your cheeks and exhaling dramatically a few times. Due to the heat, nothing comes of it but you laugh anyway. “You always liked when it was cold enough out to see your breath. I remember having to nudge you every night of summer to get you to stop.”

To Heeseung, there’s something sinister about the fact that you can so easily bring up a memory you share with him. About the fact that even after what happened, his cheeks heat up just from seeing you grin. He deflates, unable to look at you, finding interest in the label on his bottle instead. It’s slightly curled up at its edge, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before peeling it off completely—with some struggle, leaving a sticky patch in its wake. Under your loaded stare, he folds it a little to make a square before trying to craft a swan or a crane (you were the one who knew these things) from the sticker.

Your hands are just as soft as he remembers when your fingers touch his, though it shocks him so much he drops the label, immediately withdrawing his hands and, for lack of a better option, sitting on them. Even softer than your hands is your voice when you say, “I don’t want things to be so tense between us.”

It must be easy, he thinks. For you to say something like that after dumping him. Heeseung wants to laugh, to let his head fall back and cackle from sheer disbelief; you really must have some nerve. Instead, a bitterness, raging and sour, works in his chest, choking the laughter into silence. It pushes his lips into a scowl as he lifts his head to look at you. You’re shivering with your arms crossed over your chest and Heeseung softens. Without thinking, he shrugs off his flannel to drape it over your shoulders, almost regretting it when he fixes his tongue to scold you playfully like he used to. Still too hot for a jacket, right, baby? he wants to say. This is the last time I’m doing this for you, next time you’re on your own. Heeseung figures that somewhere, in another reality where you’re still together, a version of him says these things but continues to give you his flannels and jackets anyway.

He’d give anything to be that Heeseung instead.

Over the last year, he’s been replacing the clothes in his wardrobe. He noticed that during your time together you steadily wore every t-shirt, flannel, and hoodie he owned. Now, as you thank him with a sincere smile, he realises he’ll have to donate his new favourite shirt too.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask, reaching in to find out. A bleak carton of cigarettes sits full in your hands as you look over at him with wide eyes. “You smoke now?”

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Never.”

Back and forth between your hands, the box and its contents rustle. “Really? Because this—” You pause to pull a lighter from the same pocket. “—and this tell me something different.”

“Sunghoon’s quitting again,” he explains, with air quotes around the word quitting.

“Oh.” You let out a laugh, nodding fondly. “He’s on, like, five weeks or something by now, though, right? Surely you don’t still need to carry these around for him.”

His head tilts so quickly he hurts his neck. With knitted brows, he inspects you. Nothing about your expression seems like you’re trying to hurt him, in truth, you look like you’re being quite sincere; your eyes are wide, curious, and your lips are quirked up at the corners with an amusement he adores. “Six,” he corrects. “How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“You guys still talk?”

A shoulder-dropping sigh falls from your mouth as you put the cigarettes and lighter back in his pocket, raking a hand through your hair. “You’re the only one who doesn’t talk to me anymore,” you say in a small voice.

The five of you stuck together in high school — where he and Jay first met you, Jake, and Sunghoon — and he knew it would be unreasonable for him to expect your shared friends, especially the youngest two whom you’d known longer, to turn on you. He also figured, given how close you’d grown to Jay, and his undying rationality, that his best friend would outright refuse to shun you on Heeseung’s behalf. Even though they didn’t need his permission, he told them that he didn’t want them to feel like they had to pick sides and that he was perfectly happy for them to keep talking to you. On one condition: that none of them tell him anything about you or your life without him unless you’re hurt—a condition they’ve clearly carried out more faithfully than Heeseung expected them to.

Bile rises in his throat thinking about all the things your friends have kept from him about your year away. His heart twists over mundane details like your class schedules and favourite things to eat for lunch, and his eyes sting with tears over the important stuff like new friends and, worst of all, new partners.

Heeseung jolts out of his chair, knocking the table so hard with his thighs that his bottle tips over. You’re quick to catch it. “My mum’s calling,” he blurts out, overwhelmed.

“Heeseung.”

“I really have to go.”

“Heeseung!” you call out, but he’s already back inside.

You don’t follow him.

But that was in June, and now it’s September.

While his friends complain about the chill of autumn, Heeseung’s just happy he can comfortably wear hoodies everywhere again. In a cool lecture hall, home to his Ethics and Responsibility class for the next few months, he relishes the feeling of soft cotton against his ears as he copies the course reading list into the first page of his notebook.

“Is someone sitting here?”

Heeseung’s stomach sinks to the floor. Reluctantly, he lifts his head, and through the gaps in his bangs, he sees you and the way your face falls when you see him, instantly looking around the room.

“Oh,” you say, eyes blown. “I’m sorry, I’ll just..” you trail off.

He scans the room, chewing his lip when he realises that, despite the lecturer not having arrived yet, the seat to his left, with his backpack on it, is the only empty one. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant as he takes his bag from the chair and puts it on the floor.

“Thanks,” you mumble, frowning a little as you sit down.

In the light of day, he really sees you and a lone butterfly, one he was sure had died with the rest last year, flutters lazily in his stomach—wings buzzing against the lining, tickling him. Even with messy hair and tired bags under your eyes, you’re just as beautiful as the first time he saw you. It’s unfair, he thinks. That you could be dealing with this and still manage to look presentable. Jealousy kills the butterfly, stirring a pit in his belly at the thought that you were able to break up with him and continue with life as normal on the other end of the country, making new friends and new memories as if nothing happened.

Even when Dr. Kim comes in and starts the class, Heeseung can’t take his eyes off of you. You haven’t lost any of your mannerisms, he notices when you stick your tongue out a little while typing notes as the lecturer says them, barely looking up from your laptop to see the slides.

At the end of the lecture, all he has to show for it is the reading list and a couple of bullet points that seemed important as he copied them from your screen. Side by side, you silently walk down the stairs to leave the room, and the sight of Sunghoon through the doorway pulls a relieved sigh from Heeseung’s chest.

Sunghoon’s brows raise seeing you together and he clears his throat when you’re close enough. “Hey, you two! My little study buddies,” he says in a strained voice. “First day back! First day for you, YN, what was that like?” He sounds like he’s reading from a script as he walks between you.

Heeseung lets you answer, listening to your voice as he walks behind you down the stairs. He wonders if things will be this way forever, briefly contemplating throwing himself over the bannister so he doesn’t have to find out. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it, talking excitedly with Sunghoon about the class, mentioning things Heeseung hadn’t even heard, despite having sat through the same hour-long introduction lecture as you. He trails behind the two of you all the way to the library, where Jay is sleeping with his chin on his arms and Jake is staring at the table of contents in his textbook. You cut yourself off, jogging over to the table they’re sitting at to wake Jay. As soon as you wrap your arms around him, he flinches, waking up with his brows pulled together.

“What are you doing?” Jay mumbles, trying to shake you off.

As Heeseung sits beside Jake, he skims over the front page of the textbook, trying to remember what tensile strength means. Sunghoon stands at the end of the table looking at his phone, and you sit next to Jay, pulling your seat a little closer and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. Heeseung looks away, trying to bury the unease building in his stomach.

Sunghoon breaks the silence. “Can we go get food?” And suddenly, you all stand up, filing out of the library towards the Tesco Express down the road.

Jay and Sunghoon take the lead, picking up their lunch without much thought before waiting in line at the self-checkout, while you, Jake, and Heeseung spend an ungodly amount of time weighing up options in front of the meal deals. Heeseung gets the same thing every time but looks at every single sandwich, drink, and snack option just in case before picking up his food.

“Just cheese is crazy, bro,” Jake says, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

Heeseung shrugs. “It’s reliable.”

“It’s absurd.”

You hum between the two of them, tilting your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I think it’s cute.” Your shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug, almost as if you haven’t just paid Heeseung a compliment for the first time in a year and three months.

Jake’s eyebrows raise, a grin playing on his lips as he glances between the two of you when you step forward, pulling a just cheese sandwich from the shelf too. “Cute,” he repeats. “Sure.”

Outside, Jay and Sunghoon are sitting on a half-finished brick wall, and while normally, Heeseung would say something to interrupt Jay’s never-ending lecture series on making the most of your meal deal, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself or the small smile he’s struggling to keep off his face.

“Hoon, think about it,” he says, resting his giant can of Red Bull on the stepped brick next to him. “A meal deal costs £3. You get a sandwich, a drink, and a snack, all for £3. You, foolishly, bought a sandwich, a snack, and a bottle of water, you gave them money.”

“Yeah, man, anyone who shops anywhere gives money, that’s, like, an entry-level requirement.”

“But I’m taking money from Tesco, you get it?”

Jake sighs, taking a seat next to Sunghoon. “You’re technically right, but you still paid for your food under a promotion Tesco created. If you really wanted to take from Tesco, you should be stealing your lunch. Also, the sandwich he got was £2.85, and there’s more water in his bottle than Red Bull in your can, so I actually think Hoon got the better offer today.”

Beside Heeseung, you roll your eyes, wrestling with a packet of crisps while juggling everything in your hands. Seeing your struggle, he reaches over, taking hold of your drink and sandwich. “Thanks,” you mumble, smiling. You glance towards Jay and Sunghoon, then back at Heeseung. “Are they always like this?”

He nods with a slight frown. A tiny laugh comes through your nose as you nod too.

During the walk back to campus, as you split your sandwich with Sunghoon, Heeseung has an unsettling realisation. If he wants to get you back, he’ll have to start out being your friend. He’s not too sure what that will look like, seeing as the two of you were friends for six weeks — that he spent hopelessly in love with you — before he asked you out. All he knows is he wants to be the one you share your lunch and link arms with unthinkingly. While he assumes that your shared friend group and three out of four classes will naturally lead to friendship, things might go better if he makes an effort.

He doesn’t.

Not today at least. The second and last class of the day ends much like the first, with a heading in his notebook, and slowly reviving butterflies in his stomach every time your knee bumps into his under the desk. Again, neither of you says much as you leave the class to go meet Jay in the library. He’s awake this time, grinning at the girl across from him.

“They’re so cute!”

“They’re talking.”

“Yeah, in a cute way. Look at the smile on his face,” you say as if anyone could miss Jay’s grin or the way it widens when he notices you and Heeseung staring.

Yunjin immediately looks over, waving before getting out of her seat to come over. She greets Heeseung with a hug before flinging her arms around you, gushing about how it’s been so long. Heeseung feels his brow raise when you giggle and say, “We hung out two weeks ago.”

She loosens her hold on you, looking down into your eyes with a shocked look. “Yeah, two weeks too many. What are you doing later?”

It feels like Heeseung skipped a chapter and his stomach hurts when he realises he has—a whole year's worth of the contents of your life. Of course, Jay already introduced Yunjin to you, of course, you’re already friends.

Leaving you with Yunjin in the library, Heeseung and Jay walk back to their flat. They take the long route home, through the winding bike path and over the creaky footbridge by Sunghoon’s old apartment. Jay is eerily quiet, only responding in nods and hums—this silence means one of two things, he’s either too exhausted to speak or he’s saving his words to reprimand Heeseung at home.

Outside their flat, Jay hesitates, gripping the handle tightly before turning to Heeseung. In his eyes is a familiar look, the one he typically wears before telling someone off and Heeseung bites his tongue lest he pisses Jay off even more. A few times, Jay opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, exhaling a deep sigh as he rests his head against the door. “I want you to know I’m on your side, sort of,” he says. “If it’s too hard being around YN, we can always hang out together instead, just us.”

Jay’s key clicks in the lock and Heeseung watches, shocked. He didn’t expect that at all.

“It’s not like it’s hard, just weird, you know?” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, leaving his shoes by the door while Jay locks it before following him into the living room and sinking into the couch. “We have the same friends, so I can’t avoid her, but I don’t think I want to.”

“Like I said, we can just hang out on our own if we’re on campus.” Jay pauses for a beat, clearly pleased by whatever he’s thinking about as a smile spreads on his face. “It might do you some good being around her though, like, to see why none of us want to date her.”

The offer is generous and Heeseung spends a while considering it. But as Jay said, it probably would be a good thing to hang out with you if he wants to build the friendship he finds himself craving.

“It might also do you some good to, you know.. start looking nice again. It’s been a year, dude, and she’s back now, don’t you want her seeing what she’s missing out on?”

Heeseung cocks his head to the side, surprised and honestly a little offended. “Are you saying I’m ugly now?”

“No, I’m saying it probably wouldn’t hurt to put some essence in your hair, touch up your roots, and, you know, use deodorant.”

Reflexively, he grabs the pit of his hoodie, bringing it to his nose and sniffing furiously. The only thing he can smell is fresh detergent and he looks at Jay with a frown. “So you think I should change everything about myself basically.”

“I hate to be the one to say it..” Jay trails off, head falling back in contagious laughter. “Seriously though, if you want her back or, at least, want her to miss you, start putting some effort in.”

Heeseung’s eyes are wide as saucers. “She doesn’t miss me?”

“You spent the whole day together, why would she miss you?”

“So she doesn’t.”

“I didn’t say that.” Jay shrugs.

Outside, a cloud moves away from the sun, letting it shine right through the window and into Heeseung’s eyes. He squints a little, groaning before bringing his arm over his face to shield himself. Jay laughs and Heeseung flips him off. “You didn’t really say anything.”

“Are you crying?” Jay coos.

“Sure.”

“Too bad, I’m taking a nap. Club later?”

Heeseung grunts in response, considering taking a nap too.

A dramatic sigh tugs its way from Jay’s chest. “Look, it’s not my place to say, but she told me a few months ago she was miserable in first year, something about wanting to see some guy she dated in high school.”

“You knew she was coming back?” Heeseung practically jumps in his seat, sitting up straighter. “You knew I’d see her today and you let me leave the house looking like this?” It’s not like he looks bad in his oversized black hoodie and sweatpants but he might have taken the time to do more than run a hand through his hair this morning if he knew.

Jay holds his hands up defensively. “You said you didn’t want to hear anything about her unless she died. I was just doing what you told me to.”

“I think it goes without saying that that would’ve been a nice thing to know.”

“Noted.” Jay nods. “Club later?”

Despite saying no, Heeseung finds himself at the club anyway, having a friendly dance battle with Jay while you hype them up, filming blurry videos with your finger over the camera lens. Jake and Sunghoon came out too but went off to find girls.

Heeseung spent all of pres and the journey to the club worrying about being drunk around you. Or rather, worrying about being drunk around drunk you. Drunk you who typically gets clingy and oversentimental just looking at a bottle of vodka, or brings up old memories and uses pouty, gloss-coated lips to say things without thinking of the consequences. For better or for worse, you haven’t done any of that yet.

Between knocking back drinks and rivalling the club photographer, you find time to make a look of disgust every time a guy comes near you, immediately shaking your head and pressing yourself against Heeseung before mumbling an apology in his ear each time, even though he tells you it’s okay. Your admirers start to dwindle when he dances with you to a song you like, letting you hold his hand and pull him closer, all while wishing he’d stayed asleep on the couch.

It’s only when the fifth guy shows up with a stupid smirk on his face, that Heeseung speaks up. His arm finds your waist and he holds you close as he looks at the stranger. “Dude, leave her alone,” he says, angling his shoulder to him in an attempt to shield you. “She’s not interested.” The weight of his words is lost on him until the guy rolls his eyes, shrugging and mumbling whatever as he leaves.

He saw how uncomfortable you looked after being approached and hated how long it took for you to start enjoying yourself again, so in the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. To look after you. But now, as he stands with his hand on your waist, his skin touching yours at the hem of your shirt, he’s starting to feel like he’s crossed a line. It’s the worst possible time to freeze in place but there’s nothing he can do about it, and Jay staring at him, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, isn’t exactly helping.

With embarrassment burning his cheeks and neck, Heeseung finally looks down at you. You look almost as shocked as Jay for a split second before letting your hand rest on his chest, smiling. The moment feels endless until you lean up to his ear and Heeseung has to bend down a bit. “Thank you, Hee,” you say, still smiling when you pull back.

All he can do is nod, smiling too.

Over your head, he sees Jay grinning and the heat returns to his cheeks. As if suddenly aware of your position — your hands now resting on his shoulders, chests held together by your grip on each other — the smile falls from your face as you take a huge step back, bumping into Jay while Heeseung’s hand slips from your body.

“Let’s get more drinks!” you yell to Jay, slinging an arm over his shoulders to pull him away.

On his own, Heeseung dances to three whole songs, only stopping when Yoo Jimin wraps her arm around him, holding him in the world’s tightest hug. “Lee Heeseung, did I just see you all over a girl?” The interaction takes him by surprise, seeing as he hasn’t actually spoken to her since before summer. “Let’s go for drinks soon, to say congrats on finally moving on!”

This, of course, is when you and Jay finally return. Jimin notices before he does. “Be good to him,” she yells, smiling, and never letting go of Heeseung. “Bad breakup!”

You stand there, holding two drinks so tightly your hands start shaking, causing one to spill over your fingers. A strained smile spreads over your lips as you nod. “Right! I’ll try!”

As quickly as she appears, Jimin vanishes with a smile on her face, pleased with herself. You visibly relax, handing Heeseung his drink and swaying to the music again. Just like at high school parties, you let Jay sling his arm over your shoulders as you dance together. Back then, you’d dance with all of your friends while waiting for Heeseung to return, usually with a cup of water for you to drink, but tonight, with Heeseung standing there, it seems like he’s as good as dead according to you.

It’s around 2 a.m. when you and Jay decide you’ve had enough, with Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. After failing to locate Sunghoon and easily finding Jake with his cap on backwards and makeup all over his mouth and cheeks, the three of you let him know you’re going home.

As seems to be the unspoken rule amongst your friends, Jay walks between the two of you while trying to convince you both that if you had fun tonight, there’s no reason to regret having gone out. Even if it means you’ll be sitting in class holding your eyes open. Heeseung ignores him, conspiring out loud about Sunghoon’s whereabouts—getting lost on his way to the restroom or finding an ice rink out back.

For a while, you entertain him before sighing. “I saw in the chat, he said he’s out talking to a girl he saw wearing a band shirt—Nirvana.”

The notion is so surprising that Heeseung almost stops in his tracks. Jay voices his shock with a raised brow and an incredulous tone. “Hoon listens to Nirvana?”

“No, but she’s pretty. I had to send him a screenshot of their popular songs on Spotify when one of her friends came over looking for a lighter.”

At Jay’s request, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the walk back to your flat trying to name fifteen Nirvana songs. By the time you reach the lift in your building, you’ve successfully listed nine and the three of you stand inside while you look for your keys. On your doorstep, you pull Jay into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear that makes him laugh as he pats you on the back and says, “You probably could.”

Pathetically, Heeseung hopes you’ll hug him too. With no hesitation, you do, arms locking around his neck, leaving him with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you whisper, lingering by his ear before burying your face in the base of his neck.

Heeseung holds his breath, counting to twelve before you lean away from him, your arms in place as you look up into his eyes. “I’m always going to look out for you,” he manages to say. He can already hear Jay teasing him about it when they’re alone, but the smile on your face is worth it.

In your doorway, you wave goodbye and they wait outside until they hear your lock clicking before heading home, where Jay doesn’t tease Heeseung at all.

Turns out, getting home at 3 a.m. when he has a class at 10 o’clock doesn’t fit in amongst any of his better ideas, but still, he gets out of bed and gets ready, heeding Jay’s advice and scheduling a hair appointment on his way to class.

As soon as he sits down, he gets a text from Jay: thinking of getting smth pierced later, come with?

Heeseung: what is smth.

Jay: cartilage probs

Heeseung: im getting my roots done at 5

Jay: okayyyyyyy good shit man !!! tmrw?

Heeseung: 👍👍👍

It shouldn’t surprise Heeseung that you look good, but the sight of you walking through the door in your zip-up hoodie and jeans almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re holding your notebook to your chest, stopping in the middle of the stairs and sighing when the white strap of your tote bag slips from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. You apologise to the people behind you before rushing up the stairs to Heeseung’s row, putting your things down and slumping into the seat beside him. The room suddenly feels warmer when you take off your hoodie and next to you and your bare arms, his heart starts to race.

“Do you have, like, an interview or something?” you ask, doodling in the margin of your notebook, filling the space with pretty butterflies that make his heart race.

Heeseung, who hasn’t looked for a job in two years, panics. “No?”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, looking away from him. “A date? Maybe?” There’s something in your voice that makes him want to say yes and see your reaction, but the look on your face makes his stomach turn.

“No, ne—just no.”

“You can tell me if you’re going on a date.”

“Why would I go on a date?”

You shrug, gesturing to his outfit. Heeseung looks down at himself and the cream-coloured cardigan he’s wearing. “You just look nice, that’s all,” you mumble after a while. Suddenly, Jay’s Prada loafers squeezing his toes doesn’t seem so bad and Heeseung sits through the whole lecture with a smile on his face.

The leaves yellowed on October first, and unfortunately for Heeseung, the last two weeks didn’t play out how he hoped they would. Of course, he knew that you flinging your arms around him and confessing your love was probably a far stretch. But this is torture. You only talk to him when the rest of the boys are around, and even then, you only say things like, what time does class start? and do you have a pen I can borrow?

His nice outfits don’t let up, but his hair is so long these days that you don’t take any notice of the throbbing hole through his cartilage that Jay somehow convinced him to get. Or so Heeseung tells himself because his ears stick out as far as his shoulders.

Today marks the first time he’s sat in the library during the day for more than ten minutes, and it’s surprisingly busy. Most of his library trips take place in the early hours of the morning, playing his way through the Papa’s Gameria franchise on the computer next to Jake, who spends several minutes at a time staring at his fancy engineering software before clicking the mouse and staring again. So seeing the steady flow of students come in and out, setting up camp at their tables with headphones and thick binders, while groups of friends whisper amongst themselves, leaning back in their seats and gasping every now and then feels like a culture shock.

There’s about an hour until your class finishes, and he’s been sitting here for two hours already since his Music and Identity class ended, wondering if he’s making a mistake by waiting for you. Especially because he knows you’re not expecting him to. He’s at a table right by the library’s entrance, so you’ll see him on the way out and it can feel like a chance encounter. Uncharacteristically, he’s used this time quite wisely, deciding to go through the reading he was given on the role music plays in maintaining cultural identity among diaspora communities and making notes in the margins of his handout until your class is done.

Impatience starts to settle in after thirty minutes so he texts you to see to ask if your class is over yet. Immediately, your response lights up his screen: yeah about an hour ago but i stayed home lmao what’s up :)

Staring down at the message, he sighs, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he tries to come up with something to say. This goes on for a while until he realises what he’s doing and his heart clenches. How did you go from spending every waking moment texting each other to clutching at straws for a valid reason to talk?

At the very least, the smiley face you sent is doing wonders for his declining mood.

Heeseung settles on, “i just left office hours and wanted to know if anyone was still around haha,” before hiding his face with his hands.

oh nooooooo :( sorry dude, you reply. how’d it go?

In the six years he spent by your side, he’s never known you to use the word dude—at least not with him. By the looks of things, it seems like your time away was spent studying Jake’s texting patterns or a secret other thing that makes his head hurt when he thinks about it.

Sighing, Heeseung types back: good! had a couple questions after sem but it went well!

You react to the message with a heart but don’t reply. He doesn’t have enough time to think about what that might mean because Mark approaches the table, clutching the straps of his backpack with a grin on his face that makes Heeseung feel at ease, like a wide-eyed first year riddled with anxious excitement.

“You look good, man. You going somewhere nice later?” Mark asks, dapping him up.

Heeseung shakes his head. “Just home.”

“Nice.” Mark nods, gasping after a beat. “Did you hear? I made captain!”

“That’s major, dude, congrats! I knew you would.” If anyone deserves to be team captain, it’s Mark Lee. He was captain of the basketball team in high school and vetoed his spot to Heeseung when he graduated. Two years later, when Heeseung came to college, Mark had been enthusiastic about him joining the team too.

“I’ve been thinking that my first official act as captain should be getting you back on the team?” Mark’s voice tips up at the end, his brows raising hopefully.

The last time Heeseung was on the home court, he cried with the ball in his hands because he overheard someone in the crowd saying they didn’t think he could make the shot—they were right. He laughs, shaking his head. “Way too much pressure in uni basketball. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“I’m not giving up on you,” Mark says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I hear your birthday’s coming up, can I host?”

“Host what?”

Mark’s hands clap soundlessly as he laughs. “A party, obviously! Twenty’s a big one! I’ll text you the deets, alright?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like Heeseung has a choice because Mark’s already walking away, still laughing to himself.

In Heeseung’s eyes, there’s nothing better than knocking back (more than) a few bottles of soju with friends and singing your heart out in the four walls of a karaoke room. Worried about killing the mood, he enjoys from a distance, staying glued to the booth, ad-libbing for the boys and polishing off their drinks as discreetly as he can. The table is adorned with a collection of empty bottles and buckets of feasted-upon fried chicken that still envelop the room in a mouth-watering aroma, while a green strobe light pierces the air as Jake and Sunghoon wrap up their cover of Party Rock Anthem.

By the time Jay manages to convince Heeseung to sing something, he’s four bottles in and searching for the most heart-wrenching ballad he can find. Sofa by Crush has always been his favourite karaoke song. Even when it first came out and he was in a happy relationship; even at home, alone in the kitchen, using a broom handle as a makeshift microphone, singing until his voice went hoarse and tears stained his shirt.

It feels like fate when the song’s title flashes across the screen in big bold letters and he knows there’s no real way to ignore destiny, so he chooses it and stands up from his seat. Weighed down by alcohol and an aching heart, he stumbles to the front of the room to stand with his back to his friends. Clutching the mic until his knuckles turn white, he takes a deep breath, letting the intro wash over him before singing. He gets through the first half of the song before practically caving in on himself, too moved by the lyrics to stay on two feet. To Heeseung’s credit, he’s always had a beautiful voice, so he’s not exactly tanking in that respect, but if he was even a tiny bit more cognisant, he’d scrape himself up from his knees and finish the rest of the song in the same light-hearted way everyone else had.

The lights shift through red and blue, casting a pretty glow over the dim space and streaking purples and pinks all over the walls—aesthetically, the room is as moody as Heeseung feels. If he had eyes on the back of his head (or picked himself and his dignity from the floor) he might notice the way everyone else in the room is struck by his sadness, with all three boys sitting in solemn silence as a drunk Jay records the whole thing.

Tired of watching his friend fall apart, Sunghoon gets up from his seat, muttering dick at Jay for filming before taking the phone from his hands and cutting off the recording. He lifts Heeseung at the armpits like a baby and takes the mic. Clearing his throat, Sunghoon half-heartedly finishes the rest of the song while Heeseung cries into his shoulder. Their duet scores them 63 points and Jay spends the next few minutes texting. Heeseung appreciates Sunghoon’s efforts, crying more as his emotions oscillate from love for his friend to yearning for you, all while Jake attempts to lift the mood with a genuinely moving performance of Highway to Hell. From the way he’s air-drumming and bouncing his leg to the song, anyone could tell that Sunghoon is desperate to join in, but holding back for Heeseung’s sake. With a hiccup, Heeseung wipes his tears with his sleeve and throws himself out to the front, accompanying Jake with an air guitar. It’s only during the start of the second verse that Jay and Sunghoon join in, and a full-fledged rock band moment falls upon them as if gifted from heaven.

After another hour of singing and drinking, Heeseung and Jay race up their apartment building’s stairs. Panting heavily, with his heart beating in his throat, Heeseung’s knees ache when he reaches the top — though caught up in catching his breath and the sight of you sleeping against the doorframe — he can’t even celebrate his win.

“Huh,” Jay says when he joins him. “How’d she get here?”

Heeseung can only shrug in response.

Suddenly self-conscious in your presence, he stands up straighter, pushing some of his hair off his forehead. Jay moves from behind him, approaching you, but Heeseung’s too hung up on the way you hold your jacket tight around your body to do the same. He wants to though—wants to help you out, pick you up and hold you in his arms, kiss your forehead and lovingly scold you for staying out in the cold. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well.

Instead, he remains glued to the spot, watching Jay wake you up, only mobilising when you’re on your feet, stretching your arms above your head. To you, the sliver of skin peeking out where your shirt ends and your jeans begin is a fleeting detail, lost entirely under a veil of just-risen drowsiness. Yet, to Heeseung, it’s everything. It’s enough to make him want to beg you for a second chance right then and there. But he’s not drunk enough to convince himself you’ll take that well either.

You’re talking with Jay and there’s a crease in your brow when Heeseung reaches you. Your voices were too quiet to make sense of with the distance but now he hears you loud and clear. “You told me almost two hours ago that you guys were leaving soon,” you sigh, rubbing your neck.

Jay snorts, missing the keyhole a few times before catching it. “Should’ve just joined in, stupid.”

“It was boy’s night and you made it very clear that I don’t count. And when I asked what bar you guys were at, you just said doesn’t matter, leaving in ten, and, by the way, none of it was spelt correctly. It felt like you were using code.”

“Caesar Cipher, perhaps?”

“Pig Latin, more like,” you scoff, leaning against the wall.

A mischievous grin spreads over Jay’s lips and Heeseung already hates whatever he’s about to say. “Ixnay on the Eeseunghay.” Yeah, Heeseung hates it. He glances between the two of you, picking up on the smile you can’t hide as you roll your eyes.

Your gaze finds Heeseung’s and your lips curl into a frown as you look back at Jay. “Otgay ityay.” You nod firmly.

From context — and memories of numerous private conversations the two of you used to have in his presence — he figures it’s Pig Latin, a linguistic puzzle more intricate than any the English language has ever thrown at him.

After a beat, you nod towards the open door. “Get inside.”

You follow the boys in and lock the door when Jay hands you his keys. He quickly heads to his room, leaving Heeseung shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the living room, staring at you. Save for Jay’s bedroom, all of the lights are off. The only light shines through the open blinds, a vivid orange beam coming from a streetlight outside, casting a harsh shadow over the room. The terminator line is stark—a clear partition between Heeseung, who’s standing in the shade, and you, who stands in front of the window, backlit by the warm light. You’re glowing. Or, at least, the lighting makes it look like you are—outlining all your edges in soft orange.

Absently, he plays with the zipper on his jacket—unsure of what’s going on or why you’re here at all. It takes a while, but the words finally escape him. “What are you doing here?” Simultaneously, you ask if he’s okay.

Even in the dark, your smile warms the room. For you and Heeseung, speaking in unison like that isn’t anything new, so it’s not enough to rouse a reaction from him—nonetheless, he smiles too. Whether by way of drunk optimism or his own sudden acceptance, Heeseung’s starting to feel as though maybe just being by your side, making you smile, might be enough for him.

“Jay texted me, and I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“What did he say?”

“That you were having a hard time.”

Heeseung nods slowly.

“Actually, he said—” You pause to check your phone. “—Jay said, worried but hyung he is m let down. I think he meant meltdown?”

“Hyung,” Heeseung repeats, tilting his head as if the word is foreign to him. A crease runs along his brow, Jay is way drunker than he let on.

“Huh,” you utter, tilting your head too. “I actually thought m let down would’ve gotten a bigger reaction out of you.”

A moment passes, and then another before Heeseung says, “You can sit if you want. I don’t know if you’re going to stay long or anything, but you can always sit here.”

You smile and he can hear it, watching you take your coat off before sitting on the couch. It’s a bit of a stretch from where you’re sitting but you reach over to turn on the lamp in the corner and Heeseung sits too, as far away as he can. You look comfortable, like you’re supposed to be there and the thought warms his heart.

“You didn’t have to come here. I’m happy you did but you didn’t have to,” he says after too long.

A frown tugs your lips down. “Of course, I did. I care about you, Heeseung, you know that.”

Now doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so he makes a mental note to mull over this later. “I know,” he lies, his voice nothing more than a mumble as he nods.

“Did you guys have fun?”

Deciding it best to pretend his Crush cover went well, he nods again, smiling as he thinks about the nice parts of boys’ night. With your encouragement, he talks happily for a while about their song choices and the way they all came together in the end. “I feel like we’d get on pretty well as an AC/DC tribute act.”

“Do you know what room you were in? There’s got to be a way for me to pull the security footage and see for myself.”

“I actually think Jimin works there, she might be able to hook you up.”

“Jimin?” you repeat in a different tone. The shift is so subtle that Heeseung barely picks up on it, never mind placing it or knowing what it might mean. If he were any more delusional, he might think you’re jealous, but the curiosity in your voice tells him to get out of his head.

“Yeah, this one girl in the year above,” he explains. “She transferred to humanities so we had a couple classes together last term.”

“Oh, cool.”

He really can’t work out your tone and it’s disconcerting. Maybe he should talk about Jimin some more. “She’s like mega smart, and really nice too. She was actually at the club that night! The girl I was talking to when you and Jay went to get drinks,” he says, suddenly remembering.

“Good for Jimin.”

“I think you’d like her.” He smiles. “You know, if you’re looking for friends or anything.”

You only nod, pressing your lips together and leaving Heeseung at a complete loss for words. He watches you chewing on the inside of your cheek, playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist. “I’ve always loved your voice,” you mumble, looking down.

“I know.. You used to beg me to stay up on the phone singing for you.” Heeseung presses his lips together after speaking, mentally locking them and throwing away the key.

You nod with a smile on your face that makes his stomach flutter. “You’re, like, the best guy ever.”

That makes sense. That Heeseung could be like, the best guy ever but not quite good enough to stay with. He mulls over your words and contemplates setting himself on fire. Standing up from the couch, he goes over to his room. From the doorway, he says, “You can share Jay’s bed, it’s too late to go home by yourself.”

Heeseung closes his door with plans to stay inside the whole night, but only manages an hour before he gets sick of the stale taste in his mouth. He leaves quietly, and in the light from outside, he sees you sleeping on the sofa with your hands tucked under your head. His heart sinks. Without much thought, he carries you to his room, tucks you in and runs away before doing something stupid like kissing your head to go and brush his teeth. Unlike you, he’s not afraid to wake Jay up, pushing the boy over to make room for himself on his bed, where he lays awake for hours trying to figure out what went wrong with you two until his head starts to hurt.

In the morning, Heeseung doesn’t see you before you leave, but he spends the better part of an hour with his ear pressed against Jay’s door, eavesdropping on your conversation. If you weren’t talking about him he might feel guilty about this, but you are, so..

“I just feel bad, you know? I don’t know how to fit into his life and I feel like I’m only making things harder for him by being here,” you say. “Harder for everyone.”

Heeseung grips the doorframe until his knuckles turn white. He’s spent too much time thinking about how to be your friend without actually trying to be, too caught up in his own feelings to see how he’s affecting everyone else. The corners of his lips droop at the thought.

“We’re happy to have you back, Heeseung too. He’s just.. hurting, you know? I’m not sure if you heard but he kind of got blindsided and dumped by his high school girlfriend,” Jay says.

You laugh drily and he pictures the way you roll your eyes. “Hey, uh, random Q, what do you know about Jimin?”

Jay’s quiet for a bit. Or he’s whispering. Heeseung presses his entire body to the door as if it’ll help. “Yoo Jimin?” he asks.

“Probably. Heeseung’s friend.”

“She’s cool,” he answers simply. “You’d like her.”

“So I keep hearing. What’s going on with them?”

“Nothing really. They met at some party last year, both pretty drunk, and somehow ended up in a random bedroom where she tried hooking up with him.” Jay’s words strike Heeseung like a jolt, his heart pounds and his stomach twists. It takes a lot for him and the knot in his stomach not to burst out of the room and clear things up. The main thing stopping him though, is that Jay’s telling the truth. “But he misread the whole thing and ended up detailing your entire relationship for two hours,” Jay adds after a while.

“And now?”

“Why do you care?” Jay’s tone is teasing but the question makes Heeseung spiral.

His mouth starts to dry up at the thought of you admitting that you don’t care, that you’re over him and just being nosy. Panic swells in his chest and he jumps away from the door as if it’s red hot, scrambling back under the covers of Jay’s bed and falling back asleep.

In the following two weeks, Heeseung finds himself mastering the art of avoidance. He fills his evenings with pick-up basketball games with Mark on random courts in the neighbourhood and rushes out of class before you have the chance to talk to him. Playing with Mark is fun, but he can’t ignore the regret festering within him, a persistent thorn in his side. Fortunately for him, Jay, whether knowingly or not, presents him with a potential turning point. He’s invited you and the boys over for pres before his party, instructing Heeseung to get his shit together and acknowledge your existence.

On the night before his birthday, the apartment echoes with your voice, yelling at Jake to get off the floor. Sunghoon’s cackles only get louder, filling the space. Behind his closed bedroom door, Heeseung catches a panicked glance of himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his bangs. He lingers in his room as long as he can, trying to put off seeing you.

Jay opens the door without knocking, a lazy grin on his face and a slight sway in his stance that tells Heeseung he’s drunk already. “What are you doing? We’re waiting.”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

Rolling his eyes, Jay lets out a tired groan. It’s an unspoken scolding that Heeseung heeds immediately, following him into the kitchen, where Jake is messily pouring shots on the counter. He doesn’t see you anywhere, but Sunghoon distracts him, cheering and wrapping his arms around him—also drunk already. “She’s in Jay’s room, Yunjin called,” he says. “Oh, yeah, happy almost birthday, man. Twenty is crazy.”

By the looks of things, Sunghoon’s on a mission to kill Heeseung. Twenty shots for his twentieth birthday doesn’t sound like as much fun as Sunghoon thinks it does, it sounds like a punishment or a death sentence. Heeseung — put off by the smell of vodka — manages four shots before tapping out, deciding that he’d quite like to remember tonight and wake up on his birthday without a headache.

Heeseung’s eyes widen when you show up in the doorway, a confusing sense of surprise washing over him. It’s not like he didn’t know you were here; he heard you earlier. It’s just that your sudden presence catches him off guard. His heart skips a beat and a sudden rush of nerves courses through him. He takes in your appearance, his eyes tracing every inch of you before meeting your eyes. As you run your hand through your hair, you smile at him, so pretty and genuine that he can’t help grinning back.

Your dress is beautiful, of course—black satin, he thinks, with pretty pink ribbons tied into perfect bows on the top, and you’re the only girl Heeseung’s ever wanted in his life.

A whispered whoa falls from his lips, which seem to rest in an ‘o’ as he stares at you. You’re looking away from him now, focused on the tequila puddle Jake’s left on the counter, grabbing some paper towels to mop it up. Jay snorts beside him, nudging his ribs hard. “You’ll catch flies, Heeseung. Come on—decorum, please.”

Heeseung clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and wiping his palms on his pants, but he doesn’t make any moves towards you.

“Do something,” Jay mumbles.

He nods in response, repeating do something, over and over in his head until he finally approaches you. “Hey,” he says, breathless. His heart hammers in his chest when you look up at him, beaming.

“Heeseung,” you say. “Happy almost birthday. How’re you feeling?”

Before he has a chance to respond, you wrap your arms around his waist, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arms fall around your shoulders, holding you close. It’s perfect. Some combination of your warm scent and alcohol causes the butterflies in his stomach to rage, fluttering so frantically he thinks he might be sick.

“Insane,” he admits.

He can hear you laughing, feeling your chuckles against his chest. “You know, what?” You lean away from him, arms still around his waist, eyes locked on his and a soft smile on your lips. “Me too.”

An odd weakness settles in his knees, a dizzying flutter alighting his entire body as he nods. Over his shoulder, Sunghoon calls for him, chanting, “More shots! More shots!” For a while, Heeseung ignores him, watching you until he feels his ears heating up at the top.

“I think I have to go,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your lips. They curl up into a crooked grin, and you use a hand to pat his chest.

“Good luck.”

Heeseung takes a deep breath when you let go of him, taking shaky steps towards his friend, who’s grinning widely enough to show his fangs. “Sorry to interrupt, I think you could use the help though,” Sunghoon says, holding out a shot glass to him.

He shakes his head at the shot, taking it from Sunghoon’s hand and placing it down on the table. “I need a minute.”

Sunghoon only shrugs, taking the drink himself, knocking it back with no visible reaction, and Heeseung thinks he must be a monster. “I really think you could fix things tonight,” he says afterwards, pouring another.

Instead of taking this in stride, Heeseung decides to pretend you don’t exist after hugging you—it’ll be easier that way. To him, this looks like staring at you in your pretty dress and snapping his neck in the opposite direction when you look over at him.

To appease Sunghoon, he takes another three shots and has to sit down, overwhelmed by the way his cheeks burn and how the kitchen starts to tilt around him. His mouth is oddly dry; a sensation that has nothing to do with you or the way you look in your dress. This time when you catch him staring, he smiles.

Even in his beyond-tipsy state, Jay manages to ensure everyone leaves the flat before requesting an Uber. Heeseung finds himself sitting cross-legged on the pavement, for some reason, scrolling through his camera roll.

“Car’s here, get up,” Jay eventually mumbles, nudging his back with the tip of his shoe.

With some stumbling, Heeseung stands up, dusts off his pants and heads to the car. Jay holds the door open for you, and as you slide across the backseat, your dress rides up. Heeseung screws his eyes shut, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, like resetting an etch-a-sketch. Jay’s hand claps his back as he instructs him to get in, which he does. Hesitantly, he slides into the middle seat, glancing to his right to see who’ll be joining you.

“You’ll thank me later!” Jay calls out, closing the door.

Before he even has a chance to shift over, your hand lands firmly on his knee, silently urging him to stay put. With a pounding heart, he complies. The back of his hand brushes against your thigh as he fastens his seatbelt, and the feeling of your soft skin against his leaves him breathless. He feels afloat when the car starts moving. A few minutes pass before you take your hand from his knee, mumbling an apology as you place it on your lap, idly playing with your fingers.

Mark lives about twenty minutes away, leaving Heeseung with something close to sixteen minutes to think of something to say. R&B from the early 2000s rumbles through the speakers in the car, vaguely explicit lyrics alluding to something he’s craving fill the space around the two of you, wrapped up in your warm vanilla scent and the fresh peppermint gum you’re chewing. To put it simply, there’s not a coherent thought in his head he could express that wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“I didn’t know you were on the basketball team,” you say after a while. “Well, I did know, but you know.”

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly because he has no idea what you’re talking about.

A beat passes before you speak again. “How was your day?”

The first thing on his mind is what falls from his lips. “You look beautiful,” Heeseung blurts out, trying to ignore the tinge of anxiety that’s irritating his stomach. “Your dress is.. It’s really pretty,” he adds, feeling as though he won’t lose anything by putting everything on the table.

“Thanks.” You smile. “You look beautiful too.”

Heeseung’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at his outfit in the dark. If Jay hadn’t interfered, he’d be wearing a hoodie and sweatpants right now, but he’s happy with the simple striped shirt and loose pants Jay suggested, even if it leaves him a little chilly. “It’s, uh, it’s actually my birthday party tonight,” he supplies uselessly.

You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “I kind of just meant in general.”

“Me too.”

The car falls silent as he lets his head fall into the space between the headrests and closes his eyes. When you reach Mark’s house, he opens them and finds you staring with a smile. “I thought you fell asleep,” you say.

He shakes his head, sliding over the backseat and opening the door. He didn’t expect you to leave from the same side as him, but he likes the heat on his cheeks as he closes the door for you. Wordlessly, the two of you go through the gate and join Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon who are sitting cross-legged on the porch, giggling around a shared joint. He has no idea how they arrived before you did.

Heeseung isn’t sure how he loses you guys but it’s not until his third round of beer pong that he actually notices. Lee Jeno and his red eyes are a poor shot, barely managing to throw the ball without hitting Heeseung’s chest or dropping it before he gets to aim. He almost feels bad for the guy when he sinks another one of his cups, watching Jeno frown before pinching his nostrils shut and taking a big gulp.

Jay’s sudden presence startles him, though he’s quick to grin at his best friend. The smile isn’t returned. Instead, he leans up to Heeseung’s ear, yelling that YN’s crying before nudging his way out of the room. His heart sinks and he offers no explanation to Jeno, following Jay upstairs and into the bathroom where he finds you, sitting on the floor, crying into Sunghoon’s shirt while Jake watches with a frown, picking at his nails.

“What happened?”

Jake talks with a hushed tone while Sunghoon helps you up before leaving. “She didn’t say anything, she just asked us to go to the bathroom with her and started crying.” He opens his mouth to continue but Jay yanks him out of the room, closing the door.

“I’m not, like, upset or anything,” you say after a while, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to ruin tonight for you so I told Jake not to say anything, but obviously, he didn’t listen.”

“Jake did the right thing telling Jay, none of us want to see you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” You hit Heeseung’s chest with a weak fist, crying more. “Why does everyone think I’m upset?”

“It might be the tears,” he offers, feeling good about making you smile.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you using a new liner? Mascara? You still look good.”

You take a look in the mirror, resting your hands on the edge of the sink. “Yeah, I discovered waterproof makeup in first year.”

“Is it harder to take off?”

“Definitely, but it’s worth it, I think, for nights like this.”

“Yeah, right.” Heeseung nods, watching you carefully as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. It’s like being in high school, seeing you like this. Most of the parties you went to were spent in the bathroom, with Heeseung holding your hair back and trying to calm you down after throwing up. He misses all of it except the vomit. “Are you okay?”

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you nod but look down at your hands when he says your name. “It’s just a little harder being back than I thought it would be.”

“Oh.”

You sigh, playing with your hair as you sit down next to him. “Obviously it’s great seeing the guys all the time, seeing you all the time, but everything’s fucked and we act like strangers and it’s killing me not being able to just..” you trail off. Heeseung is clearly drunker than he feels because it looks like your eyes are stuck on his lips. After a beat you slide away from him, moving until your back hits the wall. A mixture of frustration and something else colours your face. “I just don’t like treating you like a stranger and I don’t know how to fix it.” Before he has a chance to think or to say anything you ask him for the time.

“It’s 12:23.”

“Happy birthday!” you say, smiling. “Am I the first to say it?”

“You’re always first.” Even last year, you sent a text at midnight, so Heeseung’s not sure why there’s a surprised look in your eyes or why it’s making him want to kiss you more than usual. “You don’t have to treat me like a stranger if you don’t want to,” he says carefully, trying to get you both back on track.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.”

His voice is soft when he says, “Honestly, neither do I.”

“I wish I never left.”

“Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” Despite the small smile on his face, he’s still trying to understand what reason you had.

An exhaled laugh comes from your nose and you nudge him. “Were you secretly trying to get rid of me?”

“You caught me,” he sighs, holding out his hands in defeat. “I had this whole elaborate plan. I was going to fake my death, but you saved me the trouble. Thanks for that.”

Both of you share a genuine laugh and the tension in the air eases up a bit. Heeseung’s eyes meet yours; a brief moment of silence follows. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry for leaving. I really wish things could’ve been different.”

It can’t be your intention to hurt him by saying that, but you do, leaving Heeseung feeling the full spectrum of his emotions. A pang of hurt, of longing—hurting himself even more as he thinks about the could-have-beens. He purses his lips, looking down at his shoes. “Me too.” Sick of the tension, of his feelings, he glances at you, sitting up a little straighter. “How about we start fresh? Clean slate?”

“Clean slate?” you echo, raising an inquisitive brow.

Heeseung nods, determined, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Heeseung.”

“YN,” you chuckle, taking his hand in yours.

He holds onto it, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Funny, you look just like my ex.”

Your eyes widen, amused. “Wow, Hee, you always know just what to say.”

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, but Heeseung’s just glad you’re not crying anymore. He feels lighter now, hopefully you do too. Standing up, he holds out a hand to help you get to your feet which you take, smiling up at him as you straighten out your dress.

“You know,” he says, clapping his hands together. “For a second there, I thought I’d need a manual on how to talk to you again, but I think we’re doing pretty well.”

Heeseung feels pleased with himself when you laugh, rolling your eyes and nudging his chest with your hand. “Shut up,” you say, light and playful.

“Are you ready to get back to the guys?”

You smile at him, nodding before quickly turning back to the mirror. “Do I look okay?”

It doesn’t make sense to Heeseung that a girl as beautiful as you could ever look just okay. Even with the slight swell to your glassy eyes, you’re the most perfect person he’s ever seen. But he can’t say that. So instead, he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth, tilting his head a bit and raising his hand in a horizontal gesture, his fingers wobbling as if balancing an imaginary scale. A non-committal sound escapes him, a soft eh before he laughs at the way your jaw drops.

You punch his arm. “Heeseung!”

“Come on, you know you look great,” he mumbles, looking away to hide the flush in his cheeks. The sound of your lips spreading into a smile makes his stomach flutter as he opens the door to find Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon sitting cross-legged in the hall in front of it.

“Birthday boy!” Jay yells, springing to his feet and flinging his arms around Heeseung.

“And YN!” Jake adds from his seat.

Heeseung hears you saying thanks to Jake before sitting next to him.

“So, did you two kiss and make up or what?” Jay’s attempt at whispering is futile and somehow Heeseung’s cheeks burn even more as he frees himself from his friend’s hold.

“Kiss, no. Make up, yes.”

“Playing the long game, I like it.” Jay grins, patting Heeseung on the back. “Sit down, let’s talk.”

Heeseung sits in the space next to Sunghoon, holding his legs awkwardly to his chest. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening and he feels like he’s not drunk enough anymore to fully relax into it, until you leave Jake’s side, crawling over to Heeseung and resting your head on his shoulder. In the dim hall, the boys shuffle around but it’s too dark to see what they’re doing—not that he cares much at this point, letting his head rest on top of yours and closing his eyes. It almost sounds quite pretty when they start singing Happy Birthday, and Jake has a tiny lunchbox cake in his hands when Heeseung opens his eyes. Its purple-frosted TWENT-HEE is disrupted by a half-smoked joint stuck in the centre which the flash on Sunghoon’s phone provides a makeshift flame for.

“Make a wish!” you squeal, clapping your hands.

It takes three attempts for Heeseung and Sunghoon to coordinate the timing between his exhale and Sunghoon turning the flash off, but the candle is blown out, and, right now. Heeseung has everything he’s ever wanted.

Almost.

Heeseung wakes up pressed against the wall with an arm wrapped around his waist. An embarrassing surge of excitement courses through him as he thinks about your conversation and puts his hand over yours. What he’s met with is less of the softness he’d anticipated, and more of the coarse skin and defined knuckles he’s come to recognise as Jake’s hand under the duvet. It only takes a look over his shoulder to make sense of why Heeseung’s nose is grazing his bedroom wall. Behind him is Jake, who’s being spooned by you, and behind you is Sunghoon who’s clinging onto your frame for dear life, even in his slumber. Evidently, Jay’s had a successful night and with his unwavering loyalty to Yunjin, it’s not hard to figure out what happened in the room across the hall.

With his eyes pressed shut, desperate to clutch some more sleep, he hears you mumbling. “Park Sunghoon, if you don’t wake up and let go of me, I’ll kill you,” you say with a tone that frightens Heeseung and sets off a flutter in his stomach. The yelp and thud that follow seem to wake Jake up and he crawls over you to get out of bed, stretching his arms out above his head and making no effort to step over Sunghoon on the floor. You roll over in the bed, wrapping an arm around Heeseung’s waist and pressing yourself into his side. “Happy birthday,” you say through a yawn before getting up.

He manages to mumble a thanks, butterflies running wild in his stomach and a flush creeping up his neck as he watches you leave the room, eyes stuck on the way your hips move in last night’s dress. He gets out of bed, sighing, untucking his shirt to cover the tightness in his pants before joining his friends in the kitchen.

Hungry but unmoving, you and the boys occupy the three seats at the small kitchen table, harping on about the different things as Jake whines, begging you to keep it down.

Heeseung’s first intense emotion as a sober twenty-year-old is betrayal. There are used dishes lying in the sink, plates, mugs, and pans — two of each — staring up at him, wafting the scent of a cooked breakfast, with no leftovers in sight, up to his nostrils. He sighs, wondering if it’s his responsibility as host, and eldest friend, to make more food for everyone, or if, as the birthday boy, he should sit around and wait for someone else to take action. Settling on the latter, he sights up on the countertop, sure to keep his back to you so he doesn’t have to see the low neckline of your dress.

Finally, Jay comes back, whistling an unfamiliar tune and twirling his keys on his finger when he reaches the kitchen. “Hello,” he says simply, leaning against the doorjamb as if he hadn’t single-handedly ruined Heeseung’s birthday.

Sunghoon rubs his eyes, looking in Jay’s direction. “So now, if I want a nice breakfast after a night out, do I have to fuck you?”

Jay’s cheeks flush as he looks at his feet. “I mean, I planned to cook for you guys when I got back.”

“I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” he scoffs, slumping in his chair.

“I do, Jay. Cook for me,” you say, gesturing toward Jay’s general direction making grabby hands at him.

With a gentle smile, he crosses the room and pats your head. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything,” you mumble into his shirt.

Jay nods, going over to the fridge. He stands in front of it with his hands on his hips, completely still for almost two minutes and Heeseung only approaches him because he’s worried about the outside heat getting on all the food through the open door.

“What are you doing?” he asks, uttering his first sentence of the morning.

Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck as he leans towards Heeseung. “I, uh, finished the eggs, milk, and bacon.” A nervous look covers his face before he continues. “And we ate your Hello Kitty pancake mix,” he adds, mumbling like he doesn’t want to be heard.

Unfortunately, he is, and Heeseung’s mortified. “My Hello Kitty pancake mix?!” He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “YN got that for me, we were supposed to make those together.” His voice is as whiny as his volume will allow, and he struggles not to stomp his feet.

“Oh, you were? How’d that work out?” Jay’s words are cutting.

“Okay, ouch.”

“Dude, it was expiring next week. Plus, Yunjin just looked so cute when she saw it—I had to.”

“What if I wanted to make them this week?”

“You’ve had the box for two years,” Jay reminds him. “Think of Yunjin.”

With a sigh, Heeseung actually does think of Yunjin. Although the girl he envisions is different from the one Jay wants him to imagine.

They met on the first day of university. She had a guitar strapped to her back, and a huge amp in hand when she approached him. Her eyes were wide with nervousness or excitement; Heeseung couldn’t tell which. Immediately, she extended her free hand for him to shake. “Yunjin,” she said.

“No.” He shook his head while pointing at himself. “Heeseung.” From the way she laughed at his stupid joke, he knew she was the next girl Jay would fall for.

Jay had a habit of falling in love with the first girl to do something nice for him on any given day. And then the next girl. But after hearing Yunjin talk about her gap year, spent learning guitar seriously, Heeseung had a feeling things were going to change for his friend. He was right.

The memory, along with the satisfaction of having figured those two out from the beginning, brings a warm smile to Heeseung’s face. “You owe me.”

“Yeah, whatever. I owe you,” Jay scoffs, though the slight furrow in his brow suggests genuine remorse. “Just so you know, they weren’t special or anything.. just pancakes, you know?”

Heeseung chuckles despite himself. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Maybe a little,” Jay shrugs. To his credit, it works.

At least until Heeseung’s stomach grumbles, a noisy reminder of why they’re standing there in the first place. He also learns the hard way that the fridge starts to beep when you leave it open too long. Jay laughs through his nose, closing the door with his elbow.

“What are we eating?”

Jay seems to think about this for a minute, tilting his head and suggesting McDonald’s.

If asked, Heeseung probably wouldn’t have said he pictured spending the morning of his twentieth birthday squished between Jake and Sunghoon in a sticky booth, but he’s here and can’t find anything to complain about as he inhales his breakfast. Too caught up in the way his hoodie drapes over you, he listens half-heartedly as you all quiz Jay on his night. It seems like he’s being pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing but the dreamy grin on his face is hard to miss.

Eventually, you all pile back into Jay’s car, with Heeseung sitting shotgun as a birthday gift, that he doesn’t get to fully enjoy because he falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving. He sinks into the front seat, a contented smile playing on his lips as the warmth of the sun and his full stomach lull him into a peaceful nap.

At home, he thanks Jay before crawling into bed where he replies to messages before letting his head fall into the pillow.

His eyes don’t even close all the way before you come into the room. “Can I nap in here?”

Heeseung nods, watching you get comfortable under his duvet. In a matter of seconds, you’re just an arm’s reach away, softly snoring with your back to him. Meanwhile, he spends four hours laying completely still, trying to convince himself that the heat radiating from your sleeping form doesn’t make him miss you more.

At around 3 p.m. when everyone wakes up, you and the boys hurry away for various mumbled reasons, leaving Heeseung home alone, trying to practise his surprised face for whenever you’re all back with cake and a gift.

You don’t return until Heeseung’s hair has started to dry after his shower, but you waste no time shuffling around the kitchen before coming back with a pretty cake and real candles with a real flame, singing for him again. With the way Jake’s rushing him, Heeseung can’t come up with a wish in time, so blows out the candles with a clear mind.

“Woo!” Jake cheers, clapping around a wrapped present that he immediately thrusts into Heeseung’s hands. “Open it!”

He barely gets to peel the first piece of tape before he jumps off the couch and kneels down next to him. “It’s LEGO! The Infinity Gauntlet, you know? And the best part is..” Jake pauses dramatically. “You get to put it together with your best friend, Jake! Right now!” His excitement is endearing even though he’s ruined the surprise. “The others can help too, I guess.”

You frown at him. “I paid for the kind lady at the LEGO store to gift wrap that for us.”

“Yeah, and she did great!” Jake grins. “Can I help you open it? Please, Heeseung, please. You’re taking forever.”

With a smile, Heeseung hands the box to Jake, letting him open it carefully before Sunghoon joins in, tearing the paper to shreds all while Jay records the whole moment like a proud father. All five of you are sitting on the floor now, covered in wrapping paper while Jake holds the LEGO set up like it’s his, blinking hard at the camera with a smile on his face, and it’s Heeseung’s favourite birthday yet.

my girl: who wants to take me on a date?

Heeseung knows he should probably change your contact name but the notification still makes his cheeks burn in a way he thinks he likes.

jake: heeseung probably

jake: idk tho

my girl: ok heeseung come to the museum with me for class

sunghoon: next time open with the museum thing holy shit.. i almost fucking volunteered

heeseung: when?

my girl: i would have rejected you hoon

my girl: whenever ur free !

Heeseung’s schedule always has a way of clearing up when it comes to you, and he skips pick-up with Mark to pick you up at your door that evening. You answer right when Heeseung knocks, sliding some rings onto your fingers with a smile on your face, saying, “Hello.”

“You..” Heeseung swallows, nodding his head. He’s doing his best not to check you out but he really can’t help it when your jeans seem to fit like they were made for you. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey.”

He clears his throat, finally managing to unstick his gaze from your thighs and gestures in the direction of the stairs. “Shall we?”

At the train station, you don’t object when Heeseung pays for your ticket, he didn’t mean to, his finger just clicked through for two tickets instead of one. He’s happy when you don’t make a big deal about it, only smiling and thanking him when he hands you the ticket. He stands close behind you, protective, letting the peak-time commuters nudge past him instead of you as you wait in line for the only working ticket barrier. You go through first and Heeseung quietly follows, trying to keep his eyes off your ass and praying that the rest of the day goes by more comfortably than it’s started.

The train is packed too, so you stand by the doors and, again, Heeseung stands maybe a little closer than necessary, his arm above his head gripping the yellow handrail. “Why did you want to go to the museum anyway?” he asks, gulping when you look up at him.

“I’ve always liked museums.” You shrug, playing with the buttons on your cardigan.

“I know, it’s just.. You said earlier you wanted to go for one of your classes.”

“Right. It’s a requirement for one of them. Visualising Culture,” you explain, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly nervous, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak so he nods, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. “Museum and Exhibition Studies.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” You nod and turn your head from him, looking through the window.

Your eyes are stuck on the trees outside, blurring into each other, and his eyes are stuck on the side of your face, staring shamelessly for the rest of the journey. A tinny voice announces the name of the station you’re approaching, and you nudge Heeseung gently, a silent signal that it’s time to leave. Silence seems to follow you out of the station and into the museum, but he tells himself he doesn’t mind.

For the last hour, you’ve been looking at artwork without taking note of anything or making comments, all while Heeseung observes you, wondering what you’re supposed to be doing for class. “What’s the point of this trip?” he finally asks.

Without backing away from the painting, you turn your head to look at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what’s your task?”

You chew on your lip for a bit before looking back at the painting. He can’t help but wonder if in all your time away you’ve been flexing some sort of elitist muscle, or if it’s come about as a result of your fancy exhibition studies class that you had to take a test to be accepted into. Finally, you lean away from the painting and use your phone to take a picture of the blurb before looking at him again.

“I wanted an excuse to get someone to come to the museum with me and I wanted it to be you.”

Your words are so cute and so honest that his heart warms in his chest, even as he ignores his sadness about the fact you felt like you needed an excuse to hang out. “You could have just asked me.”

Considering his words, you frown, tilting your head at him. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy, or it should be, it’s us,” he says unthinkingly. Clearing his throat, he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s, like, the whole point of having friends, right? To hang out with them?”

“Well.. yes. I just.. I don’t know.”

Somehow, this makes perfect sense to Heeseung who only nods his head, moving on from the frame when you do. It’s nice watching you admire the art, to watch the soft smile that develops as your eyes scan the canvas.

You like looking at the paintings when no one else is, to get up close and try spotting the brush strokes. You like imagining the artist and how they might have felt as they painted, and when the paint is thick, protruding from the canvas, when you can see streaks of yellow peeking through a sludgy green. You have a lot to say about the paintings and how they make you feel, and how they don’t make you feel, finding something you like in all of them.

After a while, you grab Heeseung’s hand and excitedly pull him through all the Ancient Egypt stuff, and he’s too happy that his fingers are locked with yours to worry about his aching feet anymore, and you’re so cute with your wide grin that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d like to sit down. He hates you a little when the two of you take turns writing your names in hieroglyphs, and you somehow manage to maintain your neat handwriting. But you make up for it by writing his name too, drawing a pretty butterfly at the end that makes his heart race.

You start rambling about shabtis and how people were typically buried with a few, depending on their wealth and status, but Tutankhamun was buried with something like four hundred, and some of them were even painted to look like him. “Look at how pretty this one is,” you say, grinning while holding your phone in his face with a picture of one. Your excitement peaks when you reach the big sarcophagus, and you let out a squeal when you open it and three kids run out, bursting into a fit of giggles. You’re excessively cute when you ask him to take a picture of you, and then make him take a video opening the front while you're ‘dead’ inside it. Which takes a few attempts because you’re laughing each time.

You tell him to delete those takes. He doesn’t.

Right when he’s expecting you to get out, you grab him by the wrist and pull him in with you, closing the front of it before letting go of him. Heeseung is certain he’s lived this exact moment before, but he was seventeen and you were giggling like crazy, feeling around in the dark for his shoulders to wrap your arms around before kissing him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do or what you want him to do, and the feeling of your breath fanning his neck in the tight space isn’t helping.

Silent minutes pass by like hours until a kid pulls the sarcophagus open. The light is blinding but Heeseung steps out, relieved, almost thanking the kid for saving him. You’re fiddling with your necklace and struggling to meet his eyes. When you do though, you shoot him an easy grin, laughing to yourself about nothing.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Drinks maybe?” you ask after a while, playing with the zipper on your jacket.

Heeseung takes you to a restaurant where university students he’s only seen on Instagram walk around like they own the place. A tired-looking guy comes to take your orders before you even have a chance to take your coat off so Heeseung asks for a minute and the waiter leaves. There’s something in his demeanour though that makes it seem like you only have one full minute to make up your minds.

“What do you want to drink?” you ask, holding the drinks menu out to him.

Heeseung closes it, sitting it on the table. “Probably a beer.”

You laugh at this. “You don’t have to act all manly in front of me.” There’s a soft look in your eyes like you mean it.

“I actually like beer these days.”

Your brows raise and your jaw drops before you utter the word whoa.

“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.

You shrug, collecting yourself. “You’re just.. different now.”

The very prospect of being different is shocking to Heeseung who prides himself on being pretty consistent with his behaviour. His brows knit together as he tilts his head. “Because I like beer?” he asks, scoffing slightly at the mere suggestion.

“I mean, that’s part of it.” To his dismay, this seems to be the end of your sentence. He gives you a little nod, hoping you read his mind and elaborate like he wants you to. “You bleached your hair, pierced your cartilage, what’s next? Are you going to tell me you have a tattoo?”

Heeseung feels his breath catch in his throat when you say the word tattoo but you don’t seem to notice. “It’s been a year,” he points out, folding the corner of his napkin, pressing his thumb against it with enough pressure to leave a defined fold and have it stick up a little when he lets go.

“I know, it’s just.. weird, you know?” Your voice is small when you speak, soft and quiet, barely anything above the noise around you both.

Heeseung nods. He does know.

“You’re weird too.”

“How?” There’s a defensive tone to your voice that makes him chuckle.

“You’ve always been weird.”

A dramatic frown curves your lips and the waiter is back before you can object. Leaning forward slightly, he orders for both of you, the sharing platter of fried chicken, your French Martini, and his controversial draught beer. He doesn’t miss the way you raise your brows when he orders the beer, as if you’d been waiting to catch him out or something. After the waiter leaves, Heeseung meets your gaze briefly, matching the gentle smile on your lips before looking away.

The drinks only take a few minutes and you thank the waiter before looking over at Heeseung, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you slide your cocktail over to him. “Do you want to try?”

He nods, lifting the glass and moving the straw out of the way to take a sip from the rim. Nodding his head, he hums in approval, eyes widening. “It’s good.”

You lean back in your seat, twirling the straw when he hands the drink back to you. “Yeah?” you ask, smiling triumphantly as if you made it yourself. “A normal person would’ve used the straw.”

Heeseung can’t help but roll his eyes, liking the way you laugh. “Are you acting out because I called you weird?”

“A little.”

The waiter places the platter at the centre of the table with a small smile, that you match, clearly hungrier than you’d been letting on as you lick your lips at the sight of the chicken. Heeseung’s stomach grumbles quietly as the scent hits his nose and he feels like he hasn’t eaten in days when a plate lands in front of each of you. A comfortable familiarity settles over him when he lets you pick first, and he knows you feel it too from the sweet smile you give him before eyeing the food. You take a while considering every wing, even though all of the pieces are scarily identical, before picking one and Heeseung follows, choosing with much less care than you, but enjoying it nonetheless.

Under your light-hearted scrutiny, he orders a cocktail the next time the waiter comes around. It’s much better than his beer, and so quickly, one cocktail turns into two until both you and Heeseung are four drinks in, laughing over nothing and putting in an effort not to slur your words together.

Time seems to pass at the same rate as your drinks, though neither of you seems to notice until you check the time on your phone and your mouth falls into a gasp. Heeseung does the same when you show him your screen, you only have ten minutes to make the fifteen-minute walk back to the station so you can catch the last train.

He gets up to settle the bill as quickly as humanly possible before you grab him by the hand and book it out of the restaurant. Though breathless, he knows he can’t let up, running as fast as his legs will carry him as he tugs you along behind him. Somehow you still have it in you to cackle every time either of you trips up.

Out of breath, you both slump into the first seats you find, sobering up a little after the run. He looks at you and feels his heart snag in his chest. “You okay?” he asks, huffing out a breath that pushes his bangs into the air.

“No,” you whine, pouting and resting your head on Heeseung’s shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours reaching his hand out to grab your own. He squeezes it gently, in a way he hopes is comforting. You lock your fingers with his before he can pull away and Heeseung’s heart starts pounding again.

He doesn’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until the train reaches your stop and you don’t react. He doesn’t want to wake you up, nor does he want to let go of your hand, but he knows he has to. Heeseung nudges you gently, rousing you from your sleep. “Let’s go,” he mumbles.

Stretching your arms above your head, you nod while yawning.

You take tired steps alongside him on the short walk back to your apartment, not saying anything until you reach your doorstep when you yawn once more, looking up at him. “I actually had fun today, thanks for hanging out with me.”

“Actually?” Heeseung raises a brow. “Did you think you wouldn’t?”

You shrug, chewing on your lip. “I thought it might be awkward.”

“It kind of was.”

“Maybe,” you admit with a nod. “It was a pretty successful first date though.” Your eyes are like saucers as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “Not in that way. I’m only saying ‘date’ because that’s what I said in the chat—I would’ve called it a date if Hoon came with me, you know? I didn’t see this as a date if that’s what you’re thinking. Because it wasn’t. And I didn’t.”

“Mhm,” Heeseung hums with a sceptical look on his face, finding amusement in watching you scramble to correct yourself. “First dates are always awkward, baby, don’t worry.” The endearment slips out before he can help it, his heart stopping in his chest until he sees you smiling.

“Well, yeah, but this wasn’t a date, baby.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you made me pay for your train ticket, I paid for dinner and drinks. As far as first dates go, I’ve been a perfect gentleman all night.”

“That you have.” You nod once, firmly. “I’m not going to pay you back or anything. And this is hardly our first date.”

Heeseung grins despite himself. “Is this your way of saying I can bill you for our other dates? Do you have savings?”

Your head falls back in laughter, the sound infectious as it falls from your lips. You sigh softly, straightening up after a beat and nudging his shoulder with your fist. “Stop making me laugh or I’ll do something stupid like kiss you.”

His heart races in his chest, caught between your laugh and the thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I feel like if we pulled up a typical date timeline we’d be right on track for that, don’t you think?”

“Heeseung,” you mumble, face softening. It doesn’t seem like you’re finding this funny anymore. Your gaze locks on his lips — a hyper focus that makes him press them together nervously — before snapping up to meet his eyes. You gulp. “Goodnight, thank you for today.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t say that or I’ll take you up on it.”

Heeseung shrugs. “You say that like I’d have a problem with it.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Never.”

A small laugh comes through your nose as you smile up at him. “I’ll see you, let me know when you get home.”

“Got it.”

Wordlessly, you open the door, crossing the threshold before saying goodnight again. Heeseung says it back, watching you shut the door and waiting for the lock to click before he leaves.

He’s never drinking with you again.

Heeseung feels like he’s settling into the role of your friend quite well. So well that he can spend time alone with you without the discomfort he felt in September. Maybe he’s taking liberties, bending the word friendship to suit him, but as you lie in his bed together, your head on his chest as you nap, he can’t bring himself to care too much. He knows he’ll get hurt by this at some point, but for now, he’s just happy to play with your hair and try his best to fall asleep too. You don’t stir when Jay opens the door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him, tilting his head before closing the door quietly.

Sleep never reaches him, but he pretends to yawn, rubbing at his eyes when your alarm wakes you up, making a point to stretch his arms over his head and only respond to you in a lazy mumble when you speak. “Whose idea was it to nap between classes, again?”

“I think it was yours.”

“Damn,’ you mumble, yawning again before laying back down, head returning to his chest as if drawn by a magnet. “I think ten more minutes, fifteen, and then we wake up and go back.”

“Or we could skip?”

The suggestion makes you jolt upright, fully awake now. You let your eyes drag over his face, and maybe Heeseung’s being hopeful or straight-up imagining things, but your gaze lingers on his lips for more than a few seconds before you gulp and meet his eyes. “Lee Heeseung trying to skip class? I never thought I’d see the day.” A smile spreads over your lips, turning into a laugh as you throw your head back. “That was funny, Hee. Let’s go.’

Heeseung’s brows furrow, watching you stretch your arms out in front of you. Was it so hard to believe he would skip class if it meant spending more time with you? His lips settle into a pout. “I’m serious.”

“No, you’re scaring me. Come on, let’s go,” you say, making no attempts to get up.

To prove a point, Heeseung shifts under the covers, lying on his side with his back to you. “You go ahead, I’m staying.”

You sigh but don’t get out of bed, only lying down next to him and draping an arm over his waist. “Ten more minutes.” You press yourself against his back and he feels his heart racing. As quickly as he feels it, you stiffen behind him. “I’m not crossing a line, right? Holding you like this? It’s always been easier to sleep if you’re next to me,” you say into his shirt.

Remembering the way you would cuddle into his side during sleepovers, his heart aches, wondering if you had endured the same sleepless nights as him. Heeseung only lifts your arm to turn onto his back, pulling you onto his chest like you had been earlier. “Fifteen,” he says.

Seeing as neither of you bothered to set another alarm, you sleep through class, only waking up when it’s dark out and Jay comes back. “I bought dinner, come eat,” he says, leaving the door open on his way out.

Wordlessly, you both peel yourselves from bed, dragging your feet to the kitchen to wash your hands before joining Jay in the living room. Heeseung sits cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table while you and Jay sit on the couch. He’s not awake enough to fully register your conversation over the rustle of plastic takeout bags and his sudden overwhelming hunger, but you’re telling Jay to shut up, mumbling something and he lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest when Heeseung turns around to hand over your food.

With his elbows on the table, he takes a bite from his burger and has to suppress a moan. Most of your conversation with Jay goes over his head and he doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until you’re standing at the door pulling on your shoes. Given the way Jay’s lying on the couch, Heeseung assumes he’s on walking-you-home duty and grabs a jacket before stuffing his feet into Jay’s slides.

The conversation is light as you walk together, Heeseung making sure he’s on the edge of the pavement the whole time and letting you talk about your friends. The walk has become so natural now that he only realises you’re approaching home when you take out your key to open the door to your building.

“Do you want to meet before class tomorrow? To go over the slides we missed today?” you ask, with something behind your eyes that Heeseung sleepily interprets as hope.

He nods, smiling at you and waiting for you to lock the door before he leaves.

Jay’s awake when Heeseung gets back home; he can’t say he’s surprised. Heeseung only nods at Jay, who sits on the couch, but he knows his flatmate well enough to know there’s a conversation coming because the TV is off and his laptop is shut. Heeseung makes it all the way to his door before Jay says anything. “You’re in way over your head.”

Heeseung sighs, not in the mood. “Okay. Night,” he says, opening the door.

By the time November arrives and Jake’s birthday approaches, everything is back to normal again. Turning nineteen, Jake celebrates with a modest pub crawl that spirals into a three-day bender, leaving him bedridden for nearly a week due to dehydration and fear of a test he’d forgotten to study for.

In standard Jake fashion, he manages to bounce back and sits across from Jay at his favourite restaurant only six days after his actual birthday. Considering the state he was in, it’s a wonder he can stomach the smell of alcohol, let alone down four cocktails without a pause. Jay and Sunghoon exchange sighs, each supporting one of Jake’s sleeping arms on their shoulders to carry him home.

“Cover the bill and let me know the amount. I’ll transfer you in the morning,” Jay mumbles before they leave.

You shake your head when Heeseung asks if you want to go home as well. “Unless you want to,” you say, all of your words blending together. “If you want to go home, we can. I don’t want you sitting here bored or anything.”

Heeseung smiles. “I’m not bored, we can stay as long as you like.” You seem to take this to heart, nodding and flagging down a waiter to order more drinks. “Let’s maybe slow down a little though,” he suggests.

He pours you a glass of water and makes you drink the whole thing, withholding your alcohol until you’ve finished the cold tteokbokki in front of you. Gradually, you become more coherent, wiping your face with your hands and sitting up a little straighter. You thank him when he pours soju for you and take tiny sips from the glass here and there, telling Heeseung about some of the friends you made while you were away. There’s Yizhuo—sweet, funny, and down-to-earth. And Minjeong—a quiet girl who needed a while to warm up to new people. You tell him about meeting her for the first time, how unsure she seemed when Yizhuo introduced you two, but by the end of the night, she was falling asleep next to you in bed with her arms and legs tangled around you.

“Do you miss them?” It’s a stupid question, anyone could tell from the fond smile on your face that you do.

A beat passes while you think about it before shrugging. “Not as much as I missed being here.” If he wasn’t watching you, or looking you straight in the eye, he probably would’ve missed the longing in your gaze.

He’s never known you to be subtle after a drink, and Heeseung knows he needs to nip this conversation in the bud before either of you says something you can’t take back. “How are you getting on with your research task?” he asks, while at the same time you say, “I’m so happy to be back.”

A short laugh slips out of you, a hand falling to the table before wrapping around your glass. You bring it up to your face but don’t drink, only looking down into it as if it’ll tell you what to say. “Are you happy I’m back?”

“Sure,” Heeseung says noncommittally.

You sigh, sinking into your seat a little. “I loved you. I still love you,” you mumble. “Even after all that.”

He’s not sure what to make of this, of anything you’re saying. It’s not like you had a messy breakup or anything. At least, he wouldn’t describe his long-term girlfriend breaking up with him and asking if they could be friends after as messy. Even in heartbreak, Heeseung was a reasonable person, and any reasonable person would’ve said no. Like he did.

“I still.. You’re still the one for me.”

His stomach lurches violently. “Don’t say that.” He gets out of his seat quicker than he means to and leaves you at the table, tapping his foot as he waits in line by the bar to pay the bill, praying he’s right about the two of you sitting at table ten when the cashier asks. With a folded receipt in his pocket and too much to think about, he returns to the table, only putting on his coat and mumbling, “Let’s go.”

For some reason, you don’t seem to mirror his urgency, only finishing off the drink you had left in one go and sitting for a bit longer. He takes your jacket from the back of your chair and holds it open for you, helping you into it when you finally stand up. “Thanks,” you giggle.

Heeseung says nothing.

The silence and fresh air outside are sobering as he watches an Uber driver through the app, very slowly moving from two minutes away to one before arriving. Maybe if you hadn’t said what you said at the table, he might have warmed to the idea of a forty-minute walk alone with you, but you did say those things and even the thought of this fifteen-minute car ride is unbearable when John (4.9 stars) pulls up on the curb outside. You thank Heeseung quietly when he opens the door for you, and against his better judgement, he walks over to the other side of the car and sits in the middle seat like he used to.

Slow R&B murmurs through the speakers as the driver pulls off while Heeseung hums along. His thigh is pressed against yours but he does his best not to think about it, only chewing his lip when you rest your head on his shoulder. He lets his head rest on top of yours before regretting it.

He doesn’t move.

It feels a little bit like the driver is playing Heeseung’s playlist, as every song he knows and loves seems to come on one after the other, steeping him in an odd comfort in the backseat of this car.

Your hand falls onto his knee so clumsily he’s sure it’s a mistake, so sure you’ll move it back into your lap that he’s genuinely surprised when you don’t. Unsure what to do, he chooses not to acknowledge it, acting like you sitting so close to him, like the feeling that no time has passed, doesn’t make his heart clench. Slowly but surely, your hand inches up his thigh—a motion Heeseung stops as soon as he realises, his hand falling heavily over yours and pushing it back to his knee. He thinks about keeping it there, but when he feels his thumb stroking your skin, he moves his hand immediately. You’ve obviously gotten the wrong idea. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve actually gotten the right idea. You have. But it can’t happen like this. After a few minutes, you move your hand again, and like before, Heeseung pushes it back, keeping his hand over yours and reminding himself not to move his thumb.

You’re drunk. This will pass.

Finally, the driver parks outside your building, and Heeseung’s sure his “thank you so much” holds the world’s sincerity in it as he unbuckles his seatbelt and practically leaps out of the car. He opens your door and has to undo your belt for you, helping you out and thanking the driver again.

There’s a couple leaving the building when the two of you reach the door, and with your arms wrapped around his, he thanks them when they hold it open.

The lift takes forever to come and Heeseung pushes the up button five times before it arrives. He lets the girl in fleecy pyjamas with a takeout bag in her hand go in first before following, pressing the button reading 7 before relaxing a bit. Under the protection of a stranger, he knows you won’t do anything. The journey to your floor feels like hours as the lift drags its way up the shaft—why does nothing share his urgency?

You don’t say anything until the elevator door swooshes shut behind you. “I love you, Heeseung. You know I love you.” You’re saying everything he’s been wanting you to say for ages, but the words make his words sting.

“Do you know where your keys are?” he asks, though you still have a ways to go before you reach your door.

“My pocket,” you mumble.

Heeseung finds your keys, unlocks the door and helps you in. As much as he wants to leave, he knows if he does, you won’t take your makeup off or change, so he holds your hair back for you as you brush your teeth and wash your face in the sink quietly.

In your bedroom, you search through your drawers, pulling out something to wear. He turns his back to you and ends up face-to-face with an old photo of the two of you from school.

“You can look, Hee.”

Drawn to the picture, he doesn’t reply. The boys are in it too, but it feels like you two are the focus. Everyone’s smiling at the camera except Heeseung, who — with his arm around you — stares at the side of your face with a lopsided smile. Happiness radiates from his being, lighting his eyes and face.

“I want you to look.” The softness and desperation in your voice tug his heart.

“Come on ba—” Heeseung sighs. “Just get dressed, yeah?”

You don’t say anything but he can hear the rustle of your clothes as you change.

Jealousy blooms in his chest, looking at himself three years ago. Happy and full of love for you and your friends, for life. Everything was so easy then. His chest tightens and he has to close his eyes.

Heeseung feels you next to him, hears your jewellery falling into the clay holder on your dresser and opens his eyes, looking at you. You’re in a t-shirt he’s sure belongs to Jake and struggling with the clasp on your necklace. He knows you want him to help but he feels like he can’t move.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really do want to be with you,” you say when you finally get the necklace off. “And I know I’m too late, but I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t want to be with you.”

You’re so close the peppermint on your breath hits him like a wave. A distinct smell of citrus and summer, of Jake, comes from your body, mixed up with the scent of you in a way that makes him uneasy.

He gets a headache trying to make sense of your words, if it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him, then what was it? Even back then, you didn’t elaborate, you just repeated his name and the words: it’s not your fault, over and over until they sounded made up. Heeseung can’t entertain this conversation, not now. Not when you’re drunk and looking up at him with longing in your eyes. “I think we need to get you to bed,” Heeseung mumbles, taking a step back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“But I’m here now and we can be together again.”

“You moving was never the problem. You know that wasn’t the problem.” A tear slips down your cheek and he softens immediately. “I wanted to go with you, I was going to go with you.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, frowning. “This university was your dream. How could I let you give up your scholarship for me?”

“You were my dream,” he admits. “And it wasn’t your decision to make.”

“You would have made the wrong one.”

Heeseung scoffs. “Do you think breaking up was the right one?”

Your silence is brutally telling. You squeeze your eyes shut as if trying to magic yourself out of the conversation, but it only makes more tears fall. A realisation hits him like a truck: you’re thinking about it. A painful lump forms in his throat. How could you have anything to think about? How was breaking up with him, not the single worst decision you’ve ever made? He can’t believe you could have let go so easily if you loved him. Long distance wouldn’t have been easy, but surely if you loved him, you would have made it work. You would have tried. Heeseung wishes he hadn’t asked at all.

“I do,” you say finally, opening your eyes to look at him.

His heart is heavy in his chest. “Okay.”

“Heeseung.”

“What?”

A stomach-churning sob falls out of you. “I don’t know.”

Another silence weighs the room down and Heeseung knows what he needs to do. He sighs. “Let’s just.. I should go.”

You don’t put up a fight, you don’t say anything, only letting your shoulders droop before you sigh and lead Heeseung to the front door. He says goodbye as he puts his shoes on and all you do is watch as he leaves your apartment. He waits for you to close the door and lock it before walking away.

Heeseung walks all the way home and only cries when he closes his door, sliding down the back of it like something from a movie. With tears in his eyes, and his knees to his chest, he pulls out his phone to text you. I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he types. Let’s only talk when we need to.

The two of you manage to hold this up, with you finding others to sit with during classes, and no one seeming to question Heeseung’s skipping plans or new close friendship with Mark’s group who he spends time with between classes instead. But as always, things have a funny way of going different to how Heeseung expected them to.

After three weeks of near radio silence, Jay barges into his room with his face scrunched up. “What are you doing?”

“Right now?” Heeseung asks, confused. Standing by the bed with the corner of his duvet in his hand, in nothing but his underwear, he thinks his plans look a little obvious. “I’m about to jerk off.”

Jay rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what I mean.”

“Evidently, I do not.”

“Why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” he asks, squinting at Heeseung.

“We’re hanging out right now.”

“Forgive me if I don’t count an impromptu circle jerk as hanging out.”

“I don’t.. want to do that.”

Jay clutches his chest. “I’m crushed.”

Heeseung studies his expression. Serious, an inch of concern pooling in his eyes. “We dated for six years, she dumped me, I turned into a shell of myself, but she moved back home and we’re all friends again, so I think things are looking up for me.”

A deep sigh leaves Jay as he sits on the bed. “What happened at the bar with YN three weeks ago when we all left?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What exactly counts as ordinary for you two?”

Heeseung’s still trying to figure that out. He shrugs. “Making the right decisions.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Never better.’

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?” There’s a sincere look on Jay’s face as he leans back on his hands.

“Which is why I’m being honest.”

It doesn’t seem like Jay’s going to let this go, but to Heeseung’s surprise, he smiles. “Perfect,” he says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the mirror where he checks himself out. “Because she and the guys are going to be here in ten. Put some clothes on.”

He does just that, pulling some shorts over his hips and a shirt over his head before pulling the two bean bag chairs stacked next to the couch to sit in front of the TV, claiming one of them with his body by sinking into it. The cosy material is soft against his thighs and he wonders why they don’t use them more.

Ten minutes go by like seconds when Jay gets up to answer the door, laughing at something one of you says before leading you all into the living room. He’s watching some show Jay left on, greeting you and the boys with a wave before turning back to the TV. Behind him, the four of you laugh and talk on the couch but Heeesung’s too wrapped up in an argument on screen to join in. His attention only falters when he reaches for the open six-pack on the coffee table. It’s barely out of his reach, so he turns around to take a beer, trying to ignore the way his heart sinks in his chest seeing you and Jay cuddled up together. It’s friendly, he knows that. Jay’s with Yunjin and you’re.. He’s still not sure, but it hurts nonetheless. You’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn and he only laughs when you throw a handful at him.

The red speaker Sunghoon’s holding chimes three times when he turns it on, a Frank Ocean thudding out of it that drowns out the show he’s watching, leaving him to follow along with the subtitles instead. But he can’t focus.

Heeseung tries to settle his heartache, comforting himself with the thought of the two of you in another reality. One where it’s him instead of Jay. Or one where you come over and sit with him, curling up in his lap, pouting because Jay’s being mean. He pictures himself stroking your hair and kissing away your pout, holding you into his chest when Jake and Sunghoon start teasing you. In this reality, however, he watches you peel Jay’s shirt from his chest and dump a handful of popcorn in the gap, cackling to yourself at the clear frustration he doesn’t verbalise. Heeseung sighs, looking back at the TV and taking a sad sip of his sad beer.

After a while, you fall into the beanbag next to him, sprawling out over the whole thing and looking at him. “Hey, Heeseung.”

“Hello.”

“I’m sorry about that night.” Your voice is quiet, clearly apologetic if the way you don’t meet his eyes is anything to go by.

“Okay.” Heeseung nods and a beat passes. “I meant what I said, what I texted you.” It hurts to say but it’s for the best. He stands up out of the beanbag, making a show of stretching his arms and legs before sinking into the couch next to Jake. Over Jake’s slouched form, Jay shoots him a look, arching a brow. Heeseung only stages a chuckle, shrugging before looking at the TV again. He can’t make sense of anything on the screen.

Sunghoon emerges from Jay’s room with a grin on his face, asking when you’re going to eat. In standard fashion, the four of you stand around Jay in the kitchen, bothering him by telling him what to do like he’s a child as he puts frozen pizza and some garlic bread in the oven.

“The middle one’s the timer,” Jake says, pointing at the knobs above the oven door. “It’s there so you can set how long the food needs to cook for, and after you set it, it’ll go off so you know it’s ready.”

“But it’s all up to you and your discretion. You can open the door whenever you want to check on everything,” you coo, patting his shoulder.

If Jay’s actually annoyed, nothing about his smile gives it away as he nods with a clenched fist, closing the door and sitting next to Heeseung on the countertop. Heeseung’s almost too busy focusing on the way his beer heats his stomach to notice the way you watch him with a small frown from barely an arm’s length away. Sunghoon picks up on your declining mood and thrusts an open bottle into your hand. “We like to drink with—” He’s cut off by Jay taking the bottle and setting it behind you on the counter, mumbling cut it out, dude, and tugging you out of the kitchen by the arm when he notices the tears in your eyes.

He hears Jay’s door close and nobody says anything until the timer goes off and Jay comes back alone, filling a plate with food and going back to his room.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jake says to the back of Jay’s head, offbeat and half smiling as he washes his hands in the sink.

Sitting at the table, he watches Jake and Sunghoon eat while pretending nothing’s wrong.

At the end of the night, when everyone’s gone home, Heeseung gets into bed, barely managing to pull the duvet up when there’s a knock at his door. “Yeah?” he calls out. Jay appears with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says quickly.

Jay regards him with a frown. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“Yeah.” He nods, and Heeseung prepares himself for a lecture. “I was going to say, I’m going home next week, for Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

The holidays go by in a soju and tteokguk-filled blur, with Heeseung choosing to stay at home until the day of his first class of the second semester so he doesn’t have to be around you. He tells himself it’s for the good of your friend group, as he watches you all make plans in the group chat through notification bubbles, so he doesn’t leave a read receipt.

The commute is more jarring than he realised. What had been a twenty-minute drive turns into an hour-long journey, including a thirty-minute walk to the train station ‘near’ house, fifteen minutes on the train into the city centre, and another fifteen minutes on foot to campus. He’s drenched in sweat despite the below-zero temperature and has to make a stop to the bathroom to sort himself out.

He arrives early at least, finding the room where his Ethnography: Theory and Practice 2 class is set to start in fifteen minutes. The only indicator that he’s in the right place is the lecturer’s name and contact information written in the top corner of a whiteboard, and Heeseung picks the seat furthest from the door. It’s an elective class and, judging by the nine empty chairs next to him, not a very popular one. He’s relieved at least that he’ll be able to start off the semester without running into anyone he knows, least of all you. As seats start filling up and the lecturer arrives, he’s feeling unusually lucky.

So, of course, you show up, running a hand through your hair as you walk through the open door, apologising for being late even though there are still two minutes until the class is scheduled to begin. Of course, the only empty seat is the one next to him, which you sit in without looking at him, making an effort to angle your body away from him. Of course, the lecturer assigns a presentation for two weeks time, pairing the class with the person they’re sitting beside. Neither you nor Heeseung say a word to each other, but you raise your hand when prompted to pick a topic to cover. He can’t help his irritation at you for making the decision without asking him, but you look so nice in your hoodie with your hair tied up that his annoyance settles before it has a chance to bloom.

“YN YLN and Heeseung Lee, we’ll do music and cultural expression,” you say, picking the topic he wanted to do anyway.

When class is over, you’re quick to get out of your seat, pulling on your jacket and stuffing your laptop back into your bag before leaving so quickly that Heeseung has to leave his stuff behind to go after you. You don’t stop walking when he calls out your name, and too scared to make a scene, he overtakes you, leaving you with no option but to stop in front of him.

“We should go to the library, get the research and shit out of the way ASAP,” he suggests.

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, okay, I’m going to get my stuff.”

You follow him back to class, watching from the door as he puts his things in his bag before putting on his jacket. You don’t say anything on the walk to the library, when you get there, or when you browse the Cultural Studies section. Heeseung glances at you and you’re chewing on your lip, crouching a bit to read the spines of the books on the lower shelves. “Are you alright?” he asks with genuine concern.

You look up at him, nodding.

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t said anything in an hour.”

This makes you straighten up, your brows furrowing in an expression he can’t figure out. “Sorry, Heeseung,” you say, your voice weak. “I’m just trying to figure out if you think I need to talk right now.”

“Obviously, a paired project is a situation where we need to talk.”

You sigh, muttering oh, my God, before you look at him. “You know what, I’m going home. Let’s do this tomorrow.”

“We have class in twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll read the slides when I get in.”

Unsure what to say, he watches you walk away, deciding that he should just go home too.

At the flat he hasn’t seen in five weeks, Heeseung feels slightly out of place, going straight to his room and into bed, not even getting up when he hears Jay coming home. Jay opens the door without knocking, his mouth falling into an excited ‘o’ shape. “Hey, stranger,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming back, so I started advertising your room on Gumtree.”

“Any offers?”

“No one as good as you.” Heeseung doesn’t have to look at Jay to know he’s smiling. “Move over,” he mumbles, lifting the duvet.

Lazily, he rolls over in bed, making room for Jay who makes himself comfortable under the covers.

“What are you doing, Heeseung?”

“Trying to sleep.”

“Talk to me, help me understand.” Jay sighs and Heeseung’s lips curl into a frown. “You’re my best friend,” Jay says quietly, with a tenderness that strikes him.

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung repeats like an affirmation.

“So why won’t you talk to me?”

There’s a subtle hurt in Jay’s voice that upsets Heeseung, who shifts around to lie on his back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that YN hasn’t already.”

“She only told me that she fucked up.”

Hearing it from someone else’s mouth makes it sound drastic, especially considering he’s the one who left. Again. But he’s too bitter to say that out loud so he bites his tongue. “Seems to be the theme in our relationship.” The words taste rotten when he says them.

“Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you get to be a dick,” Jay says. “What happened?”

It takes some time but Heeseung explains everything, letting Jay ask questions and make comments until the end when he looks away, pressing his eyes shut and saying, “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think I get it. Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy. Why can’t you just be together already?”

Everything sounds painfully simple when it’s put like that. But there’s too much between you both for it to go that way. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with you when you confessed, it’s that he didn’t know how he could without knowing why you left him in the first place. Without knowing what he did that was so terrible you couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with him, never mind the same area code.

A beat passes before Heeseung speaks. “There was something wrong, and instead of trying to fix it, she just.. gave up. I would’ve done anything she asked me to. I could’ve changed, could’ve fixed things, but she didn’t even tell me.”

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, Heeseung.”

“But she did.”

“Yeah,” Jay admits, sympathy lacing the word.

“How can I be with her knowing there’s some awful part of me she hates?”

“It’s not like that, not really.”

“What’s it like then?”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.”

Heeseung laughs, shaking his head. “Do you keep my secrets as dutifully as you keep hers?”

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t even know you have secrets.” Jay sounds exhausted as he speaks, and it’s the last sound to come from him until a few minutes pass and Heeseung hears him snoring.

You didn’t reply when Heeseung texted you asking to meet in the library before class, but you show up anyway, pulling out the seat across from him and dumping your bag on the table. “I don’t know if you saw the email, but the partner work is just for the presentation.”

“Cool.” he nods, relieved.

“I think after that, I’ll start hanging out with Yunjin instead, so you’re not uncomfortable.”

Heeseung frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not uncomfortable around you,” he says. “I just don’t.. get you. You dump me and move as far away as you can. Now you’re back and what? You love me again?”

You furrow your brows, inspecting him for a moment before you speak. “I don’t love you again, Heeseung. I’ve loved you this whole time.”

“So why didn’t you choose me? I just wanted you to choose me.” He’s too anxious to know the truth to worry about how desperate he must sound. Until he notices that the guys sitting at the other end of the tables are watching him, their brows arched sharply in a mixture of shock and curiosity. Heeseung runs a hand over his face, hoping the motion might wipe away the flush burning his cheeks.

“You wanted me to choose you over my future?”

“I could’ve been your future, part of it. I’d never ask you to choose me over university, you know I wouldn’t. I’m saying you could’ve had both.”

“It wasn’t as easy as that.”

“Why not?”

“Heeseung,” you say like it’s an answer.

“Just tell me why you didn’t want me. That’s all I want to know.”

The following silence makes him consider packing up abruptly and faking an emergency. He’s sure he could probably fake his death if he slumps in his chair slowly enough.

You sigh heavily, interrupting his train of thought—now, he’s wondering if he even wants to know. “Because you would’ve put me first,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “If I stayed here or moved away, I would’ve been your top priority and I couldn’t let you throw away everything you worked for, for me.”

“I loved you, of course, you were my top priority.” He can’t believe he even has to say it, can’t believe you might have thought you weren’t the single most important thing in his life.

“Heeseung, you were sacrificing your life for me. You missed your cousin’s engagement party to help me study for a history test, you deferred your scholarship entry by a year just so we could go to college at the same time. How could I keep letting you miss out on your life?”

“Deferring my entry wasn’t just for you,” he lies. “And it’s not like I missed the wedding.”

“But I think you would’ve if I stubbed my toe.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

You sigh again, shaking your head. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t keep living like that, you can’t just throw everything away. You’re such a hard worker, Heeseung, and I’d hate to see you waste that over some girl.”

“But you’re you. You weren’t just ‘some girl’ you were my girl.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s true. “We were in high school and I was studying constantly; it didn’t matter back then. And you were so far away, it’s not like I could feasibly drop everything and go to you every time something happened.”

“Heeseung.”

“You had a choice.”

“Heeseung.”

The way you’re saying his name reminds him of your breakup—the pink walls of your childhood bedroom and the pictures of the two of you stuck up all over them, in frames on your desk, and stickers on your light switch. How they seemed to close in around him as he put all of his energy into staying on two feet, instead of falling to the floor and begging you on hands and knees to stay with him.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve spent the last year and a half wondering what I did wrong, I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” We could’ve tried, he wants to say. I could have changed and we could’ve tried.

“I didn’t want you to lose that. I felt really lucky that you loved me like that, and I didn’t want to rob someone else of it, you know. I thought maybe you’d find a balance with someone someday, but I didn’t think that person would be me.”

Heeseung has to put in an effort to stop his jaw from dropping. How could there ever be someone else? How could you ever think he could have someone else? There’s so much he wants to say, to ask, but he can tell by the way you press your lips together that you’re done with the conversation.

“It’s not too late.”

You tilt your head at him. “What?”

“In your room that night, you said you were too late,” he explains. “I love you.”

“Still?”

His heart shifts uncomfortably in his chest at the tone of your voice and the way your eyebrows shoot up. “Always,” he says.

A smile starts to curve your lips, but it slips before it has a chance to bloom, stifled happiness that you cover with your hands, hiding your face completely. “I don’t think we should talk about this here.” Your palms muffle the words but not their impact; you’re right and he knows it.

It’s been a year—the longest of his life, and the hard part is already over. He knows now and he’ll do anything he can to fix it. “Right.” Heeseung nods but you’re not looking at him. He’s going to fix it. For now, though, he says, “What’s our research topic again?” Despite having had Music and Cultural Expression typed into the search bar since before you arrived.

With Heeseung’s work ethic and your commitment to being the best, the presentation goes quite smoothly. You make no mistakes, and Heeseung, distracted by how pretty you look in professional attire, manages to stumble through the script he’d rehearsed. The two of you even win the first place prize — satisfaction that you got a perfect score — and celebrate with coffee afterwards.

Between the four walls of the campus café, you and Heeseung sip lattes that taste like temperature — still too hot to have a real flavour — and laugh with each other about something Jay said when you all hung out last night. Neither of you mentions your conversation from two weeks ago, deciding instead to fall into the patterns of your first term together: napping in his bed after class and coming up with excuses for alone time. He makes an effort to follow through with his commitments, even when you ask him to hang out, to show you that he’s different now. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t said anything about it, but Heeseung tells himself it’s a good thing while missing shots on the court with Mark, too hung up on you to focus on anything else. The only thing left is to figure out a way to be yours again and do everything he can to make sure he doesn’t lose you.

Over your shoulder, through the window, the sun slips below the horizon, casting long shadows around the café. He takes a deep breath when he looks at you, smiling down at your phone as you take a picture of your half-drunk latte and the milky swirls still peeking through your coffee. A tangible determination settles in his chest as evening’s first stars appear in the sky, he knows one thing for sure: he has to grab the chance to be yours again with both hands, and once it’s his, he won’t let go this time.

The café may be clearing out, but his heart is full of hope and for the time being, sitting with you as a friend is.. fine.

You’d often imagined what it would be like if you hadn’t broken up with Lee Heeseung.

Most of your first year was spent daydreaming about him in all of your usual hangouts. Sometimes, at drinks with your friends, you envisioned him showing up, a smile on his face as he apologised for being late. He’d slide into the booth next to you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. Other times you imagined him showing up to surprise you, sitting on a bench in the quad and grinning when he saw you leaving. He’d run up to you with open arms and a bouquet in his hand, wrapping you in a hug and whispering that he missed you too much to wait another day to see you. You would even fall asleep thinking about FaceTime calls that stayed on overnight or drunken texts after the club, misspelt I love yous and can’t wait to see yous filling your text thread.

You didn’t tell your new friends much about him, briefly mentioning a partner you’d watched some film with or an artist he liked if they came up, and most nights were spent begging Jay to send you Heeseung’s social media posts and tell you every detail of the day they had without you. Based on accounts from Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon, it seemed like he was getting on well, a fact that — while hurtful — pushed you to try and do the same. After a month of avoiding your flatmates, you finally managed to connect with them, going to various social events around campus and rolling your eyes any time a drunk guy complimented you.

This is why it took you by surprise to see him at Mark Lee’s party in the summer—sitting alone in the garden, in sweatpants and a flannel, looking at his phone with a deep frown etched over his lips. When you think about it, it feels like so long has passed since then and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago.

Being back in Heeseung’s life has been more challenging than you thought it would be when you filled out your transfer application. Especially in the weeks since you finished your presentation together, since you suggested the library might not have been the right place for the conversation you were having and never followed up on.

Now doesn’t seem like the right time either—you’re sitting on the floor in Jake and Sunghoon’s living room with your back against the couch, sharing a blanket with Heeseung. Jay left about an hour ago to go to Yunjin’s, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You know you can’t bring it up with Jake and Sunghoon around, but you’ve had plenty of opportunities to over the last month.

When you finished your celebratory lattes, Heeseung walked you home. The sky was a perfect inky black, and it was cold enough to see your breath, just the way he liked, so cold he offered you his jacket to wear. He didn’t say anything about it, only shrugging it off and setting it gently over your shoulders, shocking you so much that you stopped walking. The scent of his cologne, dark and woody, was overwhelming as you slid your arms into the sleeves, zipping it up and after three paces without you, Heeseung turned his head with wide eyes. You could have said it then, you wanted to say it then, but you bit your tongue and thanked him instead. He smiled, gulping when you closed the gap, you should have kissed him, he was close enough, his lips just a tip-toe and tilted head away, but you hugged him instead.

After that, the two of you had all the time in the world together. Between your shared classes and going for meals alone. All the time you’d spend in his living room together, cosy on the couch when Jay would go to sleep. So many moments to talk, to get back together, but the words would die in your throat every time you thought them. It all seemed too cheesy or not cheesy enough, too dramatic or too casual, you couldn’t strike a balance and had no idea how to even find one.

Last night was probably the most jarring occasion. Yunjin and Chaewon had been trying to convince you to go the club all week but you just weren’t in the mood. They seemed happy enough when you suggested hosting pres—but now you think they’d been hoping you’d be so drunk you’d just agree to go out. Yunjin brought half a litre of vodka and Chaewon brought a soup flask with enough murky cocktail in it to feed a small family. Together, the three of you drank and gossiped around the small table in your living room, with Chaewon’s phone in a glass to amplify her playlist. After taking a whiff of whatever she brought, you and Yunjin decided — for everyone’s wellbeing — to hide her flask and take shots of vodka, finishing off the cider you had left in the fridge.

“Please come out,” Yunjin begged. “I’ll feel bad leaving you here, all pretty and drunk by yourself.”

“I’ll feel bad too!” Chaewon added, clasping her hands. “Not bad enough to stay with you, but I’ll probably have less fun.”

You shook your head. “I don’t even have an outfit.” The words were like music to their ears and you regretted them as soon as you said them. Both girls grabbed you by the hand, tugging you to your room and flinging open your wardrobe. Yunjin looked for a top and Chaewon for a skirt, though both of them gasped when they saw the dress you wore for Heeseung’s birthday. Chaewon pulled it from the rack, holding it out in front of her.

“We won’t pay for anything if you wear this,” she squealed before she and Yunjin started chanting: Free booze! Free booze!

You sighed, thinking of Heeseung and shook your head again. That dress, though beautiful, hadn’t been enough for him to lose all composure and skip the party in favour of fucking you into the mattress, and you didn’t love the idea of guys that weren’t him ogling you all night. “Anything but that dress.”

Yunjin and Chaewon seemed sad, but you were able to distract them by bringing out the disaster cocktail the oldest girl brewed earlier, pouring each of them half a glass and ordering an Uber to come and take them away. You promised them you’d go out next time, locking your pinkies with theirs and closing the door behind them.

Alone in your room, with nothing but thoughts of Heeseung to keep you company, you called him. He answered right away. You can’t remember exactly what you said but you remember the soft sigh he let out when you said it. You could practically see him tilting his head, weighing his options.

“I’m trying to get a paper finished, it’s due Monday,” he said finally.

“But it’s Thursday.”

“Yeah, and I want to have my weekend free. If you’re still up when I’m done, I’ll come over, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Heeseung hung up after that and you got out of bed to clean up, hoping the time would fly. It didn’t, but your flat was clean again so you pretended not to mind.

He called you after midnight. “Do you still want me to come over?” he asked, breathless.

“Please.” There was a knock on your door after you spoke and you mumbled hold on before going to check it. Warped by the peephole, you saw Heeseung standing there, holding his phone to his ear and playing with the zipper on his jacket. He hugged you when you opened the door, asking if you were okay. “Perfect,” you said, looking into his eyes.

His pretty face scrunched up and he pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers, turning his head. “Well, you smell like a distillery.”

Heeseung stood in the doorway of the bathroom while you brushed your teeth, grinning every time his eyes met yours in the mirror. Tell him now, you thought. You have to tell him now. Those thoughts nagged you as you gargled mouthwash, plagued you when you hugged him again and tortured you when he carried you to bed.

He stiffened when kissed his jaw. “You can’t do that,” he mumbled, setting you down under the duvet. “Not now.”

Then when? you wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” you said.

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s just.. It’s okay.”

Neither of you spoke after that, you made room for him on the bed and he lay down next to you, let you rest your head on his chest and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He was gone when you woke up in the morning but he left a glass of water and some paracetamol on your end table, along with a note.

I had to go to class and you wouldn’t wake up :( We’ll talk about everything soon, we have to. See you at Jake and Sunghoon’s later?

— Your Hee.

If you hadn’t been drunk he might have been okay with the kiss, he might have looked down at you and kissed you properly. You might have talked last night, fixed things—you’ve never regretted drinking so much in your life.

Things are better tonight at least. You’ve been nursing the same can of cider since you arrived a few hours ago and Heeseung’s only had two sips of his beer, so hopefully, if you get some alone time, the two of you can finally talk. You’re still not sure what you should say, if you should apologise for waiting so long, for leaving in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time, applying elsewhere. You didn’t even think you’d get in but you knew you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least take the chance. It seemed like a sign when the acceptance letter reached your inbox before the term had finished, an unconditional offer to a high-ranking university, you couldn’t pass it up. And knowing Heeseung as well as you did, you knew he’d do anything to be by your side when you needed him, you knew he’d drop everything to move with you if you let him. You’d owe him forever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of you.

You called Jay in tears after a month away, telling him you made a mistake, that you needed to come back and had already filled out a transfer application. He convinced you to at least stay until the end of term, to actually make friends with the girls you were living with and see how you felt. A week later, he, Jake and Sunghoon showed up on your doorstep with chocolate and booze, hoping your room was big enough for all of them to stay for the weekend, it wasn’t, not really, but for three nights, the four of you slept head to toe in your bed after eating your body weights in pizza and ice cream. There was no talk of Heeseung, even though you begged them, and by the time they left, you felt much better. At the end of your first year, you quietly submitted your transfer application and shared a tearful goodbye with Yizhuo and Minjeong before finally flying back home. The boys seemed happy to have you back, even if it meant sneaking around to hang out with you—A nudge pulls you out of your thoughts, Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

When you look at him, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. His eyes are brimmed with concern, wide and beautiful, a deep brown you’ll never get sick of. His lips are curved into a soft pout, a crease running along his brow that you want to smooth out.

Heeseung relaxes a little when you nod, but he seems unconvinced. “You sure?”

You reach up to poke his cheek, grinning when he turns his head, trying to fight a smile. “I’m good,” you say, pressing a dimple into his cheek anyway.

He holds your finger in his hands, unclenching your fist and locking his fingers with yours. A wide grin stretches over your lips as you plead with your cheeks to stop burning. Jake’s hand interrupts the moment, falling from the couch, limp and curled into a fist that smacks the back of your head. He’s fast asleep, not stirring at all even when Heeseung laughs.

Unfortunately, you lose rock, paper, scissors and have to wake Jake up. He shifts a little on the couch when you shake him, whining at you to stop and scrunching up his face at you. Heeseung and Sunghoon eventually sigh, grabbing him by the arms and legs to carry him to bed.

Both boys return, laughing about something and Heeseung sits down next to you again while Sunghoon leans in the doorway, yawning. “You two can have my room,” he says, cutting his eyes at you. “No funny business though, I just changed my sheets.”

You chuckle nervously and Heeseung makes a show of hiding his face in the crook of your neck, much to Sunghoon’s visible dismay. He clutches the doorframe so hard you see his knuckles paling and uses his free hand to point a stern finger in your direction. “I mean it,” is the last thing he says before leaving.

“Sorry,” Heeseung mumbles when the door closes. “It’s just so funny teasing him.” He’s grinning when he lifts his head and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me about your group project.”

A sigh curls out of you, dramatic and loud as you let your head fall back against the couch at the thought of it. You brought it up in passing on Monday after class and spent the rest of the week pretending it didn’t exist.

“Damn,” he mutters. “That bad?”

You don’t have many friends in your Archaeology class, but you always look forward to it — because you’re covering Ancient Egypt — and enjoy it. But this morning, you slept in, arriving late, to find your lecturer assigning groups for a project weighing 25% of your final grade. She put the groups together based on where people were sitting, which left you, standing in the doorway fighting for breath, being added to a group of boys you shared a seminar with last term. They never contributed, and rarely showed up, constantly sending messages in the class Whatsapp group to ask if anyone had the tutorial answers. The sinking feeling that your project was doomed before it began plagued you throughout the lecture and all the way to lunch with Yunjin afterwards. Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the story, you tell him in meticulous detail about your time with her that day. Thankfully, you’re sober so don’t admit that you spent a lot of the meal exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas to get him back.

Heeseung is just as beautiful and good at listening as always, nodding his head and uhm-ing and ah-ing at all the right parts. Until his gaze changes for a split second into something so soft and so sweet that it leaves a mark on your heart. “I was pissed about it earlier, but now I’m here, with you, and I want you to be my boyfriend again,” you say, jaw hanging open as soon as the words come out.

His eyes widen, lips parting in shock. Then his brows furrow, pushing a crease into his forehead.

“I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.” You start running damage control and pray that Jake or Sunghoon will wake up and come back. “I really didn’t mean to say that, especially not now when we haven’t talked about everything. But you looked at me, Heeseung. You really looked at me just now and I can’t pretend I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, really, but it’s your fault I said that.”

Mortified, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you say something now?” you ask, mumbling into the heels of your palms.

All he says is your name and a pit forms in your stomach. “God, anything but that,” you groan.

Heeseung chuckles, which you think is a good thing. “Would it be better if I called you baby?”

“In what context?”

Holding your breath, you watch as he presses his lips together, humming as he tilts his head. “Term of endearment between a girlfriend and her boyfriend.”

You lift your head, separating your fingers to see him properly through the space and the pit in your stomach dissolves into something live, butterflies fluttering in a frenzy from the look on his face. The gentle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the slight flush on his cheeks all make your head spin.

“Really?”

Heeseung nods so hard his hair follows the movement. “Yes, baby.”

“Can we kiss now?”

“Maybe if you move your hands out of the way.”

“I don’t like maybe.”

“Definitely if you move your hands out of the way,” he corrects.

You can’t bring yourself to move, worried that the sudden motion might disrupt something, might knock you out of the moment. Heeseung laughs, so softly it sounds like an exhale, as he takes your wrists in his hands, tugging gently. With your face in full view, his eyes flit over your features for a beat before he cups your cheek in his hand, dragging his thumb over the soft skin of your lips.

You don’t even realise he’s leaning in until his lips touch yours. There’s a rush of something in your chest, an intense warmth surrounding your heart. His lips are softer than ever, gentle as he kisses you like you might break—you think you might. Nothing is better than this, better than having Heeseung’s lips on yours after all this time. You lean into him completely, pressing your body impossibly close to his and twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispers, barely pulling away. “I love you so much.”

You can’t bring yourself to reply, emotions too close to the surface, tears too close to spilling. Instead, you smile into the kiss, somehow holding him closer and hoping he’ll understand. He pulls back, just enough to gaze into your eyes with a look of pure affection. He doesn’t press for words, a reassuring smile tugging his lips.

He understands, Heeseung always understands.

Sunghoon’s sheets are soft against your skin when you wake up, tickling your nose with the scent of detergent and Heeseung’s shampoo—fresh and light. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands as Heeseung watches you with a soft smile, eyes scanning your features, taking you in. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there and his eyes flick up to meet yours. You feel like a teenager, a giddy smile gracing your lips, giggles tumbling out at the tickly feeling of lovestruck butterflies rumbling in your stomach. Heeseung beams, nuzzling into the touch of your hand as his eyes flutter shut.

“If we’re going to work out this time—I want us to work out, but we need to talk,” you say after a beat.

Heeseung’s brows raise like he can’t believe what you’re saying, his lips pushing into a pout. “We are going to work out, of course we’re going to work out.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a deep hoarseness that’s too sexy for the cute way he’s chewing on his lip, doe-eyed and sweet as his eyes scan your face.

“I know, baby, I want that.” You nod, using your hand to push his hair out of his face. It’s so long now it’s starting to cover his eyes, the soft blond strands curling into his eyelashes. “But you have to say no to me, you know? I want you to have a life of your own, we both should.”

“No.”

“No?” You press your eyes shut, sighing. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m starting now.”

“I’m serious, Hee, this is serious.”

He pouts for a second before nodding. “I’m serious too. I can say no to you, I will say no to you.”

You can’t help your scepticism, raising your brow at him as you inspect his face. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he’s not being serious, nothing in those huge eyes seeming insincere. But you know Heeseung, you’ve been with Heeseung, and you know better than anyone, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with you, so you have to ask. “So from now on, if I text you when you’re in class or out with friends, and I tell you I want to see you, what are you going to do?”

Heeseung sighs. “I’m going to text back and say that I’m.. busy.” His lips curl into a frown. “My heart will be super heavy though.”

“But you’ll do it? You won’t see me until you’re free?”

“I’ll do it, I won’t leave or anything.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yeah, baby, I promise.” When you smile at him, Heeseung leans in to seal his promise with a kiss, his lips meeting yours softly.

You flinch when the door opens and Heeseung chuckles against your lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. Over his head, you see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, hair dripping water on the floor with a towel wrapped around his hips.

Sunghoon sighs, loud and dramatic, his head falling back. “I specifically said no funny business,” he mutters. “Quit looking at me.” He comes into the room and lifts the duvet over your heads.

Under the covers, Heeseung pulls away, poking his head out and laughing. “We’re just kissing.”

“Yeah, with your shirt off. Why is your shirt off?”

“She wanted to wear—”

Sunghoon cuts him off with a gasp, pulling the duvet back. “Wait, why are you kissing?”

“I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”

The word makes your cheeks burn and you hide your face in Heeseung’s chest. His lips find the top of your head, kissing you as he wraps his arms around you.

Sunghoon groans at the sight. “I haven’t missed this at all,” he says. “Who else knows?”

“Just you so far.”

You can hear Sunghoon grinning when he drops the duvet back over your heads and shuffles around the room, getting ready for skating. Heeseung calls you cute and holds you closer. “I’ve missed you so much, missed this,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you.”

Dating Heeseung again is better than anything you could have imagined, even if it has only been two weeks. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and even the simple things he does make you smile so hard your face aches. Like when he picks up snacks for you after class or sends you pictures of sweet things he wrote about you in his old diary. Chaewon and Yunjin comment that you seem happier, that you’re glowing, and you can’t help the giggles that always escape and the flush that burns your cheeks when you mention your boyfriend, Heeseung.

Even under the pressure of taking on a group project by yourself, you find yourself fighting a grin in the library just thinking about him. Your class finished an hour ago and you’re doing research in the computer lab while waiting for him so you can go back home together. With a crease in your brow, you try to make sense of conflicting articles on the origin of the Great Pyramid of Giza, happy when your phone lights up with a text.

hee: we should go on a date tonight !!! how does the fair sound?

you: sounds good :D

hee: ❤️

As if sensing that plans have been made without him, Sunghoon sends a message to the group chat asking who wants to go to the Spring Fair in the city centre tonight.

you: hee and i are alr going :/

sunghoon: awesome i can meet u at hee’s in a few hours?

You really can’t find the heart to tell Sunghoon it’s a date so you decide not to say anything, only feeling worse when Jay replies.

jay: sounds good :D

hee: it’s a date dumbass, you’re not invited.

sunghoon: ok.. i can still go

jake: time?

With your date set and whatever else the boys are planning in the group chat, you manage to finish up your work in time for Heeseung to show up with a grin on his face as you pack up your notebook. Excitement stirs in your stomach when he locks his fingers with yours and you’ve never looked forward to the sticky heat of a night in spring as much as you are right now.

“How was class?” you ask, squeezing his hand.

Heeseung grins at you, swinging your hands between your bodies as you weave through tables to leave the library. “Turns out I focus really well when you’re not sitting with me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip.

“I can sit with other people if it’ll help you focus.”

“No!” he whines, loud enough to draw side eyes from the students around you before the tips of his ears burn red and he pulls you out of the library at lightspeed.

When you reach his flat, Jay’s sitting on the couch grinning at something on his phone, so distracted he doesn’t even realise you’ve arrived until you sit down next to him. He’s got a lot to say about his mock trial and tells you everything, all while you’re cuddled up to Heeseung, with your head on his shoulder.

You blink and the sun’s gone down, Jay isn’t around anymore and Heeseung’s arms are around your waist, holding you close. “Hey,” he says when you stir. “The boys left already, you just looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you.”

There’s a wet patch on his sweater where your mouth was that you try to wipe away. It doesn’t budge. And a burning flush attacks your cheeks and neck when Heeseung uses his thumb to wipe some of the drool by your mouth. “So cute.” He chuckles. “Should we get going?”

You spend the whole journey to the city centre with your hand in Heeseung’s, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach every time he smiles at you. It’s weird. To have been with him for so long, yet still feel giddy when he looks at you. This is new though, you suppose, to live away from home and see him whenever you want. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder and you can’t help the grin on your face at the thought of spending infinite nights like this, with him.

The Spring Fair is alive with laughter and squeals of delight that you can hear from around the corner. Winking lights spill onto the pavement in rapid succession, somehow showing the whole spectrum at once. Heeseung is bursting with excitement, running down the street with you in tow, desperately trying to keep up with his stride and regulate your breathing. His eyes are huge when you reach the gates, scanning the area for the churros he’s been talking about for the entire walk and he gasps when he sees the stall, pulling you along with him. You have to weave through the crowd, dipping and dodging tired locals and excited tourists as you call out apologies to everyone Heeseung bumps into. The first night is always packed like this, so full it’s hard to believe the fair runs for six whole weeks.

You share a heart-shaped churro and pose for the photos he wants to take, your heart swelling with affection as you pretend to be embarrassed when he buys matching character headbands for you both. Two years ago, Heeseung would’ve told you that headbands aren’t a good use of your money and bought them anyway, but today, he spent fifteen minutes trying on and taking photos with each character before finding the perfect pair. You can’t help but grin as he puts the headband on for you, a sense of excitement blooming inside you, so great it’s overwhelming.

Heeseung buys a blue raspberry slushy in an obnoxiously large reusable cup with two straws, and as he clutches his head with each brain freeze, chuckles pour out of you, only increasing when he pouts.

At every opportunity, the two of you take selfies, and the grin on his face in each one warms your heart. He posts his favourite to his story, showing you all the compliments he’s getting in his DMs, all aimed at you. He seems so proud and excited to be with you, and butterflies go mad in your stomach as he reads some of them out to you, agreeing with and adding to the messages.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I think I might delete the picture,” he says, frowning as the story replies pour in.

The look on his face makes you laugh, struggling to talk but trying anyway. “But I love it.”

Heeseung puts his phone away, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I love you,” he says, using his free hand to tip your chin towards him. He grins when you say it back, tracing his thumb along your jaw. An odd stillness hits you, in the midst of vibrant chaos. Flashes of multi-coloured LEDs dance in orange and purple strobes over his face and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are pretty and wide, flicking from your eyes to your mouth a few times as a flame starts to burn in your stomach, low and scorching.

“I love you,” you repeat, tip-toeing to close the gap.

You kiss him, slow and sweet to savour the sugary taste on his lips as they move against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and the taste of syrupy artificial fruit, leaving you craving more, craving him. A pop goes out in the air and you flinch in Heeseung’s arms. He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away, looking up. Trails of pink and gold paint the sky above, vibrant sparks spreading everywhere as a few more go off. If you weren’t so busy trying to catch your breath, you might appreciate their beauty, but you are and the next pop only startles you too.

Heeseung looks down at you, his slightly swollen lips curving into a grin. “How are you so cute?” he coos. “And don’t most people want fireworks to go off when they kiss someone?”

“It’s probably a sensation thing, Heeseung.” You know it’s a sensation thing. The first time he kissed you, it felt like you were floating on air, as if Sunghoon’s basement, cold and dark, was the most romantic place on Earth. You were sweaty and nervous, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Heeseung while the boys were sleeping. He was the one to lean in and he kissed the tip of your nose by accident.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Come here.” His voice is so deep and raspy that it spurs the flame on, burning higher, hotter, until it’s the only thing you can think about. His hand finds your jaw again, pulling you towards him to kiss you. Of course, you can’t resist; he’s Heeseung.

The kiss is rife with neediness, whether from you or Heeseung you can’t tell, but you’re tugging at his hair and he’s clutching at your t-shirt, both of you struggling to get enough of the other. You nip at his bottom lip with your teeth and a heady sigh falls from his mouth into yours, brewing a storm in your mind, a thick fog obscuring everything but thoughts of him.

At the sound of a forced throat clearing, you break away from Heeseung, seeing an elderly lady with a steaming cup in her hand and a disgruntled look on her face. She extends an arm, gesturing behind you. When you follow the direction of her hand, you see a bench that you’re standing right in front of. Heeseung grabs your hand, mumbling an apology and tugging you as far away as possible. You struggle to stifle a laugh at the redness of his ears against his hair.

A huge ride swings and spins into the air, catching your attention, though Heeseung seems to be more interested in the way Jake stands by the entrance with a scowl on his face. Jake waves you over when he sees you, grinning and hugging you both like it’s been years since he saw you.

“Jay and Hoon are..” he trails off, using his arm to vaguely gesture towards the sky.

“Man,” Heeseung whispers, pointing a reverent finger to the sky, “R.I.P.”

Countless fireworks shoot up noisily, painting the dark sky, and Heeseung’s arms fall heavily around your shoulders, his body warm against your back. If not for the way Jake’s flinching next to you, covering his ears with his hands and ducking slightly at the bang of each one, it might feel like the two of you are alone in the moment. Alone despite the chatter, the laughter and squeals. Just you and Heeseung.

And Jake.

Heeseung is amazing at fair games, especially the ring toss. But a tired-looking man in a business suit wins the Hello Kitty plush you’d been eyeing for the snotty toddler wrapped around his leg, so you settle for the Kuromi plush instead. Heeseung says it’s cuter. You agree.

His voice is soft when he asks, “Maybe we can go on the Ferris wheel later?” This is a far cry from the boy of sixteen who fainted at an amusement park just from seeing the drop on the biggest ride there. When you look up at him, his eyes are wide, boring into you, holding the stars in his pupils with a grin across his blue-stained lips, and how could you say no to that face?

The platform by the Ferris wheel is sticky under your shoes, making you cringe with every step you take towards the front of the line. Heeseung’s grip on your hand is tighter than you think it’s ever been when he realises that you’re next to get on. This might be the most scared you’ve ever seen him, your poor boyfriend with his overpriced Kuromi headband shivering beside you.

You frown at the sight, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, Hee,” you say.

He tries to play it cool, shrugging with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the fear in his eyes. “I want to,” he assures, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Are you sure?” The way he flinches when the ride operator opens the gate gives you his answer, but Heeseung is firm in his words as he pulls you towards the cart, despite wincing when the operator locks you in. “Baby,” you whisper, touching his cheek. “It’s not too late to get out.”

In what appears to be a display of his bravery, he makes a show of rocking the carriage — only to be told off by the operator (who can’t be older than sixteen) — and cheering (with no conviction) about nothing in particular. You can’t help but laugh, the cart shaking slightly as you let your head fall back and you only laugh harder when Heeseung gasps because of it.

He flinches again when the ride starts moving, an unsettling creak sending you forward just enough to allow the next victims — according to Heeseung — to get on the ride. When the last of them board, the wheel sets off in a slow spin and he spends the entire first rotation with his eyes clamped shut, only opening them after a while when he thinks the ride is over.

The wheel creaks more than what you think is necessary and he only grows more and more outwardly uncomfortable, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and gripping the safety bar above your laps until his knuckles turn white.

“Would it make you feel better if I held your hand?” you coo, holding your left hand out to him.

He rolls his eyes but takes your hand in his, holding it between his palms. Seemingly at ease, Heeseung shifts slightly in his seat to close the tiny gap between you, pressing his knee into yours.

Even in the distance, the fair’s LED lights are beautiful, melting away into flashing bokeh before your eyes as the carriage inches higher and higher. You almost forget your company, leaning over the edge to get a better look, only for Heeseung to put his arm on your arm, mumbling, “Stop it.”

His skin is warm despite the slight chill that comes with your increasing altitude, and you wish the carriage was smaller—cramped even, forcing the two of you together so tightly that you have no choice but to become one. You sit in the quiet of the night, excitement on the fairground growing quieter as the wheel spins, agonisingly slow, until eventually it’s just the two of you—you and Heeseung: the only people in the moment.

The only people in the world.

“Why are we even on this thing?” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Heeseung shrugs his shoulders as gently as he can manage so as not to rock the carriage. His eyes are big when he looks at you, holding your gaze intently. “I wanted to be romantic.”

Oh, Heeseung, you think, pressing your lips into a frown. He’s the sweetest person in the world and just the thought of it makes your stomach flutter. “You’re plenty romantic,” you say sincerely.

He scoffs. “Yeah, because pretending you didn’t exist for a year is romantic.”

“Yes! Very!” You chuckle, nodding your head.

Again, he rolls his eyes at you but he uses his hand to hold your face, pulling you in. His kiss tastes like candy floss and the blue raspberry slushy you shared earlier, lips soft, relaxed against your own. Your hand reaches for his thigh, meeting instead with the squished plushy between your bodies and you can’t help but laugh.

With your presentation out of the way, you and the guys are all sitting in Heeseung and Jay’s living room for the first night of Spring break. You’ve just about reached your limit, cuddling into Heeseung’s side with your eyes closed, sleepily listening to the conversation. It’s unintelligible, more laughter and wheezes than anything else.

You shift your way into Heeseung’s lap after a while, moving around to get comfortable. It only takes two movements for him to grab you by the waist, holding you still. You try again, and his lips catch the shell of your ear. “Relax, baby. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you admit, moving around again until he sighs, relieved, you think. A wicked grin spreads over your lips when you feel him getting hard, grinding down on him a little and liking the warmth that spreads in your stomach from having him pressed against you.

“Stop it,” he whispers, kissing the spot behind your ear.

You heed the warning but can’t help the thoughts filling your mind, though you try to ignore them, laughing at something Sunghoon said about Jake’s ugly hat and shoes. Jake doesn’t find it as funny as the rest of you seem to.

Another hour passes by in the same way before the boys stumble into Jay’s room, calling out a slurred goodnight to you and Heeseung on the couch. You stand up first, holding out a hand for him to take and giggling when he presses a kiss to the back of it.

In his room, he stares at a spot on the wall as you close the door, a contemplative look on his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, but he doesn’t look at you, only nodding his head with a crease along his brow.

You kiss him, a featherlight touch of your lips against his. It’s soft for a while, sweet and sincere until he clutches your shirt like his life depends on it. Heeseung’s hands are all over you, stroking and squeezing every part of you he can reach. Overwhelming heat burns your skin under his touch. He inhales sharply through his nose when you reach for his waistband, tugging the drawstring free but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. He keeps kissing you, keeps trying and frowns when you pull away.

“You don’t want this?”

He tilts his head, looking down at you with concern flooding his wide eyes. “Do you think we’re going too fast?” His voice is quiet and he chews on his lip after speaking.

“We’ve been together for six years.”

“A month,” he corrects, looking at his feet.

As badly as you want him, you don’t want him doing anything he’s not ready for, so you wiggle your arm free from his grip, dropping it at your side. He lifts his head to look at you, brows knitted together, the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I just don’t want us doing anything you’ll regret.”

“I’m not going to regret this, I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Heeseung,” you say, holding his face in your hands.

He closes his eyes, nodding.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Never,” he whispers and the word has you falling to your knees.

It’s hard to see his exact expression in only the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but you can clearly see the way he’s watching you. The way his eyes are lidded as he chews on his bottom lip, watching you reach for the buckle on his belt. Heeseung threads his fingers through your hair, groaning, and for a few seconds, you’re hypnotised. Too wrapped up in tipsiness and lust to move your fingers, completely focused on the way his breath starts to pick up before you’ve even done anything. You’re starting to think it might be enough for him just to see you like this, on your knees for him, wide-eyed and eager.

Whether on purpose or not, Heeseung tugs on your hair gently, pulling you from your trance. His blunt fingernails scratch at the back of your head as you undo his belt, tugging his jeans down. He steps out of them as soon as he can, smiling when you toss them behind you. Too worked up to wait, you push your face against him. You take a minute to hold his covered cock between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of the damp spot at the top of it. Heeseung grunts, bucking his hips. He looks like sin when you lock eyes with him, licking a strip to the top of his waistband, sucking and nipping at the skin and coarse hair there.

“Quit teasing,” he says, still keeping control of his voice.

You blink up at him sweetly, shaking your head. “I’m not,” you mumble, pulling his underwear down.

Heeseung’s dick smacks his stomach with a wet sound that makes you clench around nothing, and you sit back on your heels to admire him. Maybe it’s from time, or your unbearable desire, but he looks bigger, thicker, and much prettier than you remember. When you finally drag your eyes from his dick, you notice a mark on his hip, right above where his thigh starts. It’s a smudge of something dark, inky almost. You furrow your brows, licking the pad of your thumb to try and get rid of it. He practically flinches when you touch it, moving away from you. The increased distance between you and the low lighting only further obscures it—when you rub at the mark it doesn’t budge.

“What is this?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, sitting down on the bed and covering it with his hand.

If it was anyone other than Heeseung, you might have thought it was a tattoo, but you can’t make sense of the thought so it slips your mind as soon as it occurs. You reach for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on, losing your breath at the sight of his skin glowing golden in the light, and the tip of his cock is a tempting, glossy red. You can’t help but take him in your hand, stroking him slowly.

“Tell me, baby.”

“It’s a bruise,” he manages through a gasp, licking his lips.

Your thumb swipes over his slit and he crumbles. “Heeseung.”

“Butterfly, it’s a butterfly.”

A fuzzy warmth starts to bloom in your chest, overwhelming you. “Lay down,” you say, voice as soft as it’s ever been.

Heeseung obliges, linking his fingers with yours when you move his hand from his thigh. Under the light, you can see it clearly, dark strokes of ink forming a pretty butterfly, tiny, and heart-achingly familiar.

“Is it..” You trail off, moving your lips around words that you can’t get out as tears sting your eyes. “Did I draw this?” Leaning over him, you get as close as you can, using your finger to trace the shape.

Sitting up on his elbows, he looks down at you with a worried look on his face as he nods. “Do you hate it?”

“I love it.. it’s perfect.” You let go of his hand, using the back of your fingers to wipe at your eyes.

Heeseung sits up, letting his hand cup your cheek and looking at you. He uses his thumb to wipe some of the tears you missed before leaning down and kissing you. His lips move slowly with yours, he’s being gentle, so gentle that you hear your heart thudding in your ears.

“Come sit,” he mumbles against your mouth, helping you up and guiding you into his lap, a whine falling out of him when you sit on his cock and you mumble an apology that you don’t mean.

“When did.. Why did you..”

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “My first birthday I spent without you. I just wanted to have something for you.”

You’ve seen it and you’ve heard it from him, but you still can’t make sense of it. “But you’re.. you’re Heeseung. You’d never get a tattoo, you told me that.”

“I’ll probably never get another tattoo, it hurt like hell,” he says, frowning.

“You’re such a sweetheart.” You cradle his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes, your sweet Heeseung. So different yet so incredibly similar. “You’re, like, obsessed with me.”

There’s a loud adoration in his eyes that makes your stomach turn. “How could I not be?” His smile is wide even though his lips are smushed a little by the way you’re holding his face.

Heeseung tilts his chin towards you so you kiss him, the two of you passing moans and whines between your mouths as you grind on him, his hands gripping your waist under your shirt. He shudders under you, rutting his hips against yours with a groan. He’s harder than ever underneath you, his cock hot between your thighs, pressed up against your core in the most maddening way. It can’t be comfortable for him, the friction from your underwear but he seems like he’s enjoying it just as much as you, maybe more, you think, when he starts throbbing.

Conscious of the boys across the hall, you try your best to be quiet, though Heeseung doesn’t share your concern, his lips parting too wide to keep kissing you and his head falling back as he lets a whine out into the air. His nails dig into your skin, hips speeding up more than you can keep up with as he trembles, clearly so close to the edge that you moan at the sight of him all fucked out in front of you. You chew on your lip, watching his whole face scrunch up before falling to your shoulder, his cum leaking out all over your panties and the tops of your thighs. A grin covers your lips while your pussy aches from the heat of his release and the feeling of his staggered breath hitting your skin. When he finally sits up, sweat slicks the column of his neck and chest, a nervous look in his eyes that he can’t quite bring to meet yours.

“This is j—” Heeseung cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm.

“I remember. You don’t have to say it, baby, I remember.”

“You were so cute that day,” you say when he moves his hand. Butterflies fill your stomach when you think about it, the first time you ever did anything with each other, with anyone. He was fifteen, with cute round glasses perched on the end of his nose and teeth too big for his mouth, finishing in his jeans with you in his lap.

“You don’t think I’m cute anymore?” he asks, frowning.

“You’re always cute.”

Heeseung grins at your words, so wide and sweet your heart races. He kisses you gently and slips his hand into your underwear, his finger trailing the length of your pussy slowly, groaning into your mouth at how wet you are. You whine into the kiss when he strokes your clit and gasp when he pushes a finger into you easily. Gradually, he adds more fingers, fucking you open on his knuckles and watching as you fall apart.

His lips move from yours, falling to your neck so he can kiss and suck the sensitive skin there. “You feel so good, baby. My sweet girl,” he mumbles, breath searing your skin. The words make you clench, your stomach fluttering relentlessly as he uses his thumb to press on your clit, the pressure enough to make you spiral. It’s all too much too fast and before long, you’re squirming and mewling in Heeseung’s arms, finishing all over his fingers.

Immediately, an excruciating flush burns every inch of your body as you hide your face in his neck to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you and he whispers sweet nothings into your hair while stroking your back.

Ever since that night in his room, all your senses feel heightened when Heeseung is around.

And it doesn’t help that you spend every waking moment with him. Whether in his flat or yours, you’re joined at the hip and it’s near impossible not to pounce on him. In your stomach blooms a heat you haven’t felt in years. An all-consuming flame that makes you hold your breath when he cuddles you; makes you look away when he strips before showering.

He’s taken a liking to shirtlessness, only seeming to remember that the garments exist when he has to leave the house—which isn’t often now that classes have ended. This sudden cotton allergy plagues you, burning the image of his ever-increasing muscle definition and the tattoo on his hip into your memory, so deeply they’re the only things you see when you close your eyes at night.

Even when Heeseung’s being romantic, cooking dinner for the two of you and almost burning his finger with a match while lighting a candle, you’re thinking about him fucking you. When he goes out with the boys and stumbles into your flat, drunk, with a crushed bouquet in his hands, you’re thinking about what might have happened if you’d gone out too. If he’d finger you in the back of a taxi or take you against the door when you got back.

Weeks go by like this until you finally reach your limit.

There’s nothing overtly sexual about the way Heeseung’s sitting. About the way his lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks, or the way his hair sits in a sleepy mess on his forehead. But it’s Heeseung. So these things existing on him drive you crazy.

Given the lack of privacy in your family homes — by way of an open-door rule when visiting each other — you and Heeseung didn’t have many opportunities to have sex that didn’t involve being tangled around one another in the backseat of his car. And even those occasions were few and far between.

With the only three brain cells that seem to function around your shirtless boyfriend and your head on the doorjamb, you begin to scheme. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—just a way to get Heeseung to fuck you without you having to bring it up.

“What’s up, baby?” he asks, finally looking over at you. His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, with a raspiness to it that makes your thoughts run wild. From head to toe, his eyes drag over your body, his tongue coming out to run over his lips.

Clearly, a very delicate, well-timed conversation is in order and the gears in your mind scrape against each other, turning egregiously as you try to figure out how to start the conversation. “I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out. Not the most delicate approach, but the way Heeseung’s eyes widen suggests you might be on the right track. “I didn’t mean to say that,” you admit sheepishly.

He chuckles deeply in a way you haven’t heard in years. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a challenge in his question, evident from his raised brow, the setting aside of his phone, and the way he sits up straight. The movement forces the duvet to slip a little, falling from above his belly button to his hips in one fell — effortlessly sexy — swoop.

In spite of this, you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. How could you be standing there, in nothing but his t-shirt, asking him to fuck you and he’s caught up on semantics? “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?” When you don’t say anything, Heeseung lifts the duvet from his body entirely, grinning when your gaze locks on his hips. His pyjama pants are sitting low enough to show off the waistband of his underwear, and they don’t do anything to hide the way his hard cock pushes against them.

Heeseung towers over you, overwhelming you and the space of the doorframe as his mouth quirks up at one corner. “You want it, baby?” he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face in his hand, using his thumb to trace your lips.

His face dips down to yours and you can’t resist reaching up to kiss him, whining at the contact as you move your lips in sync with his. The sounds he’s making are dizzying, deep groans you feel in your chest. His hand grips your waist, pulling you as close as possible so you can feel him, hard and thick, pressing against you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing his kiss, but Heeseung only chuckles. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispers, looking down at you with those big eyes.

“I’m not going to beg.”

He smiles sweetly, a soft curve of his lips summoning butterflies. “Suit yourself,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck and leaving the room.

Flustered, you follow him, flinging your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back. “Okay, I’m going to beg.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need you,” you mumble into his skin.

“You have me.”

Even though his words and the way his lips audibly split into a grin make your heart race, you can’t help your frustration. “Heeseung,” you say, pleading with him.

He frees himself from your grip, turning around. When you look up at him, he’s watching you closely through lidded eyes, his lips parted in a soft pout that makes your heart melt. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close enough to feel him pressing against you. “I’m all yours, baby. What’s up?”

“Why are you torturing me?”

This makes him smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Please.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm. “Please what?”

“You know what I need and I can’t go any longer without it,” you mumble into his hand. Heeseung only raises a brow and you sigh. Somehow, your want for him is greater than your embarrassment so you sigh, looking him in the eye. “If you want to, please, please, fuck me, Heeseung. Any way you want, baby, just promise me you’ll do it. I need it, need you.”

A shit-eating grin takes over his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Was that so hard?” he asks, frowning when you don’t reply. “Don’t get all moody, baby, talk to me.”

Heeseung picks you up, holding you close as you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of his hands are spread over your ass and you’re too embarrassed to say anything, chewing your lip and staring at the little mole on his forehead.

“Need me to fuck you ‘til you can talk again?” There’s a roughness to his voice that makes your cheeks flush, but you can’t help but laugh, head falling back in a fit of cackles.

“What are you talking about?”

His pretty lips come together in a pout before he speaks. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears burning red as he carries you to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I’m rusty.”

You shake your head before kissing his forehead. “You’re perfect.”

Heeseung sets you down on the bed gently, crawling over you. “I like seeing you in my shirts,” he says, clutching the fabric in his fists, tugging a little.

“Someone has to wear them.”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. “What?” He tilts his head, leaning away from you to sit back on his heels. “You don’t like seeing me like this?”

It’s hard to find a balance between missing his warmth and looking at his body. Staring at the definition that marks his chest and stomach and the way his muscles stick out over his biceps, you can feel yourself leaking at the sight of him. Your eyes catch on his waistband, on the strip of hair that’s cut off by the start of the fabric before falling to the bulge in his pants.

“You’re looking at me like I’m your next meal,” he mumbles, leaning back over you with a deep flush on his cheeks and neck.

“I think I want you to be.”

“You think?”

You nod eagerly, anticipation swirling in your stomach.

“Anything I can do to make you certain?” Heeseung’s voice is thick with something you think could be enough to make you finish.

“Whatever you want,” you say, desperate.

He chews on his lip, considering you for a while before kissing your cheek. Once more, he sits up, tugging at your waist. “First, I want this shirt out of my way,” he says with a smile.

Immediately, you lean off the bed to let him take it off, tossing it behind him. “Anything else?”

Heeseung’s too busy staring to speak, taking you in hungrily with a jarring combination of lust and adoration behind his eyes. You thought you’d feel shy about him seeing you after so long, but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life as he reaches down to lock his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You’re so pretty,” he says against your skin.

There’s no stopping the flutter in your stomach or the smile that spreads over your lips. You tell him you love him and he says it back as he leans back down to kiss you slowly, his tongue licking into your mouth at an agonising pace, a line of saliva connecting you to him when he pulls away.

“I want to get my head between your legs,” he mumbles, letting his hand dip between your spread thighs. “So wet already?” he asks, dragging your slick up to your clit, rubbing it with a featherlight touch that leaves a whine slipping from your lips. “Will you let me?”

You nod.

Heeseung smiles and you match it before he dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there for a minute. His breath and wet mouth are hot, burning a trail down to your collarbone and chest, where he gets distracted, pulling one of your nipples between his lips.

Your stomach twists at the sight of him, his pretty, pouty lips sucking and biting at your sensitive skin, the way he’s moaning against you, using his thick fingers to tug and pinch your other breast. It takes him a while to move on but you don’t complain, even when he presses tickly kisses to your stomach.

When he reaches your legs, he gets off the bed, kneels on the floor and hooks his arms around your thighs to pull you towards him. You feel exposed when he uses his thumbs to spread you, staring at your pussy with wide eyes, his lips parted a little until his head falls back with a groan.

“Missed this pussy. Been thinking about it so much, all the time. So beautiful, baby.” He manages to drag his gaze from between your legs to lock eyes with you. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” His lips touch your thighs, kissing the soft skin there, sucking marks into it and biting softly. The sting is subtle but it makes you clench, a movement that isn’t lost on him. “You’re so needy, huh? You want me that bad?” he asks, looking up with a tilted head.

You mumble the word ‘no’ and shake your head. “Need you.” The words come out of their own accord, nothing more than a desperate whine that makes Heeseung press his eyes shut. You watch as he shifts on the floor, leaning in and giving you the attention you deserve.

Heeseung’s nose grazes your slit and you gasp at the sudden contact, flinging your head back into the pillows when he licks a strip from there to your clit, giving it a quick peck.

You card your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands so hard it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, going slow despite the way you’re trying to rut against his face. He kisses the spot above your clit, his tongue poking out to lick at the skin there, only hitting the bud a few times and the anticipation is enough to make you spiral.

Time stands still, all concept of it demolished when, finally, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit, running his tongue over it with a pressure that leaves you shaking against the sheets. Moans pour out of you like water from a faucet with nothing but pleasure and Heeseung’s sweet mouth crossing your mind.

It doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to stop, only coming up for air for a brief moment before sticking a finger into you and attaching his mouth to your clit, burying himself in your wetness. The stretch is minimal, barely registering in the waves of pleasure crashing over you, until he adds a second finger, thick and rigid as he works you open for him. By the time his third finger enters, you have to pull him away by his hair, struggling to find the words to say and settling on a whiny cry of his name.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, face covered in slick that shines on his chin and nose, shoulders rising and falling heavily, but his fingers don’t let up, curling towards your belly button torturously slow.

“Want to cum with you inside.”

Heeseung’s eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and I don’t want you using a condom either, want you to fill me up.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’m still on the pill and you’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”

Heeseung wastes no time standing up from the floor, watching hungrily as you sigh at the emptiness, moving up on the bed. He uses his fist to pump his cock slowly, sighing when he drags his thumb over his tip. A beat passes before he grins, boyish and handsome while crawling over you again. His face softens and his eyes burn into yours as he cups your cheek in his palm. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure, Heeseung, you’re all I want,” you whisper, pecking his lips.

“Me too.”

He uses his free hand to reach for his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit and chewing on his lip. He lets his cock split your folds, grinding his length against you, rubbing your cunt with a wet sound that fills the room. Heeseung straightens up and you moan when he spits into his palm, stroking himself before pressing the head of his cock to your entrance. You hold your breath, bracing for the stretch and crying out when he pushes in. His head falls forward with a sigh, his hair tickling your forehead.

“I missed you,” he groans when he bottoms out, his thumb running over your lips. A moan slips out of him when you open your mouth, running your thumb over the pad of his finger and sucking on it. “Missed these pretty lips, this pussy. Don’t know how I got on without it.” His words and the feeling of him inside after so long only make you dizzy, knowing that he wanted you like you wanted him. He watches you with parted lips, rocking his hips tenderly against yours.

“Faster, Hee,” you whisper. “Harder.”

Heeseung’s brows knit together and he slows to a pace that lets you feel single vein and inch of him as he bottoms out before pulling almost all the way out. “Can you take it?” he asks, a jarring tone to his voice that you think is a challenge.

You nod desperately. “Please.”

The word flips a switch for him and he speeds up, thrusting so hard, so deep that your back arches off the bed as his tip nudges your g-spot each time. Just when it all starts to feel too much, Heeseung lifts one of your legs, hitting deeper than he has before and tangling up a knot in your stomach.

“You’re so good, baby, so good for me.” His eyes are dark and lidded, full of all the love in the world as he gazes into yours, a tangible love that overwhelms you, eating you alive along with his praise.

Sweltering heat stretches through every part of your body at the drag of him inside, the push and pull of his cock along your stuttering walls. It’s enough to make you shiver and a cry of his name rips out of you when he starts rubbing your clit again, pushing the bud in slow circles that make you screw your eyes shut.

“That’s it. Cum for me, baby, make a mess,” he whispers and that’s as much as you can take.

Stars flash behind your closed eyes as every single part of your body sets alight, dazed by Heeseung’s whines and the feeling of being full, finally being full, until both ends of the knot tug and tug, leaving you with nothing but a hoarse moan that dies in your throat as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

A lewd squelch accompanies each of his thrusts as they get sloppier and sloppier, losing their rhythm and intensity. It seems like he’s right there with you though when he collapses on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck and his moans slipping out like music to your ears.

It’s hard not to fall apart under him, but you try your best, dragging your nails over the toned muscles of his back while telling him you love him over and over until he finishes. Both of you are trembling, fighting for breath and whining as Heeseung sloppily fucks you full of his cum. The sound is downright pornographic, loud and wet as your cum mixes with his for the first time in so long. An inexplicable intimacy so thick it hangs in the air, perching on your shoulders as he looks into your eyes.

Heeseung slows down after a while, stopping completely but not pulling out yet, keeping you full and aching around him. When he catches his breath, he gives you a dreamy smile, thanking you before pressing soft kisses to every part of your face he can reach.

You whine when he pulls out, missing him as soon as he’s gone. Despite your sensitivity, you want to beg him to come back, to slip back into you and stay forever, though Heeseung has other plans. He sits between your legs, dragging a lazy finger up your slit and watching with a smile as cum leaks out. You squirm against the sheets, pushing your head into the pillow when he uses two fingers to push it back in.

“Wish I could keep you full like this forever,” he mumbles absently, curling his fingers.

All you can do is sigh happily. Long minutes go by until he takes his fingers out of you, reaching behind him for his shirt to wipe you up before leaning down to your face, mumbling against your lips to come and shower with him.

You’ve never showered with Heeseung before and a voice in your head tells you to press your cheek against the tile and let him have you again, but you’re way too sleepy for that. The warmth of the water and his big hands roaming your body do nothing to help, only forcing your eyes to fall shut as you lean back against Heeseung’s chest, willing yourself to stay awake.

Once you’re all showered and clean, you only feel sleepier, standing on the plush bath mat in front of the steamed-up mirror. Droplets of water trickle down your skin and you can’t help but revel in the warmth of the room around you. Wrapped snugly in a soft, fluffy towel, you find yourself too tired to follow Heeseung out, slathering some of the expensive moisturiser Jay keeps in the bathroom over your skin. You peer into the mirror, though you don’t see much, and for a moment, it’s just you and the steady trickle of water from the showerhead. The bathroom smells like Heeseung’s minty shower gel and you miss him already, but you take your time anyway, savouring the moment and everything that came before it.

You find him in his room when you’re done, tucking the last corner of a fitted sheet around his mattress.

“You want to nap, baby?” he asks when he sees you, holding out a clean shirt for you to wear.

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head and dropping the towel so he can put the shirt over your head.

“Let me just fix the pillowcases, yeah?”

You nod, slumping into his desk chair and watching the muscles in his back shift and flex as he moves around the room, dumping the dirty bedding into his laundry basket and slipping the clean linen over his pillows. He pulls the duvet back and pats the mattress, grinning when you shake your head and make grabby hands in his direction,

Heeseung stretches his arms above his head and comes over to you but you stop him before he can pick you up.

“I’m going grocery shopping with Yunjin later and I need a pound for the trolley, do you have any?” you ask through a yawn.

He scratches his chin, thinking about it. “If I do, they’re in my wallet,” he says, reaching for it on the desk and handing it to you before taking a seat on the end of his bed.

When you pull on the zipper to open the coin slot, you find a shiny pound coin and a folded piece of lined paper. You leave the coin where it is and hold the paper between two fingers for him to see. “What’s this?”

Immediately, he hides his face with his hands but you can still see the flush on his ears. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, but despite your curiosity, you won’t look at it if he doesn’t want you to. “Sorry, baby,” you say, putting it back. “Forget I asked.”

Heeseung sighs, looking up at you through the gaps in his fingers. “You can look if you want, it’s nothing bad, just mildly humiliating.”

Nervous anticipation settles over your body and you can’t help but laugh a little, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you unfold the crumpled and creased paper. It’s blank. You arch a curious brow at Heeseung, who, though still slightly embarrassed, gestures for you to turn it over.

What meets your eyes on the other side leaves you stunned. There, inked in blue with delicate care yet bearing the natural imperfections of a hand-drawn butterfly, was a familiar image. It’s the very same butterfly you drew in your notebook on a spring date with him four years ago. Your fingers tremble as you trace the lines, your heart racing as you remember how he’d torn it from the page, eyes full of appreciation for the simple drawing.

Tears well up in your eyes when it dawns on you. It’s the very same butterfly he has tattooed on his hip, a permanent reminder of your love that endured separation and time.

Your voice is weak as you look up at him, quivering with emotion. “You kept it after all these years,” you whisper.

Heeseung smiles, his eyes full of love. “I never let go of what matters to me.”

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #heeseung oneshots #heeseung imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.heeseung

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erwinsvow · 1 year ago

Text

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

summary: hiding your relationship with rafe from your friends is fun... at first.

word count: 2k

now spinning: freak by lana del rey

author's note: this one put me in a silly mood <3 i love this man <3 so cute it'll rot your teeth! enjoy!

He’s a bad habit. Your worst habit, in fact, one that you hide from everyone like a dirty secret.

At first you’re just embarrassed. You’re supposed to be a Pogue, you try to remind yourself every now and then, you’re supposed to hate him and everything he stands for.

You’re supposed to hate the pretty jewelry he buys for you on a whim, hate the stupid—or something like that— look in his eyes when he puts it on you and presses a kiss to the soft skin of your neck or wrist or ankle, and you’re especially supposed to hate the way he spends money on you.

You’re supposed to hate all of it, but you don’t. In fact, you think you’re falling in love with Rafe Cameron.

Which is bad, so so bad, you don’t even have words to describe how terrible it is. Rafe—who your closest friends despise, and for good reason. He becomes an ass outside of the sheltered, private walls of your tiny bedroom, getting into fights and egging everyone into violence.

He’s completely different, like an entirely new person, and you should hate him for what he does to your friends and goads them into doing.

Hate is the furthest thing from what you actually feel. You’re not even embarrassed anymore. You’re protective, because you know your friends won’t understand, that they’ll try to talk you out of your feelings, and you’ll have to show them the thing that you’re dreading the most of all, that you would defend Rafe to them. That you would take his side.

That you would become that girl you used to make fun of, screaming at your friends because you don’t know him like I do, and then running home, running to him, to feel better.

It’s gotten bad, and to avoid all of this, you don’t bring up your relationship to them at all. What started off as chance encounters and graduated into quiet, peaceful hours spent in each company without another care in the world, has now turned into a real relationship. A secret relationship, at that.

Rafe wants to tell the world, and he especially wants to tell your friends. You convince him that it’s romantic to sneak around, with plenty of hidden kisses and longing gazes and making a fool out of everyone right in front of their eyes.

He buys the act for now, but you know he won’t for long. You think that he wants to rub it into your friends’ faces, that he got you despite how much they hate him. He doesn’t tell you it’s because he has to know, has to be sure that you aren’t ashamed of being with him.

𝜗𝜚

The first time you almost get caught is in Rafe’s truck—parked along the beach, in what was meant to be a cute little date. You pack sandwiches and fruit, freshly squeezed lemonade in a mason jar that you and him pass back and forth.

The two of you watch the sunset from the safety of his car, specifically because you’re worried your friends will catch you if they spot you on the beach with someone.

“This is good,” Rafe says, taking another sip out of the jar, his lips shining with the sugary juice. You want to lick it clean, but you hold off for now. “Where’d you get it from, again?”

“I made it, Rafe,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “We have a lemon tree in the backyard. My parents like to grow their own stuff.”

“Well,” he says, licking his lips. Damn it, there goes your chance to sneak a kiss in and act like it was for some other reason. “You should make more. Shit’s good.”

“Then take me on another date. I’ll make you a whole pitcher.”

“Our next date is gonna be way better than this,” is his response, looking down at his half-eaten, heart-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He notices your eyes get big, like you’re upset, and immediately follows up his own sentence.

“Not that this isn’t perfect,” he says, resting the mason jar in the cupholder. “It is. Perfect. Couldn’t ask for more. I just meant, next time, you won’t have to pack anything or juice any lemons, like a restaurant. All you have to do is wear something pretty and show up.”

You smile, giddily.

“You have some lemonade, right there,” you say, pointing to the side of his lip, leaning in for a kiss, just about to close your eyes, when you hear the unmistakable hoot that is your boys, as in your other boys. “Shit-” and you duck, head resting on Rafe’s thigh as you try to get out of their eye-sight. You don’t sit back up until you make Rafe triple-check the coast is clear.

“Y’know, if you wanted to get freaky in my car, all you had to do was ask-”

𝜗𝜚

The next time is a month later, a month of bliss and joy that you still haven’t told your friends about. Rafe came over to help you finish baking lemon squares, but really just creating a mess and kissing you with sugary, citrusy lips and flour-coated hands.

You take turns showering to clean off, because as much as you would love to rinse off together, your shower is not like the one Rafe has in his Tannyhill bedroom, and sadly, barely big enough for one. You go first, washing your hair and complaining about icing remnants, and send Rafe in after you while you dry your hair.

On his way in, he tells you not to get dressed just yet. You sit in anticipation, wrapped just in your towel, brushing your hair absentmindedly. You drop the brush on your foot when you hear three sharp knocks on your bedroom window.

Crap.

When you turn to look, it’s just Kie, and you sigh a breath of obvious relief. You wouldn’t be able to manage lying to everyone, but if it’s just Kiara, you might be able to get away with it.

She climbs in through the window, lying flat on your bed and starting to explain what’s going on—her feelings for Pope and some old feelings for Jayj that are coming to the surface. You half-listen, feeling like a terrible friend, but your heart is currently showering in your tiny bathroom, probably complaining about the luke-warm water and thinking about all the things he’s going to do to you when he gets out.

“Is your shower running?” Kie asks, ever-observant. “Dude, that’s like, so bad for the environment.”

“Oh, I-” your brain turns to mush. “I just stepped out to brush my hair, I’m going right back in. I’m so sorry Kie, I’m so distracted today. You know, I-I hate wasting water.” You stare at her for a second, wondering if she bought it.

“I’m just glad you care. JJ and John B don’t even recycle their beer cans. I’ll come back later, then?” and you nod, maybe a little too excited. “Are you gonna finish showering now?” she questions, watching you linger by the door.

“Yes! Yes, I am. Bye, Kie,” you say, opening the door and closing it quickly, hoping Rafe doesn’t speak up. You drop the towel and climb into the shower, clasping your hand over his mouth quickly. You wait to hear your window close, and then the noise of her car driving away.

“Y’know, kid, if you were feeling that impatient, all y’had to do was tell me,” Rafe says, leaning in for a hot, wet kiss.

𝜗𝜚

It all breaks down because JJ is like a walking metal detector, eyes flitting to anything shiny and new and the questions never-ending, even when you’re glaring at him.

Rafe bought it for you. A gleaming, pretty silver bracelet with a little pink heart hanging off, complete with the letter R engraved on the back of the charm. You try to sneak it in with your other bracelets, the beaded ones Kie makes, the thread friendship bracelets all of you share in matching colors, and you even throw on a watch just so no one notices something new on your wrist. It doesn’t work.

“Wow,” JJ starts, letting out a whistle. You freeze instantly. “What’d you do, rob a Kook and not invite us?” He comes up closer, taking your wrist in his hand and raising it above and below, inspecting it.

“No, no…” you trail off, mind going completely blank on how to explain this to your friends. All you can think about is the soft way Rafe kissed your wrist while helping you put it on, and the not-so-soft two hours you spent at Tannyhill after. “I, uh-”

“What, you found it?” Pope throws in, and you start to nod, even though your friends know you better than that. “Because you should really turn it in, I mean, they’ll get you for that-”

“Trust me, I would know,” John B says, coming around to look at it closer. “I feel I’ve seen that before.”

“Yeah, I bet all the Kook princesses have ‘em and compare with each other.” JJ puts on a goofy, high pitched voice that would normally make you laugh. “Mine’s silver. Mine’s gold. Actually, guys, mine’s encrusted with diamonds.”

“You know how much child labor funds the entire jewelry industry? They have kids mining in caves-”

“But that would actually make sense, Kie, because, like, they’re so tiny they’re the only ones who can just like, sneak on in there with their little tools, and just like-” JJ imitates, what you can only assume, is a child mining for gold with his hands.

“They can grow diamonds in labs now. It’s so unnecessary and dangerous,” Kie says, looking back at you. “We should burn it, so it goes back into the soil.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” JJ says, getting up and putting himself between you and Kie, like a barrier. “Why would we do that? We could probably go get a couple hundos for that thing. Y’know how much beer we can buy with that?”

“He’s got a point there,” John agrees. You’re speechless.

“Well, does it have any markings? Because if we just return it, the owner might give us a reward for finding it.” JJ scoffs.

“Yeah, right, they’d probably think we stole it.”

“Well, we did, that’s like the definition of-” you cut Pope off before you can stop yourself.

“I didn’t steal it!” It comes out like a yell, even though you don’t mean it, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I didn’t steal it, okay, it’s mine, so can we please just drop it?”

You notice the boys lock eyes with each other, eyes wide, probably wondering what just happened. You turn away from them to look at Kie, about to apologize because you know she’s totally right about the whole child mining thing, when you see her eyes are fixed on your wrist.

“R?” she questions. “What’s the R stand for?”

You drop your hand to your side, eyes shutting on their own as you release a tight breath. You really have no idea how to get yourself out of this one, until a voice pipes up from behind you.

“Why don’t you idiots take a wild guess?” The voice belongs to your boyfriend, your secret boyfriend. You guess it’s not such a secret anymore.

JJ is the first to react, exactly like you thought he would, too.

“No, no, gross, gross!”

John B stares at you like you’ve just run over his puppy. Kie has her eyebrows raised like she’s questioning everything she ever knew about you. Pope’s eyes are wide like coins, fist clenched like he’s about to start swinging.

You let out another breath.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask, turning your head to question Rafe, standing right behind you, his arm hanging around your shoulder now.

“Had to tell ‘em eventually, kid. Guess today’s the day,” and then he uses his hand to squeeze your cheeks together, giving you a sloppy kiss and waltzing off in the direction he came from.All you hear is JJ—gross, gross, gross!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #eeeee hope everyone likes!!!

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gguk-n · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1- Chance Encounter

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- The Y/L/N moved to Melbourne. Oscar made a new friend. He got into karting and racing but his friend's sister still makes it difficult to breath sometimes. He had thought he would be over her by now, seems like he was wrong.

The reader has 2 brothers who I'm naming Ansel and Aldric and the reader is Y/N

The Y/L/N family moved to Melbourne, Australia in 2003 with their 2 kids, Y/N and Ansel, in search for a better future and a place to raise their kids. The sub-burbs of Melbourne served as a calm and healthy environment for the 2 kids with the addition of their youngest Aldric only 2 years later. The 3 kids were a handful but the Y/L/N wouldn't have it any other way.

Ansel, their oldest boy used to cry a lot when he would have to go to pre-school and the teachers would have to call his parents since it was getting difficult to manage the little boy until he met a boy who loved cars as much as he did. The calls from pre-school stopped suddenly alerting the parents who ended up finding out that Ansel had befriended a boy named Oscar and they were attached to the hip. The two boys started having play dates together at Oscar's place since Ansel's parents were too busy to host the boys and Oscar's mum, Nicole didn't mind having another kid around once in a while. Ansel would talk animatedly when describing his day which he never did before, eliciting a smile from his parents. Oscar loved his friend as well.

Ansel was 4 when he insisted on having Oscar over to show his car collection which had slowly been fluctuating and from what Mrs Y/L/N gathered from Mrs Piastri, the 2 boys had been exchanging cars with each other. So, one beautiful summer morning, Oscar was walking behind Ansel to his house with Mrs Y/L/N behind them with her year old son, Aldric in arms. The boys ended up playing around in the backyard after lunch and wouldn't come in until Oscar heard a shrill voice scream at Ansel to come in and have some fruits. The voice belonged to Ansel's older sister. She walked back in, "hmph, I hate her, she's so annoying" Ansel told Oscar. "It's a good thing your sisters are smaller than you, she only screams at me" Ansel whined as they walked inside.

Oscar was asked to sit on the sofa while Y/N brought out 2 fruit plates for the both of them. She handed the plate to Oscar and raised her hand forwards, "My name is Y/N" she said. Oscar shook her hand; "My name is Oscar" he said. "You're cute, not like my annoying brothers" she said while sticking her tongue out to her brother and ruffling Oscar's hair. Oscar hated when people touched his hair, "Don't touch my hair" he called out. "Sorry" she giggled while running away.

Oscar didn't know then but he knew now that he had the biggest crush on her. Y/N became a huge part of his life since his friendship with Ansel blossomed. His mother would invite both of Ansel's siblings to parties and soon enough just to hang out. Oscar liked hanging out with Y/N more than his sisters. She was cooler and older and they got to do whatever they wanted if his mom thought Y/N was watching over them. So, Oscar would initially invite her over so they could get away with whatever they wanted and he won't have to look over his sisters. Oscar's little sisters loved Y/N too since they had someone to play dolls and tea party and dress up with. Oscar, Ansel and Aldric were a team and Y/N and Oscar's little sisters were a team. You would find the 7 children playing in the backyard of the Piastri's or Y/L/N on evenings after school.

Oscar had started karting quite young and the 6 kids would be his biggest cheerleaders, their cheers could be heard whenever Oscar crossed the finish line whether he finished first or last. Oscar would shoot a smile at them whenever he would get out of his kart.

You could hear the 3 boys racing their remote control cars in the backyard. If anyone asked Oscar how he got so good at remote car racing; he would always site his friend and say that he helped him get better. Ansel would help Oscar in karting too; you would find the two boys tinkering and bickering about strategies. Oscar would also tell people that his friend helped him in karting but really Oscar had a talent for it and his friend enjoyed tinkering with the kart with Oscar's dad, making sure everything was in order and ready for Oscar to race. Oscar knew his friend wouldn't get into racing but he would probably make it to the world of racing since he loved cars and loved watching Oscar win with the kart he helped 'fix'.

As Oscar grew older, he realised that he had a bit of a crush on his friend's older sister. He would find himself looking for her whenever he visited their house or looking for her when his friend visited. It would always dampen his mood when he couldn't find her. But nothing dampened his mood like the time he found Y/N kissing a boy in her room back when he was 12. She was 13, Oscar didn't know she got herself a boyfriend, he didn't know that a boy over either. So, what a surprise, when he opened the door and saw her kissing a boy, I mean kissing as far as 13 year olds know how to. Oscar slammed the door shut and shouted an apology while running away. He spent the next few days thinking about the weird feeling he had when he saw that. And a few google searches later; he had a crush ON HIS BEST FRIEND'S SISTER. Oh, he was fucked. He saw her often enough that it might make it awkward. But Oscar was an actor; a trait he didn't know he possessed or so he thought.

Oscar's karting career was taking off; having had started to race professionally and even starting to finish on podiums at the end of championships. Ansel would be there to support his friend as often as he could. Oscar was thankful for everyone coming.

Sometimes, Oscar would come home to find Y/N with his mum helping her around the house. His sisters loved Y/N and would always prefer her over him; honestly he would also prefer her, he thought as he saw her cut up fruits for the kids. "Why are you always handing me fruit whenever I see you?" Oscar asked. "Because, you're small and this will help you as you grow older" she replied. "I'm not small, I'm 13" Oscar huffed. "Well, I'm 14 and I'm older than you. So, that means you'll always be younger than me" she snickered. "Now eat your fruits, kid" she commanded and left. Oscar hated this, he hated that she saw him as a kid.

Oscar should've learnt from his past mistakes but he never learns and caught Y/N with her next boyfriend and this time in a rather compromising position. Y/N didn't learn from her previous mistakes either, she should've locked the door. She knew that; Oscar and his sisters were over. She knew yet she was reckless but in her defence, she hadn't seen her boyfriend in a few days and the both of them were hormonal teenager and it slipped her mind. Now, she was sat on her boyfriend who was lying down with her top and bra off. Oscar wasn't sure if he wanted that imagine erased from his memory or imprinted since she got to see Y/N topless. As he quickly closed the door and ran down; he heard shuffling behind the door and a disheveled Y/N running after him and cornered him near the end of the stair case. Oscar had had a growth spurt, so he stood taller then Y/N. She had both her hands on either side of him; "Don't you dare tell anyone what you saw or I'll make sure you can never get a girlfriend" she threatened. She already made it difficult to get a girlfriend, Oscar thought, the threat was already a reality. Oscar just nodded. "Didn't realise you'd grown taller" she hummed as she let Oscar go while acting out, 'I'm watching you' with her two fingers and walked back up.

Oscar left for the UK when he knew his karting career was picking up and he wanted to be a professional Formula One driver. Nicole cried a lot. But the 6 other kids helped her cope with Oscar's absence. Oscar sighed a sigh of relief; maybe he would finally get over his childish crush. He even got himself a girlfriend eventually. He would barely visit his family due to school and the karting schedule and then eventually single seat racing schedule. He was getting better; he was getting quite good and winning championships and graduating to the next class to racing each year. He even made new friends. But Ansel was still his best friend and no amount of distance was about to change that for him.

Whenever Oscar visited he didn't really get to see Y/N even though he might have wished he did, but he would never admit it, not even to himself. It became an even rarer occurrence after Y/N started university and had moved from Melbourne. The next 4 years; the pair would always miss each other whenever they would visit. Though he would hear about Y/N's adventures from his mother or sisters. Y/N would hear a lot about Oscar from Oscar's or her own family. Both of them would hear about each other's achievements. To Y/N, Oscar was just the tiny child her brother befriended and now she had more siblings to look after. To Oscar, she was his first crush.

Y/N moved back to Melbourne for work; she got a teaching license after completing her Bachelors in Education in English. Currently, she was working as a pre-school teacher. She loved children and this was a great way to help the leaders and the future of tomorrow. Oscar had heard his mum say something about Y/N moving back but he didn't remember; he was in the middle of a break up with his long term girlfriend and the possible signing with a Formula One team fiasco. He had flown in to Australia soon after and spent time with his family. He was excited yet scared when he got signed to McLaren, who were replacing one Australian with another. A part of Oscar hoped to run into Y/N but apparently she was busy with school since it was her first year at the job.

"Mate, what's wrong? Why do you keep looking around?" Ansel asked sounding rather annoyed at Oscar who wasn't paying attention to the game in front of them. "Our teams gonna lose the match at this rate" Ansel almost screamed. "Sorry....it's nothing" Oscar quickly replied. "No one's home. Y/N's house hunting, Aldric's out with his friends and mum and dad are out on a date. We won't be disturbed" Ansel muttered as he passed the ball to Oscar in FIFA. "Oh, okay" Oscar muttered getting back to the game not before he heard his friend sigh but didn't ask why. After the match, the two boys were sat munching on some chips, "Is Y/N moving out?" Oscar asked tentatively. "Oh yeah, she's been trying to get a decent place for a while but teacher's pay is shit; so it's taking her some time" Ansel said. "That means she won't be over often?" Oscar asked quietly. "Probably, but both our moms need her too much, they missed her so much while she was in college. It wasn't funny. Thank God she moved back because it was getting quite annoying. She's always doing stuff around both of our homes or with them anyways. So, she should still be over. Plus she takes your sister to her extracurriculars since Nicole's busy lately." Ansel added. "Oh" is all that left Oscar's mouth.

Oscar sadly returned to the UK before he got to meet Y/N. He hadn't seen her since she moved for university except in pictures his mum would send. But he had a bigger fish to fry; his new life as a Formula One driver from next year onwards.

2023 started with a lot of training on Oscar's part to prepare himself for the year. His first 2 races left much to be desired by Oscar. His third race was in his home. His family and Ansel's family had come to support him through out the weekend except Y/N. On Sunday, Oscar was chatting with Lando when everyone came. That's when he saw her. She looked as beautiful as ever; he wasn't sure if she had made his breath stop like she did just now as he watched her laugh along with his sisters. She turned around and as their eyes met, she shot him a smile; walking towards him. Fuck, he thought, he couldn't feel his tongue in his mouth or how to form words anymore, honestly.

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pullupinarari · 3 months ago

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The Secret of Us [LH]

III. Fuck, it was chemical

summary: a 5 chapter miniseries in which Lewis chooses you to coordinate one of his new projects, but the instant spark flicking between the two of you makes the professional lines grow a little blurry. do the both of you feel the same?

author’s note: a 20 day break in between chapters 2 and 3 because I have been struggling with some kind of writer's block. this is NOT proofread, there's probably typos and nonsense words, and it's genuinely bad. I'm sorry.

warnings: this has a bit of a smutty part where some kind of masturbation tries to take place

• masterlist

wc: 11 109 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

As weeks passed by, the romantic encounters between you and Lewis have become more recurrent. Whenever the driver was free, every weekend in his agenda was yours, flying back and forth if needed so he wouldn’t skip any of your Wednesday's meetings.

The shared scones, the small flowers he would pick up on the way to the bakery every Sunday morning, the warm cuddles that made it seem like your bodies would merge into just one - your fingers intertwined, your limbs connected as you two spooned on the couch, with Lewis’ lips landing careful, sweet kisses on your cheek and the crook of your neck. Every single detail helped soften your heart a little more, growing more comfortable beside the man, getting more and more used to spending your free time with him.

And every single week, your meetings would have a different meaning to them. In public, you would stick to formal handshakes, keeping your bodies and mouths to yourselves, remaining professional for everyone to see. The discreet yet intense glances that you would share, would still be there - a way to speak to each other without using words, keeping all focus in the other’s eyes, smirks, the small details in each facial expression that you would share.

But, inside the four walls of your office, the scenario was completely different. Lewis would immediately wrap his arms around your shape, his face hiding in the crook of your neck as his lips would attach to your skin, taking in your scent that he misses so much when you’re away, focusing on embracing your figure as close as he possibly can.

While discussing project-related topics, trying to pick the right design for each piece, the man couldn’t hold himself from paying more attention to your beauty, to your features, to how soft your skin feels against his own - hearing your words, but daydreaming about how lucky he is, feeling grateful for having you, for being allowed to touch you, to discover you, to share his days with you.

If someone would have the chance to see you together, they would immediately think of the two of you as a couple in love, so in love that everyone around you could feel the intense passion crashing between your figures.

All the cute, romantic dates that would take place in each other’s homes, candlelit dinners, slow mornings wrapped in the sheets, loud, fun, comfortable showers, even catching some sun in the backyard - everything was an excuse for you to be together, for your bodies to be as close as if you were just one. And it feels like nothing can tear you two apart - getting to know the other more and more as time passes by, growing familiar with each other, to the point of already knowing each other’s quirks by heart.

Lewis can’t even hold back the enamoured facial expression he gives you every time, hearts mirroring his gaze whenever you come into sight, loving how he can remember each small detail about you and your personality, focusing on everything that makes you even more special in his eyes.

Attracted by how simple of a person you are in your personal life, how you admire the little things in every day: the sun, a good slice of pizza, a laugh with your friends, a shared cuddle session on the sofa with Lewis. In his heart, it gives him an extra hope: you are a simple soul, not really caring about all the luxury that he can provide you. So, if you love a good cup of coffee and your toast the simple way, maybe you can love him for who he is, as well.

He can’t help but dream about a life beside you, of sharing his apartment with you full-time, giving you half of his closet so your clothes would take up all the space you’d like, waiting for you to come home from work while the man cooks dinner for the two of you. Lewis can’t quite figure out why yet, but you manage to bring out his most domestic side, the side of him that wants to settle down with the right one, have babies, dedicate his entire time to his family, always with the right one - you.

It’s a nice feeling that erupts in your chest every time you see him, actually. It’s warm, comfortable, almost protective, allowing you to feel special in the man’s eyes, especially once you are wrapped in his arms, your head gently lying in his chest, making you feel safe… almost even too much.

The truth is: you are not emotionally available to merge yourself in a romantic relationship - at least not in the way that Lewis dreams about. You don’t dream of having kids, of getting married, of finding the love of your life.

That would have been a thought of the old you, you are sure of it. The old Y/N, the girl who dreamed of a ‘forever’ type of love, of finding her prince charming, believing that you would be happy by his side for the rest of your life. But that’s not true, that’s not real. Reality is: love seems to not exist to you.

After getting hurt so many times, being deceived by the men you gave a chance to (and more than one, most of the time), your heart got tired of getting broken. Maybe you are the problem. Or maybe you are just unlucky. Maybe you just tend to pick the worst men known to mankind to date. Maybe you put way too high expectations into people who can’t fulfill the scenarios in your head - probably because they always seem way too good to be true.

So after all this, you slowly come to the realization that you are done with it: with the heartbreaks, with the tears flooding your eyes every time you tried to give your all to someone who gave you nothing back. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do love anymore, not even wasting your time thinking about it.

And Lewis is a nice guy, you know he is. He brings you flowers, scones, and your cup of coffee. He cuddles you close, kisses your skin tenderly, wraps his arms around your figure safely, making you feel protected and cared for. And maybe that’s where the danger lies.

Feeling your heart softening up to him is definitely not a good sensation, not for you at least. Lewis absolutely loves it when you stay in bed with him a little longer, finding it hard to leave your place in his chest, your limbs intertwined as you warm each other in between the sheets.

However, as much as your body wants to give in, to kiss him harder, to hug him tighter, the voice in the back of your head seems to never stop reminding you of how dangerous it is to give into this situation even more. You have already given too much of yourself, if you stop and look back at all the dates, all the romantic moments that should have never existed.

You two were supposed to just have some fun together, and that’s it. In your head, the plan was to go out with him on a first date, meet him in bed, and leave right after. But the man switched everything for you. Changed your ideas, the way everything was supposed to go.

Now, he is picking you up at work on your lunch break - parking his car a little further from your company’s entrance, so your boss won’t see him - taking you back to his place, where he has cooked a nice meal to share with you, alongside some warm kisses, tender touches, and a genuine smile playing on your lips.

Deep down, you know that you need to push Lewis away, one way or another. You see him at work, you see him after your office hours. Your brain is continuously delving into him, all the information surrounding the man and everything you know about him. So, after another morning of leaving his house, you decide to make a decision.

It’s Monday, 10:39 am. Inside the four walls of your office, the sound of your nails tapping on your desk are the only soundtrack stringing your line of thoughts along, mixing with the way your leg keeps bouncing up and down nervously.

Your eyes scan the email that you just finished writing. Professionally immaculate, written in the right tone, using the most appropriate words, the few lines that inform Sir Lewis Hamilton that the project you’ve been working together on is well advanced, and, for that reason, you believe it’s no longer necessary to schedule weekly meetings with the client, informing the man that, from now on, you will only be scheduling one monthly meeting with him. Adding your boss to the recipients, you take a deep breath before clicking ‘send’.

It’s done. The first step to keep him away from you, at least while you’re at work. Maybe that can help your brain get a break from the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

There’s an unsettling feeling inside of you, you can’t deny it. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to do this, you don’t want to push him away. Deep, deep down, you just want to go home to him, so you two can cuddle on the sofa again, or cook dinner together while sharing stories about what happened during your day at work.

Your heart feels heavy. But not in a good way, when it feels heavy with love and care. Instead, it’s heavy with sorrow, pain, harsh memories that you would rather forget, but that life insists on bringing back to you. People say that you need to learn to react differently, so the same situations can stop coming to you, right? So maybe this is it. Maybe, this is you reacting differently, not letting Lewis get too close to you, like all other men did - just so he could end up hurting you, manipulating you.

There’s almost an urge to cry, quickly approaching your body as you think about everything again. It’s like a movie playing in your head, making some hot tears tingle in your eyes as Lewis is the one person who’s splattered on the front of your mind. You can’t stop thinking about how happy he makes you, how fulfilled you feel when you’re by his side, in his arms, sharing hours on end with him.

If your love life hadn’t fucked you up so bad, you know you would be so, so happy by his side. And every time he opens up a bit more to you, sharing his deepest secrets with you, showing how he truly feels when he is with you, it only makes your heart twists in your chest even more, to the point where you can almost feel drops of blood sliding through your insides.

Why does everything have to be so difficult? You know you are the only problem in this situation, but still: guilt occupies all space in between your organs. You’re the one who’s going to break Lewis’ heart now, just like all those other men did to you. Hurt people hurt people - you guess they’re right now.

It’s bitter, it’s harsh and it will hurt, but you know it’s for the best. And the driver needs to understand that you’re not the one for him. You could never be. But it seems like he’s not even thinking about any of that, as your phone starts ringing nonstop with messages and calls from him.

His name appears on your phone screen one time after the other, and it grows consistent every time you decline his calls. “I’m at work, can’t talk right now” - you text him, only to be completely ignored by him, noticing how the man doesn’t stop calling you. He is persistent, and you know he won’t stop until you pick up, even if it will take for him to dial your number countless times for hours.

Still, you stand your ground. Not replying to his endless texts, not picking up his never ending calls, putting your phone on do not disturb mode, so you won’t get bombed with his insistence anymore.

And it seems to work for a couple hours, at least until you’re almost done with your work for the morning, finishing some essays before your lunch break.

You managed to fight the urge to touch your phone, to open and check every Lewis’ attempt to reach you, diving in the silence surrounding the four walls of your office, matching the emptiness in your mind as your heart seems to scream on your chest - only to be muffled by the sound of you typing on your computer, trying to focus on what really matters: your job.

That is, until you’re getting ready to leave your workplace, heading for lunch, just before your secretary is knocking on your door, rushing to let you know that there’s someone that is insisting to talk to you - even after you specifically said you don’t want to meet anyone today.

- Who is it, Lydia? - you ask the woman in front of you, who’s visibly confused with what to do in that situation.

There’s an annoyed tone leaving your lips that you can’t quite hold back, feeling overwhelmed by the immensity of different feelings inside of you, that definitely makes you not want to see anyone or talk to anyone right now.

- It’s me - a voice erupts through the door, seeing his figure appearing behind your assistant. - This is an emergency and I need to talk to you right now, Miss Y/N.

There he is: Lewis, standing straight as his eyes pierce yours with a ravishing intensity, almost stealing all the oxygen from your lungs. The closed facial expression on his features lets you know that he is not happy with what you did, and the thought of having to talk to him about it now, makes you bite your tongue.

You gulp, using all your strength to hold back a sigh that wants to leave your body so desperately. Nodding at Lydia, the woman leaves your office, closing the door behind her - leaving you and Lewis alone.

- I’m not in the mood to talk, and I was just about to leave for lunch, so please, get straight to the point - you tell him, sipping on your water bottle as you turn your back to him. Your tone is cold, uninterested, not really feeling like having this conversation with the man in front of you now. - Oh, I’ll be fast. Why the fuck did you just cancel all of our weekly meetings? - his words come out harsh, spitting all the annoyance pooling in his own figure, as well.

There’s the question that you really don’t want to reply to, the conversation you wanted to avoid, the one you wish you wouldn’t need to have. You keep your back turned to him, as your eyes inspect the view of the city from your office. A deep sigh leaves your form before you speak.

- As I said in my email, the project is right on track. I don’t see a reason for us to continuously meet every week, when most problems are solved, and there’s not much more that needs to be discussed in the current state of the investment. - your tone is flat, not showing much emotion as you try to remain professional, slowly turning to look him in the eyes again, standing your ground as if you were informing him of the most natural thing in this world.

And maybe you are. Maybe everything makes sense. Maybe there’s no need for you two to have meetings all the time, if the project doesn’t require it anymore. However, as much as it might be true, Lewis doesn’t want to accept it. He can’t, in his mind, fathom the idea of not having an entire morning just to yourselves inside of your office, where you would exist for his eyes only - in the exact same way that he feels like he has been existing just for you, as well.

He sees you almost every night when he is in town, he has you entirely to himself on the weekend’s when he is on break from racing. But still, he can’t help but feel anxious for Wednesday to arrive every week.

Every Wednesday morning, he wakes up with a tingling feeling in his chest, sensing some nervousness surrounding him as the man anticipates your meeting. He chooses an immaculate outfit - a professional one, to match yours, as he tries to guess what color you’ll be wearing that day, wanting to look good for you, wishing you can desire him just by looking at him, as soon as he walks through the door of your workplace.

Even if you are really just talking about business and not doing anything forbidden, he loves the adrenaline of taking over your office, moving around as he pleases as he reaches for the opposite side of your desk, only to disturb your focused and professional mindset - by stealing kisses from your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist when you leave your seat at the chair, adorning the skin of your neck with open mouth kisses, loving the way you have to suppress a moan every time he does it, seeing you snaking away from his arms for your own sake, since your boss is in the room next door.

But even if he doesn’t do anything, he wants to look at your gorgeous face, pray to every small crevice of your skin, begging god to allow your soft hand to touch his as the most intelligent words leave your mouth - blowing Lewis’ mind, as he can’t help but feel so lucky that he has the opportunity to unveil your brain in such an intimate, personal way, seeing how you shine in your field, the way you deserve, like the star that you are. Above it all, he wants your presence. He wants to feel comfortable and warm just by hearing your voice, your laughs, seeing your smile. It has become his weekly boost of serotonin, and he doesn’t want to give up on that. He knows you have a lot of projects to work on, and a lot of meetings to attend, but you can give them any other day. Wednesday belongs to him.

Walking over to meet your silhouette, the man seems to soften up as he feels your gaze up close. His face is mere inches away from yours, and his fingers are gently reaching for your hand, caressing your skin softly as he tries to ground himself from all the anger that was running in his veins just some minutes ago. He knows you’re right; but he doesn’t want to lose you, the time he has with you. He feeds himself off every second that his eyes land on you, so he tries to convince you to go back on your decision.

- Don’t do this, baby. Please. You know how little time we have to ourselves, and this weekly meeting makes all the difference. - he pleads.

You know that, that’s why you’re canceling all of them, wanting to cut short all the time you have with him, especially when you spend it in between his arms.

- Don’t call me baby. We are just work partners that have slept together a few times. That’s it and we are nothing more than just that, Sir Hamilton. - his name sounds cold in your lips, especially due to the way you avoid eye contact with him, the closer he gets to you.

His eyebrows are furrowed, looking at you with such intensity as he tries to read you, your closed facial expression, your body language. The way your arms are crossed in front of your body, as if to protect your figure, how you force yourself to look away from him, trying to pretend that he is not even there, right in front of you, his frame meeting yours slowly and carefully.

- You know that’s not true, Y/N. What we have is chemical. And you are so, so much more than just sex to me. - Lewis whispers, his body standing tall in front of you, as his face tries to follow yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible.

His voice is soft, even sultry as he knows that you agree with him. What you two make the other feel is no joke, and it definitely is not just something that you can label as ‘casual’. It’s not a feeling that you can just turn off tomorrow if you feel like never seeing him again.

And you know that. That’s why you don’t reply to his statement, gulping as you feel the tip of his finger gently caressing your thigh, slowly pulling up the fabric of your skirt as his eyes never leave you.

- Say you don’t want me, Y/N. Say it and I’ll leave. I’ll leave this office and your life for good, if that’s what you want. - he is serious as he tries to find answers in you.

You can’t say it, of course you can’t - the last thing you want in this life is for him to leave you… even if you feel that’s the best thing for the both of you. You bite down your tongue again, sensing some tears threatening to spill from your eyes, due to the constant battle that you have to fight against your own feelings.

Lewis knows it. And he can see the shine in your eyes growing as you try your hardest to fight back the tears as well, not allowing yourself to relax, to open up, trying to keep your composure - but you don’t have to do it around him. He accepts you just the way you are, with all your flaws and qualities, he wants you to be comfortable enough to be yourself around him, without any masks.

- Baby girl… - he calls softly, melting as your gaze finally connects with his, your arms finally uncrossing with a small sigh leaving your lips, a silent sign that you are giving in again, not having it in yourself to hold the façade that you are trying to carry around with you.

When you open your arms to welcome him, Lewis immediately attaches his lips to yours, his hands gluing themselves to your waist, holding you close so you can stop running away from him.

The warmth of your mouth on his own feels right - it’s the only sensation that he longs to chase every day, waiting as much as necessary if that means he can get a taste of your cherry lips once again, even if that moment only comes to him late at night.

After all, you’re his constant. Believe it or not, knowing that he has one day of the week where he is guaranteed that he will be allowed to see you, even for just a little bit, it’s enough for him - because, in the middle of the driver’s insane world, your meetings, your kisses, are the only thing that can bring him some sense of stability.

Whenever your bodies meet, you feel alive. You can’t deny that no one else makes you feel the way Lewis does, and maybe you are dumb for trying to turn off this glimpse of light and hope that he has brought you, but, right now, you can’t even think about it - and most importantly, you don’t want to think about it.

At this moment, as the man is pressing your body against the full-height window that allows your body to have a panoramic view of London, his hands confidently travel through your silhouette, making you focus on his touch, on his sweet lips that are magnetized to yours, allowing your brain to escape the cage of intrusive thoughts that seems to desperately try to tear you two apart.

Your tongues are fighting a silent battle, as your hands snake around his neck, pulling the man even closer to you, as if it was possible, as if your figure isn’t already trapped against the window. For a moment, there’s just the two of you, your gentle hands, your heated kisses, your bodies screaming for each other, feeding yourselves off the neediness, the desire erupting through you.

Picking you up, the man sits you on the desk, standing in between your legs while your mouths are still connected. Your hands instinctively reach for his shoulder blades, while his fingers slenderly travel down your figure, leaving his print all over your body as he feels the way you grow more touchy, more needy for him.

It’s like his mouth has power over you, the man being everything you need when your days get hectic, your patience gets low, your body gets tired. Lewis is the one solution to all of your problems, and the world seems to stop, everyone else seems to disappear when his tongue is drawing patterns on the skin of your neck.

Your breathing grows erratic, your hands reaching for the back of his neck now, your fingers gently pulling on his hair as you bring the man even closer to you, desperately wanting him to make you feel more of the fire that he is slowly lighting up on your body, making you forget about everything else.

His lips feel hot against your cold skin, that grows warmer due to his touch - gentle, yet so thoughtful, heavy against your soft skin, touching you in your favourite places. He kisses your sweet spot just below your ear, massages your boobs slowly but seductively, making you moan into his mouth, in the middle of a meeting scene that your tongues portray.

You’re ready for him, like you always are; your body always reacting to his presence, to his aura, to the way you’re both immediately attracted to each other as soon as your eyes land on each other. You don’t want him to leave, you want him to own you, to possess you, right here and now, not giving two fucks about the fact that your door is unlocked, and someone can catch you two - getting a show of the way Lewis’ hand reaches for your core, now that your skirt is all folded up past your hips.

Your boss could come in right now, finding it strange that Lewis wanted to see you in a hurry. He could question himself about the driver’s clear emergency need to talk to you, worried about some serious problem taking over the project you’re working on together. The man could burst inside your office - he owns the entire place, after all. But instead of being met with a brainstorming session, he would just be met with a provocative image in full display for everyone who wanted to see the way Lewis rubs you through your panties, making you gasp for air, as you try your hardest not to moan loudly.

The driver learned every detail about your body quickly over the weeks you’ve been together, knowing you and your reactions like the palm of his hand by now. He touches you where you need him the most, kissing down the way of your unbuttoned blouse, his lips feeling how your heartbeat pumps incredibly fast in your chest, feeling it on your skin as he sucks a small hickey just above your left boob.

Lewis’ fingers rub circles on your pearl through the fabric of your underwear, his digits feeling your wetness soaking the cloth of the lace lingerie that rests under your professional, perfectly neat skirt suit.

His eyes burn your figure as he loses himself in your sounds, on the way you use him to hold yourself up, trying to keep it together - but clearly failing. He can’t help but groan slightly at the sight in front of him, loving to see you losing it, him being the only reason why you ruin your composure at your workplace, forgetting about all your professional duties when you’re near him.

The man’s bulge grows in his pants, dreaming about taking you right here, in your office, merging his body with yours while your silhouette effortlessly lays on the desk, in between the piles of documents, papers, information about all the projects you’re working on, all the meetings you have with other people right inside this room. But never in the same way you meet him.

The air around your figures grows thick, hot, almost making you feel like there’s steam erupting from your bodies, revealing all the desire and passion that you feel for each other, clouding your minds as your kisses and desperate touches speak for the two of you.

Moaning Lewis’ name quietly, your eyes let him know how badly you want him, and he wants to give in to your needs and pleads so badly, finding it hard to keep it even just slightly together as you try to take off his jacket.

However, as the fabric starts sliding down his arms, ready to fall to the floor, a gentle knock on your door startles both of you, making your instincts kick in, as you immediately distance your bodies, composing yourselves.

Quickly fixing your skirt and blouse, you share a compromised look with Lewis while clearing your throat and taking a deep breath, before allowing the person to walk inside.

- I’m sorry to interrupt, but your next appointment is here, Y/N. - Lydia peaks through the door gently, informing you that you don’t have any more time to dedicate to the driver now, and that your activities will have to be postponed until you’re out of work.

You nod at her words, seeing how she closes the door again, giving you a couple more minutes to say goodbye to the man in front of you.

Lewis closes the gap between your bodies again, kissing you hungrily one last time while his soft hands cup your face.

- My place after you leave work? I’ll cook us a nice dinner - he mumbles while his lips are still faithfully glued to yours - pecking them over and over again, giving you only the chance to nod at his invitation.

You try to regain your breath as you see him walking out of your office, leaving your body to feel cold and helpless without his touch, his presence, the influence he has on you.

For the rest of the day, your brain doesn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything else. Lewis is splattered on the front of your mind, but, unfortunately, it’s not just because of how skilled his fingers are against your skin.

Your mind works as a factory, creating problems that don’t really exist anywhere besides inside your head. And again, you find yourself feeling guilty. For letting him in again, for giving in to his silky touch, to his warm lips. Losing your mind for him, forgetting about how serious things could have gotten if someone caught you two touching in such an inappropriate way, inside of your office.

Sighing, you lean on your chair as you stare at the ceiling. There you are: fighting another battle with yourself, forbidding your true self from feeling, from loving who you love, from being happy. Lewis is the one who makes you feel alive. Your heart knows it, so stop denying it.

However, your brain begs you to be more rational than this. Put your brain cells to use, remember everything that has happened before. All the pain, the cries, the screaming, the hurt, the loneliness that crept on your bones every time you gave love a chance. You can’t do that to yourself again - especially not now, that you finally managed to recover and stand tall again, after all the falling that the damn sensation in your heart put you through.

Even if you try to play numb and careless, your heart isn’t frozen all the time. As the sun goes up, it instinctively searches for a love, for a reason to beat faster, for someone to drain you in adrenaline, a motive to lose your mind and strictness, reminding you how we all should lose our postures sometimes.

While your heart is carefully on the look during the day, your mind becomes awake at night, unlike the rest of people, forbidding your body from getting any sleep or rest whatsoever - replaying the most traumatic events of your life, making you relive the way your figure used to contort while you cried yourself to sleep for weeks on end.

Lewis might just be the one for you, if you think about it with your heart, with all hope and romance that can still inhabit inside of you. But, your brain doesn’t let you believe it, telling you repeatedly that you will be better off without it, letting love go, enjoying just a little fun instead.

Your body hurts, physically feeling the toll that your thoughts take on you. And as your shift comes to an end, you drag your feet across your office, packing up your belongings, so you can finally go home - Lewis’ home, actually.

Inside his apartment, the man tries his hardest to cook another immaculate dish for you, even while already knowing that you don’t need much to be happy - you appreciate his effort and company either way.

Lewis was lying if he said that he didn’t feel his chest heavy with the urge to see you again as soon as possible, praying that time could go by faster, so you could finally be knocking on his door.

Having to leave you in the morning, closing the door behind him as he left your office was always the hardest part of the moments he had with you. The distance, the time when you’re apart, are the things that kill him. And every time he hears the doorbell finally ringing, an eruption of anxiety floods through his veins as the man rushes to see you, to get you inside, so he can hug you, kiss you, nestle you on his chest again as you two love so much.

He wants you, entirely. He doesn’t want just your body, or the steamy moments that you share together. Above all, he wants the kisses, the laughs, the cuddles, the dedication that he is willing to give you. He wants to feel his heart beating faster every time you walk inside his place, always noticing how your smile and your perfume make everything around him seem brighter, happier.

That’s why he is so desperate for you to come home, to him - as his fingers slightly tremble every time he thinks about the set of keys to his place, that rest in his pocket. A set of keys that will hopefully, belong to you very, very soon, so you can open the door to the place that will be your home as well, officially fully unlocking the door to his heart, as well.

You finally get to his house, ringing the bell - igniting another loving fire inside of the man, without even knowing anything about it. Lewis opens his arms for you as soon as he opens the door, welcoming you warmly with his embrace, holding you tight and close to the driver’s shape, landing soft kisses on your head as his fingers gently tangle with your hair.

A deep sigh escapes your body as you wrap your arms around the man’s figure tightly as well, almost holding on to him for dear life as you try your hardest to quiet down the whirlwind of thoughts that has been haunting all day.

Lewis feels some frustration tensing your muscles, his hand rubbing your back up and down, not breaking the hug until you decide to break it. He senses that something is bothering you, but he has no idea about the tears that escaped your eyes while you were in the car, letting out some of the exasperation that crept on you for hours, since the minute that he left your office.

Still, it feels like he can put you together, gluing back all your missing pieces with his touch, being patient enough to hold you for as long as you need. And you appreciate it. You appreciate his time, his effort, the silence that strings you two along, the way he doesn’t rush to ask you a bunch of questions immediately, giving you time and space until you decide to talk, not minding the silent touches at all either.

Once you break the hug, you finally reach to land a small yet soft and caring peck on his lips. Looking into his eyes, you force a small smile to paint your lips and Lewis notices how tired you look - however, in his mind, you just had a tough day at work. He doesn’t even imagine that it was so much more than that - and that he is the reason behind all it. Still, you don’t say much, so the man gets the hint, serving you a plate of food as a way to let you know that he is here, right by your side, and he is going to take care of you for as long as you let him.

Sitting at the table, you mess with the food on your plate for a second, taking a small bite of it before turning your attention to Lewis’ features again. His eyes are soft whenever he looks at you, and a genuine, kind smile is splattered on his face while he looks at you completely enamoured.

Silence is still filling the space around you two, while your thoughts are loud in your mind. You can’t help but think of how amazing he is, how he is so thoughtful to always cook you dinner, caring about you like no other man ever did.

But still. He’s just a man. Just another man that will, eventually, leave you behind once he finds someone better than you. And you notice the love in his eyes; of course you do - he is not subtle at hiding it at all, but maybe he is not even trying to hide it.

The thing that Lewis wants the most is to be truthful about his feelings. He wants you to know every single emotion that you make rush in his blood, every new sensation that you introduced to him with your presence, with your intelligence and spirit.

That’s why his hand instinctively reaches for his pocket, where the set of keys that’s destined to you still rests. And as you finally speak to let him know that his cooking is amazing, he just gives you a smile, getting ready to talk to you.

His heart starts beating faster in his chest, clearing his throat while his leg is nervously bouncing up and down. Man up, Lewis. Come on, do it. Do it for her, for you, for your future with her. – the man thinks to himself.

- I’m glad my cooking can help you a bit after you have a stressful day at work. - Lewis tells you softly.

You raise one eyebrow slightly, instinctively thinking to yourself that it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just “a stressful day at work”. Work was just fine, and your day would have been better if he hadn’t showed up at your office, demanding to speak to you after your attempt to distance yourself from him - starting an eruption of different thoughts and feelings inside of you. But still, you don’t reply to his statement, and you decide to show him just a smile in reply.

Taking a deep breath, the driver decides to continue his train of thought.

- You know, I really love having you around. I love when you come to my place after you leave work, I love how you have the power in yourself to make every space feel lighter and brighter as soon as you walk in. It’s like magic. - Lewis confesses, feeling all the anxiety running through his body as he tries to read your facial expressions.

There’s not a lot to read, though. You have an expressionless face, your features don’t show much, while contrasting with your brain, that’s working like the devil’s office.

You hear Lewis’ speech loud and clear. And the alarm inside of your mind immediately rings, as if an emergency has surfaced. There’s too many ‘I love’ in his line of thinking, and you know how this will end, if you don’t stop him right now.

So, to avoid hearing an ‘I love you’ coming from him in some minutes, you decide to cut the message the man is trying to pass.

- I enjoy the time we spend by each other’s side as well. At the end of the day, we’re just having fun. I’m glad this isn’t something that we need to take seriously. - you can almost hear Lewis’ heart shattering as soon as the words leave your mouth, seeing his face falling, the smile disappearing.

He gulps. His hand leaves his pocket, trying to forget about the keys, the words that he was about to say, the love confession, the idea of you moving in with him - or at least the scenario of you having the keys so you could erupt through his house every time you wanted to.

You don’t want it, and you just made it very clear, now. No words can describe the way Lewis’ heart has dropped at what you just told him. Sadness immediately washes over him, and you can see it. You notice the shine disappearing from his eyes, his face showing you a dull expression, where all the brightness and happiness have disappeared from.

And looking back at you, he sees how you look at him coldly, almost as if you have no remorse about it. Seeing his heart shattering in front of you, and still, it’s like you can’t feel a thing, in his eyes.

But you can. Oh God, you feel so much - you’re just good at hiding it. Your face is closed, but your heart is open, ripped in the middle, sensing all your feelings, thoughts and pain washing your figure from the inside. You do feel guilty. You didn’t want any of this to happen, but you need to protect yourself, you need to put an end to all the infinite ‘boyfriend moves’ that Lewis does to you everyday.

He is not your boyfriend, even if you would love for him to be. But you’re not the one for him, and you could never be. Unconsciously, you ask yourself why. Why did those words leave your mouth? Why is your brain winning, pushing him away, even when your heart is screaming in your chest, making a lump form in your throat from the agonizing pain as you fight back the tears that your body wants to let out so much. But you have no response to your instincts. Maybe it really was a mindless move, but one that’s right. One that will protect you from getting even more hurt in the future.

You’re both hurt now, though. And the dark, heavy silence that sat at the table in the middle of your bodies lets you know it. It’s like a wall that separates you two, now, making it seem pointless that you’re still here, sitting in front of each other.

And it’s like Lewis can sense that you’re thinking about leaving, as he finally breaks the silence to reply to your statement.

- Yeah, you’re right. No strings attached, just two individuals having fun and enjoying their time together. - he replies, forcing a smile on his features as he goes back to eat his food, as if nothing has happened.

You can’t help but feel startled by his words, your eyebrows furrowing at his attitude. He was basically on the verge of confessing his love to you and now… no strings attached? You try to read him, but you can’t.

Turns out that Lewis isn’t as transparent as you thought he was. On the inside, he is so hurt that this pain could make him disappear in seconds, turning all his feelings and dreams of a life with you into ashes. And he can’t believe that these words just left his mouth, either. But, in the end, the man would rather have you on your own terms, than not having you at all.

Just two individuals enjoying their time together. That’s why you end up watching a movie on the sofa that night, even if both of you feel stiff from the conversation you had at the table, as if you’re afraid to touch each other after the things that were said. Still, you want the other’s company, so neither of you really wants to leave, or cut the night short.

You end up sleeping in his bed, feeling way too overwhelmed with all your feelings and struggles to drive back home. And as much as this might sound bad after what you told him, you know that you can always find solace in the man’s embrace.

But now, as you lay peacefully asleep beside him, Lewis connects all the dots in his mind and everything seems to make sense. He was always amazed by the way you would just go back to work on your computer after having sex with him, not wasting any more time cuddling him in bed right after giving into your pleasure and needs.

You would always tell him about your tight deadlines whenever he called your name to meet him in bed again, but maybe it was never about the projects and the deadlines. It was because you never saw him as the cuddle type, really, as the type to actually get to know you. And as much as he is so sweet, so thoughtful with you, you never fully opened up to him - always keeping a very private side of you completely locked and unreachable, forbidding anything from coming out, and anything from coming in.

And he understands it now. You never really wanted him, you never really cared about his feelings, you definitely didn’t fall as hard as he did for you. You could feel his love reaching for your heart sometimes, but you never really allowed yourself to touch it as much as you could, as you are able to do. You know how dedicated you are when you are in love, and Lewis definitely deserved that side of you. But unfortunately, he is paying for all the things that other men did to you, and he has to put up with this personality that you created - one that doesn’t believe in love, that doesn’t even want to talk or think about it.

It runs in your family, really. Your mum and dad had a terrible marriage, you grew up surrounded by fights and lies, the image of what ‘love’ was supposed to be, doesn’t look the same to you as it does for the majority of people. And sometimes, when you think about, you question life, you grow frustrated, and you even put the guilt on your family, on your parents from getting married, for bringing you to this world to such a fucked up childhood, that never taught you what real love felt like, looked like. But there’s no point in putting the blame on someone else. This is your life, and you just need to deal with things the way they are.

Now, while your head is lying on his chest, your arms wrapped around his figure as you find some heat to help you sleep, his fingers play with your hair, his hand softly travels up and down your back while he still leaves some gentle kisses on the top of your head. And whenever he gets the chance to hold you close like this, breathing in your scent, he realizes how good it feels to finally have a bit of you, besides all the times you block him out. Lewis can’t sleep, and the thoughts of every word, every moment shared between you two, fly through his mind, not letting him get any rest. Instead, he just wonders what he did wrong, where did he fail, why don’t you want him just as much as he wants you. His brain kills him, haunts him, to the point that the driver can feel some hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he keeps looking down at you, imagining the incredible future that you two could have together, but that will never happen.

He catches himself hoping, almost praying, that at the end of all this, you won’t regret him - that’s a thought that he can’t even fathom, one that he will not be able to deal with. It’s crazy how, over the months that you’ve been seeing each other, he felt immediately hooked, and that sensation just keeps growing more and more every time he looks into your eyes. He belongs to you. And it kills him, because now he is attached to someone who is going to get rid of him anytime soon, when you get bored out of your mind and he doesn’t seem enough to fulfill your wishes and needs.

His heart races in his chest as he can’t control his emotions anymore, and Lewis grows scared that his heartbeat might wake you up from your slumber. So, carefully lying you back on your pillow, the man leaves the bed, desperately to find a safe corner where he can just breathe and let everything out of his body and mind.

He finds some peace and quiet while sitting on a stool in the kitchen, under the dim, yellow-ish light of the stove. Fidgeting with his fingers, Lewis tries his best to take deep breaths, trying to calm down his state. But instead, the more he tries, more tears escape his eyes, as the man allows them to slide down his features.

The salty water feels cold against his skin, staining his cheek as he hides his face in his hands, questioning why is this happening to him, how he can get rid of these feelings and situation now. The love he has for you won’t fade so quickly, and he knows he will suffer a lot when trying to forget you, because even now that he still has you in some way, he can’t help but see you everywhere when you’re not by his side.

Lewis quickly realized that he was falling for you, but he never really knew that you were so much, that you mean this much to him. After all, you came into his life in a glimpse of hope and fun, but you brought time with you, patience, kindness, happiness - things that he sometimes lacks on a daily basis full of work duties. Still, he has it all with you, because you have that effect on him.

And now, you ripped all hope from his figure, leaving him dark, cold, hurt and full of doubts. While his fingers clean the tears from his face, he can’t help but wonder: what is he supposed to do now, with a burning heart that stays still in his chest, waiting for yours to come by, to come closer, so they can meet once again and make love while you’re just simply talking or looking at each other, sharing small touches such as the tips of your fingers slowly intertwining across the table.

Everything has more meaning to him when it’s with you, whether it’s a kiss, having pizza together, singing in the shower. There’s no way this is just ‘two people having fun’. It was way too intimate, way too chemical, way too real. However, right now, it doesn’t really matter what he thinks, nor what his anxiety tells him. You made it clear that this is nothing that you want to take seriously, and he can’t force you. And just like history always shows, someone always ends up in ruins.

As you’re turning in bed, your arm mindlessly reaches for Lewis’ side, searching for some more comfort and warmth - only to be met with emptiness in his pillow. Slowly opening your eyes, you look around the room, noticing that you’re alone.

On any other night, you would turn to your side and go back to sleep again, patiently waiting for the man to come back to bed. But tonight, there’s a heavy weight lying on your chest as well, as if your conscience feels all the guilt pooling over you due to what you said earlier. Like a magnet, you get up quickly, walking through the corridors until you see his shadow sitting at the kitchen.

Sitting on a stool with his back to the door, some small sniffles escape his body from time to time, making you stop in your tracks. Leaning your silhouette on the door frame, you pay attention to the man’s movements: how his fingers wipe the tears from his face gently, the way he continuously shakes his head ‘no’ to himself, as if he is denying all his thoughts.

The sight truly is heartbreaking, and it’s enough to make you feel even worse than you have been feeling all day. The fear of getting hurt made you push Lewis away, even while sharing the bed with him, making him feel used and kicked to the side right after. The fear of not being enough, of being replaced by someone better, made you hurt the man that always treated you like a priority, even in the middle of his chaotic routine and schedules.

Even while being away, Lewis would send you cute ‘good morning’ texts, he would send flowers to your house, surprising you with them after a stressful day at work, alongside a loving card and your favourite chocolate. Even when he has little free time, he always thinks of you, calling you, talking to you, wondering how you’re doing, letting you know how he can’t wait to be back to London, just so he can be by your side again.

No, this isn’t something casual - and you know that since the beginning as well. Ever since the first kiss, sparks flew from your figures, erupting into the sky, almost showing the whole world how happy you feel whenever you’re together. But still, your brain and heart would fight an intense battle, trying to get you to listen to both, but you always let your brain win - the fear of getting hurt again is just too big.

But you never wanted any of this. You never really wanted him to leave your life, you never wanted to push him away. Instead, you just want him closer and closer, and if you both could be together, cuddled on the sofa 24/7, that would be ideal for you. So, seeing the man you love crying, heartbroken because of something you said - that you deeply regret, kills you. You don’t want to keep playing this façade, you need to finally be honest to yourself, above all, and admit your feelings. You know you feel safe enough with Lewis to do it.

Taking a silent deep breath, you walk inside the kitchen, startling the man as your hand carefully lands on his shoulder, catching his attention. The driver immediately rubs his face with his palms, wiping away all the tears that could still linger on the surface of his skin, trying to pretend like he had not been crying just now.

You sit beside him, looking at him with all the attention and care in the world. To tell the truth, Lewis feels way too self conscious to enjoy your intense stare on his figure right now, so he looks down at his hands again, trying to focus on anything but you.

- What are you doing here, this late at night? - your voice sounds soft and quiet, trying not to break the glassy silence that surrounds the environment around you two. - I just couldn’t sleep - he says, and it’s not a lie. But it’s not completely true, and you know that you will need to take charge of this situation, until he feels comfortable to open up to you again.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, his figure welcomes you instinctively, relaxing his tense muscles just so his body doesn’t feel so stiff when you lay on his skin.

- I think it’s time for us to be honest, Lew - you land a kiss on his arm, looking up at him when he meets your gaze, while still staying silent.

It’s time to use your heart, and not your eyes. It’s time to relax your mind, and allow your feelings to show, pouring them out to the man in front of you without feeling scared, showing him your most vulnerable side.

- Lewis, I’m scared… - you start, feeling your voice slightly trembling already as you try to open up to him, and show him why you’re so complicated, why your mouth says one thing while your heart feels another.

He still doesn’t say a thing, giving you time and space to organize your train of thought, to fight all the demons in your mind without pressure - but his eyes never leave you, reading every crevice of your face, every line telling him how much you regret what you said, and the way things have been developing.

- Love is not really something that I know how to do. My parents’ marriage was a fiasco, I grew up with a very distorted image of what love looked like. As I grew up, I tried to look for true love in everything, in everybody. But, as much as I would try, every romantic relationship I was in, ended up with me being completely heartbroken, ruined. I lost myself many, many times because of failed romances and cried myself to sleep so many nights. I’m actually such a sensitive person, I feel everything, I feel everybody, but it’s just easier for me to put on this ‘frozen heart’ persona. Because, this way, I don’t suffer. I don’t let anyone in, I don’t let any of my feelings out, always trying to protect myself the best I can.

As you start explaining, Lewis’ arm instinctively wraps around your figure, rubbing your back softly while you’re the one letting it out, crying in front of him. It feels weird to be honest and vulnerable after so many years of pretending, and as you do it, you just allow your pain to take over - but, in the end, this is who you are. This fucked up person, hurt, the result of so much trauma, constantly intoxicated by the other’s manipulation.

The more the cold tears paint your face, the more you realize how frail you actually are, how many problems you still need to bury and fix inside of you, and fear grows inside of you again - but now, you’re scared that Lewis will be the one leaving you alone after knowing all this about you, perceiving you as being ‘too much to deal with’.

- But then you showed up in my life, and changed everything. Changed the way I looked at life, how I saw my days at work, how I enjoyed my free time outside of my office. When I’m around you, I feel safe. So, so safe, maybe even too much, and that’s what makes me think, what makes me realize that I am falling for you more and more every day. And that’s why I slowly started to try and push you away. I was just trying to ignore these feelings that pop up in my chest every time I’m around you, trying to keep myself from suffering again. But the funny thing is, the harder I try, the more I hurt myself, and now I’m hurting you too… And, deep down, I don’t want any of that. I don’t want to push you away, I just want to pull you closer, and to explore our connection even further. Because you were right. We’re so much more than sex. I can’t stop thinking that every other person in my life, I just met them by chance. But you, Lew, I met you because I had to. And I need you - even if it’s really hard for me to admit this.

A river of tears is still silently sliding down your features, while Lewis gives you all the time to be honest with your feelings, and with himself. There’s a sensation of relief in the air after your words come out, a feeling that both you and Lewis can recognize inside of your hearts.

One new, single tear escapes the man’s eyes as he gives you a soft smile, his thumbs working to wipe away all the remains of sadness from your face. A moment of silence settles in again as the driver takes a deep breath. Even if he smiled at you, even if his facial expressions seem much lighter now, you can’t help but listen to the anxiety that reaches your brain now - still scared of his reply, of him realizing that you aren’t made for him.

You absolutely dread the thought of losing him, especially now that you were so transparent about your feelings, your reasons. He is the only person that truly gets you, in your good and bad moods, that knows how to deal with you in the best way - and because of all that, you only love yourself when you’re with him, when you’re feeling understood and held by him.

It might have been just a couple of seconds, but it felt like an eternity to you, until Lewis decided to finally speak up.

- I knew you were the one for me since the first time I saw you. Since the very first flirt, the way you called me a prick, how your eye rolls were enough to make me feel silly and warm inside. And after our first kiss, I was sure of everything I felt. And even if you have your fears and problems, I have mine too, baby. But I could never give up on you, never. I just want to make our little bubble the safest I possibly can. I want you to always feel secure and understood around me, so you can recover from everything that happened to you in the past - something that will never happen again with me by your side, love. - the man guarantees you, his hands cupping your face as you sniffle quietly at his sweet words.

Cutting the distance between your mouths, the driver lands the sweetest, softest kiss on your lips, leading you to hold his face closer, with your hand resting on the back of his neck. It’s slow, gentle, and warm. It feels like a cure to you.

- I had a spare set of keys in my pocket, while we were having dinner. I was going to give it to you. Please, take them - I want you to be here as much as you can, I want you to come in and out as you please, even if I’m not here, this place is a bit yours as well now. Do you have any idea of how many times I’ve been lying on the sofa, and I just daydream about you walking in without me expecting it? I want those kinds of surprises, the ones who allow me to spend more time with you - Lewis confesses, whispering in your lips as the tip of his nose gently nudges yours, making a genuine smile appear in your face.

Your chest races in your chest, not really believing that any of this is real, that he is still willing to fight for you, not giving up on your complicated self, but instead helping you recover from everything that hurt you.

- I want to take things slow, Lew… - you say low, almost ashamed of what you’re asking him, but he really understands you for who you are, and he knows that it’s hard for you to completely open up and face all your fears at once. - We have all the time in the world, my love. I’m not in a rush. I could never be when I’m with you, I just want to make the most out of every minute that I spend by your side - he immediately replies, pecking your lips softly again.

There it is: the shine that you love seeing so much, back into the man’s eyes as he looks at you - now, with the vision of a future by your side, the scenario that makes the blood in his veins run faster through his body. And you can’t see it, but you can feel your eyes glowing as well as you look back at the only man that always made you feel welcome in his arms, cared for, that sees you for you, lightening up parts of you that no one else knows about.

With the moon reflected on your features, Lewis opens his arms to nestle your body closer to his, hugging you close as your head rests on his chest, finally letting out a deep sigh of pure relief.

Maybe, all that pain, all the cries, all the trauma wasn’t in vain. Maybe everything was necessary, so you could find the right man for you, the one you truly love, the one that loves you right back in the same amount and intensity. Even after hurting him, pushing him away, breaking his heart in a million pieces just a couple of hours before, Lewis is still the pure, selfless soul that holds his hand out for you to take, the one that’s sympathetic, that does everything he can for you, your happiness, your wellbeing, willing to hop on this journey with you. The one that forgives you.

So now, it’s time for you to hold your soul, setting yourself free from all the guilt and shame that has lived inside of you for so many years now, breaking the generational curse that your family has been buried in when it comes to true love - praying that your kids won’t inherit you and the feelings you attract.

And as you cling on to Lewis’ figure harder, you thank life for putting him in your way, for giving you another chance at learning how to be loved, for allowing you to find a cure for your heart. Hugging him tighter, you set free Lewis’ power - may he heal you, may you two cure each other, creating a happier future together.

#the secret of us series #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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ariestrxsh · 10 months ago

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𖠞 content warning: smut, oral (m!receiving), mentions of masturbation

𖠞 summary: your best friend, chris, teases you about a piece of erotic literate he found on your nightstand, but as he flips through it, he starts to see the appeal

dividers by @/kodaswrld

Blue Dream

"I'm so bored. Can I come over?" Chris asked when I picked up his call. "Sure you can. I'm still stuck at work for another hour, but my place is unlocked. Let yourself in, and I'll meet you there," I told him. "I'll bring the weed," he chuckled. "You better or else don't even bother coming over," I playfully replied. "I've got your favorite. Blue dream," he told me before hanging up.

I tied up a few loose ends at work, checked to see if my boss needed anything else, and I headed home.

Once I got to my place, I headed straight for the backyard. Knowing Chris, he was already out there sparking up. I stepped out onto my back porch to find Chris with a lit blunt between his lips, his feet kicked up, and he was slouched down in a chair reading a book? Chris wasn't much of a reader, so this surprised me. "Hey! Whatcha reading?" I nonchalantly asked, not even glancing at the cover.

"I don't know. You tell me. It was on your nightstand," he responded, looking at me mischievously. Then it dawned on me. Oh my god! He was reading one of my dark fantasy romance novels that I left on my nightstand the night prior. I thought about grabbing it from him, but chances are it was too late. He was already several pages deep.

It was one of my favorites. It was a story set in medieval times where a princess is captured by a man who was sent to kill her, but instead, he captures her and ends up fucking her and falling in love with her. There were a lot of detailed and deranged sexual encounters in it. The book is from the princess' point of view and deals with her internal monolog of falling in love with her captor and the shame she feels about liking everything he does to her.

"What? You into it?" I teased him. "I'll be honest - kind of," he smirked, and he passed me the blunt he'd rolled. "Why don't you just watch porn like the rest of us?" Chris giggled, flipping to the next page, still reading it. I rolled my eyes and took a few puffs. "If you must know," I started, passing the blunt back to Chris, "I do watch porn, but sometimes I prefer to read it," I said, biting my lip. "Really? How come?" He looked at me intrigued. "Well, I like how detailed the books are, and I like that I can imagine anyone I want when I'm reading books. When you're watching porn, you're stuck with whatever usually unattractive male actors that they give you. Plus, I like having my mind stimulated, not just my eyes and my body," I said, shrugging.

"Oh yeah? And what hot guys do you picture?" Chris asked, teasing me, passing me the weed again. "Like I'd ever tell you," I scoffed. "Why not? Is it 'cause you think about me?" Chris jokingly asked me. However, I wasn't a good liar, and I did sometimes picture Chris. I couldn't help it. He was really hot, even though he was my best friend. I blushed and tried to hold back a grin as I passed him back the blunt. "No way! You think of me like that?" Chris responded, seductively smiling at me while he took another hit. "No!" I said, but even I remained unconvinced at the way it sounded when it came out.

"Do you ever play with yourself while you're reading these books?" Chris wondered, biting his lip and looking me up and down. "Well, what else would one do with pornographic material?" I rhetorically asked, smirking. "Does that mean you think about me when you touch yourself?" He questioned me, putting out the roach in my ashtray. Chris loved to stir people up and make them uncomfortable, and it's one of the things I found most attractive about him, the way he could rile me up so easily.

"Shut up, Chris," I said, slugging him in the arm. "It's a simple question you've yet to answer," Chris sneered at me. "You already know the answer to that, Chris. Did you come over here just to humiliate me?" I inquired. "Of course not. Only if you're into that," he shot me a look. I couldn't stop blushing.

"You know, this shit is well-written. It's actually making me a little hard," Chris admitted while he slowly started to stroke himself through his pants, looking up at me from the book. Ugh, he was doing this on purpose. "I'd love it if someone took care of it for me," he moaned, seductively grinning up at me and massaging the head of his cock through the fabric of his clothing.

I took in the lovely sight before me, Chris' ocean blue eyes locked on mine, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, his fingers grazing the bulge between his legs. I couldn't control what happened next.

I helplessly fell to my knees. I couldn't look at him like that and not help him. My mouth fell open as he took himself out of his sweatpants, and I stared in awe at the way it looked. It was only half-hard, but it was big. He placed it between my parted lips, and I felt it grow bigger as I explored all the ridges with my tongue, and he responded with a breathy and drawn out "fuuuuck."

I slowly and sensually worked my way around his whole manhood. I left a long lick, starting at the base of his shaft and ending at his tip. I did this a few times, teasing him while his eyes followed my tongue. His cock lightly twitched, begging to be taken wholly into my mouth.

As I wrapped my lips around the head and took him in as deep as I could, I heard him let out a primal moan. I bobbed my head up and down on him, lightly gagging and making sloppy sounds as my lips glided across his enticing dick. I ever so gently ran my teeth along the tip, eliciting more harmonious sounds from him. "This is the best head I've ever gotten," Chris moaned breathlessly under the flit of my tongue.

I was obsessed with the way he watched me, his facial expressions tainted by sexual desire, and his soft whimpers. I felt his dick pulsate against the roof of my mouth. "Oh god," he muttered while he emptied his seed into the back of my throat. It was thick and sweet and salty, and I graciously swallowed.

Chris let out a satisfied laugh as I wiped my spit off my face. "Shit, do you have any more books like this? And can I please borrow them sometime?"

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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edenesth · 1 year ago

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TWTHH Spinoff: Little Touch of Heaven [1]

Pairing: physician!Yunho x herbalist!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Dedicating his life to his work, Yunho had never bothered to entertain the idea of settling down. Despite encountering many charming women throughout his career, none had sparked his desire for companionship. But everything shifted when he met a certain herbalist whose medicinal knowledge seemed to surpass even his own. What began as mere intrigue might have gradually developed into affection.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Are you still here, sunshine? It's way past closing time. Come on now, let's head home soon. Your mother will be worried if we take too long," your father called out from the backdoor of his apothecary, where you were diligently working in the backyard farm responsible for growing and harvesting all the herbs he required to make his medicines.

You sighed, gazing at the new batch of seeds you had just planted and still needed to water, "Uhh... you go on without me first, father. I'll join you as soon as I'm finished with this latest batch of ginseng."

The elderly man shook his head in resignation, "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. Be prepared for an earful from the lioness at home if you're late for dinner."

Chortling, you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, "Worry about yourself first! I'll tell mother dearest you called her a lioness," you waved him off as he sputtered in disbelief, panicking and giving you all the reasons you shouldn't say such a thing. But you only shook your head, finding your old dad incredibly adorable. That's why you couldn't resist teasing him every chance you got.

"Go home, father. I was just teasing you, geez," you reassured with a cheeky grin, watching as he huffed and grabbed his bag, "I'm going then. Hurry up, sunshine. And be careful on your way home."

"I will. You be careful too. I'll see you in a bit," you said, quickly returning your attention to your work. It was only then that you realised your stomach was beginning to growl with hunger at the thought of your mother's cooking. With no time to waste, you hastily completed the remaining tasks.

After finishing up, a contented sigh escaped you as you dusted off your hands and admired the fruits of your labour. Despite years of repetition, you couldn't imagine ever growing tired of this routine. Your father's apothecary had been a fixture long before your birth. Your mother had been one of his loyal customers, initially seeking medicine for her ailing father. However, as time passed, her visits seemed motivated by more than just medicinal needs.

It didn't take long for them to realise their love for each other, and they soon married. In the early days, your mother continued to assist your father with herb growing and harvesting, even after your arrival. Growing up, you spent your childhood amidst the sights and smells of the apothecary, playing and observing as your parents toiled away.

As you matured, your curiosity blossomed into genuine interest, prompting you to actively participate in and learn about herbalism. With your mother's growing age and declining health, she was eventually advised to retire and stay home, leaving you to take over her responsibilities in the apothecary. However, unlike her, you insisted on handling the planting of herbs alone, sparing your elderly father from further strain. Instead, he managed the less physically demanding tasks such as medicine-making and store management.

Locking up the apothecary doors, you began your trek home, you observed the families and couples passing you with a small smile on your face. While you couldn't exactly relate to most people, having spent most, if not all, of your time in the back of your father's store growing up, you couldn't be any happier than you are now.

You had no desire to venture out, make new acquaintances, or seek friendships. Your simple life brought you contentment, and you cherished the strong bond you shared with your parents. Grateful for the absence of hardship and discontent, you had no yearning for wealth or extravagance. Engaging in what you loved, even if it meant remaining within the confines of the apothecary indefinitely, filled you with immense satisfaction. You were perfectly content staying right where you were, surrounded by the familiar warmth of your family and the comforting aroma of herbs.

I could do this forever.

"I'm home!" you called out cheerfully as you stepped into your humble abode. It was a decent-sized house with all the essentials, providing everything your family needed. Despite the success of the apothecary and its financial stability, your parents saw no reason to move to a larger residence. Attachment and sentimental value outweighed any desire for more space.

Everything in your home remained in excellent condition, thanks to your mother's meticulous care, and that was all that mattered. As soon as you entered, she cooed and rushed over to envelop you in a warm hug, "Oh, my dearest little sunshine is home!"

You grinned at your father, who rolled his eyes in mock jealousy. Unlike you, he had returned home only to be lectured for allowing you to walk home alone instead of waiting for you. It was almost ironic how he had warned you about being scolded, only for the roles to be reversed.

It didn't take long before a smile spread across his features; your father was one of the sweetest men you'd ever known. But you hadn't met many people, given that most of your time was spent in the back of his shop. Even then, one thing was certain: he was good to you and even better to your mother.

You had never witnessed him raise his voice, regardless of how upset he might be. He always remained patient, letting his wife do all the yelling. And at the end of the day, he would go to great lengths to make her smile again, ensuring she never went to bed angry. If you were to find a husband, you'd want someone like your father.

Fortunately, you inherited his cheerful personality when you were born. You were truly a bundle of joy since entering this world, earning the nickname 'sunshine' from your parents. No matter how bleak their days became, your bright presence would always illuminate everything. You couldn't recall ever having a particularly bad day, and you hoped things would stay that way forever.

As you settled into your seat at the dining table, your bowl was instantly filled to the brim with your favourite dishes. Your mother chimed in, "Eat up, sunshine. You need to replenish all that energy you've lost from working so hard." The aroma tantalised your senses, and you couldn't help but salivate, "Thank you for the food, mother!" you exclaimed, immediately digging in, feeling famished to the point where you felt like you could devour an entire cow.

"Woah, woah, slow down. They're all yours, silly girl," your father cautioned, shaking his head at your unladylike eating habits, "I'm telling you, no guy will be attracted to you if you eat like that in public."

You pouted, retorting, "If he truly loves me, he'll accept me for who I am." Your mother gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "While that's true, I'm starting to worry that you might never attract anyone at all, since you're always at home or hiding in the back of the store," she confessed, setting down her chopsticks, "I've been feeling slightly better lately. Maybe I could return to the store occasionally, and you could finally go out and meet some boys—"

Shaking your head, you cut her off, "Nice try, mother, but that's not happening. Be good and stay home if you don't want me and father to worry. Besides, I don't need a man to complete me. I'm content as it is. All I need is the two of you by my side."

Unbeknownst to you, your parents harboured fears about exactly that. They knew they wouldn't be around forever, and once they were gone, who would take care of you? The thought of leaving their precious little girl behind all alone in this world filled them with dread.

The elderly man pondered for a moment, unwilling to let go of the topic so easily, "How about you come and help in the store once in a while? That way, you'd still have the chance to interact with some of the customers, and who knows, you might meet someone the same way your mother and I met each other."

You giggled, watching as they exchanged affectionate glances, their hands intertwining on the table, "That's cute, but no thank you, father. The farm isn't going to tend to itself, and before you offer, I refuse to let you perform such hard labour. Your body can't handle it; please don't make me worry. I'll be just fine, I promise."

You're fine, sunshine, but we're not.

Your parents sighed, disappointed by your refusal. At this stage, they could only hope for some miracle to happen, allowing you to meet a kind man who would care for you when they no longer could.

But maybe that miracle wasn't as distant as they thought. Maybe there was no need for your parents to be so concerned. Maybe things were about to change very soon. Perhaps your parents had prayed earnestly enough, and perhaps the heavens had finally chosen to answer those prayers.

"Tell me what you need, and I'll assist you," Jongho offered as soon as the physician finished briefing the head maid on all the tasks she would now have to handle, especially with Lady Park's pregnancy encountering difficulties and depending on him. With a shake of his head, Yunho smiled at the assistant, "It's fine, I've got it covered. Eunsook knows what to do while I'm away. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably head to the apothecary for some herbs."

As the doctor made his way to the apothecary where he sourced medicines and herbs for his clinic, his mind raced with plans on which herbs would best suit the case at hand. It had been some time since he last treated a pregnant woman or dealt with pregnancy-related issues like this, and he couldn't deny feeling a bit rusty in this area. If only he had foreseen this, he might have brushed up on his studies, but the urgency of the situation caught him off guard.

He could still recall how urgently he had been summoned. Jongho had barged into his clinic, leaving him with no choice but to close up immediately. He wondered if he should have anticipated the pregnancy, especially given the general's desire for alone time with his wife. Perhaps he had been foolish not to prepare beforehand; he should have seen this coming. But there was no time to chastise himself over it now. His focus needed to be on ensuring Seonghwa's baby safely reached the three-month mark.

"Ah, finally, we're here," he murmured to himself as soon as the familiar store with the sign 'Ryu's Apothecary' came into view.

Without hesitation, he entered the establishment he knew like the back of his hand. This was the only place he trusted for all his medicines and herbs; he had known the owner for years. Mr. Ryu truly was one of the kindest apothecaries, never overcharging him and sometimes even offering discounts and deals for his loyalty. Just when Yunho thought they were close enough for him to know everything about the elderly man, today seemed to prove otherwise.

Perhaps he didn't know nearly enough.

"Mr. Ryu, I'm afraid I'll need all your raspberry and peppermint leaf supply for the day. Lady Park hasn't been doing too well in the early stages of her pregnancy," the physician announced upon entering the apothecary where he regularly obtained his medicines and herbs, his eyes busily scanning around for anything else that could be useful.

"Is that so? You might want to consider our latest batch of Codonopsis root imported directly from China just a week ago. It's highly effective in boosting vital energy and reducing fatigue during pregnancy."

Yunho's head shot up in surprise.

First of all, why hadn't he thought of that before? More importantly, the feminine voice addressing him sounded nothing like the elderly man who usually managed the store. He turned to find a young woman behind the counter, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"O-oh, um... hello there. I didn't realise Mr. Ryu had such a young wife," he blurted out before cursing himself, feeling embarrassed for making such a hasty assumption.

Your face immediately twisted in disgust, "Goodness gracious, you're severely mistaken! I'm his daughter!"

Way to go, you complete idiot!

The physician immediately bowed, overwhelmed with embarrassment as he offered his apology, "I-I apologise, Miss Ryu! I don't know what made me say that. It's just that I'm used to seeing only your father here. Seeing someone else caught me off guard."

Blinking rapidly, he hoped he wasn't visibly blushing. He had known the elderly man for so long and hadn't the slightest clue he even had a daughter, and such a pretty one too. Making such a mistake on their first meeting was unbelievable to him. He rarely found himself flustered and struggled to maintain his usually composed demeanour.

Good lord, did he really just say that?

You could only sigh; this was precisely why you didn't want to be out here in the store. It was only your first time in your father's place, and this was the first thing that happened. Off to a bad start already, you wouldn't be surprised if this trend continued with some of the other customers later on. It felt like your father had jinxed it at dinner that evening; shortly after, your mother fell sick, leaving him no choice but to stay home and care for her. In the meantime, you were left with no option but to manage the store.

Determined to put the incident behind you, you shook your head, reassuring the physician, "It's fine, sir. My father has to stay home due to an emergency, but fear not, he should be back in a few days to man the store as usual. So, would you be interested in those Codonopsis roots? I could pack some for you as well."

"Y-yes, please. Thank you for the recommendation, Miss Ryu; I really appreciate it," he said, stepping over sheepishly towards the counter.

"No problem, sir," you responded politely, busy packing the raspberry and peppermint leaf he had requested along with some of the Chinese herbs you had suggested.

You calling him 'sir' only reminded him that you still didn't know his name. For the first time in forever, not knowing what to do with his hands, he intertwined them behind his back and cleared his throat, "Uhh... my name is Jung Yunho, by the way. I'm the—"

"Oh, so it's you!" you cut him off, nodding in recognition with raised brows, "I know you; I've heard plenty about you from my father. I know you're the great General Park's family doctor," you continued with a shrug, "But of course, I should've figured that out when you mentioned a certain Lady Park's pregnancy. Huh, it's good to know they're having a baby soon. And before I go off on a tangent, more importantly, you're known to be one of the best physicians in town."

With a light chuckle, he shook his head modestly, "Well, I'm clearly not the best if I couldn't even think to use Codonopsis root."

Furrowing your brows slightly, you countered, "I don't see how that has anything to do with your abilities. That's because you're a physician, not a herbalist. Experts like me are here for that. While we may know which herbs are best used to treat what, herbalists obviously cannot diagnose patients. See, that's our difference and why we coexist to help one another."

Listening to you speak, Yunho felt thoroughly impressed. He couldn't deny that he had always believed he was the smartest person in the room, given his medical expertise and role as the famous general's personal doctor. People often revered him for being at the top of his field. At some point, he had almost convinced himself that there was nobody who could teach him anything new.

But your words made him reconsider.

He hadn't expected to meet someone who could humble him and make him realise he still had much to learn. Especially not a young woman like you, the daughter of an apothecary, a herbalist.

"In that case, Miss Ryu, what else would you recommend for an unstable early pregnancy? You see, the general's wife suffered from severe malnutrition throughout her childhood, and her body is now lacking enough nutrients for both her and her baby," he asked, deciding to set aside his pride and seek help. Seonghwa was relying on him, and he couldn't risk anything happening to Lady Park or the baby.

Finishing up the last of his orders, you hummed in thought, "Actually, there is another medicine that could help. It's a well-known Chinese herb my father has sold to some customers facing similar problems," you explained as you retrieved a box of medicine from the cabinet behind you. Opening it revealed a brown block of medicine he had never seen before, "This one also arrived not too long ago from China. It's called Colla Corii Asini, and it nourishes the kidney while preventing miscarriage. Perhaps this is what Lady Park needs."

"Thank you so much, that sounds perfect," he breathed out in relief, finally feeling a glimmer of hope. You shook your head with a small smile to indicate 'no worries.' As he prepared to make his payment, he asked, "Um, I was just wondering... why haven't I seen you before? I mean, you're Mr. Ryu's daughter and—"

You shrugged, "I'm in charge of growing and harvesting all the herbs we sell, so I'm usually on the farm at the back of the store."

"Ohh... so, you are the genius behind all these herbs," he nodded slowly in wonder, standing there after completing his payment, hands full with the herbs you'd packed for him. Intrigued by your knowledge, he mustered the courage to ask, "I know I'm probably asking too much, but... w-would it be okay for me to come over frequently and learn more about herbs from you? You know, to improve as a medical practitioner."

You shrugged again, "Sure, suit yourself."

Yes, she said yes!

Deep down, he didn't want this to be his first and last time seeing you. He rationalised it, telling himself you were simply an intriguing person. He hadn't encountered anyone as passionate about healing and herbs, someone who possessed more knowledge than he did. He was just eager to learn more.

That had to be the only reason.

It had to be.

"Has the mistress been feeling any better?" the physician inquired eagerly, anxiously awaiting Eunsook's response. He had returned to the general's estate a few days after administering the first batch of the medicine you had recommended.

Beaming, the head maid exclaimed, "Oh, those medications worked like magic! The fatigue and morning sickness improved immensely just a day after she started taking the medicine. You're amazing, Physician Jung! I knew we could count on you!"

It wasn't me at all, it was all her.

"That's good to know, Eunsook! I couldn't have done it without the help of a very talented herbalist. Well then, I'll be back in another few days with more of those herbs," he said eagerly, already looking forward to returning to the apothecary to share the news with you.

The elderly woman bowed, "Of course! And please extend our thanks to this kind herbalist friend of yours, we definitely could use more experts like him around—"

"Her. She's a female herbalist, and you're right, we do need more talents like Miss Ryu around," Yunho quickly corrected.

Blinking rapidly, Eunsook nodded with a slightly knowing smile, "Oh, my apologies. I shouldn't have assumed her gender, but yes, please offer Miss Ryu our sincere gratitude."

"Don't worry, I will."

As he approached the apothecary, his heart seemed to quicken at the thought of seeing you again, though he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why. Perhaps he was simply eager to make a new friend who shared his passion for medicine. Besides, he couldn't deny his admiration for your extensive knowledge of herbs, despite your young age. You seemed to surpass even some of the more experienced practitioners in his field.

Truthfully, he genuinely desired to learn more about herbs from you. The prospect of befriending you held great potential for him; he envisioned you as a valuable ally who could aid in his continuous growth as a physician. Together, with his medical expertise and your herbal knowledge, you could make a formidable team, contributing significantly to society together.

"Oh, Physician Jung! How can I help you today?" Mr. Ryu, your father, greeted him upon his entrance. For once, the doctor seemed rather flustered as he approached the counter, "Oh, uhh... I'm not here for medicine today. I came to see your daughter. Please don't take this the wrong way!" he hurriedly added, "She said I could come to learn more about herbs from her, so I—"

Your father's eyes widened in excitement as Yunho rambled on. While he didn't like the fact that his wife had to fall sick for him to finally be away from the store, it must have been a blessing in disguise because now his daughter had finally met someone, and not just anyone, but the amazing Physician Jung. Oh, he would be able to die happy if this was to be his future son-in-law.

With a little snicker, the elderly man nodded, "Ah, I see you've met my little sunshine while I was away. No need to explain yourself, I believe you. Now if you'll come with me, she's just at the back of the store."

"Here, just head straight ahead, and you should find her somewhere within the plantations," your father said, nodding his head down the hallway leading to the back of the store, "I'd take you there myself, but I don't think I should leave the store unattended."

"I've got it, Mr. Ryu, thank you."

As he walked down the hallway as instructed by Mr. Ryu, the physician wondered how the elderly man would have reacted if he knew Yunho had mistaken his dear daughter for his wife during their first meeting. That would surely ruin the image of perfection he had consistently been upholding.

But why would that matter?

The apothecary would continue to value him as a customer. Why was he suddenly concerned about how your father would view him? The direction of his own thoughts was beginning to baffle him.

Before he could become lost in his thoughts, he reached the farm and was struck by its beauty and meticulous upkeep. His admiration for you swelled, knowing that it was your work that had created such a splendid place. Ryu's Apothecary was known for its top-notch herbs and medicine, and now he understood why. His respect for you grew immensely, realising that you were the mastermind behind it all. After taking in the full view of the farm, he finally spotted you.

Is that what a fairy looks like?

The moment he spotted you amidst the herbs you were planting, he felt as if his breath had been stolen away. He already thought you were pretty before, but now, seeing you in your white and blue hanbok among the lush greenery, passionately engaged in your work, you looked even more enchanting to him.

"Ah, Physician Jung, you're here!" you exclaimed, pulling him out of his reverie with a wave of your hand, "Hurry over, I'm about to harvest this batch of Sophora roots. There's probably some valuable information here for you to learn from this."

"Right away, Miss Ryu!" he replied eagerly, rushing over to join you.

Without delay, you plunged into your work while explaining the herb to him, "This, right here, is the Sophora flavescens, native to China and Japan. Its antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal properties make it useful in treating conditions such as damaged livers, jaundice, eczema, ulcers, and more. I know it looks nothing like the completed product you're used to seeing, but that's because it requires several seasons of drying after harvesting before it's ready for use."

While he knew he should focus on the herbs, he found it difficult to tear his gaze away from your face. The subtle furrow of your brows and the delicate bite of your lips when you weren't speaking—adorable. Wait, did he really just think that? He'd never had such thoughts before. Sure, he'd treated plenty of beautiful ladies throughout his career, but this occurrence was a first.

"Interestingly, this plant can grow up to 5 to 7 feet tall. Even taller than you, isn't it quite amazing?" you remarked, noticing his lack of response. Frowning, you turned to him and sighed when you realised he wasn't paying attention. With a gentle nudge on his shoulder, you snapped him out of his trance.

"O-oh, sorry, you were saying?" he muttered, embarrassed to be caught zoning out.

"I... never mind. Could you please fetch the root puller from that tool rack?" you requested, opting to delegate rather than have him kneel in the dirt beside you. Perhaps he was starting to regret coming here, realising it wasn't his cup of tea. Not that you minded; he could leave if he wanted to. After all, he was the one who asked to be here. The least he could do was listen.

"Absolutely!" he responded, heading toward the tool rack to retrieve what you asked for.

Making his way toward the tool rack, he chastised himself for leaving such a poor impression. It was only your first session together, yet he was struggling to stay focused. Gosh, you must be judging him so hard right now, and he couldn't even blame you. You were kind enough to share your knowledge of herbs at his request, and here he was, lost in daydreams instead of paying attention. Determined to redeem himself, he resolved to be more useful.

Pull yourself together, Jung Yunho.

However, the doctor was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the patch of ground still damp from your earlier watering. You did a double-take when you saw him unknowingly heading towards the wet path instead of taking the drier route.

"Wait, Physician Jung! You'll slip and fall if you go that way!" Your words of warning went unheeded, and you sprang up from your position on the ground in alarm, "Yunho! Yah, Jung Yunho!" In a panic, you dashed toward him, your eyes widening as he stepped onto the wet soil just as you reached out to grab his arm and redirect him.

But it was too late.

"You bloody idiot!" Your shout echoed across the farm as he let out a yelp, his arms instinctively encircling you as he toppled backwards, shielding you from the fall as he landed on the wet ground.

Your breath caught as you landed on his chest, faces mere inches apart, hearts racing. Huh, how have you not realised how good-looking he actually is? Wait, what? Before either of you could react, your father's voice rang out from the entrance, "Oh dear, what's with all the shouting, sunshine? Is everything alright—"

"F-father, I can explain..."

The apothecary blinked at the unexpected sight before him: his daughter atop the handsome and intelligent Physician Jung. God must have heard his prayers. With a grin, he chuckled, "Well, well! Seems like everything's more than alright! I won't intrude any further. Back to work for me!"

"N-no, Mr. Ryu! It's not like that at all!"

With a gulp, he turned to face you again, only to find you glaring down at him, "Let me go," you muttered, and he immediately loosened his grip, "O-oh, my bad." He moved to sit up as soon as you were off him, only to smile sheepishly up at you when he felt the back of his outfit completely soaked. Not only did he fail to help you with anything, but he was now causing you more trouble.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you raised a fist threateningly towards him, "I'll get you some new clothes to change into. Stay here and don't move, or else..."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Oh, my poor Yunho. I can't believe that happened," Lady Park cooed, trying to suppress her laughter as she comforted the flustered physician after completing her weekly check-up. He was really beginning to regret his decision to confide in her.

"I shouldn't have told you about it, ugh. And to think you'd be the only one not to tease me," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from her.

Lady Park softened, "I'm not teasing you, silly. You're always so serious and uptight, it's just refreshing to see you like this for once. Besides, there's nothing wrong with having feelings for someone, especially at your age. You should really consider settling down."

He scoffed, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "What? That's funny, I-I didn't say anything about liking anyone, my lady."

"You don't have to. It's written all over your handsome face," she smiled knowingly, "Hwa has that same look often, so I think I'd know better than you, Physician Jung."

Perhaps she had a point; he still couldn't shake the memory of that incident from his mind. The sensation of holding you close lingered, strangely comforting. He started to grasp why couples found solace in such intimacy. Maybe the idea of settling down, and having someone to come home to after a long day wouldn't be so bad. Maybe—

"What are you two talking about? Didn't the check-up end ages ago?" the general's voice jolted him back to the present.

"Nothing at all, my lord," he stammered, caught off guard.

Seonghwa arched an eyebrow sceptically, "You really expect me to believe you'd spent an hour talking about nothing with my wife? So, what were you doing together then?"

"Oh my god, nothing! We just talked, okay?"

"Right, now fill me in. Suit yourself if you don't want to. My wife will tell me everything eventually; just so you know, we don't keep secrets from each other."

Slapping a palm against his forehead, the physician wished he'd kept his mouth shut, "Alright, but promise not to tell anyone. If Hongjoong catches wind of this, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Deal."

Holy sheeeet, thank you all so much for 1.7k followers! I was sleep-deprived asf while proofreading lmao I hope this one was decent HAHA I promise the next part will be more interesting!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/9): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

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#edenesth #the way to this heart #little touch of heaven #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #historical au #joseon era #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic

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yuki4amano · 1 year ago

Text

Midnight Musings. Whimsical Ideas.

In Izuku Midoriya's cozy living room, the atmosphere was charged with a mix of determination and camaraderie as Izuku, Yuki, Shinso, and Denki gathered to solve the misunderstanding between their friends. While Izuku was busy jotting down practical solutions in his notebook, Yuki was animatedly pitching ideas that ranged from bizarre to downright absurd.

"I think we should organize a surprise romantic dinner for them!" Yuki exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she bounced in her seat.

Shinso raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Um, Yuki, I don't think that's—"

"—practical at all," Izuku finished, giving Yuki a fond smile. "But I appreciate the enthusiasm. Maybe we could consider something a bit more low-key?"

Yuki pouted playfully, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, be that way. But mark my words, someday someone's going to thank me for my genius romantic gestures!"

Izuku chuckled softly, his heart swelling with affection for the girl beside him. Despite her unconventional ideas, there was something undeniably endearing about Yuki's earnestness and creativity.

As they continued to brainstorm, Izuku couldn't help but be reminded of the time he had hidden under Yuki's bed, listening to her act out her daydreams with a fictional character named Mikaela. It was a memory that still made his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but also filled him with a sense of warmth and nostalgia.

Lost in his thoughts, Izuku found himself stealing glances at Yuki, marveling at the way her eyes lit up with passion and excitement as she pitched her outlandish ideas. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, a whirlwind of contradictions and quirks that never failed to keep him on his toes.

As they worked together to find a solution to their friends' problem, Izuku couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him. For in Yuki, he had found not only a friend but a kindred spirit, someone who accepted him for who he was and challenged him to be the best version of himself.

With a smile, Izuku turned his attention back to the task at hand, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead with Yuki by his side. For as long as they were together, he knew that anything was possible.

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httpsdana · 5 months ago

Note

Balde fic where hes normally super smooth and confident but the reader has him all nervous and stuttering for the first time ever and his friends are teasing him for it 👀

Unscripted~Alejandro Balde

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I LOVED writing this so much!!

Balde was known for his charm and confidence between his teammates, especially when it comes to the topic of girls. However, when he met y/n, it was as if all his confidence vanished in seconds.

y/n was the best friend of Berta, Fermin’s girlfriend, and while she and Alejandro only exchanged a few polite words at one of the matches she had attended with Berta, something about her lingered in his mind.

Maybe it was her beauty, or kindness, maybe even confidence. He couldn’t exactly point out what it was, but ever since their first encounter, Alejandro found himself bringing her up to conversations more than he would like to admit.

And of course, his friends noticed.

“I swear she’s all you ever talk about,” Gavi once said, as the group of them were sitting at Pedri’s apartment, enjoying a chill evening.

“That’s not true,” Alejandro scoffed, knowing damn well he was lying.

“Yes you do” Lamine joined him, smirking as he gave Pedri a wink. “Last week you asked Fermin if she was single four times. In one conversation,”

Alejandro groaned before speaking again. “I didn’t–”

“You did,” Fermin interrupted with a smile. “Don’t worry though. It’s cute to see ‘Mr smooth with the ladies’ being shy about his crush”

“Leave him alone,” Pedri added with a teasing smile.

“It’s fun watching him malfunction for once,” Ansu said, making the others laugh.

“I’m not malfunctioning! You guys are annoying” Alejandro shot back, glaring at his friends

“All I’m saying is that if she’s going to be at the barbeque, we’re gonna need some popcorn for the show,” Gavi said, leaning back on the couch with a smirk.

“Please y/n. Fermin’s friends are pure chaos, and I need you to be here with me. Plus Balde is gonna be here” Berta’s teasing voice said through the phone , making y/n roll her eyes.

“I’ll come, but only because I know you can’t handle any set ups on your own” she said, making Berta hum in sarcasm

“Mhm sure” she teased making y/n chuckle

“Shut up. I have to go now” y/n said before hanging up.

“Hey guys?” Fermin said, approaching his group of friends. “Berta said that y/n is gonna be with us at the barbeque”

Gavi let out a whistle as Pedri laughed, watching how Alejandro nearly dropped his bottle, the plastic container slipping from his hands and spilling on his shorts.

“Joder” Balde mumbled, furiously patting the wet spot on his shorts (fuck)

“Oh man he’s already losing it” Lamine burst into laughter

“Relax, Romeo,” Ansu said, smirking. “You’re gonna be fine, just don't faint when she talks to you”

“I hate you all” Alejandro said, throwing his water bottle away and going to the other part of the team, the ones who didn't know about his secret crush

By the time the boys arrived at Fermin's house, Berta and y/n had already set up everything in the backyard. Balde spotted her from the door, watching how she laughed at something Berta had said.

“She’s right there” Pedri whispered in his ear, nudging his shoulder

“I have eyes” He hissed, making Gavi chuckle from behind them.

“So go say hi to her,” Lamine urged, grinning like a kid who's just been given candy

“yeah let's see that famous Balde charm you've been bragging about in action”Ansu teased, making the group laugh once again

“I haven't been bragging–”

“Oh please,” Pedri interrupted, “I've lost count of the times you've said ‘i don't get nervous around girls’,”

Alejandro groaned, shoving his sweaty hands in his pockets

“can you guys just…stop?”

“Oh not a chance,” Fermin grinned. “you’re gonna go talk to her”

“I’m not doing it right now,” He shook his head, making Gavi snicker from behind.

“This is gonna be an interesting night,” Gavi said, rubbing his hands against each other as if getting ready for some action.

Throughout the evening, Alejandro tried his best to act normal, but it was impossible with her being so close to him.

She seemed to float through the party in her sundress so effortlessly, helping Berta out with last-minute details and chatting with everyone.

Everytime she looked his way, his heart rate skyrocketed, and he looked away immediately.

“you've been awfully quiet tonight,” y/n said with a curious smile, walking up to him as he stood awkwardly by the grill

“I'm fine!,”he said way too quickly, his voice cracking slightly

She raised an eyebrow, her amusement evident.

“you sure about that?”

Before he could respond, Lamine appeared beside him, grinning from ear to ear

“He's fine. just distracted by a very specific person”

Alejandro groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Lamine stop,”

“What?” Lamine grinned, “I’m just trying to help you”

“By embarrassing me?” Alejandro muttered under his breath

y/n tilted her head, clearly entertained by the exchange, “you guys are fun” she said with a soft laugh.

“Fun is one word for it” He said, shooting a glare at Lamine as he walked away, chuckling.

And as the night went on, the teasing only got worse.

“He hasn’t tripped over his feet yet,” Pedri said, watching as Alejandro nervously handed her a plate of food before starting to make his way to them

“Give it time,” Ansu added, barely holding back a laugh.

“He’s definitely going to mess up soon,” Lamine chimed in, grinning.

“Can you all stop?” Alejandro hissed, his ears burning red.

From across the yard, Berta caught y/n's eye and gave her a knowing look. She blushed slightly, biting her lip.

Berta leaned closer and whispered something to Fermin, who burst into laughter.

“She knows,” Fermin said, nudging Alejandro. “You’re doomed, bro.”

“shit”

As the night started to wind down, y/n found Alejandro leaning against the fence, staring out at the backyard with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Hey” she said softly, walking up to him.

He jumped slightly, turning to face her with wide eyes. “oh, uh, hi”

“So you're gonna tell me what got you in the mood tonight?” she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

“yeah…uh just tired, I guess” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

She laughed softly, before speaking again. “you're a terrible liar”

He let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging. “maybe”

“Well,” she said, stepping closer to him. “we should hang out soon. you know, just us”

Alejandro blinked, clearly caught off guard. “really?” he started, watching how she raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“I mean…yeah that'd be great. I'd like that”

She smiled at his shy state, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Good night Ale”

Before he could recover, she turned and walked away, leaving him frozen in place.

From across the yard, Gavi let out a loud whistle. “She made the move, and he’s still standing there like a statue!”

“He’s broken,” Pedri added, doubling over with laughter.

“I think she likes you, mate,” Fermin teased.

Alejandro groaned, burying his face in his hands. But even with all the teasing, he couldn’t stop smiling.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to be added!!)

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shegotheruby · 4 months ago

Text

Make Him Jealous

“If i’m being honest..” Chan continues. “I always had this fantasy that she would see me with another girl and immediately feel jealous. I’d dream at night that I had this gorgeous date on my arm and she’d see me and take me back after that shockwave hit.”

You nod and make eye contact with him. “I’m quite familiar with that dream.”

“So let’s make it come true for both of us” He shrugs. “I’ll help you make this guy jealous like I never got the chance to. Maybe it won’t help, maybe he won’t care, but at the very least can I give you a ride home?”

Running into your cheating EX at a party was not on your bucket list for the night... But a surprise encounter with Lee Chan changes things around. What starts as making Mingyu jealous might end in something more...

WC: 11.3k

TW: SMUT. 18+ MDNI. implied/referenced cheating, alcohol, speed dating, fluff, college au, fluff, again.. smut.

“Jun! Hao!” You yelled over the sound of the party. “Where did Soonyoung go?”

“Not sure” Minghao replied in a daze, obviously focused on the sports match on TV.

“I think he’s with Chan” Jun replied, eyes also glued to the screen.

Not helpful. Firstly, you have no idea who Chan is, and Secondly, this house is massive. Without some help, it would take forever to find your best friend (and your sober driver, because let’s be honest, you’re tipsy). You wandered into the kitchen, weaving in and out of the couples slobbering all over each other in drunken makeouts. It made your heart hurt, seeing all of the happy people. Unfortunately for you, your Ex is here, and you’d rather escape before he tries to -god forbid- speak to you. So you continue on, making your way into the dining room and down the stairs.

You search the entire basement with no luck. He’s not in the main room playing beer pong, he’s not in the cinema room, and he’s definitely not in the bedroom (sorry Vernon…you definitely did not mean to walk in on a hookup). You wander back up to the main level, deciding to check the second story next. You check (more carefully this time) through the different bedrooms and bathrooms with no luck. You call out his name, but your friend is nowhere to be seen. You could go back downstairs, but what if you ran into Mingyu? He broke your heart and you’re not ready to see him with a new girl attached at the hip.

You swear under your breath before leaving the last bedroom, wandering over to an open window. You pop your head out and suck in a deep breath, the cold winter air biting at your nose. At least it didn’t smell like weed out here. A rogue tear escaped, rolling down your cheek, and you looked at your phone again, still no response to your texts. The window opens to a pretty flat roof, and against your better judgement, you decide to step out on it. More tears start to fall, and you realize that you’re not just teary, you’re full on crying. Images of Mingyu the day you broke up continue flashing through your mind, and all you want is to just get out of here. But your stupid friend is missing and your stupid roommate is out of town and you failed your stupid exam today and you didn’t want to come to this stupid party anyway and life just sucks.

You stumble a little in your buzzed state, but the ledge of the roof is feet away. You’re fine. You wander towards it, just hoping to get a good look at the party happening in the backyard. Maybe you’ll be able to spot Soonyoung from above! Genius! You wipe at your tears and step after step walk towards the edge.

But you don’t quite make it, because a strong pair of arms wraps around you and pulls you back against the wall of the house. “Don’t jump!” his voice says, a bit frantic. “There’s always another option!”

“what the fuck” you snap, shoving the stranger off of you. “I wasn’t going to jump!”

“Ok, sorry” he replies, putting his hands up in defense.

You take a moment to stare at each other in silence. You wipe another tear away and feel immediately awkward.

“I didn’t mean to assume…” He speaks slowly, “I just saw a crying girl approaching the edge of a roof…thought I should intervene.”

Reality hits you and you slump your shoulders.You slide down the wall, resting your head in your hands with a huff. “Oh my god.” you mutter. “I am actually a walking disaster.”

You rub at your temples as he stands next to you, looking a little shy. “Um…Are you okay?” he asks, Craning his neck so he’s in your line of vision.

You look over at him, embarrassed because you realize he’s like…really cute. He seems close to your age with shaggy blonde hair, a bit longer in the back. A style you like. He’s wearing an oversized jacket and blue ripped jeans.

“I’m fine. I just can’t find my ride home.”

He sits down next to you and lightly wraps his arms around bent knees.

“When did you see them last?”

“Honestly it’s been like a good hour or two.” you admit. “He wandered away when I was talking to an old friend and I haven’t seen him since. He won’t answer his phone either.”

You check your notifications again to see if Soonyoung has responded, and visibly slump more when there’s nothing.

“I can give you a ride if you want?” he offers, “I’m not drinking tonight.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Thanks but… I don’t know you…strange roof man.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough, strange roof girl. Lee Chan at your service.” He extends his hand forward in introduction.

Your eyes widen at the name. “You’re Chan!?” You ask, brain fog slowly clearing. “Someone said Soonyoung was with you earlier?”

He nods, surprised that you’ve heard his name before. “Uh yeah. He’s one of my buddies from Chem lab.”

“Do you know where he went?” You ask, suddenly hopeful that you can get out of here before Mingyu sees you.

“Unfortunately…If he’s your ride…I think he’s a bit indisposed at the moment…” his voice trails off.

“Damn it” you huff, beating your head against the wall behind you. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it means he’s half naked with two blondes in the pool-house right now” he gestures towards the building in the distance, “You’d be right.”

“two?” you furrow your brows again “asshole.” you mutter.

Chan’s eyes snap open and his voice raises in volume as he asks, “Shit, please tell me you’re not his date tonight?”

You nearly choke on a laugh “Oh my dear God, no.” you wipe away the last of your tears, thankful for the distraction from your pity party. “We’ve been friends since I was six. He’s like…my older brother.”

“Older?” Chan asks

“Yeah. I was born in 1999.”

“Me too!” He smiles. “I kind of assumed Hosh was my same age though.”

“No he’s just a dumbass who neglected to take his general science credits until Senior year.”

“Hmm” chan mumbles in thought. “The more you know…”

You can’t help but notice his side profile. (Not that it’s a good time to be thinking about that..but it’s nice. He’s got an attractive jawline…)

“Anyways” he changes the subject turning his body fully towards you. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” you sigh. “and i promise that i’m usually pretty put together and you caught me on a bad night.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He offers. “My rooftop lounge is open for therapy reservations.”

“Your rooftop lounge?”

“Yeah. This is my spot during every party. You wouldn’t believe how much fraternity hazing i’ve avoided by hiding out up here.”

You stifle a laugh..he’s kind of charming.

“It’s a good spot.” You survey the view.

He nods. “What brings you to it?”

“If you must know” you start, straightening out the wrinkles in your jeans. “My Ex is downstairs..and I haven’t seen him since I dumped him for cheating.”

“Ooooh”

You don’t have to look to see that he’s making one of those ‘yikes, i’m really sorry for you’ faces. So you don’t. You stare at your shoes.

“If it makes you feel any better…” He says, tapping your shoulder. “You look really good tonight so he’s probably regretting his decisions and feeling like a loser.”

Your cheeks blush rosy pink at the compliment.

“I actually don’t think he saw me at all” you sigh, pursing your lips. “I got one glance of him with a new girl and bolted to find Soonyoung.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see his face light up a bit. Like he has an idea.

“Well in that case you’ve got the upper hand.” He says nonchalantly.

“Huh?”

“Well if he didn’t see you…” he says, in a singsong voice “he doesn’t know you’re here without a date of your own.”

“But I am here without a date of my own…”

“What’s this guy’s name” he asks

“Mingyu…” You reply, still not following what he’s getting at.

He grins with heart-stopping charisma

“Great news! I’ve never met him. He’s never met me. Complete strangers. Want to be my date tonight?”

You scoff. “Chan, that’s really nice but…”

“Look.” He cuts you off. “Before you say no…”

You close your mouth and stare at him.

“To make a long story short: I got dumped a year ago. The girl cheated on me.”

“And she still was the one to dump you?” You question

“At the time I thought we were in love. I was infatuated and when I found out, I tried to fight for her anyways… she rejected me and chose the other guy.”

“What a bitch…”

“The sad thing is, even now, I wouldn’t say that.” he sighs. “it sucked. Like really, really bad. and I want to hate her. But they seem happier together than she ever seemed with me…so who am I to hold her back from that?”

you raise your eyebrows, surprised that this stranger is being so vulnerable with you. Maybe it’s just the roof vibes…?

“Rambling aside…It still hurt me really bad and you seem like a good girl who doesn’t deserve to go through that same feeling.”

“You don’t really know me.”

“I know Soonyoung. And anyone who has retained a friendship with him for a long period of time probably rocks.” He laughs, looking over at the poorhouse where your childhood best friend is probably doing filthy things.

You purse your lips.

You nod and make eye contact with him. “I’m quite familiar with that dream.”

He stands up, brushing his hands on his jeans before offering his hand out to you.

And what the hell. You take it.

***

After climbing back through the window, you pull him into one of the open bedrooms.

“OK. If we’re going on a fake date.”

“Real date” He interrupts. “I asked you to be my date and I plan on being very good to you.”

You chuckle. “Ok Mr. Chivalry. If we’re going on a date” (you emphasize that last word with a shake of your head), “I’d like to know more about you…speed dating with Chan.” You offer, sitting on the bed.

“I like this plan” he answers, sitting next to you. “Ask me anything. Rapid fire.”

“Okay. Major?”

“Dance.”

“Minor?”

“Two. Audio Production and Music Theory.”

You’re impressed.

“Favorite Song?”

“Beat It by Michael Jackson.”

“Astrological Sign?”

“Aquarius”

“MBTI?”

“ESTJ.”

“What’s your type?”

“You.”

“Ok so you’re a flirt. noted.”

He chuckles and brushes his shoulder against yours. “I never said that.”

“I’m good at making logical conclusions” you report.

“Whatever.” he laughs. “What’s your type then?”

“Cute guys who save me from jumping off the roof.” You smirk, avoiding the real answer which might also be…. him.

“Aww” he touches his heart “You think I’m a hero, and you think i’m cute!?”

You copy his comeback “I never said that.” (except he’s totally your hero right now…and yes…he’s totally cute).

He shakes his head. “Next question. Favorite drink.”

“Let’s answer on three” you offer.

“Deal.”

“1…2…3… Strawberry Soju”

“Strawberry Soju specifically out of a BTS themed shot glass that I got for my 21st birthday!”

You actually buckle over in laughter. “Oh my god, Chan you’re a charmer.” You push his shoulder, standing up from the bed. “Where have you been all my life.”

“In your dreams, sweetheart.” He answers, putting his arm around your shoulder. “Speed Date officially concluded. Ready to go find this Ex?”

You nod and open the bedroom door, for the first time this evening, feeling pretty confident.

The stairs are crowded, and Chan keeps his arm around you as you squeeze around the people trying to come up or down. After almost falling over he slides it down so it’s around your waist instead of your shoulders, keeping you upright. You throw a thankful glance over your shoulder and continue down until you reach the main party. He keeps his hand securely planted, lightly brushing your skin where your shirt is cropped. More than a couple of guys greet Chan as you pass by and you realize that he’s actually pretty popular. He seems to know everyone. (except for Mingyu, thank god), and everyone seems to like his presence.

At one point you find yourself in the backyard, dancing to some music by the pool. Chan is talking lightly with some other people, one of them introduced himself but you already forgot his name. You’re just enjoying the moment, swaying to the music with your eyes closed, Chan’s arm holding you up. Somehow, you don’t even notice the reason you’re doing this (Mingyu) on the other end of the yard, but he noticed you.

You don’t notice the jealous look on his face, the way his fists ball up at his sides. You completely miss the affect you clearly still have on him, because you’re wrapped up in your own little world. You miss the way he spills beer down his shirt, mumbling a few curse words before turning away, retreating inside to get away from you.

Some things you DO notice: Chan has an award winning smile. He’s charismatic with the groups of people passing by, and has a “secret handshake” with one of his frat brothers. Despite the fact that you just met, he looks at you like he knows you. He includes you in the conversation when he can and never leaves your side. He dances with you when the music grows in volume, and he’s good at it.

You notice that his neutral face has soft lips that slightly curl into a smile even when he’s not trying. He has an infectious laugh and you don’t really care about making Mingyu jealous anymore. In fact, you don’t really care about Mingyu at all. Or Soonyoung, for that matter. You find yourself feeling grateful that you stumbled into this guy and pray he’s not a drunken hallucination.

At one point the host of the party, Seungkwan, greets Chan with a hug and thanks him for coming. He introduces himself to you and asks if you guys want something to drink. Chan declines, saying that he’s your ride home, but asks for him to grab you some Strawberry Soju.

you glance up at him with a smile “aww, you know me so well.”

“Well we had a very informative first date, I’ve got to start remembering these things.”

“You’re dating?” Seungkwan asks

“Long and complicated story.” You click your tongue. “But we are on a date at the moment, yes.”

You roll your eyes, turning towards Seungkwan. “This is really random…but do you happen to have any special shot glasses?”

Seungkwan’s face lights up in surprise. “Dino. Dude. You told a girl about frat glass?”

“I did not!” He defends. “OK I kind of did…but not like that. It kind of just slipped out.”

“Well now I have questions” you giggle, “Starting with Dino and ending with…frat glass?” your eyebrow raises at that last part.

“If anyone asks I did not tell you about this.” Seungkwan says, side eyeing you with pursed lips

“My lips are sealed” you promise, miming yourself zipping up your lips.

“Ok.” Seungkwan starts, looking around to make sure nobody is eavesdropping. “SVT…SIGMA VETA THETA…Is an honorable fraternity.” He puts his hand over his heart, and you realize he has a flare for dramatics. (You choose to ignore the fact that ‘Veta’ is not a letter in the greek alphabet).

“and that remains true aside from some old weird shit.” Chan adds.

“we all have a matching shot glass.” Seungkwan butts back in. “Everyone gets it on their 21st birthday… and It does happen to have BTS on it.”

“Why is that a secret?” you ask. “Are you secretly ashamed to be a group full of little Kpop fanboys?” you giggle, pinching Chan in the side. He squirms playfully but doesn’t pull away from you.

“Oh I am quite loud and proud about the fact that I would fuck Hobi if given the chance!” Seungkwan states matter-of-factly.

Seungkwan is funny and you could now definitely see yourself attending another one of his parties.

“Ok so if not that, why?” You ask a bit more seriously.

“Well…” they both look at each other a bit awkwardly. “There’s… a weird tradition or like… lore with it that started way before any of us were actually here…” Seungkwan explains.

“It’s giving fraternity cult shit.” you determine. “I get it. spit it out.”

“Okay….” Chan concedes. “I want to clarify that I actually do like the glass and I did not mean to tell you about it or have you bring it up to Seungkwan.”

You just look at him with a lot of confusion.

“Basically, If a brother gives a girl a shot out of the glass around other brothers, it’s a signal that he’s trying to have sex with her. So it’s kind of a nonverbal sign for them to play wingman or whatever.” Chan rushes it out, seemingly a bit embarrassed of the whole idea.

“Additionally, if a girl talks about frat glass, it’s like a signal to all of the other brothers that she’s down to get laid.” Seungkwan finishes. “So like…maybe don’t talk about it to anyone unless you’re trying to fuck.”

You look up at chan and see a “deer in headlights” expression on his face.

“I urge to to forget you heard this and drink a nice calming shot of soju.” He mumbles.

“Oh I won’t be forgetting.” You announce rather boldly. “And I think I want my drink out of frat glass.” This earns a choked laugh from Seungkwan and Chan just gapes at you for a moment.

“You want frat glass?” He chokes out. “Like you wanna drink out of a bts shot glass because it’s silly? or you want … FRAT glass…” He asks, obviously trying to understand what you’re hinting at without actually ASKING.

“Well..” you tap your chin in a thinking pose and raise your eyes to the sky. “How about this. I want a drink out of frat glass, but my interest in it’s so called “lore” (you make air quotes) is yet to be discovered.”

Both boys laugh and Chan, hand still on your waist, guides you to the kitchen. You don’t see Mingyu on the way, but somehow it still feels right to have Chan’s arm around you, fingers occasionally playing with the hem of your shirt. You know it’s kind of mindless, but it sends little tingles through your skin. (What you were too nervous to say a moment ago was that if given the chance, you would so totally jump his bones).

Once you reach the kitchen, Seungkwan opens up a cabinet and finds the glass. He opens a cooler and finds some strawberry soju, quickly pouring you a shot.

“Y/N” he announces, handing it over with both hands, “You are now a trusted confidante of frat glass.”

you raise it above your head. “To my fantastic bias SUGA!” you down the drink with a cheer and seungkwan pours himself one too. “To Hobi!” He laughs, drinking the liquid. He pours you one more and you take it before leading Chan away into the sea of dancing people. You walk for a while, waiting until you see your ex, but you never do.

“What does this guy look like?” Chan asks, eyes scanning the crowd.

“He’s tall, brown hair, probably attached to a skinny little brunette.”

He scoffs, “sounds like half of the guys in here.”

“I never said I was creative.” you joke, continuing forwards.

“Y/N ” he hesitates, “I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked nice earlier. He’s an idiot.”

Your face flushes a little and you feel the alcohol loosening your lips. “He IS an idiot. I was a good girlfriend.”

“Was he a good boyfriend…before the end?” He asks, nervous to be crossing a line.

You lift your gaze to the ceiling in thought. “Yeah. for almost a year. I think I knew it was ending a while before it happened but I was in denial about it. I tried to pretend I was imagining things. Avoiding the inevitable.

“I did the same things.” He pouts.

“Were you a good boyfriend?” You ask, trying to lift the mood a bit.

“I was a fantastic boyfriend. Flowers. Dinners. Mind blowing Sex.”

You laugh, appreciating his ability to release some of the weight from your thoughts.

“I tried everything I could to be what she wanted me to be. I still don’t know what changed.”

“Maybe the problem..for both of us” you motioned between your bodies, “wasn’t that we weren’t good enough…but maybe we were living a facade. We were trying to predict what they wanted us to be instead of just being ourselves.”

He nodded in contemplation.

“I think I’m glad I met you.”

You grin at him, falling into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“You know” you finally speak up, “I still want to know why Seungkwan called you Dino.”

He blushes and stops walking, leaning his back against a hallway wall and pulling you towards him. His hands are now placed on either side of your hips. “It’s a stage name amongst the dance majors. I came up with it as a kid and it kind of stuck.”

You notice that his ears are a bit red, a sure sign of embarrassment. “Why did you choose it.”

“Because” he leans forward, “I wanted to dominate the stage like a dinosaur.”

“So you’re dominant… noted” you joke, nodding to your earlier conversation upstairs.

“I never said that” he smirks.

You can’t help but look at his lips now that you’re close to them. He notices and feels some of his own confidence resurfacing.

“but there is one way to test your theory.”

your heart is beating a million miles a minute as he pulls you a little closer, eyes dipping towards your mouth, hands non-moving from their place at your waist.

“I’m open to some experimenting.”

He smiles as you lean the last few inches forward, connecting your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. It’s deep and has your hands gripping at his shirt for some proof that this is real. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like he could do this all day, hands moving further onto the small your back until you’re being pulled flush against his body. He slowly trails them up your back -sparks following everywhere he touches- until they’re at your neck, where he wraps them around to that comfortable spot right under your ears, where your neck connects with your head. His hands fit perfectly, keeping your head stable while your tongues dance with each other. Your eyes are closed and you’re savoring the moment, ears ringing, drowning out the sounds of anyone else in the building. Right now, it’s just you and your new crush suspended in time.

You’re not completely sure what comes over you, but your hands slide under his shirt, appreciating the rippling abdominal muscles you’ve never seen but surely feel. You feel him shiver underneath your touch and it makes you smile, releasing a soft, breathy giggle into his mouth. He returns with one of his own and you both open your eyes, grinning at each other like kids in a candy store. Your eyes feel a little hazy, not from the alcohol, but from the bliss this man has somehow brought you in the span of two measly hours.

“Are you enjoying yourself” he bites his bottom lip, eyes flashing to where you’re not-so-subtly feeling him up.

“Oh yes. I just found out my date is kind of shredded.”

He laughs again, a sweet sound as his head falls backwards, eyes squinting shut.

You slide your hands back into your own space, only briefly before linking one with his and continuing down the rest of the hallway. “You can’t laugh about it because it’s true. My date is hot as fuck.” You’re practically dragging his dead weight (still laughing) as you round the corner, bumping directly into Soonyoung.

He steps back at the collision and raises his eyebrows when he sees you. “date?” he questions, eyes shifting to where you’re holding Chan’s hand. “Woah! You two know each other?”

“We didn’t, and now we do. Thanks for not answering your phone by the way.” You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows. You may be younger, but you two have a SASS heavy relationship and you can’t let him get off that easy after abandoning you.

“I was just coming to find you! Swear!”

You make an “mhm” noise that sounds anything like you believe him.

“I’m serious! I’ve got my keys, We can go now!”

“I actually think I’ll stay a little longer.” You reply, looking back towards Chan.

“I can take her home” he assures with a tight lipped smile.

“You sure?” Soonyoung hesitates. “I don’t think you want to go that way…” He throws a thumb over his shoulder, nonverbally indicating that’s probably where Mingyu is.

You look at Chan again, questioning him with your eyes. He nods and you look back towards your childhood friend.

“I’m done hiding from him.”

You pull your date past Soonyoung shouting a rushed “See you tomorrow” behind you as you stomp towards the stairs.

You enter the basement and quickly spot Mingyu in the corner, whispering to a girl…THE girl. You spin around so your back is facing him.

“See the guy directly behind me?” You ask and he subtly flicks his gaze towards where you’re directing him.

“Matches your description pretty well.” He bites the side of his cheek. “You weren’t kidding about tall.”

You shrug your shoulders. You were always kind of short for him anyway, never comfortably reaching his shoulders when you tried to dance at a party or pull him into a kiss.

“I guess so.” You dare to peek behind you once more before whispering “I didn’t really think this far ahead. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now.”

“I do” he replies, pulling you into a hug and swaying to the music playing over the stereo. “We could always continue where we left off” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “but only if you want to.”

You feel your lips curling upwards at the proposition and raise on your tip toes so you can whisper back. “You really want me to feel you up in front of all of these people?” you fall back to your normal height with a glimmer in your eye and he notices it.

“Oh you are tricky” he laughs, pulling you so that his back is against the wall like before. “Maybe just the first part though.” He whispers again, “We can save the other stuff for later.”

Your knees buckle at the insinuation and you wrap your right arm around his neck, left hand curling into his hair as you kiss him again. This kiss is a little bit more passionate. Lips chasing after each other as you arch your back ever so slightly, his strong arms keep you balanced for the 50th time this evening, and this time you notice his cologne. Some sort of Pine and Sandalwood blend. You let it fill your nose, all of your senses on overdrive. Your eyes are closed, and there’s a hint of strawberry flavor still lingering from your shots earlier. You allow yourself to appreciate the softness of his hair, the smooth strands sliding through your fingers with ease. You admire how soft his skin feels, and how respectfully he’s touching you. His hands roam freely but lightly, eventually finding purchase in your own hair. You’re grateful that you washed it today and added some leave in conditioner.

You’re not sure how long you kiss for, maybe a few minutes, could be hours. You really don’t care anymore. You feel like you could kiss Chan forever. He does eventually pull back though, brushing some hair out of your face and looking into your eyes. “You’re so pretty” he smiles, briefly glancing over your shoulder, “and not to make you nervous” he mumbles, “but that dude…. is definitely staring.”

Your heart flutters at the fact that he called you pretty…but your stomach has butterflies at the confirmed knowledge Mingyu is watching. Chan doesn’t really give you a chance to be worried though, because he pinches you in the side, a spot where you’re incredibly ticklish, and you squeal, slapping his hand away. He tries again on the other side but you’re quick enough to grab his wrist, twisting it until you’ve switched positions, your back against the wall with him caging you in. His palms are flat against either side of your head, and his body is perfectly blocking your view of anything (or anyone) else. It’s the perfect position for him to lean forward and continue kissing you.

You tilt your head upwards and he bites on your bottom lip softly, eliciting a sigh from you. Two can play that game, and you bite his lip right back, tongue immediately following to soothe the spot you nipped. He smiles, but doesn’t break away, he just kisses you with a grin. His hands slide into your back pockets and yours grip his shoulders, lightly squeezing at the muscles. Anyone with eyes could see that he had them. You’re sure you could feel more if he wasn’t wearing an oversized jacket, but making him take it off right now would feel a little TOO PDA for your liking. (You know…on top of the fact that you’re making out in a room full of people). The music is booming almost loud enough to bust the speaker but all you hear is white noise. You’re so infatuated with Chan.

You reach up to his neck and tilt his head just enough so you can whisper in his ear again. “Do you think he’s effectively jealous?” You pull back enough to look him in the eyes, still fighting the permanent smile on your face.

“I don’t know, should we go ask?” he teases, taking one step backwards.

“Over my dead body” you laugh, trying to keep him next to the wall.

“How about this.” He offers. Let’s go upstairs and see if he follows.

“Perfect plan. I’m ready for another drink anyways. You smile, backing towards the stairs and gasp when he picks you up bridal style. He carries you up and only sets you down when you’re back in the hallway.

“What a big, strong man you are, Chan.” you tease, grabbing his hand in yours.

“I have to admit” he replies, “That guy has muscles. I had to show off just a little.” He puts two fingers in front of your face mimicking the size of a penny.

“Oh my god you’re having fun right now” you pull him along, feeling a rush of adrenaline yourself.

“Like you aren’t” he counters, “Who wouldn’t want to make out with a hot dancer in front of their Ex. You’re like, super duper lucky to have found me.”

“You know what I would like even more?” You flirt, suddenly feeling brave.

“What’s that?”

“Making out with a hot dancer when we’re alone.”

He doesn’t even give you a second to react before his lips are meeting yours again. You feel like a high schooler all over again, sneaking around under the bleachers to kiss your first boyfriend…always wanting to be attached in some way. This time, you’re not in front of anyone so you do pull off his jacket, pulling away with a smirk on your face to put it on your own body.

“I couldn’t feel your muscles through this thing” you say, grabbing onto his shoulders again. His ears turn red again as he continues kissing you, arms flexing completely intentionally. You roll your eyes at the motion, but of course you don’t really mind. You kind of like it. A few minutes pass before you do actually need a breath, so you pull away and guide him through the hallway again.

“I vote one more drink, and then my apartment” you wink, noticing how his eyes scan your body wearing something of his.

He agrees in a nanosecond and follows you back into the main room by the couch. Jun and Minghao are still there, standing up as the game they were watching seemingly finished.

“Hey Y/N” Jun calls. “Did you find Soonyoung?”

“I found Chan” you say, motioning to him.

“I see” minghao bites his lips, noticing your flushed faces. “I assume you’re not leaving anymore?”

“Oh I am” you answer. “I just wanted another drink first.”

Your two friends give each other a knowing look before stepping to either side of Chan. Jun loops his arm around his shoulder and pokes him in the side. “Wanna tell us what this is all about” he prods, obviously teasing.

You fold your arms. “Minghao, can you pull your stinky ass brother off of my date?”

“A date you say?” He asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, mimicking Jun and messing up your hair, “My little friends finally met each other.”

You regret allowing Soonyoung to leave the party without dragging these two home with him.

“How come everyone at this party knew Chan other than me?” you gape, scrambling out of Minghao’s grasp.

“Probably because you live under a rock, my dear friend.” Jun quips.

“Whatever. I’ll be right back.” You shake your head side to side, chuckling as you leave the three boys behind, Chan being interrogated.

The kitchen is surprisingly empty, so you intend to quickly grab the soju and head back to your friends. Unfortunately you bump into a human wall in the door way.

The person you were looking for all night, but didn’t really want to see.

“Y/N” Mingyu blinks, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

You freeze on the spot, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. You just kind of stare at him, unmoving. You’re not sure how long you sat there, blinking like an idiot. (in reality it was probably like three seconds, but your brain completely short circuited the second you locked eyes with your previous lover).

“Here I am” you answer, voice cold. Your gaze shifts to the girl next to him. The girl he cheated with.

“You must be Ji-ah” you ask, tilting your head, feeling some of your brain cells rebooting.

She glares at you, but doesn’t confirm.

“I didn’t know you were coming either.” You admit, crossing your arms. “How have you been?”

You’re not sure why you asked that. You don’t really want to know…but that’s a normal thing to say when you haven’t seen someone in a while…so it just kind of came out.

“I’m fine. I miss you”

“Yeah. That’s unfortunate. “ you scoff. “Almost like I missed you when you went on a weekend golf trip..… oh wait!!! I think he was actually at your house.”

You point at Ji-ah, smiling a devilish grin. You feel some of the original anger bubbling up inside you in waves. It makes you feel a little better to see the look on her face when he admitted to missing you. Once a cheater, always a cheater.

Being alone with the two of them reminds you of all the hurt over the past few months. Reminds you of all the times you heard your friends telling you that you deserved better. Reminds you of the countless hours you spent in the gym or doing extra skincare because you just didn’t feel pretty enough. You finally realize, in this moment, that he just wasn’t worth any of it. You’re good enough, he just didn’t see it.

“But it doesn’t really matter anymore. I don’t miss you anymore.” You finally verbalize.

“Come on, that’s not fair…” Mingyu starts, and you hear Chan’s voice cutting him off.

“I think it is fair. Coming from someone who was in her same situation.” You turn to see him walking into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. Jun and Hao are following on his heels. They must have noticed Mingyu heading in this direction.

“Who the fuck are you” Mingyu questions, eyes narrowing in on where you instinctively grab his hand.

“None of your business anymore.” You answer, stepping backwards. “Come to think of it,” you sigh, looking at Chan, “I’ve had enough to drink.” You set the soju on the counter. “Can you still drive me.”

Chan nods, allowing you to pull him away.

“Did you really move on that fast?” Mingyu calls after you, stopping you dead in your tracks.

You whip around, feeling flames in your eyes. “It’s been three months Mingyu. You’re the one who moved on BEFORE THE RELATIONSHIP WAS EVEN OVER. What kind of fucking audacity do you have to say something like that!?”

You release your grip on Chan’s hand so you can stomp back, shoving Mingyu in the chest. Last time you saw each other, you didn’t get to say any of this. You were a crying, blubbering mess, begging him to explain. This time, you were just mad - And you were going to speak your mind.

“What did you want me to do? Did you want me to cry in the middle of the grocery store? Check. Did you want me to drink myself to sleep for two weeks straight? Congratulations. Were you hoping I’d obsessively stalk her instagram and compare our bodies?! Another winner. “ You gesture towards Ji-Ah.

You watch as his he clenches his jaw, clearly uncomfortable hearing how you handled the breakup.

“Did you want me to sit around and mope? I’m done with that. Of course I moved on.”

“I wasn’t implying you should stay sad..” He mumbles

“Sad is an understatement.” You point at Ji-ah again. “and I don’t know what you’re still doing with him.”

“Can we talk outside?” Mingyu asks, trying to grab your wrist.

You jerk away. “No. I’m sorry, is this embarrassing for you?” You motion to the 3 guys in the doorway. “is it a little awkward that they know you cheated?”

“Y/N. Calm down.”

“I’m calm. For the first time in a while, I don’t feel confused. I feel completely clear. I see that this relationship is long over, and I have no more intention to pine after it or repair it. I’ll see you around.”

You turn away, ready to be done with the conversation for real. You grab Chan’s hand again and he squeezes it in silent support as you head towards the front door.

You can’t really focus on much as you exit the house. Your heart is pounding really hard and you hear it beating in your ears. Your vision is blurred and You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, or the realization hitting that you just went off on KIM MINGYU, President of the most popular frat (thankfully not Chan’s frat) in university, in front of several people. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. You don’t say anything else as Chan leads you down the long driveway and to his Black Porsche. At a different time, you might admire the fact that he has a Porsche, but right now you’re just ready to get out of here.

He opens the door for you, and you slide in, the cool leather causing you to shiver. You pull his jacket tighter around you and watch as he walks around to the driver’s side.

He slides in and turns the car on, but he doesn’t start driving. He just turns to you with a soft expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I think so. Maybe.” You link your hands together, fidgeting with them. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into all of this.”

“Technically”, he corrects “I put myself right into the middle of this.”

“You rub your hands through your hair, and finally allow yourself to exhale. “Thank you. I’m not sure what I expected out of tonight, but I definitely didn’t mean to scream at my Ex boyfriend in front of you.”

He reaches over and pulls your hand out of your hair, holding it on the center console.

“I thought it was kind of hot.”

You bite your tongue in surprise. “Are you kidding? I actually sounded like a woman scorned.”

“Y/N” he tilts his head with a ‘come on, listen to what i’m saying’ expression. “I went through the same thing. All of those feelings you have…I had them too.”

You blink at him silently.

“Put it this way” He explains. “You know that moment when you’re reading a book or watching a movie and you know the story is building up to a blowout? You’re waiting for your favorite character to stand up for themselves and put the antagonist in their place?”

You nod, understanding his words with a bit of pride.

“That’s how your conversation felt to me. I felt proud of you for realizing your own worth and taking the power he holds over you away.”

“Thanks” you mutter.

He squeezes your hand again.

“And while I’m being honest” he adds, ‘Can I admit something?”

You nod

He stares at you with his deep brown eyes for a second before continuing.

“I know we just met. and I know it’s been a crazy night…but it’s actually been kind of the best date ever.”

You can’t help but hide your face in your hands and blush.

“Can I be honest too?” You peek back at him

“Please.”

“I really want you to come home with me.”

You see him smile with his eyes.

“Done.”

***

The drive home is quick, and kind of a blur. His hand finds its way to your thigh and you’re trying to give him directions but really all you can think about is the way his hair falls into his eyes in the dim lighting and what it might look like falling into his eyes over the top of you. A right turn here, a left turn there, a quick kiss at the red light. (you blushing after said kiss).

It’s hot how easily he parallel parks on the street and hot when he makes you wait for him to open your door. It makes you drool when he makes it a point to open his trunk, pulling out a pair of sweats that Seungkwan had returned to him earlier, saying “I’m sleeping over, right?” You obviously say yes and lead him towards your apartment.

You unlock the door and practically drag him inside, starting to feel impatient. You want to jump his bones immediately, but he’s a little more level headed. He takes off his shoes and looks around, taking in your space. Luckily you cleaned up today. He makes a basic comment about how girls decorate way better than guys and then (finally) after what feels like ages (it was like 30 seconds) he asks where your room is. You grab his hand and walk backwards, dragging him through your door and closing it behind you, despite the fact that you know you’re home alone.

You keep walking backwards until your knees hit the bed and you fall backwards onto the plush mattress. Chan follows, not letting go of your hands. He captures your lips with his before you’re even flat on your back and lifts your hands up near your head, linking your fingers together. His thumb draws little circles along your hand and you relish in the sweet touch compared with the weight. He’s basically pinning you to the comforter since he’s holding his own weight up with your clasped hands. Your kiss is just as deep and passionate as it was in that hallway. His lips are warm, and yours are burning with the lust. Both of you are breathing hot breaths into each other but you can’t be bothered to break away.

You kiss and kiss and kiss until his hands leave yours to roam elsewhere. He reaches inside his jacket (that you might just steal) to grasp your slender waist, a place he’s grown very fond of over the course of the evening. It’s fast, he knows, but he feels like he could hold onto your hips forever. He really likes the way you melt into him and the way you arch upwards when his hands plant there. He likes the way one of his knees is in between your legs, and the way you look down at it with a devilish smile. The way you not-so subtly rut into his thigh with your core….and wow he loves the way you bite back a little sigh of relief.

It’s amazing to you how much you’re enjoying just the little touches. The way you’re moving slowly but it still has your head spinning like a top. The way he tickles your waist just a bit and the way he playfully bites your lip. You’ve had plenty of hookups, plenty of sex that went from zero to one-hundred in two minutes tops. Chan is different. He’s appreciating you in the most modest way first. Working you up. He’s worshiping your lips and appreciating you with your clothes on. He’s in no rush, and you have a feeling he could keep you up all night.

“I like you in my jacket” he smiles, licking his lips “maybe you should keep it”

“I was already planning on it” you giggle, sitting upwards to slide it off. “better not ruin it.”

“Oh i didn’t finish” he grins, pulling your shirt up and over your head. “I think you should keep it on.” he leans down to whisper in your ear “but i think you should keep just the jacket on.”

You visibly shudder at the words. and at the feeling of his hot breath against your neck. He starts to kiss there, leaving a string of burning marks along your neck, working his way to your collarbone, dressed only in the thin strap of your bra at this point. His big hands reach up to unclasp the lacy material, pulling away for a short second to confirm “can i?”

“Please” you whimper, wanting his lips back on your skin immediately.

He unclasps the bra and slides it off of your shoulders…painfully slowly. He throws it over his shoulder, in the same direction as your shirt before admiring your bare chest. He looks at you like you’re the best dessert he’s ever ordered, and you feel your skin shiver at the way he looks up through his blonde bangs, locking eyes with you.

“You” he starts, pulling you upwards and forwards until you’re both facing each other on your knees, “are going to be the death of me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping them straight so your elbows are resting on his shoulders and your chest is pulled tight against his clothed one.

“If you really feel that way” you nuzzle into his neck “you might as well die naked.”

His body reacts to your taunting faster than his brain does, and it’s merely a second until his shirt is discarded as well, abs glistening in the low lamplight of your room. You capture him in another kiss, appreciating how toned he is pressed against you. You allow your arms to curl into his hair for a while before rubbing them down his back, feeling his muscles twitch at the grazing of your touch. When they reach his waistband you allow them to move to his front, rubbing up the strong lines of his stomach. This flusters him just enough for you to flip your position, laying him flat against your pillows/headboard and straddling his lap.

You take a moment to pull away from the kiss, raising your hands up above your head in a stretch, teasing him a little. Chan’s jaw drops open as he gets a front row seat of your nipples, hard and perky right in front of him. He also notices the small tattoo on your ribcage of a diamond and reaches forward to touch it. You allow your head to fall back as he wraps his hands around your ribs, thumb staying over the tattoo. He leans forward and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and kissing it with so much desire.

“Chan” you sigh towards the ceiling, gripping at his hair again. “yes.”

You feel him harden underneath you at the gasp of his name, and you can’t help but rub against him. “you like it when I say your name, huh?”

He pulls away to appreciate your other nipple, mumbling a “so much” as he does so.

You continue looking upwards, eyes falling shut as he worships your sensitive nubs. You rut against him again and he bites the nipple, earning a little shriek from your lips.

“If you want my dick that badly, just ask, baby.” he says, tongue darting out to soothe your flesh.

Your hands tug at the ends of his hair where they connect with his neck, forcing him to look upwards and you lean over, mouth hovering just over his. “Ok, Dino.” you emphasize the nickname. “I want your dick. I want your dick so far up my pussy that it remembers the shape tomorrow.”

He bucks up into you, laughing as you involuntarily moan at the friction. “You can have it.”

He pulls at your jeans and you lift up, helping him slide them off. You have to sit back on his shins for a split second to get them over your ankles before you’re straddling him in only underwear.

He rolls you again so you are underneath him and he shucks off his jeans and underwear together in record speed. You’re expecting him to rip off your underwear and wreck you senseless, but instead he reaches his hands into your lacy covering and rubs in tight circles, kissing the spot in between your boobs as he does so. Your eyes roll back at the stimulation and you breath a soft “ oh god” to the sky.

“You can have it……” he repeats “later”

that’s all the warning you have before he’s plunging his middle finger into you. Your breathing picks up as he pumps it into you, still rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your body morphs into his, arching and girating against his single digit. you grab at your boobs to have something to hold onto, and bite your bottom lip. He curls his finger to just the right angle, snapping his wrist up, up, up.

“fuck” you moan “another chan, give me another.”

He pulls out just long enough to pull your underwear off, shoving it back in within seconds.

“good girl” he smirks, adding a second finger and leaning into your neck, sucking hard enough to form a hickey.

your mouth falls open and your breaths are loud, steady and mostly airy with a hint of moaning.

“Do you want to come more than once” he asks, trailing his kisses from your neck and up to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “I could eat you out. edge you. fuck you into the wall. what do you want baby?”

“so…ohhhhh” you moan loudly when a third finger enters your vagina, “so generous fuckkkk”

he relishes in the fact that his fingers feel so good you can’t even answer his question. He continues plunging in and out, the loud squelch of your wetness making him harder each second.

“Wall Channie. Dick. wall. standing up, oh god.” you groan. “but after. I want this longer.” Your hips jerk upward in confirmation that you want him just like this.

“Anything for you, princess.” he shifts his body down, settling his head in between your legs. You’re already close with the three digits working you, but it’s borderline euphoric when he licks a stripe up your folds, moaning with intense vibrations against your cunt. His second hand takes over rubbing circles against your clitoris and his tongue starts go dip into your hole alongside the fingers, stiffened and quick. You can’t help but clench your teeth, realizing that this is the best head you’ve ever had. You’re mumbling absolute nonsense like “god, oh god keep going” and “just like that, just like that.” You’re pathetic for him. A writhing whimpering mess. His lips latch around your clit and he sucks on it, sending mind numbing shockwaves through your entire pussy and up your back.

“So good” he mumbles into you, picking up the pace even quicker. How that’s even possible, you’re not sure. You’re too incoherent to notice how he’s humping the bed in time with the pace you’re humping his face. He’s so turned on by you - the sounds you’re making, that he’s feeling desperate for some sort of release. He needs you to finish so he can take a moment to cool himself down.

He continues working you with his hands, lifting his face to your neck. he bites at your flesh and nibbles on your ear. “come for me.” he moans directly into you, hot breath sending shivers through your body. You feel a burning, bubbling sensation in your gut and know you’re close.

“yes sir” you choke out as the orgasm hits you. hard. You’re seeing white. Seeing stars and reaching out to grab his shoulder, something to steady you while you float into oblivion. Your legs are shaking and he keeps his fingers inside, working you through it, feeling the way you pulse around him…wishing it was already his dick being squeezed and milked. Wishes he could fill you up and test how your pussy reacts.

You’re moaning his name. Chanting it like a prayer. He feels dizzy just hearing it. “Chan, oh my god Chan.” He loves it. You slowly start to feel the world come back and you squeeze your legs shut, pinning his hand. You’re reaching overstimulation territory and he understands, using his knee to push yours open just enough to pull his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth, licking your juices off of them. He then grabs onto your side again, leaning forward for another kiss. You taste yourself on his lips and smile when he shares, voice gravely, “I could hear you moan my name every day.”

“Chan” you whimper into his mouth “Chan with magic fingers.”

He shivers against you and you pull him into a hug, closing your eyes. You feel his hard-on against your stomach and smile. “give me 60 seconds” you instruct “and then I expect you to rail me against the wall.”

He slides his hand upwards, cupping the side of your breast, wordlessly agreeing with another kiss to your neck. You lay there, appreciating the way he’s still exploring your body while you rest. The little tickles along your skin feel like fireworks despite the fact you just orgasmed harder than any man’s fingers or face have ever made you come.

“On one condition” he finally says (after a bit longer than the 60 seconds).

“hmm” you mumble, eyes still closed.

He flips you onto your stomach wordlessly, surprising you with his warm hands pressing you down. He rubs his cock through your wet folds from above you and groans, both hands rubbing along your back. “such a pretty back” he notes, touching your second tattoo of a flower. He leans down to kiss it before mumbling. “Too bad i’ll need to cover this up.” You’re only confused for a moment before he’s leaning across the bed to his jacket, sliding it on your otherwise naked form. You weakly move your arms, helping him slide it on with a smile. “I told you I wanted to fuck you in this” he says, getting off of you so he can pull you to a standing position next to the bed.

You turn to face him with rosy cheeks and grin at his puffy lips and messed up hair. You’re sure that you probably look twice as fucked out, and can’t help but glance to the mirror in the corner to check. He steps around you, hands wrapping around in a back hug, staring into the mirror too. “Do you see how sexy it is?” He asks, pulling it open enough so your tits are exposed. You lean back into him, sliding your hands up so they’re circling your nipples. You smirk at him through the reflection, licking your lips and tilting your head.

“I could get used to this.”

He kisses behind your ear, sliding his hand down into your…his pocket, coming out with a condom in his hand. You giggle. “has that been in there all night?”

“No. I stole it from a bowl in Seungkwan’s entryway on our way out the door. I slipped it in the pocket without you noticing.” he laughs bringing the package up to his teeth. You stop him before he can rip it open. “We don’t need it…as long as you’re clean…” you look up shyly.

His eyes widen…and darken at the same time. “You’re sure?” he confirms.

You nod, pulling the wrapper from his hand and sliding it back into the jacket pocket. “IUD…I want to feel you..completely.”

He pulls you backwards with a grin until he’s leaning against the wall, kissing you again for a few moments before trailing two fingers down your body. Starting at your neck and wandering across your collarbone, in between your breasts and down your abdomen. You’re sensitive to his touch but don’t want him to stop. You sigh as his fingers reach your nub, rubbing small circles before slipping back inside you, scissoring to stretch you out. Fingers still inside, he turns you so your back is the one against the wall, and he lifts your leg around his hip. He pulls his fingers out after deciding you’re thoroughly sloppy and wet and stretched from before. You don’t really need more prep, and if you’re honest, you don’t want any more. You just want him. Inside you. Now.

You pull his hair and tilt his head so you’re cheek to cheek, arching your chest into his again. “Please, Channie. I’m ready.”

He gets the hint, and he’s feeling pretty insatiable himself, so he lines himself up with your hole and slides home, slowly. His dick is the perfect size. It’s big and long, but slender enough to feel good and not painful. He gives you a second to nod once he bottoms out and then he’s moving. He pulls about 3/4 of the way out before ramming into you again, hitting your G-Spot with extreme accuracy. You almost choke on the realization. One thrust and he’s found your perfect angle.

“right there” you almost scream. “holy fuck.”

He picks up the pace, setting a rhythm and gripping you for balance. He’s holding your left leg up around his hip and grasping your waist with the other. You have one hand on his shoulder to steady you and the other reaches behind you, above your head, bent elbow and palm flat to the wall. You match his pace with your own hips, rolling into him each time he pushes inwards.

in, out, in out, he’s pounding hard. almost completely leaving you before ramming in, again, again, again.

You look sideways, catching a perfect view of your position in the mirror. You admire the way his thigh muscles tense as he pushes forwards and enjoy the feeling of his hot breath on your neck. You’ve always appreciated a vocal partner, but something about just the sounds of his hitched breathing is more than enough. You know you’re getting close again, which is just not acceptable. You want this…no…you NEED this to last longer. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic too and know he must be getting close as well. “fuck chan” you moan, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the ecstasy. “hitting my spot way too good”

“yeah?” he groans into your neck, “you like it baby?”

“I like it so much” you pinch into the skin of his shoulder, leaving nail marks. “Please, please.. god… oh my god.. let me ride you” you get out, brain hazy and sentence choppy.

you feel him twitch at the request and he slows down his pounding so that he can lift your other leg up, you instinctively wrap it around his other hip in a koala hug. He carries you back to the bed and pulls out, eliciting a pout from you. He lets out a low, sexy chuckle at the whine. “You’re the one who wanted to switch positions.”

He’s not wrong.

You reach forward to touch him and he surprises you by giving you his dick instead of his full body. You wrap your fingers around it, just barely unable to close around the thickness. You stroke him and watch as his head dips forward, mouth hanging open. You would love it in your mouth, can feel yourself salivating over the thought but you just had him inside you up against a wall and you can’t go backwards from that feeling. You need him back inside you asap. He seems to agree because he’s soon kneeling over you, straddling you and thrusting his hard cock into your grip. “You can help me finish like this” he groans, basically using your hand as a fuck toy. “or you can bounce on it. But either way I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You release your grip and push him to the side. He rolls onto his back and scoots upwards on the bed, freeing up room for you to kneel over him, mimicking his straddle from before. You line up again and drop your body weight onto his throbbing member, feeling immediately deeper than before. Even better. His hands reach their favorite spot of the evening - your hips - and yours are on his chest, pushing him deep enough to leave an imprint on your mattress. Not that you’d mind. his hips are wildly jerking up into you and you eat up the way his skin is bumping against your clit.

His skin underneath you is hot, and his eyes are burning into the spot where your intimate parts meet. He’s in heaven. His hands move from their place to rest on top of yours on his chest. He links your fingers together and lifts his arms above his head, pulling you forward to hit a different angle. you squeak at the surprise fall and he smiles at how your lips are now close enough to kiss. He can’t really kiss you with how close he is though. He more so just breathes into your open mouth, an occasional grunt coming out.

“Where do you want it” he finally asks, as your bouncing becomes faster and his hips thrust even harder. “You have like 3 seconds to decide.”

You nonverbally answer for him when you pull off of his dick and shove it into your mouth, just in time for his release. His eyes grow wide as he realizes what you’re doing. You stroke his cock through the orgasm, choking slightly on the white strings of cum shooting down your throat. But you take it like a champ. You swallow all you can and pull off with a loud popping sound, wiping at the mess on your chin. He looks more surprised than any man before when you’ve done this and you smile, Moving back up to sit on his thighs.

“that” he starts, mouth wide “was the hottest fucking thing anyone has ever done.”

You just smile at him and crawl back up to collapse by his side. You expected that to be the end of things but Chan is observant enough to realize that through his mind blowing orgasm, you still didn’t finish again. and Chan ALWAYS makes sure his girl comes more than once.

His fingers are inside of you again without another word and you’re still so worked up that he starts with three at once. You’re laying on your side next to him, slowly turning onto your back with each flick of his wrist so that he can properly help you finish.

You moan as he nips at your nipple, grinding into his hand faster. “I’m almost there” you breathe, arching your back. “keep going, keep going, faster.” He listens and speeds up just enough for you to feel that bubbly, euphoric explosion inside.

Your legs pinch closed as he helps you ride out the orgasm, and he has to nudge one again with his elbow in order to get his hand out, licking his fingers once he does so.

You lay there for a moment, curling up into his side as if you were always meant to be there. Your bodies fit so perfectly together, like the pieces of a puzzle made by fate. How else were you to end up in this situation? You can’t help but contemplate in the afterglow about how lucky you were to run into him tonight. About how this evening could have gone so disastrously wrong, but he made sure it went so right.

—

The clean up process was cute. Domestic. Chan carried you to the bathroom on his back and warmed up the shower before stepping in with you, rubbing soap up and down your body in a soothing way. He didn’t try to initiate anything else for the night, he just softly kissed your shoulder once or twice, massaged out a knot in your neck and admired how your body reacted to his soft touches.

After deciding you were both properly clean, and after changing the sheets, you’re cuddled up in bed with sleep on the horizon. You’re on your sides, your back tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped around you. He’s lazily drawing circles on one of your arms when he speaks up.

“Y/N?” his voice is gravely and tired, somewhere in a halfway state between awake and asleep.

“Yes?” you mumble, eyes still closed.

“Will you go on another date with me tomorrow?’

You smile and nuzzle further back into him. “I would love that.”

“Good.” he shares. “and I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“Does that count as another date? Or is it part of this one?” you counter.

“That’s part of this one.” He concludes. “The other date is a surprise.”

You blush a little. It’s sweet that he’s already making plans to spend more time with you.

His hand moves from your arm to your hand and he rests his fingers over yours.

“you really are so pretty..”

and that’s the last thing you really remember before a comfortable sleep overtakes both of you. And you dream about all of the possibilities tomorrow entails.

And in your sleep you realize that maybe running away from Mingyu at that frat party was the best thing that ever happened to you….

****

#seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt dino #lee chan #svt smut #lee chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #lee chan x y/n

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