#chris pine angst

[slapthosewilliessilly]

Got a dude feeling brainwashed

AN; You guys have been waiting so patiently and I seriously appreciate it with the shit going on in my personal life! I really hope you guys enjoy this I’ve always been a huge fan of this song and the idea of stoner!josh yearning something fucking awful lol

Blue is Josh’s thoughts!

Green is texts between Josh and whoever is specified!

I totally imagine Josh crushing on a reader who’s a bit alt tbh. Wearing horror movie shirts, has a couple piercings- loves watching movies with him.

Requests are still open! Plz give me some time to get to them

Warnings; Drug use, jealousy, lowkey internet stalking, Josh is pathetic, Josh definitely smokes cigarettes, AFAB reader, Reader in a committed relationship, Yearning!Josh, Stoner!Josh, Reader has facial piercings, Alt!Reader, cigarette smoking, Nosferatu mention because idc it’s my newest fav movie

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The room was quiet except for the sound of soft mumbled music playing from the tv speakers, paired with gentle taps on the window from the drizzle of rain outside. A faint reminder of the world around him. Josh didn’t pay any mind to it, he was preoccupied to say the least.

He was scrolling through your page again. Something he seemed to be doing more and more even though he promised himself he’d stop. It’s almost like he wanted to torture himself.

Nothing wrong with a little bit of sleuthing from time to time. He’d justify to no one but himself.

A faint smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he looked at your selfie posts, sometimes with mutual friends, more often than not by yourself. Josh’s fingers twitched slightly, he forgot he even had a lit cigarette between his fingers in his other hand. It was easy for you to get him sidetracked- even if you didn’t know it.

Even if it was just your picture popping up on his phone.

Bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils before reaching over and putting out his cigarette in his little ashtray on his bedside table. He didn’t look away from his phone screen, focused on your instagram posts covering his screen.

He really didn’t know why he teasing himself like this- just endlessly scrolling your page and looking at your pictures that he’s already seen damn near a hundred times. His heart beating just a little faster as he came across the only picture you posted with him in it- effectively pausing his doom scrolling.

It was at some party at Mike’s house some months ago. Josh honestly couldn’t remember what it was for but he did remember how the only reason he really wanted to go was because you were there. You were smiling and laughing, dressed in something like a cute pair of jeans with a baggy Carrie shirt and an oversized flannel that was definitely Josh’s- one he was all too eager to let you borrow the moment you said you were getting cold.

The flash from the camera made your silver piercings glint in the photo. Josh was holding your phone to take the selfie, big grin on his face with his arm around your shoulders- his hand holding his red solo cup by your shoulder.

Josh remembered taking the selfie with you hoping for a million more.

Safe to say it didn’t happen.

Josh would literally never tell anyone, but he secretly took a screenshot of that selfie together and printed it out. He keeps it hidden away in his wallet, he likes to think of it as his good luck charm.

Josh’s thumb absentmindedly continued to scroll to the previous post and to the one before that, it was almost ritualistic for him. Whenever he missed you he went to your page, the feeling of comfort and warmth building in his chest as he looked at your captured moments in time.

The feeling quickly went away when the next photo appeared on his screen.

His lips absentmindedly forming a frown as he practically glared at his phone. As if he wasn’t the one to scroll down to the photo himself.

It’s not that it was a bad photo of you- no no there were no bad photos of you. Josh didn’t think it was possible for there to be a bad picture of you.

You were sat on some bathroom counter, one of Eric’s hands were placed on your waist. You were half turned around, peering over your shoulder with a big grin and tongue poking out. Your tongue piercing evident and those pretty eyes he loved were hazy red. Eric had matching red hazy eyes, holding your phone with a big toothy grin as he took the photo of you two.

Josh couldn’t help but think bitterly, a scowl carelessly forming on his face. He looked over Eric in the photo again, hyper focused on looking for any details that could help add fuel to his one sided hatred.

How could you not see what a fucking tool Eric was?

Josh hated thinking like this but he lost that fight when he pulled up your instagram page 20 minutes ago.

Dirty ass fingernails? Seriously Eric? Even Mike knows better than that dude.

At least she looks great in that pose.

Josh tried not to pay any mind to the feeling of frustration building in his thoughts before quickly scrolling away. Silently thankful that you didn’t really post anything else with Eric on your main page- mostly you just had your Eric content on Snapchat instead.

He scoffed to himself. Turning his phone off with a click and tossing it down onto some random spot on the mattress, Josh ran his hands over his face. Sighing hard through his nostrils. He felt pathetic like this, stalking your online accounts regularly- hyper attentive to anything you posted.

He needed to do something, anything to stop him from going down the rabbit hole that was you again. He did it too often anymore.

Muted buzzing from said phone made Josh immediately reach for it and unlock it quickly. The name Sweets 🍫 made his heart beat just a little faster.

Speak of the devil.

; Hey! Wanna hang out? I got two tickets to Noesferatu, if you’re busy it’s cool just let me know! ☺️☺️

Josh smiled a little. His thumbs typing a quick response before he could fully comprehend what he was about to send.

; Sounds sick lol want me to bring some 🍃 ??

; Yes plzzz 🙏🏻 that’d be perfect lol

Now he had to actually get ready.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Getting into your car was almost surreal every time Josh did it. It was always so clean, smelled like something that was uniquely you. The dashboard sticker-bombed and graffitied on with sharpie.

“Whats goin’ on girl?” Josh asked playfully as he seated himself in the front passenger seat, quickly buckling himself in.

“Hey!” You couldn’t help but greet sweetly. He loved it. “You got the green? I already got the movie tickets.” You smiled, both hands on the wheel as you started to pull out onto the main road.

He loved moments like this. Just the two of you.

“Yeah you wanted the gummies right?” He asked.

“I was thinking we could hot box actually.”

Oh?

“Since when do you like hot boxing? I thought you preferred the gummies lately?” Josh couldn’t help but ask. Either way he always had a couple gummies wrapped up in one of his pockets and a couple spliffs in a different pocket.

You rolled your eyes, grin never leaving your features. “Eric hates hot boxing, I’ve only been refraining for him.”

Oh yeah- Eric.

“He prefers edibles but they get old after a while.”

Josh dryly chuckled. “Noted. Either way I got us covered.”

“Sick.” You replied cooly, the atmosphere between the two of you was always relaxing. Even just in the car. The only sound was the music playing on the radio quietly, that and the patter of rain paired with windshield wipers as you both cruised down the familiar road of town.

The ride wasn’t a super long one, parking more towards the back of the movie theater parking lot. Somewhat of a packed night then. You unbuckled your seatbelt, turning to face Josh and in turn he did the same. Pulling the spliffs out of his pocket and handing you the first one. He always made sure you got to smoke first.

Josh spoiled you like that.

“Smells good.” You commented before reaching into your pocket and grabbing your lighter. Some old one with pac-man on it that Chris left in your car forever ago.

“I only have the good stuff.” Josh joked weakly, bringing the other spliff to his lips and holding it there, crumbling up the bag he had them in and shoving it in his pocket.

“C’mere.” The way you spoke held a special reserve of sweetness, one that Josh knew you only really used on Eric.

Josh almost did a double take when you said that, he hoped the faint flush on his cheeks wasn’t too noticeable. It felt so good to hear you use that tone with him.

Josh nodded before leaning closer to you, slightly hesitant when he noticed you leaning in closer as well. His air half way caught in his throat when the ends of your spliff touched his, your hand flicking the lighter and lighting both of them at the same time. You were so close.

Josh’s eyes couldn’t help but be focused on your face. Your features basked in the warm orange glow of the lighter flame between the both of you. What he would give for a photo of you like this, with this lighting, in his wallet.

Just for him.

You pulled back once both were lit up properly, taking a deep inhale before moving the spliff away from your lips. Exhaling the smoke through your lips, Josh was quick to follow suit.

“Not that I mind it just being you and me but I gotta ask-“ Josh started to speak, fiddling with the rolled slightly burning tube between his fingers. “I thought you were gonna watch the movie with Eric.” Josh said, his eyes giving you a sideways glance. Hoping that his curiosity wasn’t too much. “What made you want to go with me instead?” Josh asked almost a little too quickly, bringing the spliff back up to his lips and quickly inhaling.

You pursed your lips, taking a slow drag before flicking the ashes into the ashtray that seemed to be glued to your cup holder.

“Honestly he’s been pissing me off a little bit lately.” You answered genuinely. Josh’s eyebrow twitched.

“How so?” He asked. His voice almost mellow sounding.

You shrugged. “It’s just that like- ugh.” Your tone sounding a little more frustrated before leaning your head back against the drivers seat. “I don’t know man. Just seems like every time I want to go out and do something with him he’s just not that interested anymore unless we’re going out to eat or we are going to a store we’ve been to a hundred times before.” You admitted, glancing at Josh once more.

“Sorry. There’s more to it and I don’t want to waste our time bitching ya know? Just frustrated.” You tried to laugh it off, Josh’s hand absentmindedly reaching forward and touching the middle of your back. Rubbing soothing circles.

“It’s okay.” He spoke, tone sweeter than before. “You could never waste my time- you know that.” Josh reassured with a small smile.

You nodded almost meekly, “Thank you.”

Silence settled between the two of you again, smoking the rest of what you each had and your car filling with the smoke. Evidence of what you two were doing.

Josh never moved his hand. His large hand was stilled, no longer making slow circular movements to soothe you but instead it was now resting on the small of your back. He didn’t want to chance moving in case you remembered exactly where his hand was.

Until Eric came along you two were always pretty physically affectionate. Josh would never admit it out loud but god he missed it so bad. Chris however never failed to give him a hard time when the two of them were alone and you were brought up in conversation.

It wasn’t until you put out your roach in the ashtray did Josh realize how little of his own he had left. Cracking the window open so the two of you could fully breathe again, Josh quickly put the rest of his out as well.

“Ready to go?”

Josh nodded in response to your question, despite his soft expression he begrudgingly moving his hand away from your back.

“Let’s go.”

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AN; I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED! I threw my whole puss into this bruh 😭 depending on how good this goes I WILL make a part two! Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you guys think! Thank you again so much for your patience 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Oh Oliver Oliver Oliver how I love thee!!

In flux you say

Dealing with changes you say

Velocity you say

A lot of possibility you say

So many most excellent things all in one answer!

Flux and change in the same sentence is so interesting and telling on several fronts (and not just Eddie’s moustache!). It’s very loudly saying bt bones sooner rather than later, but it’s also suggesting some things going down at the firehouse and maybe with Bobby (the working together during the plane emergency was very much giving me calm before a storm vibes) which I’m excited to see as I think it will be fabulous for Bucks development both personally and professionally. But it’s also giving me changes with Eddie vibes - and on a couple of fronts - the Christopher front, and the personal front.

The use of velocity is an interesting choice - when you think Bucks been stuck on that hamster wheel for so long and then got off one to land on another, the fact we’re now talking velocity is pretty interesting! It’s very much suggesting we’re going to get a huge amount of buck set up stuff in the next couple of episodes - on multiple fronts. So btw bones obviously, which I’m expecting to trigger some soul searching and figuring out - that his bisexual awakening has triggered buck knowing himself more than he ever has before but that Tommy has been holding him in stasis and as soon as he’s gone it will actually catapult him forward quite dramatically.

I mean velocity is giving me feelings for Eddie realisation vibes, but then, because I think in 806 Eddie is going to shave the stache off and then head off to Texas to try to fix things with Chris, things settling down for buck for a little bit makes a lot of sense to me. In combination with ‘a lot of possibility’ and the concept of ‘next step’ and Oliver being excited to see where ‘the story goes in the not to distant future’ it’s very much giving buck sort of pining era vibes. Eddie being physically gone (and working on his own stuff which I expect to take 2 episodes at most) giving buck some processing space would be great to watch - especially if we are shown them being in contact by phone and video chat etc. As the audience we’d get to see Buck actively knowingly in love whilst not being able to act on it - Oliver obviously wouldn’t know yet how that initial pining era is going to go from there because it would take us through to 808 - which is what they’re finishing up right now, so it’s all set up to be exciting because Eddie will then return and Chris will be back (he better or I will be protesting at the studio!) so focus will shift to that aspect for an episode or so, and we’ll have fully pining buck who’s also delighted Chris is back and that leads to a cliffhanger mid season on the will they won’t they front!

I can see it all so clearly and I’m very here for it please and thank you

[tpwkwriter]

PLEASEE do one when H and y/n are at Harrys DWD premier and Chris pine is very flirty with y/n and looky with her and harry just gets protective and does all the things he can do to prove to him that y/n is his, pleaseee that would be so cute

you.

Didn’t he just look so dreamy this day? 😭thanks for the request bc I’m actually crying of how cute this concept acc is😫 enjoy!❤️

PLEASE NOTE: I am aware Chris pine would never hit on a taken woman this is for story purposes only!!!!🫶🏼

Warnings: jealousy, cussing, some flirty behaviour, angstyyyy, upset Harry 😭, fluffy ending!!!

— — — — —

It was a sunny day in Venice, the sky was a light blue, the sunshine was really doing its thing, it was a perfect day to be a plus one at Venice film festival.

When y/n heard about Harry’s upcoming physiological thriller ‘don’t worry darling’ she was ecstatic.

Every moment in his crazy career she was there for she hadn’t missed a a single thing.

“Y’not joining me for the carpet?” He asks realising her hand was no longer locked in his.

“This is your moment H, m’happy to watch” she smiled.

He glanced over to the carpet to which Chris pine, gemma chan and nick kroll were already occupying.

“I wouldn’t have done with film without you lovie, c’mon” he said pressing a kiss to her forehead and taking her hand once more.

“Fine” she sighed.

When Harry revealed them from the black curtain that shielded them from the world, the mixed audience of fans, film enthusiasts, paparazzi and journalists, erupted into cheers and heckles.

“Harry, Harry over here!”

“Harry we have questions for you!”

And to y/n’s surprise even some directed to her.

“Y/n you look beautiful”

“Y/n are you proud of this movie”

In a loving and protective manner Harry slid his arm around the girls waist and guided her next to Chris for photos to be taken.

As the main cast/crew member pictures had been taken, Gemma went off to have an interview? Nick found himself speaking to Harry which left y/n and Chris still next to each other.

“You Look good y/n” Chris says turning to the girl now having his full attention.

“Oh Chris, thank you! You don’t scrub up to bad either!” She playful gested

“Y/n, Chris come over we have some questions!!” a male reporter chanted.

Chris placed his palm on the lower of y/n’s back and walked towards the reporter.

Harry took a glance back at where he thought y/n was, a panic filled his mind when he couldn’t see her or Chris.

“Don’t panic mate she’s right there with Chris” nick noted making him turn the opposite direction.

“How did you-?” He asked.

“I know you too well, she’s all you think about” nick laughed.

Harry turned to his girl who spoke to the microphone the man was holding towards her.

Watching her do the most simple stuff made Harry realise how lucky he truly was.

The only thing he was sure of is the eyes of the one and only Chris pine staring her down.

Now, Harry wasn’t normally a jealous type but when a man like Chris appears, he can’t help but feel like he has no chance.

“Yeah, no y/n has been great! She delivered us all hot coffee and if we were lucky then donuts” Chris laughs thinking about the fond memories there shared through the filming.

Chrises hand slowly rubbed up and down her exposed arm as she spoke.

That did not go unnoticed by Harry.

“But filming was super fun to watch and seeing the movie made it all really worth it! I mean everyone involved did great”

“And it’s amazing seeing the actors behind the-“

Harry had snaked his muscular arms around her waist forcing Chris’s to remove his, and pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“Oh hi Harry” she giggled

“Carry on Angel” he reassured.

“As I was saying yeah- um it was really interesting seeing behind the scenes”

Harry continued pressing mini kisses to her cheek and using his thumb to slowly trace her waist.

“The world is going to go crazy over this” the camera man laughed.

Y/n blushed and placed her hands on top of Harry’s.

Once the interview was over Harry pulled the girl close to his chest.

“Y’do know the world can see us” she said giving into his touch nonetheless.

“Oh well, at least the world know y’mine” he emphasised.

“Hey guys” a familiar deep voice chimed.

“Hey man” Harry replied reluctantly letting go of his girl.

“You 2 joining us for some fine dining?” He said straightening his blazer and hair.

“You up for it baby?” Harry asked looking back to his girl

“Oh yeah of course” she smiled.

“Great well I guess I’ll see you then!” He said patting her arm and heading off into the posh car to be taken to the location.

“God he has a thing for you” Harry said annoyingly with a roll to his eyes.

“Harry” she laughed

“Chris pine has a thing for me?” She continued.

“Mmm not sure about that love” she giggled.

Y/n wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I love you” she mumbled into his side.

“Love you too”

— — — — —

The cast of ‘DWD’ sat around a table that was located in one of Venice’s fanciest restaurant and poshest experiences.

Y/n couldn’t deny Harry had looked devilishly handsome the whole day and despite being next to the idols like Chris and Nick she only had eyes for him and will only have eyes for him.

Y/n was sandwiches between Harry and Chris with jemma, Nick opposite with Florence and Sydney head of the table.

“I love the material of your dress y/n” Chris nonchalantly mumbled while running his fingers on the red satin dress.

“Yeah it’s nice right, don’t you look beautiful baby” Harry was quick to say pressing a kiss on her temple.

“Where is it from?” Chris asked.

“Oh this is-“ y/n started.

“This is Gucci isn’t it darling? My very own collection tailored and measured especially for her” Harry spoke.

“Yeah, yeah that he did” y/n bash fully laughed.

“Wow! That’s crazy, I’m invited actually to be one of Guccis models for next month’s catalog” Chris bragged maintaining eye contact with Harry.

“Maybe you two should do a fashion collab” y/n mentioned taking a sip of her wine.

“100%” Chris mumbled into his napkin that he delicately patted around his lips.

The rest of the night went down a blast the girls shared laughter and gossip as the evening went on, Harry and the rest of the boys managed to have a conversation and the dining experience itself was great.

Harry just couldn’t take his eyes off of what Chris was to do next.

While y/n was speaking to Gemma who was adjacent to her Harry noticed Chrises heart eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely, me and Harry went a few years back missed it ever since” she began

“Where’s this y/n?” Chris interrupted.

Harry noticed the sudden interruption due to him, he placed his palm on her knee and gave it a light squeeze in a way to show he’s sorry for the interruption.

“Oh just telling Gemma about almafi coast, me and H went a few years ago” she smiled turning back to hemme and continuing her story.

As y/n carried on her conversation, it was the little things that Harry noticed. The way Chris would look from her dress all the way to her eyes, the way he would bite his lip when he had his attention. It was driving him mad.

“And so i Definitely thin-“ y/n started

“Y/n, I have to say your looking beautiful tonight” Chris blurted.

“You interrupted her to say that?” Harry said placing his arm on the back of y/n’s chair and leaning forward to meet eyes with Chris.

“Harry-“ she warned.

“Is a compliment a bad thing?” He answered back.

The tone in the both the boys caused the table to turn to the three of them.

“When I’m right here yeah” Harry scoffed.

“Harry-baby-“

“All I’m doing is complimenting her, something I haven’t seen you do all night” he laughed, causing the rest of the table to watch in shock, those who knew Harry knew when it comes to his lovie there’s no messing.

“Chris” Nick gasped.

“M’not hearing this all night, I’ll be outside y/n” and with that Harry rose from his seat and made his way to the exit of the restaurant.

A cold chill blew over y/n’s spine, this escalated from 0-100 very quickly.

“All over a compliment?!” He laughed taking a swig of his whiskey.

“I should go see him-“ Nick offered.

“It’s fine” y/n sighed.

“I’ll go” she begins as she stands and grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

“Thanks for tonight guys” she said trying to be as friendly as she could.

“I’m sure he’s fine he’s just a bit stresse-“

“You don’t Need to explain yourself to us y/n, go find your man and keep us updated” Sydney said with Jemma and Flo nodding in agreement.

Y/n pushed the cold glass door open with her palm and slowly walked around the place in search of her boyfriend.

“Hey you” she said gently to the familiar figure that stood just by an alleyway.

“Fuck, love I’m so fucking sorry” he started.

“Hey hey hey” she said voice softening.

With a glance she could note the glossy eyes, without another word she wrapped her arms around his blazer clad waist, brung him in tightly.

“How about we get to the hotel and you can tell me what’s going on hey?” She offered using her fingers to play with the curls at the back of his head.

“Mmhmm” he hummed.

— — — — —

The ride back to the hotel was silent but not at all uncomfortable or awkward y/n knew he was hurt by something and she was determined to find out before the night ended.

They checked back into there hotel rooms and much to Harry lamberts disgust there fancy clothes ended up remaining in the floor for the night.

Y/n changed into one of Harry’s hoodies and her joggers.

Y/n joined harry on the bed and immediately made her self comfy, and cuddled straight into him.

“What’s going on H” she lowly whispered.

“Feel like I don’t appreciate you enough” he started.

“Hmm?” She hummed confused

“All night he had something to say, ‘oh your dress’, ‘oh your makeup’ and I just, I don’t know, feel shitty” he said honestly.

“And every look he gave you, every compliment, every touch he gave you it just scares me” he said pushing his head into the nook of her shoulder.

“Scares you?” She asked.

“I can’t lose you y/n, and Chris being this admittedly handsome guy, and giving you so much more attention then I did, it’s understandable”

“Harry”

“Baby, never, ever worry about that, no Chris or any other person could ever take me away from you ever”

She traced the back of his neck with her gentle fingertips.

“Only have eyes for you my love, only for you, and I don’t need your affection to feel loved by you, knowing your next to me or even in my life makes me feel like the luckiest girl ever” she stated whole heartedly.

— — — — —

[master-of-stupidity]

Need y'all to be just as insane bout this idea as I am

(Click for better quality)

[buddiex911]

With season 8 being less than a week away here’s an angsty fight/conversation I need to see happen.

Eddie: I’m giving you an out.

Buck: Well I don’t want an out - I want to be in. I want to be in this mess with you, with Chris, I, I want to be a part of your life and why won’t you just let me?

E: Because! Because Buck you said it yourself I am a mess and you know you’ve got a good thing going with your sister, with Tommy, with your job. I don’t want to drag you down with me.

B: What happened to always having each other‘s backs? What happened to being there for each other, for fighting for each other? That’s what we’ve always done and it’s what I’m always going to do, for you.

[totallynottinsel]

Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now. 

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute. 

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.  

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window. 

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner. 

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face. 

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other. 

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along. 

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless. 

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that. 

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.  

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake. 

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true. 

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always. 

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other. 

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off. 

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning." 

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile. 

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it. 

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up. 

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it? 

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you. 

"Hey, Chris?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You really don't have to get me a new bike." 

"I want to." 

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument. 

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day."  It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon. 

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best. 

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right. 

—----- 

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later. 

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too." 

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance. 

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it. 

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?" 

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement. 

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice. 

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone,  though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal. 

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down. 

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue. 

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would. 

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun. 

“I don’t think he knows either.”

[chris-continues]

Ok having knives be a second choice to Vash angst hurts because Knives is considerably “selfish” for everything except for Vash. He’s done everything to protect Vash but you come into the picture and you occupy his mind from the forefront to the recesses and yet..

you make Vash so happy. The way his brother considerably brightens up even more around you, he can see how he yearns for you.

He’s much kinder than him, anyway. More charismatic and whatnot, more upfront. That’s the kind of person you need, right?

It’s ridiculous. Knives doesn’t have to deal with such childish things. He’s got school to focus on, a job to go to, and he’s got to finish prepping dinner for tonight. He never liked you anyway, you were annoying, and clingy, and bright and..

It’s fine.

[sunrise-of-wonder]

My hot take about Wish that no one asked for is that Asha should've been the king's super devoted apprentice from the start, and he should have spent the whole movie trying to convince her to come back. A whole messed up fallen mentor thing, where the loss of her support is what causes him to unravel. Think of the angst! The drama! The betrayal 👌🏽

[annika-is-scared]

"When you comin' home? Home is where you're supposed to be Turn around, it's not too late, did I hurt you? You live too far away Are you turnin' off your phone again? If I take back my words, would you return to me?"

Ice Slippin - Omar Apollo

[housewifebuck]

Should I post some of my new wip for tidbit tuesday or do u horny freaks just want more onlyfans buck:/

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft whispers linger just outside of your apartment, elusive words that you are quick to dismiss as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks on your door.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever’s behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She’s clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor’s muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn’t shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I’m your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I’m not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she’s still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I’m a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don’t worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It’s just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I’m a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I’m sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you’ve ever wanted slip from your grasp like fallen sand?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

“She looks just like you,” you softly smile.

“I know,” he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’ hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

“Chris,” you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

“Who is she?” you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of passion.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴍᴇʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪɴ

…𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶

angst, fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, melatonin addiction (metaphorically), jealousy, showering together, please just communicate already, pining, tension, oblivious

word count - 8k

The drive from the airport is quiet, the kind of quiet that isn’t exactly uncomfortable but isn't exactly comfortable either. Just… there. Chris has one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absentmindedly against his thigh. Every so often, his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for the volume knob, but he never follows through.

“You can play your music if you want,” she offers, just to break the silence.

Chris exhales, kind of amused, kind of relieved. “Yeah? You’re not too tired?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. You act like I haven’t been forced to listen to your music in Matt’s car a million times.”

That earns her a little laugh, but he scrolls through his phone anyway, puts on something easy, something familiar. The first notes of a Mac Miller song hum through the car. She lets her forehead rest against the window, feeling the warmth of LA’s night air pressing against the glass.

When they finally get to the house, Chris grabs her suitcase from the trunk, nodding toward the door. “Come on, before I pass out on the driveway.”

Inside, the house is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. Matt and Nick must already be asleep. Chris hauls her suitcase down the hall, stopping outside his room.

“Alright, so, you can take my bed,” he says, rubbing his face like the exhaustion is finally catching up to him.

“What? No, it’s fine, I can take the couch,” she protests.

“Nah, the couch is ass,” he shoots back immediately. “I fall asleep on it all the time, I’d know.”

“Then where are you gonna sleep?”

Chris shrugs, already walking into his room and grabbing some sweats from the dresser. “I’ll just go up to Matt’s.”

He says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but she hesitates. “You really don’t have to—”

“Dude, I’m literally in my own house. I think I can find somewhere to sleep. Matt doesn’t mind.” He disappears into the bathroom, voice muffled as he brushes his teeth. “Besides, I wouldn’t get any sleep in here anyway.”

That makes her pause. “What do you mean?”

Chris spits out toothpaste, rinses his mouth, then leans in the doorway, running a hand through his hair. He looks tired. More than tired.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Dunno. Just been sleeping like shit lately. Stress or whatever.”

She doesn’t push, but something about the way he says it, like it’s normal, sits weird in her chest. He disappears again to change, still talking.

“Swear to God, I was sleeping in Matt’s room the other week, and I got sleep paralysis. You ever get that?”

She wrinkles her nose. “No, thank God.”

“Shit’s terrifying,” Chris mutters. “I always see some nightmare-looking thing, and I get stuck in these weird lucid dreams.”

She makes a face. “Alright, well. Sweet dreams.”

Chris just laughs, tugging his hoodie over his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He throws a pillow onto the bed for her, yawns into his sleeve, then heads for the door.

She watches him go, then, on impulse, grabs the remote and turn on the TV. The glow fills the room, casting soft shadows on the walls.

Chris stops in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Watching some youtube.”

Chris squints at her, then at the screen. “You don’t even like my recommendations.”

She shrugs. “I always watch youtube before bed.”

Chris scoffs, but he’s already walking back toward the bed. He kicks off his slides, plops down on the mattress, and grabs the remote from her hand like he was always planning on staying.

For a while, it’s just the two of them, bathed in the glow of the TV, flipping through videos, making fun of whatever’s on the screen. He stretches out next to her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of him, even though neither of them acknowledge it.

At some point, one video blurs into the next, the voices on screen turning into white noise. Her eyelids grow heavier. Chris mumbles something about closing his eyes for a second.

Neither of them mean to fall asleep. But you do.

Sunlight leaks through the blinds, spilling over tangled sheets and the forgotten remote. She stirs first, half-aware of the weight pressed into the mattress beside her.

Chris is still asleep, face smushed into the pillow, hoodie slipping off his shoulder. His breathing is deep, even. Peaceful.

Then, slowly, he shifts, stretching like a cat before cracking one eye open.

He blinks at her. Then at the TV. Then back at her.

“You didn’t kick me out,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“You didn’t leave,” she points out.

Chris hums, rolling onto his back. His gaze flickers toward the ceiling, thoughtful.

Then, soft, barely there, “Damn. I haven’t slept that good in forever.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. So she doesn’t say anything.

Chris yawns, then turns his head, shooting her a lazy grin. “Guess you’re like melatonin or something.”

She rolls her eyes, pushing his arm. “Don’t be weird.”

Chris just laughs, stretching again before flopping dramatically onto the pillow.

“Whatever, dude. I’m just saying,” he mutters, already half-asleep again.

And for some reason, that weird feeling from last night settles a little.

Slowly but surely, an accident became a routine.

The next night, Chris was talking to her before heading up to Matt’s room, just like before. She had started a video, some dumb commentary channel she liked, and he had sat on the edge of the bed, watching over her shoulder, pretending like he wasn’t actually interested.

Somewhere between one video and the next, he had stretched out beside her, claiming it was more comfortable than craning his neck. And then, at some point after that, he had fallen asleep. She didn’t mind. She fell asleep soon after.

The next morning, he stirred awake to the feeling of warmth beside him. His room smelled different…cleaner, softer, like her shampoo. The sheets rustled, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her lying there, still half-asleep.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Chris blinked at the ceiling. He hadn’t woken up once last night. No tossing and turning, no staring at the walls until exhaustion took over. Just… sleep. Real, deep sleep. He turned his head toward her, voice groggy.

“I take it back. I think that was the best sleep I’ve ever had.”

She huffed a small laugh, rubbing her eyes before reaching for her phone. “Good to know I make an effective substitute for melatonin.”

He grinned, shaking his head, but didn’t argue.

By the third night, he didn’t even try going upstairs.

He still made a show of pretending he was just there to talk, of course. He’d walk in, plop down onto the bed, ask her some dumb question about whatever video she was watching. She’d answer, play along, knowing exactly what he was doing. And when she eventually switched the screen off, pulled the blankets up, and turned off the lamp, he was still there.

Neither of them said anything about it.

And if, over time, he started inching closer, if she stopped sleeping with her back to him, if they eventually woke up tangled in the mornings, well… no one had to know.

Except Nick did find out.

He had barged into Chris’s room one morning, complaining about something random, only to freeze mid-sentence. His eyes flicked from Chris’s arm slung around her waist to the way her face was pressed into the pillow, and then back again.

Chris blinked, barely awake. “What?”

Nick made a face. “Dude.”

Chris groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Nick crossed his arms. “It looks like you’re spooning our best friend.”

Chris scoffed, sitting up. “I was not spooning her.”

Nick raised an eyebrow.

Chris glanced over. She was still curled up, half-asleep, completely unbothered.

“Okay, maybe I was,” he admitted, voice low. “But it’s not a thing. We’re just friends, you know that.”

Nick didn’t look convinced. “Wait till I tell Matt. He’s gonna think it’s weird.”

Chris flopped back onto the pillows, sighing. “Matt thinks everything is weird.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s weird too.”

Chris waved a lazy hand in the air. “Then don’t think about it.”

Nick stared at him for another second, then exhaled, shaking his head. “Whatever, dude.” He turned to leave, muttering, “You’re weird.”

Chris ignored him.

But later, when he found himself awake before her again, when he saw the way she had drifted closer in the night, how easy it was, how natural, it made his chest feel tight.

He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

That afternoon, as she rummaged through her suitcase, Nick casually tossed her a shirt she’d been eyeing for the party later. "You good?" he asked, his voice light, but the concern was still there.

She paused for a moment, throwing a glance at him. "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"

Nick crossed his arms, gaze softening just a little. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve always had a soft spot for Chris, and now you two are… I just—” He sighed, glancing away for a moment before looking back at her. “I know how you get when you start liking someone. Just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s not like that.”

Nick gave her a knowing look, clearly not convinced. “Alright. Just making sure, okay?” His voice was gentle now, like he wanted her to know he was looking out for her, even if she didn’t want to hear it. “I just don’t want you falling for someone who’s not gonna catch you, you know?”

Her stomach twisted slightly at his words, but she refused to show it. “I’m fine. Really.”

Nick gave a small nod but didn’t look entirely reassured. “Just be careful. Alright?”

She didn’t respond right away, too caught up in the knot of emotions Nick’s words had caused. She forced a smile. “I will.”

That night, she found herself in conversation with a guy she’d just met. He was nice, easy to talk to, and she was enjoying herself. 

That was, until Chris appeared beside her, sliding an arm around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her breath hitched. Her heart both soared and sank.

She turned slightly, looking up at him. “What are you doing?”

Chris shrugged, gaze locked onto the guy in front of her. “Just saying hey.”

The guy hesitated, glancing between them before offering a small smile. “I should, uh, grab another drink. Nice meeting you.”

She watched him go, then turned back to Chris, who was still standing way too close. “Really?”

Chris just grinned, unfazed. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t ignore the way her body betrayed her, leaning the slightest bit into him despite herself.

The night air was cool, but she felt warmth against her skin, and she stirred in her sleep, confused for a moment as to why she wasn’t alone. It took a moment before her groggy mind registered the weight of Chris’s arm draped over her waist, his chest pressed lightly against her back. The soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing filled the silence of the room.

Her shirt sleeve had ridden up, and his lips were warm against her bare shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin. It was gentle, almost like he was unaware of what he was doing, but the sensation sent a jolt through her.

She didn’t know how long he'd been there, how long this moment had been unfolding, but everything inside her froze. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, his presence so familiar yet unsettling all at once. Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where they stood. Didn’t know if this was something real or just another moment she was reading too far into.

His lips brushed against her skin again, and the tension in her body grew, her mind racing, trying to sort through the haze of sleep and confused feelings. She liked it. She liked it more than she should.

She gently shifted, trying not to disturb him, but the movement made her heart race even more. Her hand found the edge of the bed, and she slowly started to sit up, trying to slip away from him without waking him. She could feel his arm loosen slightly as she moved, but his grip still lingered, not quite enough to stop her but enough to remind her that he was there.

She carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing up and pulling her sleeve back down, her mind still racing, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite place. The room felt colder now that she was standing, the emptiness of the space around her only making everything seem more unclear.

Chris shifted behind her, the faint sound of him mumbling something in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him, his face still relaxed in slumber. There was no way he knew what had just happened.

Her hand hovered over the door, but she stayed there for a moment longer, watching him. She wanted to say something, to wake him and tell him how she felt, how everything seemed so messy between them, but the words were stuck in her throat.

Instead, she turned away and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaving him alone in the bed. An early morning would do her good.

Chris, still half-asleep, didn't notice. He mumbled something else, shifting slightly under the covers, a frown tugging at his face, but nothing seemed amiss to him. The effect of melatonin can stay in your body for 4 to 10 hours.

The movie had just finished, and the soft hum of the credits filled the room as the others began to stretch out. Nick yawned, glancing at Matt. “I’m heading up. You coming?”

Matt nodded, not looking up from his phone. “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Nick tossed a quick “night” in their direction and headed upstairs, his footsteps fading as he disappeared into the hall.

Chris stretched his arms out, the tiredness from the night creeping in. He looked over at her, still curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs. “You ready for bed?” he asked, his voice low and casual, as if the idea was just a natural extension of their evening together.

She blinked, looking up at him from where she was snuggled into the couch. “Um,” she started with a half-smile, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m comfy here. Think I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Chris hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He took a small step toward her, his tone softening. “You sure? You okay?”

She froze for just a beat too long. The words were there, right on the tip of her tongue—she wanted to tell him everything, how confused she felt, how much she cared—but nothing came out. Instead, she gave a quick nod and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need some space.”

The words left her mouth a little too quickly, the awkwardness hanging in the air. She could see it in Chris’s eyes, that flicker of uncertainty. He didn’t push it, but there was a slight pause before he spoke again.

“Okay,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll be downstairs if you change your mind.” He stood there for a second longer, glancing at her, but she didn’t say anything else.

With a quiet “g’night,” Chris turned and headed for the stairs, the sound of his footsteps growing faint as he descended to the lower floor.

She stayed on the couch, the silence of the room wrapping around her like a blanket. Her chest felt tight again, but she didn’t want to go to him. The night passed slowly, and despite her intentions, she didn’t sleep as soundly as she hoped. There was an uneasy restlessness that lingered beneath the surface, something she couldn’t quite shake. She wasn’t sure what it was… maybe it was guilt, or the weight of her own emotions… but the pull she felt for Chris, mixed with the walls she kept building around herself, left her feeling both disconnected and deeply conflicted.

Meanwhile, Chris lay awake in his own bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the same conversation. He didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but something felt different. She’d never said anything like that before, and it bothered him more than he was willing to admit. He buried his face in his pillow, hoping that inhaling the scent of her would give him even a fraction of the calming effect she had when she was in his arms.

Sleep didn’t come easily for either of them that night.

She sleeps on the couch again the next night. And the night after that. 

It’s almost five nights before the new routine is interrupted.

She was already half asleep when Chris appeared, his figure casting a long shadow over the couch. She barely stirred, but when his voice broke the silence, her eyes fluttered open.

“I can’t sleep,” Chris murmured, standing at the edge of the couch, his tone low and full of exhaustion. “My bed smells like you... miss you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the way his words felt too familiar. She tried to stay still, pretend like everything was fine, but something in his voice made her want to respond, to comfort him. It was easy to let him in like this, so easy to slip into the warmth he offered, but tonight felt different. She couldn’t ignore the way her mind was racing.

“Take some melatonin, Chris.”

“Already did an hour ago. Didn’t do shit.”

Before she could say anything, Chris climbed onto the couch beside her, sliding down next to her with a small sigh of relief. She didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she let herself relax just a little, the tension in her shoulders softening as he settled beside her. His arm slipped around her, pulling her a bit closer, and she let him.

His face was so close to hers now, and she could feel his breath as he spoke, his voice quiet and soothing. “I just... I don’t know. I miss having you around like this. It’s been easier with you here, you know? It feels right. You’re my melatonin.”

Her heart ached at his words, but her stomach twisted in knots. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the courage to say something, anything, but the warmth of his touch, his gentle presence, was almost overwhelming. She didn't want to ruin it, but she couldn't ignore the heaviness in her chest either.

He shifted closer, resting his head against hers, a soft smile on his lips. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. Being close. Not having to say anything, just being.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, the softness of his words crashing into her like waves, tugging at her heart. Her chest felt tight, and she took a slow breath, gathering her thoughts. She knew she couldn’t keep ignoring this, ignoring the way her heart was reacting to him, but also how much she was hurting.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now.

“You’re my best friend.” he murmurs.

Finally, she sat up, her body tense as she pulled away from him slightly. Chris looked at her with a furrowed brow, his hand reaching out instinctively as if to pull her back to him, but she shook her head gently.

“Chris, we need to talk,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended, but firm enough that he knew this was something serious.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

She took a steadying breath. “You can’t keep doing this to me,” she said, her voice thick with the weight of everything she had been holding back. “You show up, and you pull me in like it’s nothing. And I let you. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel something... something more.”

Chris’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but she pushed on, needing to get it out.

“I can’t keep doing this, Chris. You’re taking advantage of me, messing with my head.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she kept going, her words becoming clearer, stronger. “I don’t even know where we stand, and… I just, I need space. I need time.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, there was only silence between them. The space that had been so filled with warmth and affection now felt distant, uncomfortable.

Chris finally spoke, his voice soft, confused. “Wait… You’re serious?”

She nodded, her chest aching, but her resolve growing stronger with every second. “Yes. I care about you, Chris. A lot. I just don’t think I can keep letting this go on like it has.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. His eyes were locked on hers, searching for something, anything that might explain her words. But all he found was the certainty in her gaze, and it seemed to deflate him. Slowly, he sat up, his face crumpling with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn’t argue, didn’t ask for an explanation, just accepted her words with a quiet sadness in his eyes.

The silence between them was heavy, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had made the right choice. But she knew she couldn’t keep ignoring her own heart. She needed space, even if it meant breaking things off with him for good.

He stood up and walked toward the door without saying another word, leaving her there on the couch, her heart torn but her mind finally clear.

Chris avoids her. Doesn’t so much as speak to her for the next three days. Not that she doesn’t try. She doesn’t want to lose her friend, no matter how much he confuses the shit out of her.

When she wakes up that morning, she leaves a text: “I’m sorry for what I said. I hope things aren’t weird between us.” It’s simple, non-confrontational, just her way of reaching out. She waits for a reply, but it never comes.

She sees him in the kitchen later, his back turned as he scrambles some eggs. She stands in the doorway, chewing on her lip, trying to find the right words. But when he doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, she feels her heart sink. She clears her throat, and the words finally spill out.

“Hey, uh… I’ve been thinking about everything, and I just,”

He doesn’t turn around. The sound of the pan sizzling is louder than her voice. She bites her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat, and finally walks away. It stings, but she tries not to let it show.

She tries again, finding him lounging on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. It’s not like he doesn’t know she’s there. She’s in his line of sight. She stands in front of him, arms folded over her chest.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says, her voice a little too quiet, but loud enough for him to hear. “Are we seriously doing this?”

He doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay locked on the screen. The silence stretches out until she’s almost ready to walk away.

“Chris,” she says, a little more forcefully this time. “Please just say something.”

He sighs, leaning back on the couch, eyes still on the TV. “I’m not avoiding you.”

She can feel her frustration bubbling up, but she forces it down. “Then what’s going on? You’ve barely looked at me in three days.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and she can tell he’s weighing something in his head. Finally, he shifts, glancing at her with a look that says he’s tired of this conversation before it’s even started. “You said you needed space, right?”

She blinks at him, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest. “Space?” She repeats, as if she didn’t hear him right. “Oh. Right.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice flat. “You said you need some time. So I’m respecting that.”

She swallows hard, blinking back the sting of tears. “Fine,” she says, the word feeling hollow. “If that’s how you want to be.”

But before she can turn away, he adds, almost too quietly, “You’re the one who made it… complicated.”

“It’s been complicated for a while now,” she mutters under her breath, not even sure if he hears it. When she does turn to leave, she hears the TV volume go up slightly.

The kitchen was unusually quiet on the fourth morning, the usual chatter drowned out by the tension hanging thick in the air. She sat at the breakfast table next to Nick, absentmindedly stirring her coffee. Across from her, Matt was flipping through his phone, and Chris sat diagonally, his gaze fixed somewhere near her, but not directly on her. She could feel the weight of his eyes, but she kept her focus on her mug, pretending not to notice.

Matt, ever the oblivious one to the mood shifts, broke the silence. “So, any plans tonight?” His tone was casual, but she could sense the underlying curiosity.

She paused for a beat, the question feeling almost too loaded now. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to confront the situation in front of everyone, but the words slipped out anyway. “I’ve got a date.”

The room seemed to freeze.

Chris immediately went still, his posture rigid, his eyes narrowing in a way she didn’t dare acknowledge. His jaw clenched, and she could feel the tension building between them like an electric current. But she couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t.

Nick shot her a playful smile. “Oh, a date, huh? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Just someone I met at that party. Nothing serious.”

Matt gave her a curious look, but said nothing, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Meanwhile, Chris’s gaze hadn’t left her, though she kept her eyes down, deliberately avoiding his. She could feel his stare burning into her skin, but she refused to acknowledge it.

The silence stretched, the clink of silverware against plates sounding louder than it should. She stole a quick glance at Chris, but when their eyes met, she immediately looked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t deal with it. Not now.

Nick, thankfully, broke the quiet with a cheerful comment, completely unaware of the tension he was helping diffuse. “Well, I hope he’s worth the hype!” he teased, nudging her lightly.

She managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll see,” she muttered, the words hollow.

Matt cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between her and Chris, but he didn’t push further. He wasn’t one to press, but the quiet stillness felt uncomfortable, like everyone was just waiting for something to break.

Chris’s hand tightened around his mug, but he didn’t speak. His eyes never left her face, and she wondered if he could feel the space growing between them. She could.

The rest of breakfast passed in strained silence. Every word felt too loud, every movement too deliberate. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the dynamic between them had shifted, irreparably.

The afternoon light was fading by the time she made her way to Nick’s room to get ready. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open, laying her clothes neatly out on the bed, everything set for the night ahead. She’d spent a while picking out her outfit, wanting to look good for herself… no one else. The soft fabric of the dress she’d chosen made her feel a little lighter, a little more like herself.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress, taking a breath. She wasn’t sure what kind of energy she’d need tonight, but she was determined to go into it with confidence. The tension from breakfast was still hanging over her, but she tried to shake it off. She wasn’t going to let it mess with her plans.

The door to Nick’s room opened behind her, and he stepped in with a grin. “Hey, you look great!” His voice was genuine, the usual cheer in his tone. “That guy’s so lucky.”

She smiled at him, appreciating the support. “Thanks, Nick.”

Nick gave her a quick thumbs up before leaning against the doorframe. “You’re gonna crush it, as usual. Go have fun.”

She nodded and straightened her dress one more time. “I will. See you later.”

As she walked past him to head out of Nick’s room, she spotted Matt sitting on the couch in the living room. He glanced up when she entered, his face lighting up with a smile.

“Look at you!” he said, his voice full of warmth. “You clean up pretty well.”

She chuckled, feeling the genuine platonic affection in his words. “Thanks, Matt.” She liked that he never tried to make things weird. It was always just easy with him, no strings attached.

“You’re gonna kill it,” he added, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tell him I said hey, though.”

She gave him a thumbs up, her heart lightened by his words. His support was always comforting. It was simple. No pressure.

But as she reached the door, ready to leave, she couldn’t help but notice that Chris wasn’t around. She hadn’t seen him at all, not since breakfast, really—only heard the faint hum of music from his room a few times, the silence between them unspoken but heavy. She tried not to think about it, but as she looked over the room once more, she realised he was still nowhere to be found.

Her chest tightened just slightly, but she shook it off. No time for that now.

With a deep breath, she turned back to the front door and pulled on her jacket. It was time to go. She didn’t look back.

The house was quieter now, with the soft hum of the evening setting in. Matt was still lounging on the couch, flicking through something on his phone. He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, and his gaze shifted to the hallway just as Chris appeared from his room.

Chris was wearing a relaxed look, his hair a bit messier than usual, clearly just having pulled himself out of his space after being holed up for most of the day. He paused in the doorway, looking around before his eyes landed on Matt.

“Has she left yet?” Chris asked, his tone careful but tinged with something Matt couldn’t quite place. It was almost like he’d been waiting for the answer, his fingers tapping on his jeans nervously.

Matt glanced up from his phone, taking a beat before nodding. “Yeah, just left a few minutes ago.”

Chris stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening ever so subtly. There was a moment of silence, and Matt noticed the way his younger brother’s gaze shifted downward, as if weighing something he wasn’t ready to say. His lips parted, like he was going to ask something else, but then he closed them again, a deep breath escaping him.

Without saying another word, Chris took a step toward the stairs, his movements slow and deliberate. He hesitated at the base of the stairs for a second, then turned, walking past Matt with his head slightly down.

Matt watched him go, furrowing his brow, something in the air now feeling just a little heavier. Chris didn’t look back, heading straight up toward Nick’s room, his footsteps steady but lacking the usual confidence he carried with him.

“I swear, man, I can’t fucking sleep. Not at all.” Chris’s voice was tight with agitation as he ran a hand over his face. “It’s like something’s just… missing. My brain just won’t turn off.”

Nick, who had been scrolling on his phone, looked up at him with a sharp look, setting the phone aside. “Yeah, I wonder what’s keeping you up, Chris. Could it be the fact that you’ve been pushing someone away for the last couple of days?”

Chris froze, a flash of annoyance flickering across his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nick’s voice was low and steady, but the frustration was there, raw beneath the surface. “You’ve been messing with her head, man. And you’re not even realising it.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “What are you trying to say?”

Nick pushed off the bed and stood up, his stance more confrontational now, stepping closer to Chris. “You’re pushing her away, and I don’t think you even realise how much it’s affecting her. You know she’s had a thing for you for a long time, right?” Nick’s words were like a punch to the gut for Chris. “And now, she doesn’t know what the hell you want from her.”

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but Nick wasn’t done. “You’ve been hot and cold with her. One minute, you’re all over her, next minute, you’re ghosting her. She’s confused as hell. Heck, Matt and I are confused as hell.”

Chris’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to hear this. He wasn’t ready to confront it. “I’m not doing anything to hurt her,” he muttered, more to himself than to Nick.

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not trying to hurt her, but you are. You can’t keep doing this to her, man. She’s been nothing but there for you, and you’re just gonna keep running hot and cold on her like it’s nothing?”

Chris’s frustration built, and his tone turned sharper. “It’s not like that, Nick. I just—” He faltered, unable to finish the sentence. He didn’t have an answer.

Nick wasn’t backing down. “Then what the hell is it? Do you like her or not?” His voice was louder now, his frustration spilling over. “Because, from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re stringing her along.”

Chris’s pulse quickened, his breathing coming in short bursts. The words were hanging in the air, and he didn’t know how to answer. The truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he felt. He hadn’t let himself think about it. But now, with Nick pushing him like this, it was all too much.

“I don’t know!” Chris snapped, the words coming out harsher than he meant. “I haven’t thought about it. Not properly. I don’t know what I want, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair again, pacing the room like he was trying to escape the pressure building inside him.

Nick was unrelenting, his voice low but sharp. “Well, you better figure it out, Chris. You’re both just tiptoeing around something, and it’s not fair to her. It’s not fair to either of you.”

Chris finally stopped pacing, looking at Nick with a mixture of frustration and guilt in his eyes. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Nick that he didn’t mean to mess things up, but the words wouldn’t come. The guilt in his chest was too heavy, and he knew Nick was right. He was confusing her.

“I’m not trying to hurt her, alright? I don’t even know what’s going on with me right now,” Chris muttered, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “I care. About her, I do. Really. But I can’t just... I don’t know how to fix this.”

Nick sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “You’ve already hurt her, Chris. Do you want to keep doing it? Keep messing with her head, or do you want to figure it out before it gets even worse?”

Chris paced slowly, trying to distract himself with anything, getting a soda, checking his phone, anything that would stop his mind from spinning. But it was no use. All he could think about was her.

As he opened the fridge, the front door creaked open, and he froze for a moment. He knew she was back.

He grabbed the pepsi without even thinking about it and turned, casually leaning against the counter. His eyes landed on her almost immediately as she walked in, looking effortlessly stunning despite the exhaustion in her eyes. She was still wearing the outfit she’d worn for her date, and the glow of happiness she carried with her made his chest ache.

He couldn’t stop staring at her.

She was smiling, genuinely smiling, the kind of smile that didn’t belong to someone who’d just had an awkward, disappointing evening. She looked happy, and it made him feel something sharp. Something that didn’t make sense. He didn’t like it.

She walked past him, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair. She was humming softly to herself, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside him.

“How was it?” Chris blurted out, almost without thinking, his voice low but with an edge to it.

Her smile faltered for just a second before she answered. “It was alright. He was nice,” she said, taking her shoes off as she leant against the dining table. “He paid for the date, said he wouldn’t mind seeing me again.”

Chris stood there frozen, his fingers tightening around the bottle. He didn’t know why her words made him feel this way, jealous, frustrated, irritated, but it did. She wasn’t his, she could date whoever she wanted, but hearing that made something twist inside him.

She caught the briefest flicker of something in his eyes, a weird mix of discomfort and something else… maybe… jealousy? But it was gone before she could fully process it.

There was a long silence. Neither of them seemed to know what to say.

He was the first to break it. “Are you gonna sleep on the couch again?” His voice was low, too soft, and when he asked, it sounded like something he didn’t want to ask at all.

She nodded, biting her lip slightly. “Yeah… I’ll just shower and then probably pass out.”

His chest tightened at the thought of her sleeping on the couch, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He set the pepsi down with a soft thud, the frustration he had been holding in all day finally spilling out.

“Please,” he began, his tone almost pleading as he walked towards her. “Can we just go back to the way it was between us? I can’t... I can’t do this. I can’t sleep without you around, especially not when my bed still smells like you. I need you.”

Her eyes flashed at his words, and for a moment, she stayed silent. She hadn’t expected him to say that, but hearing it made her feel a mix of frustration and confusion.

“You’re being unfair, Chris,” she finally said, her voice sharp as her anger started to rise. “You’re taking advantage of the fact that I care about you, and I’m sick of it. You’re pulling me in one moment and pushing me away the next. You don’t do that to someone you care about. You don’t do that to your friend. And all this time, you’ve been acting like it’s nothing, like you don’t care how much you’re messing with my head.”

She was getting louder now, her words tumbling out in an angry rant.

“You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t see the way you act like I’m just supposed to keep waiting around for you to figure out your shit? It’s exhausting!” She stepped back, pacing slightly, her frustration boiling over. “If you can’t man up and ask me out, or just tell me how you feel, then I’m done. I’m going to shower, and then I’m going to sleep. On the couch. By myself. And you can figure out what the hell you want. By yourself.”

The silence that followed was thick. Chris was staring at her now, wide-eyed, shocked by her words. But there was something else in his gaze, something that told her he knew she was right.

“Please,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper now, his tone softer. “I didn’t mean to hurt you... I just…”

But she shook her head, cutting him off. “You’re not hearing me, Chris. You have to figure it out. Because I’m not going to keep doing this, okay?”

She walked away without another word, her shoulders stiff, her eyes resolutely forward.

Chris stood there for a long moment, his chest aching with something he couldn’t quite place. Regret, maybe, or guilt. 

He couldn’t let her walk away. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this. The intensity of the situation was too much, the longing too real. And before he could even think about it, he was pulling her back towards him, his lips crashing against hers.

She gasped in surprise at first, but her body reacted almost instinctively,her lips parting slightly, her hands gripping his shirt. She moaned into the kiss, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet house.

He pulled her closer, his hands slipping around her waist, and before they knew it, they were walking together, still tangled in each other’s arms, down the stairs towards his room. She stumbled slightly as her feet were lost in the rush, and he caught her effortlessly, guiding her backwards through the door and onto the bed. She fell onto it with a soft thud, and he was on top of her, kissing her with a desperation that mirrored his own.

It was all so overwhelming, everything that had built up between them, all the confusion, all the pain and frustration. And for the first time, Chris felt like it was finally real, finally happening.

But at some point, the kiss slowed, the urgency giving way to something softer. Their breaths mingled in the quiet of the room, and Chris pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his heart pounding in his chest.

There was a long silence between them, thick with unspoken words. Chris’s fingers lightly brushed over her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as he gazed at her, searching her face as if trying to find the right words.

"I don't know how to say this," he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “But I think I’ve liked you for so long. I didn’t even realize it at first, but I know now. I know it’s been obvious, and I know I’ve been an idiot for pretending it wasn’t. But I can’t keep pretending anymore. Not with you. Not with the way you make me feel."

Her heart thudded in her chest, and for a moment, she couldn’t say anything. She simply stared up at him, still processing the weight of his confession.

He took a deep breath, sitting up slightly to adjust his position, still looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the room.

“I didn’t know what to do with all of this, okay?” he continued, his words tumbling out faster now, as if he’d been holding them back for far too long. “I’ve been running away from it, pushing you away, and then I got confused because I didn’t know if you felt the same. And the thing is,” He paused, his eyes softening. “The thing is, I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t want to mess with your head. But I’m so scared of being vulnerable. So scared of screwing this up. But now… now I know that I’m not scared of you. I’m just scared of losing you.”

His voice broke a little on the last word, and for the first time, she saw the depth of the uncertainty in his eyes. He was just as scared as she was.

"I... I can't sleep without you," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I was serious when I said you’re like my melatonin. You’ve been in my head, all the time, and I keep pretending like it’s nothing, like it’s fine, but it’s not. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t pretend like I’m okay when I’m not. I need you."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with truth. He reached for her hand, gently taking it in his. "I care about you. I care about you so much, and I don’t want to mess this up anymore. I just... I want you to know that. I want you to know how much you mean to me."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, she didn’t know what to say. Everything he’d said was so much, so real, and it was more than she'd expected him to admit. Her heart swelled with everything he had said, and for the first time, she felt like they were on the same page. 

She leaned up, pressing her lips to his, softly this time, as if sealing the promise he had just made.

She sighed, a small, almost sad smile playing on her lips before she leaned up and kissed him once more—lightly this time, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of both forgiveness and longing.

Pulling away, she stood, brushing herself off. "I need to shower," she said, her voice quieter now.

Chris immediately pouted, the playful expression softening his features. “You can’t just leave me like this,” he muttered, reaching for her hand, his thumb brushing over her skin.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I’m not leaving, just going to shower.”

He tugged her closer before she could escape, kissing her again—softer this time, tender. “Please... let me shower with you. I just want to be with you, okay?”

She paused, unsure, her heart still trying to catch up to everything. But there was something about the sincerity in his eyes that made her nod. “Okay, but only if you promise to be gentle. No funny business.”

His face lit up with a grin, and he pulled her towards the bathroom, his hands on her waist. Once inside, he turned the shower on, the warm water hissing as it began to pour down. They stood there for a moment, both of them still catching their breath, before Chris gently ran his fingers through her hair.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Let me wash your hair,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. He was so careful with her, as if handling something fragile, every movement soft and deliberate. As he massaged the shampoo into her hair, the tension slowly drained from her body, replaced by warmth and the gentle intimacy of the moment.

The water cascaded down their skin, but it was more than just the warmth of the shower—it was the feeling of being with him in a way she hadn’t let herself be before. They weren’t just two people in a messy situation anymore. They were together, and somehow, that felt like everything.

Chris’s hands continued their soft motions, fingers running down her arms, her back, every touch carrying a tenderness she hadn’t expected from him.

As she closed her eyes, leaning into him, she allowed herself to fully feel this moment. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right. Even with all the mess and the confusion, this felt real.

The quiet hum of the night surrounded them, only the soft sound of their breathing filling the space between them. After everything, after the confessions, the uncertainty, the words they’d finally spoken, it felt like nothing else mattered. Sleep was calling to them.

Chris gently pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as they both settled into the bed. There was no more confusion now, no more second-guessing. Just the peaceful, steady rhythm of their hearts beating in sync. It wasn’t about rushing or rushing through anything. It wasn’t about labels, or anything they weren’t ready for. It was about being there, together, in that moment, with nothing but the comfort of each other’s presence.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer, and she nestled her head on his chest, the warmth of his body providing a sense of calm she hadn’t realised she’d been craving. They both let the silence wash over them, the weight of the day melting away. There were no more questions, no more what-ifs.

It was the kind of intimacy that didn’t demand anything more than just being—being present in each other’s arms, feeling the steady beat of their hearts, and letting the world outside slip into oblivion.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed the top of her head softly, whispering something she couldn’t quite make out, but she didn’t need to hear it. The comfort of him was enough.

She fell asleep with the faintest smile on her face, and Chris stayed awake a little longer, his mind swimming with everything that had happened. With everything that was still unfolding. He had never been more sure of anything in his life. When he finally did fall asleep, it was on his own terms, smooth and steady, comfortable.

No melatonin needed.

thank you to rose for the dividers!! much love, @bernardsbendystraws <3

a/n: this is for gabs :>> i hope ur sleep schedule improves!! SPEAKING OF WHICH, i need to go tf to sleep.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @hazedsturns @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss @throatgoat4u @shadowthesim237 @emely9274 @sturnberries @bluestriips @lovergirl4gracieabrams @chrisslut04 @tezzzzzzzz @strnilolover comment to be added!

till next time <3

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter nine - final

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 3.7k

Chris had never bought a girl flowers before, so he was anything but confident when he walked into the local flower shop not far from his home, finally building up the courage to ask the girl he had fallen head over heels with on a date. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he hung on every word she said, wanting to make her feel valued and heard when she spoke. He couldn’t imagine finding any girl prettier than her, it was impossible in his head.

When he finally picked out a bouquet, he paid happily with his allowance money that he’d saved for a couple of months now, wanting it to be the most beautiful bouquet she’s ever received. It made him giddy, knowing he was finally going to get an answer as to if she felt the same.

He kept the flowers hidden in his locker for the day, waiting until the end of the day to finally tell his dream girl how he felt. His nerves almost got the best of him, but he told himself it was now or never. He had to make his move.

But he couldn’t find her. Anywhere. He had looked in every room she could possibly be in, he had looked out front, he had even asked a girl to check the bathroom for him to see if she was hiding out with some friends. But it was to no avail.

Finally, as a last ditch effort, he decided to check the fields, see if she was hanging around waiting for football practice to start. She was so social and knew at least one person in every sport, so she loved to show support any time she could. He loved how supportive she was of her friends and their interests, even if she didn’t care for it herself, she was always around to let her friends know she had their back. She was so kind.

He was about to give up, for real this time, maybe just bring the flowers to her house later in the day, when he saw movement under the bleachers, and without thinking anything of it he peeked under, feeling like his heart audibly shattered in his ears when his eyes landed on you locking lips with some asshole jock that could never treat you right.

He couldn’t believe it. He was too late. He had missed his chance with you, and now he was just a fool standing around with a bouquet of flowers for nobody.

He quickly turned and started walking away, knowing he needed to get home as quickly as possible. His heart was broken, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

When he finally arrived home after walking by himself, he looked for the only woman he knew would never break his heart, finding his mom in the kitchen starting to cook dinner. He walked up to her and handed her the flowers, smiling sadly up at her.

She grinned wide, not seeing how sad her son was in the moment, eyes locked on the beautiful arrangement of flowers in front of her. “Wow!” She exclaimed. “What’s this for, baby?”

Chris handed them off to her before wrapping his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. “You deserve it, mama.”

He has never and will never let his mom know how much that hug meant to him, and the tear that slipped out and landed on her shirt will always be his secret.

-

If having to love you in silence was suffering enough, loving you loudly and losing you was a million times worse.

Some moments he thought it might be easier to just run away from his life and start over, but nothing would rid him of the thought of you.

When he found himself at the flower shop, he couldn’t help but feel like the fifteen year old version of himself, pining over a girl he’d never get to call his own, desperately trying to win her over with a few words and a bouquet of flowers.

But he wasn’t going to let you slip so easily this time. This time he was willing to put up the fight.

-

Days had passed of Chris trying to contact you any way he could. Texts, calls, FaceTimes all ringing through your phone at almost every hour of the day, all going completely ignored by you, not having the energy to text him back, not wanting to open that wound just yet.

You knew you’d have to talk to him eventually, you couldn’t ignore him forever.

Matt had texted as well, trying to make sure you were okay, wanting to see if you needed anything, but you didn’t want to talk to him either. He had remained neutral through everything, but he was still too close to Chris for comfort right now.

You had spent the last few days cooped up in your apartment, either sleeping on your couch or your bed, not having the energy to do anything, barely even eating. You weren’t even hungry and couldn’t be bothered to make food that you wouldn’t even want to eat anyway, so you just rotted away with your thoughts, asking yourself over and over how you were so stupid to believe someone like Chris.

So many questions flowed through your head over those days. Why would he tell you he didn’t want to talk to her anymore? Why would he confess to you just to keep seeing other people? Why would he damn near tell you he loves you just to ruin everything?

Part of you hated Nick for ruining everything but another part of you was grateful to him for pulling the cover from your eyes, literally. If it wasn’t for him, you’d still be with Chris, sneaking around his brothers while the whole time he was sneaking around you.

You knew it was awful for you to do, but the first night when you got home, you found this Maya girl on instagram, scrolling through endless photos of a girl who you thought was so much prettier than you you almost couldn’t be mad at Chris for not being able to let her go. Of course he’d choose her, she was perfect. They still followed each other, too. Even after all of this, after you had found out, he still followed her. Maybe you were looking into this too deeply, but in your brokenhearted mind it all made sense.

Your phone rang again from where it was next to you on the couch, Chris’s name and a selfie you guys had taken together lighting up the screen. Every time you saw that picture your heart tightened in your chest. You both looked so happy, smiling wide like there was no place you’d rather be. You had no idea how things went so bad so quickly. Part of you wishes you could’ve lived in ignorance forever, never to find out the truth about Chris’s antics. You would’ve been so much happier.

“Stop tickling me, I want to take a picture!” You squeal at Chris, body curling away from him as his fingertips attacked your sides, something he couldn’t stop doing now that he knew you were ticklish, wanting to hear your loud giggles for the rest of his life.

“No pictures!” He opposes, but stops tickling you, pulling your body close to his where he stood.

You guys were out on what you guess you could call a date, exploring parts of the city you hadn’t seen before, popping into small gift shops occasionally, grabbing ice cream and little snacks you had come across throughout the day. You both had just left dinner and were just walking around now, you taking photos of whatever caught your eye, but now you wanted a photo of the two of you for your contact photo and just for the memory as well. You didn’t have many photos together yet, but you loved looking through the few that you had when you were alone, most of them either goofy photos of Chris or photos of him with the biggest smile in the world, lighting up your face every time you saw them.

“Please! Just one, I swear.” You beg him. He had his arms wrapped you from behind and his chin on your shoulder where he groaned loudly, which you giggled at, knowing he was about to agree.

“One,” he tells you and you squeal, bringing your phone up in front of you guys.

“Smile!” You tell him and he obliges, both of you smiling as wide as you can, him with his eyes clenched shut. You couldn’t help it, you snapped a few, continuing to take pictures when he turned his head into your neck and peppered kisses there before he turned back to the camera and flipped it off with a deadpan look on his face, making you laugh loudly as you put your phone away.

The memory fades from your mind as the call goes to voicemail, the fourth one today.

You couldn’t help but miss Chris, miss the way he made you feel. You didn’t understand how things turned bad so quickly when they were so good, good to the point where you thought for sure you had locked him down.

You groan to yourself, rubbing your eyes harshly, noticing the tears flowing intermittently from them. “Fuck,” you huff, annoyed at yourself.

You throw your lap blanket off of you and stand up from the couch, walking to your bathroom to wash your face, wanting to rid yourself of the days and days of tears, deciding it’s time to get over yourself and get back to life, not wanting to sit around and wallow over this boy who clearly didn’t care about you in the first place.

You’re just stepping into the bathroom when your doorbell rings, startling you. You whip your head around to the sound, heart racing. There was only one person that could be. He hadn’t tried coming to your home yet, only trying to contact you via phone, so you were unsure how you would get out of this. There was no way you could pretend you weren’t home, your car was right outside.

You wipe your face with your hands and walk to the door, standing directly in front of it. “Go away,” you say sternly, crossing your arms.

“Please let me in,” Chris pleads from the other side of the door.

“No,” you reply. “Go home.”

You hear Chris sigh loudly, then a small crinkle. “I’m already here, just let me explain, please. It’s not what you think.”

You debate it for a moment, wondering if you need the closure, but knowing you’re not ready yet. “Chris, leave. I don’t want to see you. Go bother your other fucking girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That’s the first time you’ve even slightly referred to yourself as his girlfriend, and the circumstances of it almost made you laugh.

Chris is silent for a few beats, thinking of what to say next before he speaks again. “Let me in and let me explain and if by the end of it you never want to talk to me again I’ll respect that and leave you alone. I just can’t handle you thinking I would hurt you like that when I never would. Please.”

You consider it. If he’s serious and he would leave you alone, it might be worth it. Plus, you would get an explanation as to why he thought you’d never find out, why he thought you were the perfect person to hurt so badly.

You remain silent as you unlock the door, peeling it open slowly to reveal a disheveled Chris staring back at you. His hair was in his face, his face unshaven since you left, eyes red and puffy. Your eyes trail down to where he’s holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, wondering how on earth he knew what they were.

He holds them out to you and you just look back up at him, turning around and heading back in, going back to your couch and flopping down, waiting for him to reach you.

You hear the door shut and shoes being taken off before you see him again where he’s walking through your living room, placing the flowers down gently on the coffee table before he sits next to you, taking a deep breath.

“Is there anything you want to know specifically?” He asks you, to which you scoff out a laugh at, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I’d love to know why you played the fuck out of me while the whole time you were fucking somebody else behind my back. I’d love to know how you even had the fucking time when I was sleeping over almost every night, and the days I wasn’t there, you were here.” You snap at him, voice quivering as you speak. You couldn’t help it, you were sad and confused and the confrontation only made it worse. “You made me look like a fucking idiot not only to myself but in front of your brothers, too, and that is so fucking mean, Chris. I should’ve known it wasn’t all an act, you really are a fucking dick to me. There’s no way you could’ve treated me like that for the last however many years and it not be real.”

Chris sucks in a breath at the insult, your words feeling like a dagger to his heart. “It’s not true,” he croaks out. “Nick was wrong, he didn’t know what he was talking about.”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “You got caught, Chris, and now you’re trying to pick up the pieces. It’s over.”

Chris felt lightheaded, that sentence echoing loudly in his head. It’s over. It couldn’t be over, you guys still have so much more life to live together.

“No,” he starts, scooting closer. “No, no, you said you’d hear me out so hear me out. You’ve got this all wrong, Nick was wrong. I wasn’t seeing anybody but you, I wasn’t sleeping with anybody but you, you’re it for me, you’re my dream girl, please believe me.” Chris was full on pleading now, his own eyes welling with tears as he spoke. “I cannot lose you, you don’t understand how deep this runs for me. I’ll let you go through my phone, my texts, my instagram, fucking anything just to prove to you.”

You have to tear your eyes away from the begging boy beside you, afraid you’ll give in too easily if you stare him in the face. “Say whatever you want to say and then get out of my house.” You tell him, voice monotone.

Chris releases a shaky breath, knowing this is the only chance he’ll get. “Okay. I guess I’ll just tell you what I think you should know. I would never hurt you like that, I would never risk losing you for something so stupid like a date or sex. I’ve been thinking about you being mine for so long that even I wouldn’t be so dumb, I swear to you. The date Nick was talking about was a business meeting for my brand, he just assumed because he saw I was out to dinner and didn’t know where I was. I told you about that dinner, I literally left your place to go there. I already talked to him about it and he feels really bad for making you think that I was on a date. And the girl? Maya? I haven’t talked to her since before the wedding, she hasn’t even texted me, and I‘ll show you my phone, we haven’t talked. But I kept leaving and not coming back for hours or coming home with hickeys and they kept noticing so I had to tell them I was somewhere and I just said I was seeing her because you still wanted this to be between us.” Chris finally pauses and looks at you with a soft expression, hoping you would believe him. You didn’t speak though, staying still where you sat with your hands in your lap. “I could never live with myself if I lost you in such a stupid way.”

Your lip quivered and you dropped your eyes down to your hands, not wanting to cry again for the umpteenth time, especially in front of Chris, but the wave that hit you made it inevitable, a small, choked sob leaving your lips. “Why wouldn’t you say anything right then?” You ask him brokenly.

Chris scoots closer and places a hand on your thigh, other hand reaching for your cheek to pull your face up to his. “I was stunned in the moment, it all happened so fast. I didn’t even process anything until I had Nick damn near in a chokehold and Matt was trying to calm me down. He told me to give you space and that you needed time away so neither of us said something we don’t mean.”

You turn to face Chris, tears flowing freely from your eyes now as he spoke, emotions taking over. “I was so sad, Chris. I still am. I’ve been sitting here wallowing in my feelings for fucking days just thinking about how badly this hurt and how hard I fell for you.”

Chris’s thumb brushes over your cheek, listening to your words intently. “I know, baby, I know and I’m so sorry. I really am. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Why would you even think of bringing her up? Why did she even come to your mind when they asked you where you were? You could’ve just said you were with a girl but the fact that you told them you were with her is like… a punch to the face.” You tell him sadly, wiping your tears frustratedly. “Is she still on your mind?”

Chris immediately shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, absolutely not. She’s just.. sorry, she’s the last person I slept with and they knew about her so it was the easiest thing so they didn’t ask questions. She’s definitely not on my mind.”

You think over his words, still feeling apprehensive about it all, but wanting nothing more than to believe him. “I just don’t understand why you let me leave under the impression that you were seeing somebody else, Chris. It just makes me think you took these days to think of a good enough lie before coming here.”

Chris sighs, shoulders dropping in defeat. “I told you, I just panicked. I swear on everything, I swear on my brothers, baby, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

You finally allow yourself to take in Chris’s disheveled appearance, realizing he looked just as bad as you did. He looked miserable.

“It’s gonna take a lot for me to fully trust you again but… I want to believe you so bad. So I do.” You tell him quietly. You’ve never seen such relief on Chris’s face before this moment, the way his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips curled, a breath of relief falling from his mouth.

“Thank you,” he says, reaching both hands out towards you in the hopes you’d close the gap between you both. “I’ll earn your trust back, I promise.”

You sniffle and nod, scooting closer so that you could swing your legs over his lap, resting your head on his shoulder. The room is quiet for a few moments, Chris gently rubbing your thigh with one hand while he held you close with the other, before you clear your throat gently. “How’d you know my favorite flowers?” You ask timidly.

Chris looks down at you, sucking in a deep breath. He knew this was the moment where he told you how he really felt and how deep it actually ran.

“You and Matt had a conversation a couple years ago and you guys were talking about flowers and you said these were your favorite, so I remembered in the hopes of getting to buy you them some day,” Chris starts out. “I don’t know if you remember when we went on that date and you yelled at me saying I didn’t know anything about you?”

You nod against his shoulder, prompting him to continue.

“I always made plans on your birthday because I thought you wouldn’t want me around. I always made sure I was busy, just so I didn’t have to deal with the disappointment of not being invited somewhere. I’ve always known when it is.” He sighs nervously, swallowing before continuing. “There’s a canvas in my room and it’s just all different shades of the same color; I’ve had it for about a year. I painted it after you posted this one photo to your instagram, the one where you have no makeup on and you’re facing the sun. I thought your eyes looked so pretty in that picture and I couldn’t tell you, so I painted them instead. Baby, I have been painfully in love with you for years and I’m not about to lose you over some stupid shit my brother said.”

You were blown away by his words, not even being able to comprehend someone being so head over heels for you that they’d do these things for you and suffer in silence, all because he thought your feelings towards him were nothing but negative. How would you possibly be able to stay away from him ever again, knowing what you know now?

You didn’t think you wanted to.

Chris slid you off his lap and sat you facing forward on the couch, moving to get on his knees in front of you, hands grabbing your own and holding them close to his chest. “I love you,” he tells you, not a shadow of a doubt in his voice. “I want to do this. For real.”

You stared down at the man in front of you, broken at the thought of losing you, but fulfilled at the thought of calling you his. It seemed like a no brainer.

“I guess I could suffer through being your girlfriend a little bit longer,” you tease, a smile lighting up your face.

Chris grinned with you, pushing himself up until your faces were aligned, lips molding together like you were made for each other.

Turns out your love wasn’t all smoke and mirrors.

-

a/n: (‘:

my babies are finally together

i’m so happy this is over!

thanks so much for all the love <3

feel free to send requests based on these characters or requests for new fics I love u guys so much always

- avery

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @chrisslollipop @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @pvssychicken @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @afilmbykay @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @r0s3luvr @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @sturnburbs @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @victoryouactuallydidthis @seluky10 @annsx03 @ouchywow @sluttybitchformattsturniolo

[sunboki]

⎯ COUNTDOWN TO LOVE. a Christopher Bahng fiction

🎁 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. countdown to christmas, best friends to lovers! au, pining, non-idol! au, comfort, worry of unrequited feelings, slight angst, fluff, cuteness overload

WORD COUNT. 6.5k ☆ 34 minute read

WARNINGS. swearing(??), mentions of a dick(?), insecurity, usage of terms of endearment, mentions of inferiority, mention of vomit, reader is said to wear makeup on an occasion

AUG'S NOTES. this was a very soft and sweet opposition to Christmas Blues last year which, notably, was remarkably “blue” in nature. in the midst of writing i found myself worried this new approach to lighter, best-friend-to-lovers feelings would be too plain—but i had to remind myself this isn’t enemies to lovers, nor is it nearly as angsty as Christmas Blues!! though i hope their feelings can be both established and understood well, so thank you for sticking with me this far :) i hope this fuzzy piece keeps your heart warm during this cold winter<3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. It had always been natural between you and Chris. Knowing someone for almost ten years comes with that. And yet, when he confesses that he doesn’t want to keep up this cycle but pursue you one winter, you’re hesitant in thinking it will work out. Then again, you’ve never been one to deny him.

or alternatively :

Five days till Christmas, five dates to see if you feel the same.

December 20th.

“Move your arm.”

Sunday morning sunlight streams through barely cracked blinds, making your brows crinkle at the onslaught of brightness in distaste. That, along with occupying a mattress with none other than Chris Bahng.

A weekly occurrence at this rate, if not daily. And no, whatever earlier assumption about you two sharing a bed is wrong.

Totally.

Oh, he’s also pitiful to boot, evident with the loud whine heard in response as he rolls over—messy curls unruly upon just awakening. 

And.. somehow beautiful, with those big brown eyes and lips the color of burnt russet parting with a highly exaggerated yawn.

But pitiful most of all. 

“‘S warm—“ Chris groans out, inch-worming his way to wrap big arms around your form, beckoning you snuggled against his back with a content sigh.

“Too warm,” You scowl, squirming about in his grasp, disagreeable sorts of sounds leaving tight lips. Chris simply giggles.

“Say,” He begins, weighing his chin upon your shoulder, fingertips slipping beneath your shirt to feel your skin, tracing the lines of your abdomen, rising to rest on your belly. 

A surprising lover of skin-to-skin, he is.

“What if we became something more?”

When you know someone long enough, an established sense of normalcy alternative to everybody else appears, whether that’s the plentiful times you’d heard Chris squeal like a girl after walking in on him in his boxers, or the not-so pretty nights out where he’d hold back your hair while you threw up in the bathroom a bar whose name you can’t recall.

But then again, it’s always been just that.

Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t demand anything from you, didn't judge you. Listening with an attentive ear those days you would cry on the phone, and bring you a donut before morning classes after passing an exam.

The small things.

So it makes you wonder when you started seeing him differently. And if he felt that same way too.

A slow progression of love, like a river in its path of eroding canyons over thousands of years. Familiar, comforting. Done without a second thought like muscle memory. His fingers curling against yours in busied atmospheres, the look you both give each other when a certain song comes on.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

With your face peering over his monitor, wide eyes he adores peek at him from an upside down angle. 

Cute, he thinks, tapping your nose with a chilled index.

Chris always keeps it cold in his apartment, partially because he remembers you’d told him you sleep better that way, partially because he loves to hear you complain about it in the morning.

As for the big question popped earlier today, he chooses to wait patiently per your request (after staring at him like he’d grown an extra pair of eyes then proceeding to smack his arm before realizing he was serious).

So, yes, you’re thinking.

And it scares Chris more than he’d like to admit. 

He knows the risks, the “let’s try this” somehow turning into an ugly breakup and never speaking again.

And he can’t afford that when it comes to you, because you’ve become the most important person in his life without even noticing it.

Even if his love is one sided. Unrequited. 

He’d be okay as long as he has you.

Just the thought makes him anxious, makes the clicking of his mouse arranging the tempo to become erratic in pace, head-dizzying.

“Chris?”

Until your voice finds him, and the torrential waves of his ocean go back to their slow lapsing. Calming the waters as always, trademark to you.

“New track,” He offers, eyes flickering up to you with a meek smile emphasizing the charming dimples there.

Majoring in music comes with both perks and downfalls: hours spent studying and cramming terms down his throat whilst managing personal projects, and, of course, the fleeting satisfaction after passing an exam by a stroke of luck.

But he loves every moment of it, especially having you listen to some of his favorite productions. Some he’ll strum on a guitar amidst his arranged apartment shared with Changbin and Han—roommates you’d grown quite acquainted with—in the late evening, his heart likely beating out of his chest watching your sweet face nod along.

At the moment it’s him here alone, Han having already relocated back home for the holidays, Changbin at his part time job, working lighting and electrical work at a live-house.

“Can I listen?” 

Slow to nod, he beckons you closer with a wave of his hand, carefully placing headphones overtop your ears.

And yet, as your head bobs and face wrinkles up just like he does when hearing something catchy, he can’t help the grin on his face watching you.

You’re beautiful, and he’s too fond it might just be unhealthy.

It’s too easy to fall in love with you.

He has a feeling he’ll be thinking that a lot.

December 21st.

Enough. 

If there was an early New Year’s resolution, gaining a lack of hesitation would have to be on the top of the list.

Of course, that would ensue plenty of compromising situations if you did things impulsively considering the amount of times you’d wanted to kiss him, but, for the most part, it would work in a sensible manner.

“Five dates.” 

Last night you slept over (similar to most nights), clad in one of Chris’s old t-shirts and a pair of suspiciously clean basketball shorts for the gym-addicted man in question, Changbin, to offer you.

By the stove, Chris occupies himself with cooking eggs, lips puffed in a way downright dangerous to your “no hesitation” resolution and lack of t-shirt displaying a broad, muscled back adding to the list. 

Your tongue pokes against your cheek, arms crossed over your chest.

”Five dates.. mhm.. gotcha…” Each nod from the man assures you that, no, he doesn’t “gotcha”; his attention long since drawn to what lies in a sizzling pan and the low hum of “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz rumbling from the small radio on the corner of the kitchen island.

“Chris,” You grunt, brows lifting, resisting the urge to laugh when he glances over his shoulder with that sheepish expression, all-telling.

Or maybe that comes with the years. Unspoken gestures understood without fail.

”Sorry ‘bout that,” He murmurs, and you curse every aspect of your vision being a spectator to his trapezius rippling while dishing down two mugs from the cabinet. One that you bought him, the other purchased by Han.

The latter patterned with.. odd shaped bananas he’s sworn are not the shape of a dick.

But that’s a story for another time. 

Although, that’s the least of the oddities. Between the Danny Devito cheeto ornament(how they got their hands on it you couldn’t guess) added to their tiny Christmas tree and the rug in the bathroom with old stains no one talks about, you’ve decided to turn a blind eye for the sake of learning things you don’t want to remember. 

“What do you think if.. y’know, before we try something new,”

You pause, scorning the sly smile on his face when turning to face you, long fingers quelling the stove’s flame momentarily.

He thinks you’re the most darling thing he’s laid eyes on, and you think he’s going to laugh at you.

”We go on five dates. And after those five dates, I’ll make up my mind.”

”Is this a part of your “thinking”?”

Jerk. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

Gnawing at your bottom lip, your face pinches.

“Yes.” The words are quiet, too hushed for your liking.

Chris doesn’t make you quiet, he doesn’t make you shy. Yet, these days you find yourself falling back into a cycle of nervous, foreign feelings when speaking. As if he’s picking you apart piece for piece.

As if he hasn’t already read every page of the book named you over and over again.

But now the pages rewrite themselves, too many filled with the word “love” and “affection” and “more than friends” and—

“Can I kiss you after those dates?”

Jerk. For the second time.

”And if I say no?”

He lights a fire under your feet. Maybe it’s the heat causing blood to rush to your ears.

Chris lifts his mug. ”Indirect?”

You scoff, he giggles, squeaky in pitch just as it’s always been. Your cheeks warm.

Because in the midst of a once-normalcy, you can feel a storm brewing. It’s unclear if it’ll be a hurricane or a refreshing rain shower, and perhaps the unpredictably is supposed to be thrilling.

Or maybe it’s doomed, and the debris left after that hurricane will lay untouched, uncared for.

So it’s the feeling of his arms wrapping around you beckoning those thoughts out of reach, holding the doubt just high enough you don’t have to see.

Hear, listen, overthink. For now, all there is to fret about is Chris, and the warmth of his hug, pulling you infinitely close against heated skin.

Then does it register to you he’s always read your pages the same, and he would for as long as you’ll give him time to reread. If they change, they change together.

How foolish you forgot such a thing. As if he wasn’t your best friend first.

“Yes, you can.”

When those five dates are over, kiss me.

His nose buried into your shoulder, he murmurs a quiet “thank you”, a satisfied hum resounding from his chest, eyes crinkling up in the corners with a smile.

“Is that my shampoo?”

If anything, you feel as if you’ve been having dates over the years you’ve known Chris as he lists out ideas from a website on his phone. Except, yours weren’t touchy feel-y and certainly not regarded as “dates”, but simple things.

Dinners, falling asleep on his shoulder (something he remembers very well), baking together.

It’s a cold day, and after his hug that squeezed every fiber of sanity from your being, you now resorted to trying to figure out what that first date should consist of. 

The first of the five, pending.

“Ah,” Lips parting to exhale, you peer from the nearest window, watching hot breath fog up the glass whilst gazing out at vastly falling slow blanketing the ground a winter wonderland. A white abyss from your viewpoint.

“It’s snowing.” 

A chaste pause ensues.

“Might as well go out ‘n enjoy it, hm?” His voice, paired with a grin saturated in too much mischief for your liking resounds from over your shoulder.

Unable to react fast enough, Chris, sneaking up behind you without your knowledge, hoists you over his shoulder in seconds time—now (unfortunately) adorning a hoodie over his once bare torso.

Your shocked shriek rings about the apartment in reply.

“Out of the way! We’re goin’ outside!” Chris giggles victoriously, shouting to no one in particular as your fists beat at his back upon making for the door.

The faintest gust of frigid wind has goosebumps slithering up your skin—granting the man a cacophony of “No! Let me down!”’s he seems to soak up like praise.

Well, before relenting.

Because then again, who was he to deny you? To some degree it felt like every bone in his bone dragged him close to you, trailing after your footsteps like a lost puppy.

“One of these days,” Sighing heavily like that of an old man, a firm hand pats your thigh before you’re reluctantly flopped onto the couch, glaring up at him in a manner he deems too pretty to keep from smiling at. 

That same hand comes to hold your face, smushing up your cheeks and, in turn, earning plentiful laughter you simply huff towards. 

“Don’t pout—“ He whines, your heart rate spiking when another hand comes down towards your hair.

If there was any restraint of yours left, it would be relinquished instantly if he so much as touched your hair—

He flicks your forehead. And proceeds to slump down beside you.

“Oh you prick-“

His hand reaches to gently cover your mouth, bringing an index to rest on plush lips of his own. 

“No pouting, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Oh he’s going to get it. 

Playing you like a fiddle.

And damn does he do it well. 

.

.

.

Head tipping, your eyes flicker over his features—silently admiring such a side profile. With the perfect curve of his lips and hook of his nose, he could rival sculptures found in museums.

This was after trying to tackle him (to no avail, sadly) and curse his very existence (another fail). 

Then, the mediator came by in the form of a movie night and the small sheet of chocolate chip cookies warming in the oven, scent steaming the air with a mouthwatering aroma. 

Your first of five, initiated.

“Mm.. Don’t we have movie nights normally though?” The remark offered quietly, you shift closer to his body, pressing your right side to his, knees tucked beneath a blanket he’d arranged across either of your laps.

Love Actually plays on the screen ahead, but your focus couldn’t be deviating more.

Ever the attentive soul, Chris is equal in the shared admiration, honeyed irises fixed upon you in his peripheral prior to a careful finger lifting, looping a strand of hair behind your ear.

In turn, his gentle palm cups your jaw to tilt your head, sweeping an additionally stubborn hair from the other side of your face as well.

Your heart feels moments from bursting, and he looks at you as if you’re his whole world.

You are, but that was a matter unnoticed on your end.

It’s a quiet debate. Dangerous and fickle. Move too quickly and something might go wrong, hesitate and an opportunity may vanish to never be seen again. Do you kiss him? Is that how it works? Or is this a matter of “kissing on the first date”, treated like a taboo? 

More so, what happens next? After the kiss?

His eyes flicker upward to yours, lacking that boy-ish, charming smile he usually dons. Instead, he’s serious, calm. Then to your lips, like the melody of a slow song, flickering with the dips and pitches of the rhythm.

Leaning in, you can’t help but comply, and every thought within your mind numbs into nothingness—

Beeep!

A sharp, acrid stench makes your nose burn, face transforming into both realization and panic upon witnessing the tendrils of smoke curling from the oven.

“Shit!”

And after frantically racing to salvage what little remained of the cookies while Chris furiously fanned the smoke detector, your “date night” turned into a shared glance, laughter, and the both of you trudging to his bed for the night, leaving the remaining bit of Love Actually for another day.

So no, rest assured you didn’t kiss him on the first date.

Maybe tomorrow. 

December 22nd.

Y’know how Chris mentioned going out into the snow “one of these days?”.  

That day was today, apparently.  

“You don’t get it I’ll slip-“

“But you can hold onto me, yeah?” He laughs, squeaky still. Gloved hands find purchase on your hips, gently easing you forward where your back rests to his chest. His right hand shifts upward to rest against your spine, a feeling you have to swallow down wallowing in your stomach.

“Slow steps, I won’t let go.”

Don’t ever, you wish to say. Don’t ever let me go.

And not to keep me from slipping.

Maybe if you were ice skating or slow dancing this would be romantic, but the ugly, waddling manner you make down ice-coated stairs kills off any hope for swooning.

That is, until you do slip, and the man is a fraction too slow until you’re flat on your bum outside his apartment complex, heated from both annoyance and the knowledge far too many embarrassing pictures have been added to his camera roll just now.

In which.. a wonky, slightly-melting snowman comes to be not long afterward, neither of you willing to admit your creation is not “creative”, but horridly unsightly.

“I love it!”

Of course he does. Random pipes substituting as two arms and a carrot nose while Han’s fedora from 2016 awkwardly sits atop a head disproportionate from its body.

Your second date ideas offered a galaxy of possibilities, but after awakening late and coffee’s failure to open your eyes further than half-lidded, you figured today would mimic yesterday as a day spent at home.

He’d get some assignments done in the evening, and you’d probably turn on another Christmas movie while waiting to finish Love Actually in his company later on.

“We should come up with a name,” Nodding proudly at the aforementioned abomination, you cross your arms across your chest, your partner in crime brainstorming in a seriousness practically comical to the situation at hand.

“Hm.. something happy! I mean, look at his face, it’s happy, isn’t it?”

Mind you, cold, visibly dead extra coat-buttons are what stares back at you as its “eyes”, and you easily nod in feigned agreement as he takes ceaseless pictures of the thing with obvious delight, likely to send to friends and family alike.

The bottom snowball is melting, and a pipe has already fallen off what was supposed to be its arm, but Chris is beaming, and you'd rather slice off your own tongue than keep him from enjoying this moment.

Happy. 

You feel as if you’d do anything in the world to see him smile.

.

.

.

“Eh? Who’s that?”

5pm, and you’ll probably have to pummel the door open in the morning thanks to the blizzard-like conditions outside.

Among plenty of assignments he told himself he’d fret over in the evening, an unfinished paper sits in front of Chris while his thumbs twiddle along the keyboard of his phone, your chin hooked to his shoulder to glance down at the device—a habit of yours he finds himself unreasonably fond of.

Changbin came home early from the live-house, with most events cancelled from the cold and too little work to be done, there was no need to keep workers around. Dinner beckoned conversation and knowing glances from the roommate whenever you and Chris spoke, earning a scolding scowl while he simply grinned innocently in reply.

It seemed your love was obvious to everyone but you two. How tragic.

Though, amidst photos of both your earlier wipeout (a matter you don’t mention) and snapshots of the snowman he’s currently trying to send while seated at his desk, a certain name within the text catches your attention:

Mister Sunshine.

Chris chuckles sheepishly, your brows lifting in silent inquisition.

“It’s.. the snowman’s name. I named him.” He murmurs, the back of his neck doused pink. A facet of his embarrassment.

He named the snowman Mister Sunshine.

That smile of his making an additional appearance lies responsible for an internal scream to ring throughout your body, deafening your brain despite an external silence.

And in that moment, your feelings become harder to ignore than ever.

December 23rd. 

“You should get all pretty today.”

Your attention, once drawn to the different kinds of cookie-cutter molds, flickers up to him when he speaks. 

As it always does, hanging onto his every word as if fearful there’d be a day you couldn’t. 

Quizzically does your head tip in confusion, spurring the heat blooming by the back of his neck all the way up to flushed ears.

He waves quick hands, having been eyeing through the assortment of donuts Changbin brought home last night after his “buy one get one free sale” turned into buying a dozen at the shop by the live-house. 

“I mean, ‘s not like you aren’t pretty every day, but- y’know- like—“

It feels cruel letting him futilely try explaining, but gosh is he too cute.

And hearing him call you pretty feels too good to end abruptly. 

It also makes you wonder what happened to the smug-grin-wearing, playful person he could become at times. The one so confident and sure, now rosy.

An alter-ego sounded too far-fetched most days, but as for today… fairly accurate.

“What I meant is,” Turning, Chris extends the mug of coffee your way, heated glass warming your palms as you take it.

A part to your shared daily occurrences, routine. 

“I want to take you out tonight. We can go window shopping, see decorations, yeah?”

Perhaps the steam of your cup is what warms your cheeks, and very quickly do you come to recall you’re the one making him wait. 

He was willing to go all in from the start. And then you feel even crueler.

“Okay, tell me when to start getting ready.”

But you nod and pretend, because maybe you’re good at staving down things you know will come up anyway.

He’d always chided your procrastination.

.

Too long have you spent burning holes in your mirror with each scrutinizing glare, and the longer you stare, the worse what’s reflected becomes.

Chris had sent a small text proposing a forty minute window before heading out, in which ensued your frantic scouring around your room for both an outfit and coordinating accessories. 

Sure, you may have known the guy since your ugliest years, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to spend some extra time on yourself, right?

Your third of five dates, and you should be bouncing up and down with cheerfulness, looking forward to “getting all pretty”, dolling up for an evening with your favorite person, your best friend. And, come recent days, your admitted love interest.

But you aren’t. You don’t feel cheerful, ecstatic.

And walking out to his awestruck form doesn’t feel revitalizing, and sure as hell far from a confidence boost.

“You look.. wow.” He gapes, drinking in every article of clothing, the way you’ve got the prettiest of ribbons in your hair a crimson red, your cute socks and warm sweater.

An angel, he wants to say. That, along with many things you’d slap him on the shoulder for speaking aloud.

Worst of all? He knows your tell-tale signs in and out. 

“Hey.”

His face seems to melt. Like crying, and it makes you want to cry. The sad, tiny crease of his brows, the puff of his bottom lip.

Worried.

“But, I mean,” Your voice chokes up, and you hate every bit of it, the emotions compiling to the surface—ones impossible to stave down.

You don’t feel nice. Putting on an outfit you both liked and thought you looked good in, fixing up your makeup, the little accessories to compliment certain colors, elements.

Yet, your heart still sunk when looking in the mirror, and now, looking at Chris, it feels like all that confidence is beginning to melt—salt sprinkled on the snow of the driveway.

Greater than that, it frustrates you. It isn’t his fault he’s attractive; beautiful, even, but every second by his side feels akin to a blazing inferiority, causing the already-chilled, flushed fingertips of yours to burn, your ears to grow unusually warm.

Like a child.

How irritating.

“Hey,”

His voice, like honey and pastries and all the bestest, warmest things when in need of comfort.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

The endearment isn’t teasing this time, not even in the slightest. It’s soft and delicate, an ornate vase constructed of glass, capable of breaking from a mere breath. 

Standing outside his apartment, snow dappling the sky in endless flurries, it’s only you two in the world.

Your lip wobbles, but Chris always catches you before you fall.

“I’m the man honored to walk around with you tonight, hm?” He starts, thumbing away bubbling tears from your cheeks.

“You look too pretty for these tears, ‘don’t want to mess up your makeup now do we?” He cracks a feeble smile, smoothing down your brows and adjusting your scarf with utmost care from his mitten-clad fingers.

“Ah,” His face lights up with recognition. “You added the glittery eyeshadow.”

You can’t help but crack a laugh. Pitifully croaked, but there no less.

First day of high school and you’d shown up with a downright awful amount of glittery eyeshadow, looking similar to a human-disco ball with the sheer amount alone.

Chris, ever the kind soul knowing you since birth, gave you a two thumbs up, a tight smile, and a “looks great!” that’s lived as one of your best inside jokes even now.

Luckily, this time around the amount is agreeable, just above your lashes and shimmering avidly beneath falling snow.

“I did,” You whisper softly, gaze fluttering down to your shoes before flickering back up to him. “And um.. is it true? That..”

Oh this is embarrassing.

“I look okay?”

Perhaps if he says it, tonight you can believe it’s true.

This time he breaks your heart, with such a heart-wrenching smile on his face.

“You always look beautiful, ‘doesn’t matter how much you think you’re not, you’ll never be able to change my mind. Now let me take you out, yeah? ‘Can grab some hot chocolate,” He ushers, winding your arm to link with his as you make forward, his black trench coat swaying with the click of dress shoes, chilly nose finding sanctuary in a ruby-red scarf wrapped around his shoulders.

Beneath the streetlights and dark skies, Chris could be a prince if he so wished.

That’s another thing you can believe is true tonight.

Curious eyes of awaiting children and scolding mothers litter the streets, tiny fingers pointing to toys through the glass, busied chatter and shared affection blooming within a once blue atmosphere, now dappled in ribbons of color.

The transition from monochrome, like shutters of an old camera capturing technicolor for the first time.

Or maybe Chris was the one responsible for each flourish of color, painting your world the prettiest of hues.

“Do you remember it?”

His voice, honeyed, accompanied by a plume of air in requite of a warm exhale evokes a skip to your step, catching your footing on the stone sidewalk with an awkward clearing to your throat.

“The things you used to want for Christmas?” He continues, and you chose to ignore the knowing smile on his face, gaze shifting upward in hopes of recollection, to no avail.

“Hm.. Do you?” Quietly offered, a change in attention grants you momentary escape from the spotlight.

Well, before it truly does become momentary.

He never has been embarrassed easily, you’d like to add. A matter speaking for itself in the way he automatically clings to your side in response, swaying back and forth whilst singing along to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” you didn’t realize was blaring through overhead speakers above passing until this moment.

Predictably, he earns the bemused grins of passerby and your face (as an individual who does in fact get embarrassed easily, to your own dismay) growing fifty shades of crimson.

“Yah! Quit!” Though your efforts are as futile as your voice and it’s involuntarily chortled-ness, you smack at his hand no less.

Of course, he persists.

Until the sharp turn to a small, annually appearing hot chocolate truck ceases your complaining and his singing in synonymous tandem.

An array of memories come washing across you with each gust of winter wind, and you can practically hear the manner of squeakiness his voice used to be, the foam from whipped-cream topped cocoa sitting atop his top lip like a mustache. You’d always laugh at that.

When you burnt your tongue one year after the beverage was too hot and he remained resilient in his belief you could and would taste Christmas dinner.

You did not, but it was worth a try. Also worth seeing his big, hopeful eyes peek up at you excitedly.

Back then he was always shorter than you, until that fateful day in High school he arrived with a far taller stature than the pipsqueak you knew of most days.

A lot has changed since then. In more ways than one.

Seems his memory remains as sharp as ever, evident in the gentle squeeze he gives your hand—his you hadn’t even noticed was held in your own up till now.

“Get some, hm? My treat.” He quickly urges, watching you pad forward like a child to admire the menu in adoration, waving to the old woman you’d known since a child, always manning her tiny miracle of a truck. 

He would keep the fact he’d looked up the hours the truck would be in town to himself. That, along with the tiny heart drawn on the side of the cardboard coffee sleeve you had yet to acknowledge, one he discovers is the old woman’s doing, her knowing smile matching his own when he looks up for silent clarification.

Encouragement. 

Go for it.

He feels his palms grow clammy, internally thankful you weren’t holding hands at the moment(which was enough of a heart-attack inducing experience in itself).

The trace of lipgloss on the rim of your cup, the batting of those precious eyes.

Worst is, you don’t even know what you do. The little things compiling into something downright torturous.

And when you look up at him for that split second, his breath catches. 

Ah. 

He wants to kiss you. 

From the scrunch of your nose when you begin to laugh to the snowflakes already dappling your lashes.

Because loving you is easy, and then it’s not. Over and over again. He’s afraid, but his mind is fuzzy and jumbled with feelings, and that small bit of melted marshmallow on your bottom lip he finds himself longing to taste. Lick up the sweetness and sink his teeth into the plush skin–

The tiniest drop of hot chocolate clings to your lips, and Chris wonders if you’d taste like it too.

December 24th.

“Hm?” His hum of confusion falls upon deaf ears, too preoccupied with a call from your mom to take note.

Something must’ve piqued his attention, though you’d have half the mind to guess what.

That is until hanging up, and curious brown eyes boring into your skull from afar transform into this itch you can’t ignore.

“Chris.”

Like an annoying older brother, he is sometimes.

Then there’s that sheepish sort of sound, the “i-got-caught” giggle testing your annoyed facade.

“Hey now,” He begins after a moment, pointing an incredulous finger your way like you’ve said something outrageous, looking like some perplexed old man whilst running a hand through his hair in an odd, cheap rendition of exasperation.

He looks more like he’s choking, but you give full points for effort. 

“You haven’t put up your tree or anything? What are you, the grinch?”

Oh, so that’s what this is about. 

For context, your conversation minutes prior with your mother consisted of the formalities: “How are you? Eating well? Sleeping well?” which turned into the personal portions: “Classes? Boyfriends?”

As for the last question, you’d keep her posted. 

But what seemed to grab his attention most was the additional part where you not-so-discreetly told her you likely wouldn’t bother putting up decorations in your own place this year.

Granted, you spent most days at Chris’s anyway, Christmas as well. Why not skip the hassle to freeload?

Also, you weren’t aware this was chastising season, Mr. Bahng.

“You’re serious?”

Nope. All a joke, every bit.

“…I usually just stay here anyway..?”

Which was true! He knows this!

“Nuh-uh, ‘s gotta change. What if one year I go overseas to visit family and you’re here alone?”

Horribly fast, your stomach sinks, and you’re hasty to scorn the sensation.

This fear, innate and uncontrollable. That on a certain season, you won’t have that certain someone to spend it with. 

I won’t, you want to say; treat the words like some totally unrealistic joke, treat his argument like a fable.

The clapping of his hands wards you from your incomprehensible nightmare.

“Alright! Let’s go! We’re decorating your place!”

This year at least, he’ll be by your side.

So you nod, as you do to most things concerning Christopher Bahng.

Love makes a person so.. strange, does it not?

Maybe that’s just you. Or him, or all of it. Who knows.

Crunching of white sheets beneath your feet keep your head from falling astray, as if dancing atop dove feathers amidst your trek to the car.

Too many thoughts, too many questions likely to be left unanswered.

The moon, in her full, glowing glory blinks down from above as a feeble solace.

Of the most beautiful of love stories. For when her lover, Sun, grows tired of arduous laboring in the day, she will arrive to establish her night so that Sun may rest for another day. A night of waiting for the one most beloved to her.

It reminds you quite a bit of yourself, oddly enough, as frosted fingertips shuffle beneath your legs to bask in the passenger seat’s seat heater as a source of warmth.

Each exhale fogs up the windows as the engine rumbles to life, and it’s a wonder you didn’t have to scrape off ice beforehand.

“Mm, in Australia it’d be so warm since ‘was summer, even on Christmas Eve. I remember one year ‘got the chance to get out there during the Holidays. Jisung sent me a text saying it was four degrees celsius in Korea and he was wearing three jackets. Meanwhile, I was outside in a tank top with Berry in twenty-seven.”

His eyes adorn the same sweet crinkle of happiness, ring-clad index tapping an inaudible beat where it rests on your knee, the other finding purchase on the steering wheel as you continue onward through late-December snowflakes.

He lights up your world without even trying. His smile, his excited talking. The way his words grow shorter and shorter the more excited he is to explain something.

Nerd. 

You love every second of it.

“And what I said about Australia earlier.” Chris begins quietly, sparing you a glimpse. His palm squeezes your knee gently, and you want to shout, jump, do something to alleviate the scream wishing to claw from your throat in reply.

Since when have you become so susceptible, so easy?

Simple. Since you fell in love.

Or, more like when you realized you were in love.

This was nothing new, after all.

“You wouldn’t be alone here over the holidays. I’d take you with me.” His eyes squeeze shut momentarily in thought, tone this quieted whisper you have to crane to discern.

“Back in October, during my birthday. Do you know what my wish was?”

A wordless look of wonder urges him on, thumb smoothing along your skin in a tender rhythm, never to break.

“One of these days, I’ll take you to Australia with me. Home with me.”

“So my first love can meet my last love.”

The second portion is barely intelligible, as if it were a mere whisper in the night. 

You wonder if it was a figment of your imagination.

Nevertheless, the less-than-inviting (compared to Chris’s), pale glow of your flat’s porch light eventually comes into view, and either of you clamber from car doors with evident struggle—abundant layers against the chill making for an awkward toddle to your snow-muddled doorstep.

Quick to retrieve the boxes from your attic, the both of you get to work. Chris frets over shoveling snow from your front porch, and you set to Christmas-ifying the interior.

It’s domestic, almost. His humming from the front door to songs playing on the speaker inside, the slow transition from your usual flat to a festive explosion. 

Then, of course, the tree.

In which you awkwardly shift your weight from foot to foot while awaiting his assistance, only for you to make eye contact and want to shrivel into a ball and never come out.

Again, shy. It’s bizarre. 

“Hm.. You wanna put up the star?”

After far too long trying to figure out the logistics, a makeshift (albeit lopsided) tree resides in your living space, a few ornaments here and there clothing the sad excuse for a normally grand view. 

But it’s yours, together.

You think with that knowledge alone it could’ve been a single sprout and would have been your world all the same.

His traces, everywhere. Both of your hands clutching onto each one you can grasp.

However, spontaneity comes back to haunt you. This time in the form of his hands curling around your hips, giving you a chaste countdown before you’re lifted up to place the star on the very top.

Good luck not having a heart attack, huh.

Miraculously, you don’t. Neither do you combust or squeal or any of the wild thoughts racing through murky depths of your brain.

Instead, you’re placed on the ground once more, his index and thumb taking the side of your top to gently adjust back down where it had ridden up.

Like a gentleman.

Shoot.

He makes it hard, doesn’t he?

Leaning to prop his chin on your shoulder while you admire the twinkling lights, you’d like to believe it was a hallucination that he pressed the most imperceptible, tiniest peck to the clothed junction of your neck and shoulder before pulling away.

“C’mere,” His words fall a near murmur, having to lightly tug at your wrist to truly garner your undivided attention without blood rushing to your face.

As for him, he simply had to pull you from the tree for the sake of his own wellbeing, the sight of warm lights reflecting in eyes he’d easily get lost in making each swallow harder to manage.

That, and there was.. a surprise of a sort. The sweep of a hand on the way out from his apartment, the fretful (clumsy) fastening of this so-called surprise under the guise he was clearing your porch.

Which he was, respectfully.

Just with a little something extra involved.

Nonetheless, oblivious to his plan, you follow along, anticipating some sad copy of Mister Sunshine to be made from fallen pine needles and buttons.

So when he points upwards, nothing short of a roller coaster occurs in your chest.

A spider, a roach, something scary—

A mistletoe.

Right above your head.

He’s got this giddy, nervous grin wobbling on plush lips, eyes searching yours like some little boy seeking a reaction. And you feel like you’re staring at elementary schooler Chris all over again.

At his cheery face knowing he’d be getting ice cream on the way home, when you lied about being able to taste Christmas dinner with a burnt tongue. 

A single lightbulb flickers orange, illuminating the mistletoe residing just beside.

Finally not-burnt cookies sit in their container back at his apartment, Love Actually long since completed. Your snowman, named Mister Sunshine, occupies the complex’s front walkway, and too many mugs of hot chocolate have been downed these past few days to count.

When your own place gets lonely, a tree you had put up together keeps you company, so that those nights alone this winter won’t be so cold. 

“Can I..?”

Chilled temperatures nip at your nose, and you feel like crying listening to the softened manner he asks, the tentativeness in the way his hand reaches to cup your cheek.

The sound is more like a plea, and you’d be beyond embarrassed if it was anyone but Chris.

“Please.”

And beneath that mentioned mistletoe, Chris kisses you for the first time, and December 25th makes its slow approach above the horizon.

When becoming more grows scary, Chris holds your hand to remind you there’s nothing he won’t step into with you. No matter the doubt, the fear.

It seems this winter you won’t be lonely. Because you won’t be spending this Christmas alone, nor many to come.

He’ll make sure of that.

One day till Christmas, four dates till you told him you felt the same.

You never got to five anyway. 

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @allaboutsan, @velvetmoonlght, @minij-one

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 04

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 8,5k

a/n: soo this took me forever but i hope there's still people that will enjoy this!! <3 this chapter picks up right where the previous one left off.

“For someone who claimed to want to talk, you’re not saying a whole lot.”

In the dim parking lot light, Hyunjin stares down at you with curiosity, arms crossed over his broad chest like a shield. You’re a few feet away from the car, and not as close as before, but somehow, you finally notice all of these fine details about him. There’s a faint bruise above his eye, the culprit, his silver eyebrow piercing shining with pride when the light hits it just right. His roots are growing in, pitch black and healthy, fighting against the bleach with all of their might. Muscle tape soothes the back of his neck, obscured by the long hair that serves as a curtain between him and the nosy world. The people who were just as nosy as you were currently being.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you hug yourself to keep warm before opening your mouth, eyes downcast. “Are you alright?”

Surprise flashes across his features, and you catch it just in time because the moment you raise your gaze, it’s gone.

“Look at me as you’re thinking of your next answer.”

He doesn’t, not even bothering to pretend he acknowledged what you just said.

“I’m fine.” Hyunjin sighs, letting his head fall back briefly like he needed to pull himself together to have this conversation. “As a matter of fact, I’m great! Never felt better!”

You can tell he’s lying from a mile away. Because while his words say one thing, his body language and everything else about him tell a different story. He doesn’t rest all his weight on both feet, crossing them at the ankles for better balance. If standing hurt this much, you couldn’t begin to imagine how executing one of his difficult choreographies would feel.

“I was worried about you.” You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to tell him everything you’ve rehearsed thousands of times while imagining this encounter. It’s hard because there are so many words and feelings currently fighting for dominance in your head, all longing for a chance to speak to him. Because every fiber of your being was aware of one thing – you might never get this opportunity again.

In response to your inner turmoil, Hyunjin scoffs and chuckles softly, like finding any humor in the matter takes a lot of effort. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Your eyes widen, puzzled.

“If you truly cared, you would have done more than send a flimsy ‘get well soon’ card.”

“I didn’t know!” You’re quick to defend yourself, panic and anger mingling as fear creeps in, terrified that his opinion of you might’ve changed quite drastically. “I had no idea you got injured until a few weeks ago! They all kept it from me, so don’t blame me for whatever shit Chris has been doing behind my back. I had no say in it.”

Hyunjin’s lips part but no words come out, stunning him into silence for the time being.

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” He eventually shakes his head, dismissing any rational thought that might’ve tried to help him make sense of your explanation. Instead of listening to his mind, Hyunjin chooses to listen to his wounded heart, which brings forth all of the anger and bitterness he’s been bottling up for months.

“Are you fucking serious?” But you do the same, your heart responding in kind as you step closer, all up in his face. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” Hyunjin snaps, just as aggravated, dropping his arms and finally opening himself up to you. “What the fuck am I doing wrong now, Y/n?” He huffs, almost like a bomb ready to explode any second. His anger has only ever gotten the best of him one time in the past, clouding his judgment and ending your relationship on the spot.

Were you about to witness it take control of him again, before losing your own cool?

“Mean.” You throw your arms up, frustrated and on the verge of tears. “You’re being mean when all I did was express my concerns for you!”

In the quiet parking lot, your argument is loud enough for all of your neighbors to hear, including Seohyun and Felix, who were left all alone in Hyunjin’s car. Under normal circumstances, the thought alone would have you curl into yourself in shame, but right now, you couldn’t care less. Even if this conversation was quickly turning into something neither of you would be able to come back from, just like all of your fights in the past.

“Well, apparently it’s in my nature so I can’t fucking help it, remember?!” He bites back, unwilling to pay any close attention to the mess you were slowly but surely morphing into right before his eyes.

Oh, how you wish you didn’t, the accusation rushing into you at a speed that knocks the air out of your lungs harshly. Mean, selfish, and inconsiderate. They were all words you spoke with your own mouth a few months ago, during one of your unplanned, weekly argument sessions. Words meant to hurt him just as much as his distance and dismissal were hurting you, to cut deep and make him bleed.

You were now regretting them more than anything, wishing you could turn back time and smack the both of you over the head so you could stop fighting and realize how much the other cared. How much you cared about him and your relationship because you were unsure as to when Hyunjin stopped caring about you.

Flinching, you look away and step back, putting some much-needed distance between you.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, your anger subsiding.

Years ago, before Hyunjin began changing into this person you didn’t know, he was always the first one to apologize after a fight, not caring who was technically at fault. He had no issues stepping over his ego and rushing to you, wishing to make things right as soon as possible, resembling a kicked puppy who’ll follow his owner to the ends of the earth no matter how many times he got left behind, abandoned.

And you always forgave him. Hopefully, he’ll find it in his heart to do the same now.

Hyunjin just shrugs and looks away, but you catch a glimpse of unshed tears in his beautiful eyes that used to sparkle so brightly, putting all of your favorite constellations to shame.

With a tentative step in his direction, you add, the sound of your heart shattering making it hard for your thoughts to make themselves heard. “Had I known about what happened, I would have dropped everything to come and see you.” Then, your voice drops as you shallow, struggling to continue staring at him. “You know this.”

Hyunjin responds a little too quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know anything.”

Your head falls, his unwillingness to meet you halfway hitting harder than before. It seemed that no matter what you chose to say, he’d vehemently deny it until the end, not finding it in himself to believe a word. His solitary quest of erasing you and all of your love filled memories was keeping him on the right path, immune to all of your heartbreak and despair.

“If that’s all.” He clears his throat, forcing himself to look in your direction as he trails off and stops messing with the ring on his index finger. A new one that replaced the simple, black ring you got him a few years ago, that was part of a couple set which matched with your white one. The ring you threw in your jewelry box, trying to hide from view, unable to look at for more than a few seconds at a time without tears welling up in your eyes.

Rings you both never took off, now abandoned in a dark corner of your rooms – out of sight and out of mind. They were a pair, only making sense together. Just like you and him have for years.

Does Hyunjin still have it? Does it haunt his dreams, jolting him awake once he realizes he hasn’t seen it in a while?

Or has he thrown it in the trash along with your relationship?

They weren’t particularly expensive, but you liked to believe their value came from what they represented. A token of love, priceless and so different from the other models who didn’t get to enjoy adorning Hyunjin’s slender finger.

“Good talk.”

You snap out of it the moment his back comes into view, and suddenly, you’re panicking like never before. The air doesn’t seem to reach your lungs anymore, yet your heart speeds up, the sight of him walking away, as painful as she remembered.

“Wait, Hyunjin!” You plead before your brain can process it, hurrying after him and reaching for his hand, trying to pull him back. To prevent him from disappearing again, like a fleeting memory you couldn’t hold on to as you wake up from a deep slumber.

But you’re not fast enough, your fingers only managing to brush against his and not grasp them entirely, falling short. This marks the second time he slips through your fingers, the second time you fail at keeping him in your life.

However, before you can drown in self-pity, Hyunjin startles you by turning around on his own accord, eyes wide.

“You’re freezing.” It’s not a question but a statement, one he confirms once he properly grasps your hand and approaches hurriedly. Without wasting a second, Hyunjin removes his red cardigan and drapes it over your shoulders, making quick work of the buttons to get you warm as soon as possible.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t register what’s happening until he’s at eye level, arms on full display as he’s left only in a black band t-shirt.

“I’m fine.” You try to wiggle your trapped arms, protesting. “Hyunjin, seriously! Take it back!”

But he doesn’t listen, as expected. “You shouldn’t have given your jacket away when it’s this cold out.”

“You’re one to talk?”

“I’ll be fine.” He dismisses your worries just as he reaches the last button of his fluffy cardigan. “You, on the other hand, get sick easily.”

When he pulls away, you see him cast an inspecting look over your form just as your arms slip into the baggy sleeves, nodding in satisfaction. “There, all better now.”

Your response comes as a whisper, a pathetic attempt at regaining your balance after the sudden turn this conversation has taken. “Is it really?”

The last thing you expected was for him to show you any type of compassion or be concerned after spending all of this time acting like you didn’t exist in his world, a big shadow that didn’t frighten him anymore, one he could walk past without any issues.

But the implication of your silly question isn’t lost on either of you, and as he looks away, preparing to flee again, your hands boldly latch themselves into his t-shirt to pull him back, almost closing the never-ending distance between your two bodies. “Please, don’t go.”

Hyunjin frowns, visible pain contorting his beautiful features in the most heartbreaking way that almost has you regretting your words. He’s speechless in front of the phrase he’s been wanting to hear roll down your tongue for so long, needing to see he means as much to you as you mean to him.

Or meant.

“Please stop shutting me out.” By this point, you’re begging, desperate to be seen and heard by the person who once was your entire world. “Let me be there for you again, your shoulder to cry on. You don’t have to bear all of this pain alone, Hyun.”

He inhales sharply, looking away like your words sting, touch the deepest part of his core that nobody in existence has ever managed to reach.

Now, in the dim parking lot light, you’re able to see all of him, the way his resolve breaks in the form of clear tears that rush to his eyes but don’t dare fall, held hostage behind the wall he’s built between him and the entire world.

“I don’t know how to.” His response is quiet, soft like the brush of a feather against your cheek, sign he’s barely willing to admit this weakness to himself.

You shake your head, unwilling to accept his reasoning. “Yes, you do. I know how much you hate when people worry about you but – “

“Then stop.” His interruption is harsh, almost as harsh as the storm currently taking place behind his lifeless eyes. “Stop worrying and leave me alone. It’s for the best.”

“How can you even think that?” Your hands drop down to find his own, hesitant in reaching out to hold them and settling for the way they briefly brush against each other, hoping some of your newfound warmth could soothe him.

“Because it’s true. I can’t seem to be able to do anything right, so it’s only fitting I stop trying.”

Hyunjin has always had such a positive outlook on life and everything around him, truly believing that as long as you didn’t give up, as long as you were a good person, good things will inevitably find you. Such words coming out of his mouth were made to sound like a foreign language he’s recently learned in your absence.

“Hyun…” Your hands flex, itching to share some of the comfort you were able to provide.

Eventually, his shoulders slump forward, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to steady his breathing, so dejected it almost brings you to tears. “I’m tired, Y/n.”

“So, so tired of everything and everyone wanting something from me. My time, my attention, my love, and energy. I don’t have anything else to give. I’m not capable of giving anymore.”

Even if they’re not meant to be one, considering his current state, his words do feel like a jab at your last conversation, the tantrum you threw that inevitably led to the end of your relationship. You’ve always wanted too much, expected everything. More of his time, attention, and a gram of the love he was busily pouring into other things and people who weren’t you.

But could you really be blamed? After spending all of these years as his top priority, his favorite person nobody could compare to, wasn’t it only natural to panic once his focus shifted to something else?

A relationship can only develop if both parties are equally involved, blooming and growing with the help of their love and affection for one another. But towards the end, you are the only one constantly giving your all and making sacrifices in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into your dying and withering relationship. You are stuck watching the love pour out from a hole you can’t find.

So, in this situation, who should be the one expressing how tired they were? How depleted they’ve felt for months on end, barely holding on to the lifeline their friends have kindly thrown out into the sea to keep them afloat?

“Then rest and reevaluate your priorities.” You mumble, actively feeling the way your heart is desperately trying to stitch itself back together. “You can’t be doing everything at once, Hyunjin.”

“I have been resting.” Hyunjin straightens, shoving one of his hands in the pocket of his baggy pants.

“Your body, sure.” You search for his gaze as your hand bravely embarks on a new journey, its destination unknown. “But what about your mind?” It settles over his chest, happy to feel him relax at the gentle touch. “What about your heart?” You point, poking his chest repeatedly right over the part of him you used to love with every fiber of your being.

It comes as a surprise when Hyunjin responds in kind, gently enveloping your hand in his to stop you. “I’m fine.” What causes your heart to stop beating momentarily is that he doesn’t let go.

You sigh, already exasperated at his excessive use of this infuriating phrase. “You’ve always been such a bad liar.”

Then, the unexpected happens. Hyunjin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners most endearingly. You used to kiss those faint wrinkles, dotting them just like you would on him, adoring the proof of his happiness.

“You’re the only one who can tell because you know me too well. I don’t have such problems with other people.”

“And isn’t that sad?” You enquire, shifting in his hold to intertwine your fingers. “To be surrounded by people who don’t know you? The real you?”

His smile vanishes and you almost wish to take it all back, remain silent just so he could be happy for longer. Just so he could smile and pretend you weren’t a lost cause, a story with a hopeless future that will always end tragically.

“It’s depressing.” He admits easily, almost like he’s been waiting for someone to finally see through him and call his bluff. A tortured artist, Hyunjin has always had a flair for the dramatic.

Silence settles between you, making itself comfortable as you pull your hand back and begin unbuttoning the red cardigan, which still has that specific, new clothing smell mixed with his usual cologne.

Hyunjin doesn’t protest as you take it off to drape over his shoulders, sharing your warmth like you’ve done countless times before, eyes watching you like a hawk. Soft but oh so attentive, studying your every micro-expression like he’d do with the models in one of his painting classes, not missing a breath.

“I have so much to say.” A bittersweet laugh escapes you, causing some of the tears you’ve managed to keep at bay for so long to escape and roll down your cheeks freely. You could spend your whole night here, in this parking lot with him, just talking until the sun rose and you’d be forced to part to start a new day. One that didn’t involve the other anymore. “So many questions. So many stories I’ve saved up, kept to myself because I know you’re the only one who could ever understand.”

Regret cripples his beautiful features as he makes to reach out, to touch and wipe your tears, as expressive as you’ve grown to love him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the strength to do so, arms falling to his side pathetically.

You shallow back your tears, wiping your eyes a little too harshly. “But right now, as I’m looking at you, all I want to say is please, take care of yourself.”

“Take your time to dwell on everything until you realize this is not you. This, the version of you that’s currently in front of me, isn’t the Hyunjin everyone has come to love.”

With a deep breath, one that barely fills your lungs with air, your gazes lock for the last time.

“You’re not this cold, unapproachable person that shuts all of his loved ones out. You’re not an island meant to exist by yourself. Remember that.”

Hyunjin stares at you and the way your mouth moves, speechless, unsure how to respond or react to the kindness you are currently showing him. It’s like he couldn’t, unable to speak no matter how hard he tried, the lump in his throat preventing any of his true feelings from escaping.

He couldn’t comprehend why you were still being so nice to him, so loving and compassionate when he’d been anything but that since you met up tonight.

“I – don’t…know what to say.” He manages to let out, voice shaky and on the verge of breaking.

A tiny smile creeps onto your features, bittersweet among the tears that have dried on your cheeks. “That’s alright. Thank you for listening to me; that’s all I needed.”

That’s when you step back towards your apartment building, increasing the distance so you’ll finally be able to breathe. You’re still staring at each other, frozen on the spot, afraid that if you glance away even for a second, the other will disappear.

“Can you please go and wake Seohyun?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond right away, eyes locked into yours as his lips part in search of the proper words that would finally put an end to your misery. Words that would help you go back to the way things were before, to a happier time in your life where his love had you up on cloud nine, feeling invincible in front of everything that life threw your way.

He looks almost pitiful, unable to grasp the hand you’ve given him, the olive branch that would close the distance between you, help him traverse oceans, and get home safe and sound.

So, he does the only thing he can. Hyunjin nods and grants your wish, swiftly turning on his heel to walk away, towards your two sleeping friends. As you watch him, you feel multiple pieces of your heart detaching to run after him, a painful sensation, similar to the hurt you’d feel while peeling a band-aid off a fresh wound.

When Seohyun steps out, stretching her arms above her head, still wearing your jacket, Felix follows. They exchange a few words before Hyunjin departs, rounding the car to get to his seat, closing himself off from the world.

And then, they hug and you can’t help but stare at the scene with an unusual amount of interest. They look great together, like Barbie and Ken, made especially for one another, never meant to be separated.

Seohyun is beaming as she skips towards you, and so is Felix as he waves goodbye from his place by the car, sharing a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t join Hyunjin until he sees your best friend pulling you into a brief embrace, giddy like it’s the first time you crossed paths tonight.

The car then drives off and that’s when your tears return in full force, cascading down your cheeks in a sight that alarms Seohyun who gasps and checks your body for any potential injuries you might have acquired in the past 20 minutes you’ve spent apart.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Her hold on your shoulders tightens, worry written all over her pretty face as she searches for your wandering gaze. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head, but you’re not as convincing as you hoped since the tears don’t stop. “I just want to go home.”

Seohyun links your arms and begins dragging you forward, away from the parking lot and the conversation that has shattered your heart once again.

The next morning, you finally text Changbin back.

A few days later, Friday finds you on your way to class when an urgent phone call has you make a detour to one of your favorite places, to your relief. Anything to skip another never ending lecture you didn’t know how to get out of without Chris or Jisung’s help, who were both too busy with their careers to assist at the moment.

Furry Friends Rescue looked just about the same, standing proudly with all the Halloween decorations you’ve put up ahead of the anticipated holiday. Mrs. Jeon has still not made her return, so you were helping out more than usual – not that you minded anyway. Right now, it was one of those instances, having to hurry over to cover for the guy who was supposed to open the shelter but got caught up with a presentation he forgot all about. In consequence, the shelter was still closed at 11 am which meant the animals still hadn’t had their breakfast.

Dealing with hungry little furballs all by yourself wasn’t how you expected your Friday to go, but you can manage. After all, being alone had become like second nature these days.

That’s why you weren’t expecting to bump into him again.

“Y/n!” Jaemin exclaims as you approach, already halfway through the door. You hurry over, nudging him inside and quickly closing the door before one of the wandering animals can escape.

“I thought I was the only one here…” He mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

You nod, not oblivious to the way things seem to have changed between you since that last game. “I didn’t know Siwoo called you as well.” You exhale, suddenly out of breath. “Well, since you’re here and seem to have everything under control I’ll go – “

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You whip around to face him a little too quickly, surprised at his sudden apology. Jaemin stands tall, not wavering even as Snowflake, the shelter’s star, struts over and begins rubbing her little face against his legs in a loving greeting, the type you never had the pleasure of getting.

Seems like the elephant in the room was too grand for poor Jaemin to ignore any further, feeling genuine remorse about the way your relationship soured.

Still, you play dumb. “Sorry? For what?”

“For keeping it from you.” You know exactly what he’s alluding to. “I’m not the captain and I’ll never be. I’m just filling in until he recovers and gets back.” Somehow, saying Hyunjin’s name seems to be as difficult for him as it is for you. Or maybe it’s avoided out of consideration for you.

“Jaemin – “

“Let me finish.” He takes a step closer, bleached hair pushed out of his face. “I never meant to be the captain. That was never my intention. But what was I supposed to do? The coach was desperate and I felt too bad to turn him down in time of need.”

Jaemin is tall, but now, as he bares his soul to you, a person he met a mere month ago, he looks comically tiny. His vulnerability makes him feel small.

“I thought I did the right thing but now almost every guy on the team seems to hate me.” The breath he lets out shakes him to his core, and you can finally take a peek at the exhaustion that’s been hiding underneath that bright smile. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt to lead a team of people who disliked you, how all of their feet would feel while trampling all over your heart, treating you like the biggest cartoon villain in history.

And now, your initial assessment of him felt a little too cruel. Jaemin didn’t replace Hyunjin willingly and certainly did not mean to erase him from the team, as you and the other players were quick to think.

He was just trying to help. You didn’t know him for long, but his helpful nature has been obvious from day one, enough to get Mrs. Jeon to trust him to take your place. Why did you allow your emotions to treat him so harshly?

Before you can process it, your hand lands on his arm. “They don’t hate you.”

His gaze flies to the casual touch, your attempt at comfort appreciated. “Sure.” Jaemin snorts. “Choi tried to fight me.”

You remember the conversation you witnessed at the game, the stupid plan Yeonjun and Daehyun bonded over. Nothing like an ambush to bring peace between two pigheaded men.

You attempt to suppress a smile, clearing your throat at a memory that steps forward. “Yeonjun has also tried to fight Hyunjin in the past. Daehyun is still trying.”

“Really?”

You nod. “Oh, yeah. Yeonjun thought Hyunjin was too stuck-up and they butted heads all the time. It took a while for them to see eye to eye and even more to become the friends they are today.”

Jaemin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Stuck up? The captain?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, amused at the admiration hidden behind said eyes. “Hyunjin has always been a team player, but being a leader is different. He thought everyone should follow his lead without complaint, not bothering to consult with the others as long as they won the game.”

“That – “ He trails off, wanting to make sure you’re not messing with him. “Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Despite yourself, you grin. “Well, he’s had three years to get to this point. Do you think he’d still be captain if he continued without changing?”

He’s silent, taking it all in. Jaemin hasn’t been part of the team for long but it seems like the thought of his teammates growing and evolving has never crossed his mind. He just assumed they were all perfect from the beginning. Everyone but him.

“And Daehyun is just stupid, plain and simple.” You add.

Jaemin bursts out laughing, some of the tension leaving his battered shoulders. “I can only agree.”

“So don’t worry about them. Men in sports are strange creatures anyway; you’ll never be able to make all of them happy.”

You take his silent contemplating as an opportunity to crouch down to Snowflake’s level and scratch under her chin, cooing at her beautiful white fur as she begins purring in appreciation.

“What about you?” He suddenly asks, joining you on the floor. “Can I make you happy?”

Your heart thumps loudly, almost knocking the breath out of your lungs at his bold question, heat rushing to your face. “W-What do you mean?”

Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, revealing his helix piercing and the red that’s staining the top of his ears. He’s embarrassed, and you can’t help the terror that’s quickly creeping into your heart at the fact that the prospect of a confession is no longer as terrifying as before.

Looking up at you from beneath long lashes, he flushes. “Are we still friends?”

And then, it just stops. You pause, wondering if you heard him right. He’s staring at you so pleadingly, so close to you and your barricaded heart. Taking pity on him is the only right answer, especially after he just poured his heart out just for your sake. Just to make sure your opinion of him hasn’t changed, that you don’t hate him like his teammates do.

Judging by the look on his face, it’s obvious he couldn’t handle that reality. Not after becoming public enemy number one.

With a smile, you reach and poke his forehead, chasing his worries away. “What do you think, dummy? Of course we are.”

Relief floods his features, eyes sparkling with unshed tears he obviously doesn’t want you to notice, swinging backwards with a sigh as Snowflake suddenly jumps into his lap. You laugh, amused by his antics, and he soon joins, just a little strained.

“Thank fuck.” He exhales, sitting up. “Work would have been awkward otherwise.”

You snort, pushing his shoulder before standing up. “Bold of you to assume Mrs. Jeon would let you keep coming back after upsetting me.”

A cocky smirk finds its way on pink lips as he leans back onto his forearms. “You seem to forget Mrs. Jeon has left me in charge until she returns.” Snowflake meows and he reaches to pet her. “You would have been the one let go.”

You frown down at him and he finally laughs, throwing his head back in pure delight.

Just as you move past him to the backroom in search of the food for the hungry furballs, he calls out. “We should hang out sometimes! Outside of work.”

“After you threatened to fire me?” You shout back, busy grabbing one of the big bags of nutritious, top-quality food Mrs. Jeon loved to splurge on. “Not a chance!”

“Come on, I was joking!” But he’s still laughing, no sign of wanting to give a helping hand.

You don’t respond.

“Y/n?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

As expected, your statement is only met with another round of laughter you can’t help but reciprocate.

The following week, you begin meeting with Changbin quite frequently, full of inspiration and ready to do your part of the project. Working with him is even better than expected, all smiles, laughter, and good banter that only aids you both in your creative endeavors.

You now realize your apprehensions were all for nothing, your similar creative visions making this whole process a pleasant experience you wouldn’t have otherwise enjoyed were it not for Mr. Kim and his absurd demands.

You were a creature of habit, too placid in your comfort zone, only ever working with Chris and Jisung when the time called for it. One thing that art in itself isn’t. You’ve been told countless times that to become a true artist, one who’ll truly touch people’s hearts, you need to step out of your bubble and spread your wings. But you were never willing to. You still aren’t, not fully anyway. But working with Changbin makes the whole ordeal seem less scary, not as intimidating or frustrating as you thought it’d be.

Today, as you step into the familiar studio, Changbin is joined by Chris and Jisung who are caught up in a heated debate of sorts.

“Hi?”

All three heads swing around to face you, too in synch for your liking, and the conversation fizzles out. Almost like they didn’t want you to hear whatever they were discussing.

“Sup!” Changbin is the first one to greet you, standing up to offer a comforting side hug. “These two will, unfortunately, be joining us today. I hope that’s okay.”

“Unfortunately?” Chris scoffs, kicking Bin’s chair.

“We are her best friends! Us! Not you!” Jisung adds, crossing his arms from his place on the couch.

Changbin rolls his eyes as you hide a giggle behind your hand, walking back to his seat to roll his chair next to Chan’s, bumping into him as some sort of silent warning.

“What are you guys up to?” You ask after greeting your two pouty best friends, giving them the proper hugs needed to stop their sulking. When you finally sit on the couch, Jisung makes himself comfortable with his head in your lap, lounging about like he owns the place.

“You know.” Changbin nods towards their open laptops. “Work.”

Jisung’s only response is a groan, rolling around to bury his head in your fluffy sweater, not wanting to be part of this conversation. Instinctively, your hand finds his soft locks and begins combing through them.

You haven’t seen these two in a while, work keeping them even busier than usual. It’s been lonely, especially since Seohyun has started spending most of her free time with Felix of all people. Seems like their relationship was getting too serious, too fast and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Felix was a great guy, one of the nicest people you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. But your best friend was known for jumping into things, head first, without much thought. Did he really like her as much as she thought? Did she actually have feelings for him beyond the initial infatuation?

But you couldn’t interfere. After all, you weren’t able to keep your own relationship afloat, so who were you to doubt theirs?

You just hoped Seohyun was being careful. As much as you liked to think you knew Felix, he’s spent the last few years in a different environment, away from his friends and everything he was accustomed to. The probability of him being a completely different person despite appearances was never zero.

“I’m guessing that means your projects are done?” You probe, untangling Jisung’s hair.

Chris shakes his head, brown curls flying everywhere. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“That’s because his partner is an ex situationship. He’s running away.” Jisung chimes in, voice muffled by the material of your clothing.

Chris gasps a little too loudly, face flushing in embarrassment as Changbin cackles at his misery, having the time of his life. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to deny it, even argue with Jisung, but the truth prevents him from doing so.

Tugging on his hair, you then look down at the man in your lap. “And what’s your excuse?”

Jisung groans, university assignments being the bane of his existence. “You know me! I don’t feel any pressure to do anything until the very last day!”

Oh, yeah. Very on brand for the king of procrastination.

“I told you we’re way ahead of everyone else.” Changbin suddenly says, puffing up his chest, pride written all over his features.

Chris turns towards you, surprised. “You’re writing again?”

When you nod, he breaks out into the brightest smile, one that could put the sun to shame, and your heart grows at the pride you feel radiating off of him. He and Changbin both seem to be happier than you at the fact that you finally found your voice again.

“Not only is she writing again, she finished a whole song all by herself yesterday!” With the way he’s boasting, you’d think Changbin is talking about one of his achievements. You were so grateful for him and the way he’s been supporting you, holding your hand through this difficult journey made easier by his kind words, how he didn’t rush or berate you for feeling stuck.

“What?” Jisung sits up, staring between you and his friend. “And you didn’t play it for us?”

Changbin shakes his head. “No can do. It’s Y/n’s song, only she can decide when to play it for others.”

“Yet you heard it.” Chris pouts, joining Jisung as you try to muffle your giggles at their antics.

“I produced it!”

“I could have produced it as well!”

Chris clears his throat, grabbing both of their attention. “I’ve known her for longer.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” They almost yell in unison, and you finally lose it, falling backwards on the couch as laughter overwhelms you.

The loud chatter continues and your happiness reaches new highs, the three of them never fail to lift your spirits. They’ve always managed to make you feel included, no matter how many people were asking for their attention at a time, never turning their backs on you in favor of impressing potential contacts who could help further their careers.

Hanging out with the three of them felt like old times when your big friend group would get together and party until the sun came up. When you’d go on trips and have the time of your life, along with your beloved and these people who loved you unconditionally.

You missed it, but above it all, you felt guilty, not managing to shake off this irritating voice that loved to whisper nonsense in your ear. About how you’re not enough, how it’s all your fault they all fell apart, divided because of the tragic ending that has cursed your love story.

It might as well have been all of your fault. You just hoped, deep down, that Chris would be able to find it in himself to forgive you because you could never forgive yourself.

Time flies as you’re having fun, projects, work, and university all forgotten in favor of catching up and discussing everything that comes to mind, comfortable among friends to give free rein to your deepest thoughts. Changbin talks about this new girl he’s seeing, how the thrill of a new relationship keeps him awake at night. He’s always been a hopeless romantic. Chris opens up about that ex situationship of his, how running away from that responsibility has been keeping his steps up.

Jisung is about to open up about Yoona until the distinct beeping of a code being pushed in reaches your ears and the door swings open, startling the four of you as the conversation comes to an abrupt stop.

Because in steps none other than Minho, closely followed by Seungmin.

“Oh?” Minho blinks, pointily ignoring your presence. “Are we interrupting tea time, princesses?”

Changbin laughs, but the sound isn’t genuine, a little awkward as Jisung rolls his eyes so far back you’re sure he greeted his brain. Chris tries his best to smile and be welcoming, but you can see right through him. Something, or maybe someone, is clearly bothering him.

“Can’t you knock?” Jisung is just as blunt, not bothering to greet either of them.

Minho’s eyebrows hike up. “Why would I? I have the code for a reason, unlike someone in here.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about you or Jisung, who got this benefit removed a few months ago when he brought over a random groupie, too impatient to make it back to the apartment.

Either way, he’s still annoyed, puffing and blowing hair out of his face while fishing out his phone to put an end to this conversation.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Seungmin’s honeyed voice calms the spirits as he steps forward. “I had no idea you were having a meeting.”

“They’re clearly not.” With that said, Minho’s eyes finally met yours, narrowed in that usual glare he seemed to save for the people he truly disliked. Like you.

It sends a shiver down your spine, the unpleasant kind, whole body tenses up under his scrutinizing gaze. You’ve always found Minho’s eyes beautiful and that unfortunately hasn’t changed even as his opinion of you did.

Jisung and Minho used to be like two peas in a pod, inseparable, sharing a bond that would often leave others green with envy. You’d sometimes get into playful arguments with Minho, demanding he return your best friend at once, before you were both pulled into a hug by said best friend, forced to make up by his bright laughter.

Now, they couldn’t stand one another.

“Why are you guys here? Did something happen at home?” Changbin finally breaks the awkward silence, standing up to properly greet his two friends.

Minho shakes his head, while Seungmin adds. “No. Just wanted to talk to you about the festival.”

“Festival?” The question escapes without your consent, and the attention is back on you.

Seungmin looks confused. “You haven’t told her?” This question is pointed toward your best friend who only shakes his head sheepishly.

“It slipped my mind.”

Jisung looks exasperated, just barely holding himself back from leaving the room as your eyes dart between them, full of questions.

“Well, that’s fine.” His face comes into view, reserved smile on full display as he addresses you. Seungmin has always been more introverted than the others. “The film festival is taking place next week. Our university has managed to bring in some seasoned film critics to judge this year’s submissions, which also includes one of my short movies.”

Then, with utmost gentleness, like you were an easily frightened child, his hand lands on your shoulder. “I hope you can make it.”

Seungmin…was inviting you?

The film festival was a yearly event, one of the biggest ones at your university, close behind the dance competition and the beloved football season. Jisung loves movies, so you were always in attendance, surrounded by your friend group and their entertaining banter that made the night even more special.

But after your falling out, you didn’t expect anyone to want you there.

“Changbin?” Minho’s sharp voice cuts through, and Seugmin straightens. “A word?”

Changbin follows them outside after Seugmin bids everyone goodbye with another soft smile, and the door clicks shut behind them, leaving the three of you alone.

Jisung is grumbling under his breath, finally able to relax while Chris turns towards you, with one of his famous smiles, eyes sparkling for some unknown reason. He’s taken off his beanie, rolled up his sleeves, tattoos on full display – he means business.

“Isn’t this great?” He hums, taking hold of your hands. His are cold. “It’s been a while since we’ve all done something together. I bet Seohyun will be thrilled.”

“As if she actually cares.” Jisung mumbles, draping himself over the couch to get to the mini fridge in the corner.

Chris ignores him, his hold on you tightening. “What do you think, sweetheart? Feel like watching some up and coming masterpieces with me?”

You see the longing in his eyes, the wish for things to go back to normal – for you to regain your spark. He misses them, the friends you used to spend all of your time with, and your heart drops. It’s all your fault. If it weren’t for you and your emotional outburst, things would have still been fine.

You and Hyunjin would still be together, Chris would still have his friends, and Jisung wouldn’t act like they never existed. Everyone wouldn’t be so divided.

Why did you have to ruin everything?

“Chris, I…don’t think it’s a good idea.” His face falls, so you quickly add. “I don’t want to ruin it for everyone.”

The perplexity on his face makes you feel even worse. “What? What are you even talking about? Seungmin invited you himself.”

You shake your head. “Just because I happened to be here, and I asked about it. I’m sure I put him in an awkward position where he felt like he had to.”

“Nonsense!” He denies your ridiculous claims in a heartbeat.

“Chris, no offense, but I’d rather spend my night with people that like me and enjoy my company.”

“We can have our own movie night, bug.” Jisung chides, big hands landing on your shoulders from behind. “Horror, of course.”

Chris completely brushes off Jisung’s comment, still committed to convincing you. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t like you, Y/n. Wake up.”

“No, you need to wake up!” Jisung snaps before you can say anything, eyes two sharp slits ready to come for his throat. You fall back against his chest, pulled by his strong arms, almost like he was trying to protect you from the intensity of his next words. “You’ve been going on and on about this for days, insisting we all act like nothing happened just so we can fulfill your absurd fantasy! Let it go.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. “You’re one to talk? Seugmin tried to do a nice thing and you, along with Minho, ruined it for everyone!”

Now you were lost. What were they talking about?

“Why the fuck do you care more about Seugmin than about your best friend and the way that group has been treating her?”

The silence that follows is deafening, more damaging than any booming sound, both for your ears and your fragile heart. You’re speechless, eyes glued to the floor, unable to look at Chris and see the hurt flash across his face – hurt you’ve caused. Jisung was just trying to defend you but he could have been nicer; you should have said something else before things escalated to this level.

“Are you fucking serious?” Is all Chris manages to murmur after pushing past his disbelief, staring you both down with an intensity that could break even the most resilient person. However, Jisung isn’t as easily spooked, meeting his gaze head-on, always the most stubborn one in the room.

“I have been nothing but supportive. Been your shoulder to lean on, cry and breakdown on whenever you needed. I kept watch over you for months, every day without fail, just to make sure you weren’t drowning in self-pity.”

That was true. You were quite pathetic after things ended between you and Hyunjin, like a house without land or a boat without water, just floating aimlessly. Chris rushed over the moment you called, to be your rock and bring you back to the surface, not leaving even as your crying never subsided. He was the first one to know, the first one you confided in, the one whose shirt you soaked with your tears.

For the first two months spent in Australia, when it was only you, him, and his family, he never let you out of sight. Chris took you everywhere with him, trying to rope you into new activities, hobbies you might enjoy that could bring your smile back even for the briefest moment needed for his batteries to recharge.

You couldn’t have regained that sense of normality without him by your side, holding your hand every step of the way.

“I tried to open your eyes and make you see that nobody hates you. They don’t blame you for what happened because frankly, it doesn’t concern any of them!” He runs a hand through unruly curls, visibly distressed.

“The person Minho hates is me, not you! Do you know why? Because he’s convinced I picked you over Hyunjin, which I fucking did.” Your breath hitches in your throat, and that’s when you feel Jisung freeze behind you, most of the fight leaving his body.

You had no idea Minho resented him for that. Chris became a villain in someone’s story because of you. Chris, sunshine embodied, the guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“And the worst part of it all is that I can’t condone him. I would have hated myself too.”

You have a hunch he already does. Chris has always had the habit of blaming himself for everything going wrong in his life, sometimes for things that were obviously out of his control.

Then he turns to address Jisung. “And you dare say I don’t care about Y/n.”

Jisung looks away, biting the side of his cheek, most likely ashamed of his previous outburst.

“You’re so far up your ass that you can’t even see your friends miss you and are trying to make amends.”

At that, Jisung scoffs, most likely not believing his words entirely. Chris’s eyes narrow.

“Playing mediator was never my fucking job yet I still did it because I care about you two and your happiness. I put it above mine and everything else that matters to me!”

“Nobody asked you to do that.” The man behind you mumbles, still bitter.

“Jisung!” You turn around to get a hold of his ear, which makes him complain loudly, pulling until he swats your hand away and you almost get into an argument of your own.

Yet, Chris isn’t impressed, not in the slightest. Your attention is captured by the loud sound of his chair rolling back, and as he stands up, the door opens, and Changbin returns, alone.

He freezes on the spot, the tension preventing him from advancing as he stares between the three of you with the biggest question mark above his head. Your best friend pays him no mind and instead addresses you one last time, eyes devoid of their usual spark.

“I’m done. Just do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore.”

With those simple words, Chris turns his back to you and walks out, not even bothering to close the door behind him or spare you another glance. Changbin looks torn between following him or staying put to hear the whole story, but eventually, he bolts after your friend, not caring about what either you or Jisung have to say.

All alone, you stare at each other, guilt eating at you from the inside. The gravity of the situation hits you both at the same time, like a punch to the face neither saw coming.

What have you done?

“Bug – “

You shake your head, putting a hand up to stop him from saying anything else.

Chris was the last person you wanted to hurt in this lifetime.

How could you have been so stupid?

How could you have ruined another one of your relationships?

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut