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neoculturetravesty · 4 years ago

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The force between us

Pairing: Jaemin x Reader Genre: romance, fluff, angst, fantasy, hurt/comfort Warnings: mature, strong language, descriptions of loneliness, bullying, suggestions of dream-reality confusion, penetrative sex, first time sex, fingering, oral (male and female receiving). Word Count: 27k

Summary: You’re pretty sure you’ve lost your damn mind when the Na Jaemin from your screen keeps mysteriously teleporting to you. There’s only one problem: neither of you can control when he teleports to you or how long he can stay.

A/N: This darn fic was taking so long that I almost made it into a series (but nope, that wasn’t going to happen if I could help it).

Also, you guys were way to good at guessing that my next work would be a Jaemin fic haha. Hope you like it!

The first time he had appeared to you had been the most unusual of them all.

You had been laying in your bed, wallowing in your loneliness. You had known that what you were feeling was a low. Nothing was actually, terribly, truly bad. It was just one of those days where everything just had a big old dark cloud over it, and all your thoughts were murky over the languishing state of affairs of your life, and nothing you could’ve thought or no amount of distraction would’ve made anything better.

Because even when you’d chosen your favorite distraction (a K-pop video binge), your mind didn’t stop being a bummer (you kept projecting your feelings and emotions onto the boys you saw on screen).

All you knew was that this feeling in your chest was frustrating. Like it was choking you from within, but you didn’t know why. Your tears wouldn’t come and dry crying didn’t help. You couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what was making you feel so down and so lonely and so miserable.

Maybe it was the fact that your group of friends had played a stupid game earlier where they would secretly tally a score against any time a boy would approach them or ‘check them out,’ whatever that meant; and none of them had noticed that you hadn’t even gotten a single point all evening.

Maybe it was the fact that you had stayed up all night trying to finish your readings, but the professor had called on every single person in the lecture hall for class participation except for you.

Maybe it was the fact that you had sat in the cafeteria in a huge group with your classmates and had gotten interrupted twelve times before you finally gave up on talking (yes, you had kept score, because this was the only game you were winning).

So, to take your mind off of every little thing that made you this way, you had put on an NCT video (NCT 24hr Relay Cam) and projected everything on your mind onto one assuming boy (Na Jaemin).

You looked at him and all you could think about was how far removed he was from the rest of the group. He sat in a corner, quiet, aloof, and alone in a crowded room. He didn’t speak, he wasn’t a part of all the jokes and games the rest of the members played, and the act of kindness he offered to another member went entirely unnoticed.

And as you watched, you started to wonder if he felt the same things that you had felt today. Did he feel invisible, too? Did he also feel like he was fading into the background? Did he, like you, think that he shouldn’t speak up because the words he would say will bring no value to anyone?

You had no idea how it had happened, but whilst you were deep in your miserable thoughts and painting them all over Na Jaemin on the screen, it was as if some majestic and profound being had had enough of your misery and decided to break a barrier between you (in front of the screen) and him (behind the screen). Like it’s invisible, powerful hands had split open the gates between reality and fantasy, truth and falsehood, analog and digital, thoughts and action. Because there had been a flash of the brightest light that had blinded you and the loudest soundless sound that had deafened you and when you had the ability to see and hear again, the Na Jaemin from the screen had appeared in your room, right there, in front of you.

For several moments, neither of you had said anything; not a word, not a breath, nothing but dazed, confused and suspicious looks. For many minutes, you hadn’t been sure if you were awake or if all of this was a fever dream. For a good while, you were convinced that you had finally lost your mind, because you were fantasizing that a K-pop boy was in your room, except the fantasy was so well-built that you could almost touch it.

Almost, because this K-pop boy had spoken and asked you one short question,

“Who are you?” to which you had replied in a one, short answer,

“I’m Y/N,” before he had made a run for it.

The poor boy had run and run, closing all the doors behind him, but no matter how much he ran, he kept reappearing right beside you. Like the two of you were caught in an infinity loop, where you could try and get away but no matter how far you’d run, you’d rabbit hole your way back to the start.

You had played this strange game of infinity chase for a good hour before you had realized that there had to be a better way to undo this, whatever this was. Because if teleportation existed and magic was real and things out of the natural actually happened; Na Jaemin had appeared right next to you right when you’d been at your loneliest and yearning for a friend. You had dared not tell him that, lest he think that you were some sort of a crazy witch that had summoned him away from his home and his friends and into her gingerbread house to fatten and to eat. You were lonely, but you’re not sure your loneliness had that kind of power. You didn’t know how this had happened.

So the two of you had sat in your room (what else were you going to do when you kept appearing next to one another, anyway?) and tried to figure out exactly how and where this had happened. You both found yourself talking in circles, because how could either of you explain what this was? He had come out of the screen, or at least you thought he had. But it’s not like he could climb back into the screen, back into his world.

Then, you had shown him the video you’d been watching when this had happened, only to find that it had been taken down. It was bizarre and unexplainable and because nothing in that moment had made sense, you had offered Na Jaemin a cup of tea, for what else does one do when strange and mysterious things happen to you.

“I’m a coffee person,” he had quipped.

“I know,” you had replied.

“So, are you a fan?” he had asked inquisitively, as you sat in your kitchen, mugs in hand.

“I…” you had turned around to look at him to reply, but while his mug was still steaming hot on the countertop, the boy in question was nowhere to be seen.

You had looked about your house and your street and found him nowhere and you had even stayed up in your bed in case he appeared again. And later, right before you wanted to sleep off the horrible, fascinating, exhausting day that you had had, you found that the mysterious video had been reuploaded on the NCT channel.

The second time he had appeared to you was less eventful. There hadn’t been a bright light or static sound, or anything to disorient you.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t nearly jump out of your skin when you turned around on the bench and saw Na Jaemin sitting right next to you. Clad in a plain white t-shirt, grey joggers and with his dark hair down, he looked like he had just rolled out of bed (he probably had) and you had unknowingly summoned him from the cozy darkness of his room into the bright sunniness of your college campus (you definitely had).

“You again,” he had accused while you had just watched him open mouthed, the assignment you were doing for your classmate entirely forgotten on your laptop screen.

“Were you watching my videos again?” he asked suspiciously.

You vigorously shook your head and showed him everything on your screen, which had everything to do with the assignment and nothing to do with NCT or Na Jaemin or K-pop or anything that would make an Idol teleport to you. You hadn’t even questioned what had happened to you the last time. You had just pushed it all the way into the back drawer of your brain and locked it.

Although, curiosity had led you to Reddit one day, where you found yourself reading up on people’s experiences with mysterious teleportations. But it had spooked you out so much that you had just closed all tabs on your browser and went out for fresh air to distract yourself. Watching K-pop videos had summoned a wholeass K-pop idol in your room. You didn’t know what reading spooky stories was going to summon. You were fine without that shit in your life, thank you very much.

You had even chickened out of posting about your own experience on Reddit because somehow typing it out was making it sound more and more unreal and making you sound more and more delusional. Who the fuck was going to believe you if you said that Na Jaemin from NCT had teleported out of your computer screen and into your room? Every bit of that story had delusional fangirl written all over it, and that was something you were absolutely not. But the more you’d deny it, the crazier you’d seem, so you had just kept it to yourself and swallowed it as a story you would sometimes think about before going to bed.

“Interesting choice of clothes,” you found yourself sniggering, because making jokes in unusual circumstances was always the way to go. Jaemin looked down as if suddenly noticing what he’d been wearing. He looked ahead, eyes unfocused as if in deep thought and asked,

“Mind if I check something?” as he gestured his hands towards your laptop.

“Be my guest,” you replied, handing him the device.

He typed in the words he wanted in the search bar and made a face that told you that he had just gotten the confirmation on some sort of theory in his head.

“Another one of my videos has been taken down,” he told you.

“Which one is it this time?” you asked curiously.

“It’s my Relay Cam,” he turned the screen to show you. And sure enough, while the link was there for JAEMIN : 11AM-12PM, the offensive video take-down message was all you could see.

“Maybe you should ask your company to stop fucking with your videos,” you had muttered, because somehow, you felt like the trial-less defendant in this court for two. So you had returned to doing the assignment for your friend.

Jaemin had respectfully let you be for some time, sitting in silence. But what else is there to do when you’ve randomly travelled in space or time (he didn’t know) with no phone, no friend and nothing to do for who knows how long (neither of you knew), and the bright sun was anything but your style? So he talked to you.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“An assignment,” you replied.

“What kind of assignment?” he asked again.

“Just helping my friend write his essay,” you replied, not averting your eyes from your work.

“How are you helping him when he’s not even with you?” he asked, and something about the way he had phrased the question had made you pause and think.

“I don’t know. Just. He asked for help so I’m helping him,” you replied, a little annoyed because you were feeling a little bit called out.

“Sounds like he just asked you to do his homework for him and you agreed,” he did indeed call you out, not mincing his words even a little bit.

“I’m just trying to make a friend, okay? I’m trying to be a nice person,” you defended yourself.

“You can make a friend without being their lackey,” he raised his eyebrows, but you didn’t like what he said. You didn’t like it one bit. You didn’t like how vicious it was or how honest it was.

“I’m not anyone’s lackey. What do you know about me, anyway?” you snapped at him and got up with your things and walked away.

Of course, you had forgotten that you couldn’t walk away from Na Jaemin. He’d just appear right next to you. Thankfully, he had the decency to remain quiet this time, and a lot less nosy. He was good at being quiet. That much you had gathered from all the time you had spent watching his videos (before they took on this weird magic shit and you stopped).

But Na Jaemin had been right, as you had known he would be as soon as he had spoken the words. Because this classmate didn’t want to be your friend. He just wanted to use your hopeful crush on him to make him do ‘his homework’ while in return he offered you a “You’re the best,” and a thumbs up before he walked away with his friends to a party he didn’t even have the decency to invite you to.

It was awful getting your heart broken in front of someone, but what could you do when that particular someone couldn’t leave your side because of whatever awful, mysterious, supernatural gravity that kept you together. Jaemin didn’t say ‘I told you so’ but he figured that one of your other intrusive classmates was making their way to you to tell you that in his stead. So, he put an arm around your shoulder and said,

“Ready to go home, babe?”

You just turned to look at him wordlessly, because his kindness only made you feel even more pathetic. Because what was worse than being rejected by the boy you liked? A K-pop idol stepping into be your pretend boyfriend to save your face.

If you had sniffled on your walk home, Jaemin hadn’t said a word. But something had told you both that the doorstep moment would be a true parting of your ways (at least today), because he held your shoulders and looked down into your eyes.

“You’re not anyone’s lackey. Please don’t let anyone use you like that ever again, okay?” he said in his kind, deep voice.

“Easy for you to say. You already have a lot of friends,” you sniffled, even though you knew it wasn’t true. The back of your mind remembered this boy talking about how he didn’t have any friends outside of his members. Still, at least he had them.

“I don’t have a lot of friends,” he confirmed your thoughts, “But friends like that asshole aren’t worth it. You’re better off alone.”

You had looked up and smiled besides yourself because you’re not sure you had ever heard a K-pop idol curse. At least not this one. You looked at the ground to hide your smile, and when you blinked to look up, he was gone.

But your heart had felt a lot lighter as you went to bed that night. Because while you may not have that many friends (or any friend at all), you had a feeling you were going to see Jaemin again. And the hope of a familiar bond with someone was all you needed.

The next time you saw Na Jaemin, he looked like a fish out of water… even more so than he had been the first couple of times.

He wore a black suit that looked maybe a little frumpy on him and his hair had grown out a bit. You were a little ashamed to admit that you knew exactly what video this look was from. Because despite yourself, and despite the consequences you had known you’d face, you had found yourself on a YouTube Na Jaemin binge.

None of it had summoned him then, and if you were completely honest with yourself (no bullshit, no sugarcoating, completely, totally honest), you had been a little disappointed. Because the more of him you had seen on video, the more endeared you had gotten.

But to catch him whilst you were on a college social trip with your classmates on a Plant and Tree drive, shin deep in mud, was a sight for sore eyes. He was definitely (definitely) overdressed. And he realized as much.

“A bit different from the Rooftop Fight, huh?” was your greeting to him.

He made a face as he picked up his ankles that kept sinking into the wet mud, staining the hems of his trousers. “Couldn’t you have picked a different video to teleport me from?”

“The wand chooses the wizard, Harry.” you said like a wiseacre, your tools held midway in the air as you watched him with an amused expression on your face.

“I don’t get that reference.” he replied, still doing a march-dance in the mud, before finally looking up to see your face. He paused and smiled back and this time, you actually felt your heart skip a beat. You had learnt that he was known in NCT for his smile, and somehow seeing it in person with that information fresh in your mind was making you a bit… well, squealy. So you looked away and got back to planting and treeing, whilst muttering about Harry Potter and wizards and magic and how he ought to know this (because now, he was living a magic phenomenon himself).

“Why don’t you ever summon me somewhere that’s a bit more… I don’t know… indoorsy?” he complained.

“Bold of you to assume I’m the one that summons you.” you pouted. You hadn’t summoned him. How could you have summoned him? All you had done was think about him. There was no device or video or a bright light or a static sound (just your free mind).

“Well, you’re not appearing in my world, so what’s a boy to think?” He raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets.

“While you’re here, come help,” you suggested. He had thought about it for a moment, because where you were situated seemed cold and wet and muddy, but what else was he going to do whilst he was here? So he knelt beside you and collected the hem of his jacket up, away from the mud.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, uncertainly all over his face.

“You see these mounds here? I’m going to sow and you’re going to shovel.”

“Aye aye, captain,” he said as he grabbed the hand trowel from you. He was very obviously out of his depth. But in a while, the two of you had built a good rhythm as you worked in comfortable silence. When motor skills took over and he no longer had to think about what he had to do with his hands and his mental faculties had freed up, he looked up. He saw your other classmates huddled together in different groups.

“How come you’re not working with any of them?” he asked you.

You looked up like you were being forced to look away from your favorite television show and talk about homework whilst your mind was struggling to hold onto the escapism and avoid reality. Reality always sucked.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s a bummer hanging out with people that look down on you. It’s nicer being by myself,” you tried to explain.

“But how would you have managed all of this on your own?” he asked logically.

You jutted your chin up as if in thought. “Hmm. Maybe that’s why you were summoned. Because I couldn’t manage it on my own.”

“So now I’m going to be dragged away from my world any time you need help with your chores?” he asked and you would’ve thought he was serious had you not looked up to see the funny expression on his face. But you still erred on the side of caution.

“Oh, uh… you don’t have to… if you don’t want to…” you said and reached your hand out to take the trowel back from him. But he held it higher, away from your reach.

“I’m glad you took my advice,” he noted and went back to shovelling. For a moment, you wondered what the scene looked like to an bystander. You were here, kneeling in the mud in your gardening clothes while a K-pop idol was next to you in his finest (not really, but still) suit.

“And what advice was that?” you mused.

“That you’re better off alone. That you don’t need friends that make you feel bad,” he repeated what he had told you the last time.

“I bet it would be nice to have some friends rather than no friends at all,” you said in a moment of realness. In a strange way, you felt that you could tell him anything. Because, spooky appearances and mysterious phenomenon aside, Na Jaemin was the perfect stranger. He would randomly appear, spend a few minutes (or hours) with you, and then disappear from your life, from your world. So, technically, you could tell him anything, and it would have no real consequences in your life.

“I suppose that’s true in a way. I’d rather you still stay away from them if they make you feel bad about yourself,” Jaemin suggested.

“You’re really lucky you have your members,” you said in yearning.

He smiled a genuine smile, “I guess I am. Maybe that’s how you could make friends.”

You sniggered, “What, by joining a K-pop group?”

“No, silly. By working somewhere. Even if it is in a K-pop group,” and by the look on his face, you could tell that he was giving you real, genuine advice.

You had continued to work in silence then because it was actually a pretty nice idea. If you weren’t making friends in college, maybe you could get a part time job to meet people. You could tell that the advice came from one introvert to another. He could probably see that you were never going to voluntarily put yourself in social spaces. But if you were in a system where you had to clock in and out, you would have no choice but to show up and interact with people.

You had been so deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that you were back with the rest of the group, or that you were getting a few unkind looks from some people. Jaemin noticed. Because in the next moment, he had rid himself of his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Babe, you must be cold,” he said, rather performatively, “Here…” he continued, pulling you in and rubbing his hands up and down your shoulders.

You half-heartedly played along this time. His kindness always worked, because it made people see you as less of an easy target. But it bummed you out. Why couldn’t these people respect you when you were on your own? Why did you need the shield of a boyfriend (a fake one or otherwise) for them to reel back their mean energy?

But beggars can’t be choosers so play along you did and let Jaemin put his arm around you and hold your hand to help you step out of the mud and idly (or very strategically) play with your hair on the bus ride back to campus anytime someone turned around to look at you.

Even when you stepped out of the bus and found him gone, you hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling that you deserved better than the cards that you were being dealt. Somehow, Jaemin’s kindness did not have the type of effect one would hope to have in this sort of a situation. You weren’t thankful or impressed or smitten or any of those things. All it had done was start to simmer a sort of resolve inside of you.

You were done trying to seek the friendship and validation of these people around you. You were going to take control. And you were going to start today.

The next time you saw Na Jaemin, you found yourself to be embarrassed out of your fucking mind. The fact that you were naked had nothing to do with it.

It was the fact that you had been sprawled on your bed, actually (and very deliberately) watching his video this time. You’d been watching him be funny and silly and chaotic with his friends on Dream Mystery Lab and you were feeling more confident than you had in a while and quite frankly, you were missing him. And as you had gotten up to change into your pyjamas, you had shamefully, embarrassingly, but very purposely thought to yourself, ‘Man wouldn’t it be wild if Na Jaemin was to appear right at this moment?’

And he had, striped shirt, black pants, lab coat and all and said,

“You know, I always thought you were a fan--whoaaa…” he turned around at the same time you screamed,

“Oh my God!” and grabbed the nearest thing you could find (a pillow) to hide behind.

“I’m sorry… was it not a good time to teleport to you?” he asked bashfully, clearly trying to joke the situation better though his voice sounded like it was in pain. This was maybe the first time he hadn’t hinted at any sort of blame for the strange phenomenon on you. This was the first time he had implied that he had done the teleporting. But neither of you noticed that part because there was another elephant in the room (you were naked lol).

“Jaemin, can you like… can you wait outside for a bit?” you tried to even out your voice that was getting higher and higher and coated thick with bashful panic.

“I can’t,” he hissed like he was in pain. Fuck, the embarrassment was painful for the two of you.

“What, why?!” you yelled at his back and saw him hold his hands up.

“No, no, no, I don’t mean anything weird! I’m just going to teleport back to you, remember?” he reminded you very, very (very) apologetically.

“Jaemin, just…” you exhaled in frustration. “Okay, I’m going to walk closer. Just like… wait outside the door. I’ll be behind the door so I’ll still be close to you and it’ll be fine,” your brain was working in overdrive as it often tends to do when you’ve been taken by surprise and also because fuck.

“Okay, good idea,” he replied, nodding his head and agreeing maybe a bit too hard, “Tell me when to step out.”

“Now,” you instructed from behind him, nothing hiding your nudity except the pillow you held and his respectful eyes but when he didn’t move you yelled “Now, Jaemin, now!” and it made him get a move on.

Big mistake.

Because he’d been right (of course he had) and had appeared right behind you and if he’d gotten an eyeful of your bare bottom, he’d been too gentlemanly to say so (also because you had yelped so loud, he had immediately covered his eyes).

“Okay, okay, listen, Y/N… I’m just going to stand with my face in the corner okay? I’ll keep my eyes closed. Just… just put some clothes on, please,” he requested but you started the high pitched, angry, embarrassed squealing again.

“Dude, I’m not naked in front of you by choice! I was literally in the middle of changing when you showed up!” you screamed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just, I’m sorry, I’m kinda out of my wits here. I’ll just cover my eyes and stand here and I won’t say another word,” the poor boy backtracked as he met your wrath and walked into a corner till he bumped his head on the wall. While he gave up massaging his hurt in favor of clamping his hands shut over his eyes, you scrambled to put your clothes on (why didn’t you try keeping the door ajar, you dummies?). If your buttons were haphazardly done and the hem of your shirt didn’t line up, so be it. At least you were covered. You breathed out, mostly to calm yourself, before you announced,

“Okay, you can turn around now.”

The poor boy turned around really slowly and really guiltily, peeking from the corner of one eye and immediately squeezing it shut, in case this was a fake-out, then slowly opening it again before finally turning around fully.

Then the two of you just stared at one another, because where does one go from here? Na Jaemin had seen you naked. You knew he was too chivalrous to admit it, but who were you kidding? Your awkward moment couldn’t exactly end with one of you leaving (it was never a choice) and you didn’t know how long this visit was going to last (it was going to be hours). But as if you were sharing the same brain cell, your faces turned towards the only other thing in the room that was worth paying attention to: your laptop screen with the words ‘This video has been removed by the uploader’ shining bright against the black screen.

“Did you at least finish watching it?” he asked sheepishly.

“No. No, I didn’t.” you said dejectedly, accepting your fate and the fact that Na Jaemin had seen you naked. You slumped on your bed.

“I’m sorry.” he said in a careful, cautious tone, his face still sheepish and apologetic.

You sighed deeply and softened your face, “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s neither of our faults.”

Jaemin smiled a genuine smile and looked at you as if he was looking at an old friend (now that the awkward greeting was over), “So how have you been?”

And you couldn’t help but return that smile. You felt the warmth of an unusual joy that started from your heart and traveled all the way to your fingertips and toes. You wondered if this is what the warmth of friendship felt like. “I’ve been okay.”

“It’s good to see you… even if you didn’t want me here today,” he smiled warmly.

‘Oh, Na Jaemin. If only you knew,’ you had thought. Because who were you kidding? You had all but summoned him. You had watched his video, then you had gotten naked and you had thought him into existence, to you (bitch, you crazy), and somehow, it had worked. Your cringiest, stupidest, lowkey most perverted idea to date had actually ended up working (of all your ideas, this had to be the one to work, what the fuck).

So you had found yourself smiling a bit abashedly, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

It’s perhaps the first time either of you had expressed any sort of fondness towards this unexplainable, recklessly spontaneous, supernatural phenomenon that bound the two of you together. It was the first time either of you had acknowledged it as being anything other than a nuisance. So when the awkwardness had dissipated, Jaemin had started to look about your room with real interest.

“I always thought you were a fan,” he completed his thought from earlier as he looked about.

“I am a fan.” you told him fondly as your gaze followed him.

“But you don’t have, like… you don’t have any posters, or… I don’t know… photocards on your phone, or albums…” he mused as he looked at your bookshelf.

“To be fair, you don’t have a full album for me to buy,” you pointed out, which made his head snap around towards you.

“You know, we’re almost finished with one,” he announced with quiet, subtle pride and a hint of smugness that only comes with spilling the kind of tea only you know about.

“What, for real? NCT Dream is working on a full album?” your mouth hung open like you’d received the best gossip (tea!) of your life.

“Mhmm,” Jaemin nodded his head and grinned, like he was all too happy to get that reaction (he was).

“Damn. Took you guys long enough,” you whistled and watched him while his fingers traced against the spines of your books on the shelf.

“So you’re really a fan,” he looked back at you, smiling.

You nodded, slow and relaxed, “I’m really a fan.”

“Am I your bias?” he asked suddenly, looking at you expectantly.

“Uh… uh, yes. Yes, you are,” you replied but Jaemin narrowed his eyes at you.

“No, I’m not,” he stated suspiciously.

“No, you are!” you defended (no, he wasn’t).

“Come on, Y/N. Who is it? Is it Jeno? It has to be Jeno. Girls like Jeno,” he asked you and if he were playing the role of the boyfriend that had been cheated on to make you laugh, it was working.

“No, for real!” you half-laughed, half-talked, “It’s you!”

He covered his eyes with his fingers and turned his head dramatically, “Just say it. Just rip the band-aid, Y/N. Just break my heart.”

You laughed some more, way too amused by his dramatic antics, before you said, “Okay, fine.” He looked up at you expectantly and you said, “It’s Renjun.”

“Eeh-yeahhhhhh…” he groaned out long and airy, like what you had said was the most distasteful thing in the world. And it made you throw your head back and laugh some more.

“Now you know,” you giggled through your words.

He exhaled from his mouth and you saw his expression change, “It’s temporary. He’s your temporary bias.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pouted at him.

“You’re going to get over him soon and then maybe you’ll bias a different boy. But I’ll always be your constant,” he said with a resolute certainty.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure?” you challenged him.

“Because I’m the one that’s here. Not him,” he said and your heart skipped a beat. You looked away because you weren’t sure how stupid you looked when the heat was rising in your cheeks.

“Well actually, Rejun teleported to me last week. It was really fun,” joking in real moments was the kind of shit you were born to do (you coward).

“Ee-yeahhhhhh…” he gasped again, half in pain, half in disgust.

You kept laughing at him till your laugh faded into a fond smile. So you patted your bed, “Come sit. You don’t know how long you’ll be here. You can’t possibly spend all that time standing.”

Jaemin looked around the room as if looking for a different place to sit. Because the image of your very naked body and your really visceral reaction was still fresh on his mind. He didn’t know how uncomfortable his presence was making you feel. But your smile was warm and easy. So, he carefully made his way over and took a seat as far away from you as possible (no funny business that way).

“You look well,” he said in another moment of good-hearted honesty.

“Thanks. I’ve been working out…” you began excitedly, but turned your face when you realized that you might have inexplicably addressed your naked body once again when he probably meant something else.

Jaemin laughed uncomfortably and you wondered if the man had the patience of a saint because he still went on, “I’m glad to hear it. You look a lot happier than the last time I saw you,” he noted.

The comment had made you stop and look at him. Because those few words held validation that was so honest that even your self-doubt had to stop and think.

It’s not like Jaemin saw you everyday. He had appeared to you sporadically four times, spaced out by different time intervals. People that see you everyday tend to not notice any changes you’re going through (unless they’ve got a good eye). But Jaemin saw you intermittently enough that any change he witnessed was noticeable to him. It was fascinating and authenticating to hear that your progress translated as a positive change in someone else’s eyes.

“I do?” you asked him gently, “I’ve made a couple of friends,” you gave him the update because in a strange way, he probably had a stake in that part of your life.

“Oh yeah?” he leaned back against the wall as if to settle in and give you all his attention. “Tell me all about them.”

For a moment, you had contemplated his words. ‘Tell me all about it (them)’ he had said. Like he was a human diary, ready for you to unload your feelings on. No one had ever offered their ears to you so you could just talk and they would just listen. You had never had anyone to open up to like that. You weren’t sure you could trust this man enough to lay your heart and mind open to him. But this wasn’t a regular man. This was a man that appeared in your life at irregular intervals for very brief moments before disappearing into the ether. What was he going to do with all your secrets, anyway? He was the perfect stranger. So, what did you have to lose?

“I guess they are my… my gym buddies. I met them in my Pilates class,” you found yourself telling him excitedly. It felt good to tell someone about your life. Something told you that the feeling would become addicting (it totally would).

“You’re taking a Pilates class with other people? Y/N. That is a pretty big deal,” he acknowledged and if you looked proud in return, you couldn’t help it.

“I know right?” you laughed, “But I don’t know, I chickened out of personal training because that would give me way too much attention. I was better off hiding in the back row of the Pilates group class, and I guess I just met some cool people there.”

“That’s really nice,” Jaemin smiled at you fondly. Then you saw his face, like he was picking his next words and then deciding, fuck it. Exactly as you had done. You wondered if he had had the same thought process as you (he had). “Hey, Y/N. If you don’t mind me asking… how come you never, like… how come you never…”

“Made any friends in college? School? My life?” you finished his thought for him because you knew he was too kind to do it himself.

“Yeah… I guess that’s what I’m asking,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Well, I don’t really know. I guess I’ve always been too timid to really put myself out there. Any time I’ve tried to reach out, I haven’t succeeded. So, I guess I’ve never really gotten out of my shell,” you’d never said this out loud to yourself, let alone to anyone else. But doing so was making it make sense to you.

“What kind of people have you… reached out to?” he asked inquisitively.

“Hmm…” you gave it an actual, healthy thought for the first time ever. “I guess people that seem outgoing? The kind of people who seem like they’d have a lot of friends?” And as soon as you said it, you saw the problem. You supposed the bigger problem was that you hadn’t thought about your mistakes retrospectively or said them out loud before (you stupid).

Jaemin gives you a knowing smile as he watches your face go through all the stages of a revelationary epiphany. He rubs the back of his neck, “I don’t know much about making friends either. But I know that even someone with a lot of people around them can be lonely.”

When you considered his words, you realized you’d been right about him. He was the introspective type. Because his words sounded well thought out in how they rang true. “Hey… how did you make friends with the guys?” you asked, turning your body towards him, curious for the information. Not as a fan to an idol. Just from one person to another.

“A lot of time. The fact that we were put together very young and we didn’t really have a choice but to get along,” he laughed.

“Did you always get along?”

“Oh no. We had a lot of personality clashes,” he sniggered.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. And we would have so many silly fights. Some of us were better at expressing our emotions than the others. Some of us had bigger personalities than others. We would have so many disagreements,” Jaemin reminisced.

“Whoa,” was all you could say for a while. “You guys always just seem like… so together. Like you’re the best of friends…”

“Oh no, we are. But we had to work to get there,” he told you easily. You thought for a moment and then broke the comfortable pause,

“Hey, so… what caused the Summer Fight?”

“Summer Fight?”

“The infamous Markhyuck Summer Fight,” you had no idea why you had whispered that part, but even you noticed how excitedly you had changed your posture so you were sitting cross legged, totally turned towards him so you’d be as alert as you could possibly be when you get the answer.

“What summer are we talking about?” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“2017!” you exclaimed like he should know that shit.

“Oh, that would be about that time I had an injury. So I wouldn’t know,” he replied. He must have seen how disappointed you looked at the anticlimactic reply, so he added, “They bicker all the time, though. It must’ve just been a bickering.”

You pouted a bit, “You don’t know any better than the rest of us.”

“Hey, I could ask if it makes you feel any better,” he offered.

“Please! It would ease my mind to know what it was that put a rift between good friends,” you blew air from your mouth.

“Friends fight. That doesn’t mean they stop being friends,” he said.

“Do you think I’m your friend?” you asked suddenly and without any sort of a warrant.

Jaemin turned his head to look at you. But not in surprise. Just in calm congeniality. “I suppose you are.”

And just like that, the relaxed, subdued words of declaration changed your relationship forever.

Because the two of you spent the rest of the night exactly like this, sitting together, snacking together and talking about anything and everything.

You told him about your life. Your dreams. Your fears. Your demons. And he told you about his.

Something in his eyes told you that he appreciated the break from his life these random teleportations brought him (he did). Because even if for a while, he could just be a normal boy talking to a normal girl. No one in your world knew him, or recognized him, or judged him or followed him around with cameras. So, he had no qualms or concerns about telling you about his fears and dreams, either.

Because what you had forgotten was that you too were the perfect stranger in this curious scenario for two.

The next time you saw him, you wished that you would never get to see him ever again. Because who did he think he was to intrude on your weakest moment?

Did he not realize that the girl who cries alone outside of a party probably feels as pathetic as she looks? He had no right to appear to you when you didn’t want him (lol, as if either of you had any control over this madness). You had turned away from him because fuck, he looked perfect. He was clad in all white, carrying a flower (it was from a photoshoot, okay?) and him looking so beautiful made you feel like even more of an ugly troll.

After he had confirmed that you weren’t going to reveal your face because you kept it buried between your knees and hid it behind your arms, he sat next to you on the pavement. Maybe he could just be a comforting presence (he wasn’t) and later, make you feel better about whatever made you this way (he did).

“Now, why did you have to look so pretty if you wanted to cry like that?” he asked, tilting his head to try and sneak a peek at your face. “Are you crying because of all the hearts you broke inside?”

Though your head was still buried and you were still too busy having a good cry, you scoffed. You’d seen Na Jaemin turn his flirt on in videos, but hearing in person was perhaps more disconcerting. Nevertheless, it still didn’t give you enough comic relief to lift your head up or speak to him.

“Come on, now,” he put an arm over your shoulders and attempted to make you lean on him. But you didn’t budge. “Can you at least tell me what kind of tears these are? Are they sad tears? Are they angry tears?” Jaemin crouched down even more, now trying to peek at your face from between your knees. It worked a little bit, because now, he could at least make out a sliver of your expression. Still didn’t mean you talked to him.

“Sad tears?” he asked again. In your awkward pose, he supposed you had shrugged your shoulders (you had), so he continued, “Angry tears?” You shrugged your shoulders again. And he felt so helpless that all he could do was stroke your head while his voice went extremely soft and concerned, “Come on, Y/N. How come something has made you this sad?”

You had to give up your stubborn child act eventually. So you sat up, runny nose, tear streaked makeup, sweat covered hair and all. “I’m not sad,” you declared through your sniffles.

Jaemin looked at you with a lot of empathy, but also like he was trying to bite back a smile. He abandoned saying something in favor of wiping the sweat on your forehead with his hands and unsticking your hair from your skin.

“I’m just… fuck, I am so embarrassed.” you said angrily and it made more tears run down your face. Jaemin swiped at them carefully with his thumb, coddling at you to try and make you feel better.

“What do you have to be embarrassed about, huh?” Jaemin kept wiping your flowing tears and searching your face. In a surreal moment, you looked at him, really looked at him sitting there worried about you. And you realized that his was the only face that was willing to show you any sort of kindness in this place. That only made you feel more miserable.

So much so that Jaemin had to drop all humor and take your face in his hands and say, “Hey… I’m here…”

And you cried because, yes, he was here. You hadn’t want him here. You didn’t want anyone to see you in a moment where your opinion of yourself was at its lowest.

Still, he had appeared to you probably because the cruel universe (or that wretched power) saw that you needed someone. It’s not like you had anyone else. Then, who were you to deny consolation from the only person who was providing it to you? So you flung yourself into his arms and cried into his neck because the white he was wearing was so pristine that you were probably going to stain it (you did).

Jaemin had stroked the back of your head and whispered sweet nothings in your ear and when you were all cried out, he had pulled you back to look at your face and softly said,

“Do you feel like telling me what happened?”

“Nothing. I’m just a dumbass who assumed some things,” you replied thickly while he kept brushing your tears, this time with the edge of his palm.

“What did you assume, hmm?” he spoke to you so softly, like you were a child that had fallen off their bike. Because children that fall off their bikes in front of their friends don’t know what makes them cry: the injury on their body or the injury on their pride.

In a brief moment of clarity, you realized that he had walked in on you sitting on the dirty pavement in a pretty dress all alone, crying your eyes out outside of a party. You probably looked every bit like a child throwing a tantrum. You didn’t want to be treated like a child. But when someone was coddling you and wiping your tears for you for the first time in your life, you couldn’t help but let it all go, all poise and pretense be damned.

“You know that guy…” you began guiltily, because you knew you were at fault, “I don’t know why I thought that he wanted to come with me to the Spring Social. I went out and got a dress and everything but when I came here, he was with another girl,” you frowned and cried a fresh batch of tears as you narrated. You saw his face hardening slightly. You saw the subtle hints of disapproval. But if he thought you were stupid for making the same mistake twice (he did), he was too kind to say it. Instead, he had used the back of his sleeve to wipe away at your flowing tears and said,

“Oh, thank God. I thought you had accidentally killed your hamster or something,” he joked again once he found it was safe to do so. But it just earned him a rap across his ribs, so he backtracked, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come here,” he said and offered you his shoulder.

“I really thought I was getting it together, Jaemin. I got so pretty for him,” you told him sadly. “But watching him walk right past me with another girl just reminded me that I’m still that loser that has no friends,” you croaked through your words miserably, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Babe, okay, listen,” he said, straightening you out and holding you at arm’s length to look you in the eye. And though everything in your skin was telling you that it was because you were so vulnerable, you couldn’t help your heart skipping several beats.

Babe.

He had called you babe.

You quickly whipped your head to see if there was someone around you (there wasn’t). Because he would only call you babe when he was pretending to be your boyfriend in front of your unkind classmates.

There was no one around. So, he had no reason to call you babe (he did).

But he had gone on. “You’re not a loser just because you don’t go around collecting people like trophies. You’ve made a couple of friends, and you’ve been good at keeping them. You know why? Because they are the kind of people that like you for you. I’m the person that likes you for you. And it hurts me so much any time you talk bad about yourself. So, can you not do that anymore, please?”

You hadn’t said anything. You had just looked at his kind face and kinder words and something told you that he wasn’t just saying them to make you feel better. He was saying them because he genuinely meant them (he did).

“And secondly, you have it together! Stop thinking you don’t have it together! You’re so smart and you’re in college and you get good grades, and you still take the time out for your interests and you work out. You’re basically superwoman. I don’t know a lot of people that have been to college, but I can tell you no one manages as much as you do. You’re not any less than anyone in there just because you don’t surround yourself with people you don’t need. So, can you please, just... look at yourself with my eyes and see how amazing you are?”

You looked at him. You just simply… looked at him. Had it been anyone else, the words that were being spoken to you wouldn’t even have registered. You would’ve been stubbornly dismissive to any sort of praise being given to you.

But Na Jaemin was looking at you so sincerely, and the concern on his face was so real, that somehow, your stubborn, aching heart believed the words he spoke. So, you nodded.

“Also, can you not do… this, please?” he suddenly asked, looking away.

“Do what?” you asked, wiping your nose on the back of your hand.

“This,” he pressed, flailing his hands dramatically in your direction.

“What?”

“Can you not look all beautiful and vulnerable and broken like that?” he grimaced and suddenly got up and started pacing about.

“What do you mean?” you asked him from the floor.

“Do you even realize how beautiful you look?” he almost yelled, hands on his waist.

“Stop it, Jaemin.” you told him deadpan. You could tell he was only trying to make you feel better (he wasn’t), but he was kinda laying it on thick (he wasn’t).

“I’m serious! You’re like, all sad and beautiful and vulnerable, and it’s like… yeah, you’re basically like the perfect fantasy for the grand old fixer in me, okay?”

You looked at him, amused and curious enough to forget about your qualms for a bit, “What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m a sucker for a sad and pretty girl and it’s fucked up, but I’ve Googled it, and I’m not alone, a lot of guys are into this, and you’re basically sitting here looking like you’ve stepped out of the wet dream of every single fucked up boy like me who’s into sad and pretty girls,” he had said all of this in one breath and spoken so fast you almost wondered if he was rapping.

You kept looking at him, and this time, you couldn’t help the smile that was breaking across your face. “Well, I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“It’s true. It’s a real problem. You should Google it.” he said, lifting his collar and fanning himself with his clothes like he was suddenly hot (or turned on).

You looked at him, suddenly curious. “And if I keep playing your fantasy tonight, what are you going to do?”

“For starters, I’m going to take you into the party and show that motherfucker that he can’t play with your feelings like that.”

You scoffed, “You and I both know it’s not true.”

He smiled, moving his eyes to look at you in his periphery though his face stayed turned ahead, “It’s not. But I would still take you in there.”

“Then, shall we go?” you asked, knowing full well that you were crossing a line. But what did it matter? You could cross that line and he might disappear and he might reappear. He might take away the consequences with him or he might not. What difference would it make?

So, when he searched your face, then came to take your hand and help you finally get up off the pavement, you felt free. You felt an odd sort of resolve.

You walked into the party and your pretty dress didn’t go to waste. Because Jaemin had taken you by the arm to the dance floor, right in the center and slow danced with you the entire night. If either you had any ulterior motives, like showing that guy what he was missing (you initially had) or finding a reason to be close to one another this way (you did now), you found it melting away into the music and the warmth of your bodies.

When Jaemin told you “You look so beautiful,” you pressed your cheek over his heart and let him sway you. When you looped your arms around his neck and stood on your toes to hold him closer, he wrapped his arms around your waist and helped you.

Because like always, you didn’t know that you weren’t alone in your feelings of loneliness.

You were you, a girl in college struggling with her identity and failing to impress the popular fuckboys around her (you never tried your luck with the decent types, you idiot).

But he was him, an Idol who had grown up knowing he wasn’t allowed to date (he had tried). The boy who had lost every girl he liked to rumors and sensationalized dating scandals.

As always, you didn’t realize that like you, he also wanted someone he could hold this close. That he wanted someone to take care of when she was sad. He wanted someone he could whisper sweet nothings to, to open up his heart to and have her accept him for who he was.

That’s what he wanted; and it was as if this unexplainable phenomenon, this force that neither of you could explain had heard his heart and brought him to you. The girl who needed someone just as badly as he did.

So when he had pulled away from you to search your face, you knew exactly what he wanted to do. Because his eyes had been dripping with tenderness and his hold brimming with yearning. You had looked back at him, because your heart had been beating so fast. This was Na Jaemin. The boy you used to watch on your computer screen when you were low. The boy who would now appear to you on the strangest of days, when your mind thought you were okay, but your heart would know better.

So, you had looked right back at him. Because you knew that if you gave in right now, it would break all the rules and there won’t be any going back from this. (There wasn’t).

In the grand scheme of things, you and Jaemin could be whatever the fuck you wanted to be to one another.

You could be friends. But the kind of friends that meet spontaneously and infrequently but can hold onto one another without the anchor of time. The kind of friends your other friends don’t even know about.

You could be lovers. But the kind of lovers that never know when they would meet next and when they do, they fade into one another so two becomes one. The kind of lovers that remain a secret to the rest of the world.

You could be nothing. When appearances occurred, you could just wait out the teleportation time, pretending the other was your shadow. Like two strangers that take the same train everyday but never speak. The kind of strangers that aren’t perfect, just strangers.

It didn’t come as a surprise that you and Jaemin chose to be lovers.

And when you haven’t seen your lover in a while, it’s only natural to be wrapped up in their arms and pressed up into their body and attached to their lips (even if said lover has appeared to you in a doctor’s consultation room of all places).

Once Jaemin had confirmed that you were, in fact, not sick or hurt or anything (just here for a regular check-up), he had taken you in his arms and kissed you like he had missed you (he had). And you had kissed him back with just as much fervor. It felt nice to stand on your tiptoes and be surrounded by his scent and taste his lips and have him taste yours.

In a strange way, you supposed that the both of you felt like you could be as unabashed in your passion for one another as you pleased. You hadn’t really known one another long enough to be madly in love. It hadn’t been too long since you had first crossed the line. But if you were kissing each other like you were two lovers whose union had stood the test of time and that what bound you two was soul, not magic; neither of you was going to question it. Romeo and Juliet had only known each other for a little over four days, and no one ever questioned their love. So who was anyone to question yours? If you two kissed like you were blazing in the passion of a forbidden affair, so be it. Who cares?

Plus, who was there to care? No one. You were no one in his world. He was no one in your world. You weren’t held back by questions or traditions or titles or conventions or friends or family or people. There were no rules in this world that existed when the barrier broke and he came to you. So if you kissed like lovers much too soon, who was going to stop you? Who was going to tell you that you should wait this amount of time or that amount of time before it was acceptable to kiss with the passion of a thousand burning suns? No one.

So kiss like lovers you did. He held your hand while the doctor examined you. He stroked your head when a shot pinched. He spoon-fed you ice cream after it was over. And you accepted it all. Because he was making up for lost time. He was finally living the fantasy of being the kind of boyfriend he always wanted to be, but never got to be. And you were living the fantasy of having the kind of boyfriend you had only seen in dramas, never real life. It was wonderful and magical and fantastical, because you needed him and he needed you.

And you kissed a lot. Even when the appearances were much too short. Even when the appearances were just perfectly timed. Even when he appeared at the wrong times. Even when he appeared at the right times. You kissed and you kissed till the pretense of love started to fade. And real love started to set in.

Because one day, he appeared to you and it took the both of you by surprise. He looked so handsome, it broke your heart (he had had a similar thought about you).

“I was looking for a place to sleep. And here I am,” he said, like the kindness of this magic was surprising him, affecting him deep within his chest.

It occurred to you then that it wasn’t a coincidence that even though it was the middle of the day, you’d been sitting up in your bed, writing an assignment when he had appeared. So, you set your laptop to the side and lifted your arms up to invite him to you. And he didn’t waste a single moment to walk right into them. Laying his head over your chest, wrapping his arms around your middle, closing his eyes like a child that had found the safety of familiar arms.

“I have to be back in 30 minutes. I have a stage to be on,” he mumbled anxiously into your skin.

“Shh… go to sleep. I’ll wake you up in time,” you stroked your fingers in his hair and reassured him.

“What if I’m not teleported back on time?” The worry hadn’t left his tone.

You kissed the top of his head and pulled the covers over him, “I have a feeling this force won’t keep you. It has always taken you exactly where you have to be,” and you thought maybe this is what he wanted to hear because he melted into you till sleep took him.

But it wasn’t what he had wanted to hear. Sure, the force took him where he had to be. But it never took him where he wanted to be. Because if it took him where he wanted to be, he would never have to leave your side.

Neither of you have any idea why, but the next appearance occurs when there had been way too many weeks between this one and the last and you had become almost certain that the magic was over. The force had quit. There were no more teleportations.

It wouldn't have hurt as much had this break occurred after the first few times. Back then, the two of you may have almost been thankful for it. But you had become so used to each other’s arms and lips and words of comfort in the last few times that the absence felt heavier and your hearts grew emptier. The yearning hurt till pain became a companion and hope had surged and deflated several times over.

But when you finally saw each other again, there was no doubt left in your mind that you loved this boy. And there was no doubt in his mind that he loved this girl. Because neither of you moved to seek refuge in the other’s lips with a passion that burned urgent to split the sea. Rather, you saw one another like you couldn’t believe it, then fell heavy into each other’s arms, like you were finally coming home at the end of a lonesome, tiresome day.

“I thought the teleportations had ended,” he echoed your thoughts, voice heavy with incredulous relief, “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

You heard him as if from a distance because your ear was pressed directly over his heart and you were listening to it thrum as if you were trying to memorize the beat so you could replay it in your mind when you missed him. As if you were trying to match the beat with your own so your hearts would beat the same, even when you were apart. His heart in his world, and yours in your world. You wondered if this is what falling in love with an angel would feel like. Because the power of teleportations lived in him, not you. Because angels didn’t belong on earth. Angels always had to forgo their human form and return to where they belonged. And the absence of Jaemin’s magical appearances in the past few weeks had made you realize that all angels had to leave earth eventually. When would your time be up?

Because you hadn’t replied, he took your face in his palms and looked into your eyes, “Did you miss me?” he asked with hopeful uncertainty. As if knowing that humans are fickle and perhaps he held your heart no longer.

So you lifted up on your toes and spoke into his neck, “I missed you.”

He held you again, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around you, feeling something lovers often feel when love clouds all their better judgement: that you fit so perfectly into him and he into you, it was like you were made for one another (what a fucking cliché).

He held you back to look at you once the vehemence of being reunited had slowed to a flame. “I hope I didn’t interrupt something important this time?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I just got home. Your timing couldn’t be more perfect.” He saw the clothes from the day you had discarded on your bed and your almost bare face and the products you had spread out on your vanity, indicating that you were getting ready for bed. He smiled at you fondly.

“How come you got home so late? Were you studying?” he asked, sitting you down on the chair of your vanity and helping you continue where you had left off; taking your makeup wipes and doing the job himself.

“Oh no… I was actually out with some friends…” you smiled at him as he wiped the makeup from your skin in soft, gentle strokes.

“Were these your Pilates friends?” he asked, genuinely curious, wondering what all from your life he had missed in these weeks (it was a lot).

“Actually, no… there have been quite a few changes in my life,” you look up at him as he tucked your hair behind your ear to keep them out of the way.

“Oh yeah? Tell me all about them,” he said.

“I actually… applied for a transfer to a different university. I… got in. I transferred…” you catch him up.

He looked into your eyes inquisitively like he was trying to read your mind (he was), “Is this a good thing? Is this what you wanted?”

You nodded, “It is. It’s a much better program and the professors are better and the campus is nicer and… you were right. Not everyone is as catty as they were in my old college. People here are just so much nicer and like… I don’t know? So much more chill? No one cares about what other people are doing and like, they were so welcoming? Like, I didn’t even have to try. A bunch of people approached me and offered to show me around campus and help me with the transfer, and like… I know you always say normal people are supposed to be kind and considerate. But I guess when you’ve been stuck in a bad situation and around bad people for so long, you don’t realize that there is a better life out there? I didn’t realize how… how normal it was for people to just be, like… nice and just talk to everyone? I always thought I was the problem. I know, I know you told me I wasn’t. But, like… oh man, it was such a relief, I can’t even explain it properly.”

Jaemin listened intently, his eyes focused entirely on you. There was a curious look in his eye, like he didn’t like how much of this was new information (he didn’t like it one bit). But he said, “Of course you weren’t the problem. But God, Y/N, I’m just… I’m so proud of you. Do you know how brave this is?”

You smiled at him proud, but shy. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Once again, I don’t know much about college. But I know it’s really hard to transfer colleges. Not many people I know have managed that. And you got yourself out of a bad situation, and that’s like… shit, that is so brave, Y/N,” Jaemin praised you some more and it made you giddy with happiness. You realized that it made you happy because he was the one saying all of this--not because you were starved for validation anymore. You smiled back at him with a sense of comfortable familiarity. The kind of familiarity that makes one feel calm and safe and at home. You weren’t sure Jaemin was feeling the same amount of contentment as you were, though.

“How have you been?” you tilted your head up to look at him and asked him softly.

“Me?” he smiled, “I’ve been good,” he replied politely, massaging your face with whatever products you had laid out. And you realized that he was on a different vibe.

“You seemed really busy… from what I’ve been watching,” you tried to look upon his face and read the emotion behind his polite façade. If you had learnt anything about Jaemin from the time he had started appearing to you, it was that he would use his smile and his humor to shield talking about himself. He shared his mind with you every now and then… but those moments came after a lot of priming and prep-work, when he realized that it was the right time and the right mood and the right kind of safe. Maybe it was too early in the evening for him to have that conversation. So, you decided not to press him too much.

“Yeah? You’ve been watching?” he peeks a look into your eyes before getting back to his work.

“Of course. I watched every single video hoping at least one could summon you,” you pouted.

When your face was sufficiently prepared for bedtime, he looked down at the floor instead of your eyes. “I wish I had the power to summon you, too.”

You looked up at him, trying to read the true emotion behind his words. It had perhaps taken him years to work on this exterior--the kind that kept his true heart under so many defenses. Jaemin had seen every vulnerable side of you: he had seen your misery and your insecurity and your goofiness and your heart. He had seen you ugly cry sitting on a dirty pavement, for fuck’s sake. You were never good at hiding your emotions, possibly because you never really had to. But this boy had mastered that art. So any time he did offer his true heart to you, it meant so, so much more. But not like this.

“I don’t have the power to summon you, though. If I did, you’d never get anything done in your world,” you laughed (a stupid attempt to lighten the mood).

“Then I wish we could figure out how this force works,” he sighed, “I hate that we have no control over it,” and your heard true agitation in his words.

You thought about it. Sure, it would make both your lives easier. If you got to decide how and when you appeared to one another. Then, there would be no such thing as an inconvenient time, no concept of an insufficient duration of stay and neither of you would have to wait weeks and weeks before seeing each other (like you had now).

But then again.

If you controlled the force, Jaemin would’ve never known who you were. He would have no reason to appear to you, or keep appearing to you. He was a K-pop idol in his world. You were just a regular girl in your world.

Maybe, in a strange, convoluted way, it was good that neither of you controlled the force.

“Hey…” you said, delicately holding his chin, “... you’re here now.”

“But for how long? How would I know when I’d just disappear? How would I know when I’d see you again?” his eyes grew cold and his frustration grew strong.

“Jaemin…” you began, almost in warning. The two of you had always accepted this phenomenon for what it was. You had never questioned it or been angry with it. You never felt strong enough to challenge it. Perhaps because the stakes hadn’t been this high before.

“How would I know if this would be my last time seeing you?” he finally looked into your eyes and you saw the pain. So you stood up.

“Jaemin… come here…” you reached for him but he held your wrists, like he wanted to be heard, not consoled.

“It’s not fair, Y/N. This force is not being fair to us.” he told you like you didn’t know. Like he wanted you to feel the injustice and share in his frustration of it. Like you shouldn’t be as accepting of it as you appeared to be.

“I know, baby. But I’ve got you. We’re here now.” you reassured him and took him in your arms. You said nothing so he would ease the tension in his shoulders and relax in your hold.

When he finally did, you felt your own heart grow heavier. Like holding him had made you absorb his pain. You stepped back to look up into his eyes. But when you did, he was gone.

All that time you had pretended to be impassioned lovers, intertwined and holding on, playing make-believe and never mentioning it lest the spell be broken. But now that that love had become true, your lips didn’t touch, not even once.

“I’m going to take you on the best date of your life.” Jaemin declared as he held your hand tight as the two of you walked along the river.

“And how are you going to do that? You don’t even know this place, or when you’d appear back here,” you challenged.

It had been a bizarre and beautiful day. Jaemin had appeared to you whilst you were out with your girlfriends. You would never have thought you’d be the kind that brought their boyfriend along on a girl’s day out (gross), but what could you do when the said boyfriend couldn’t leave your side? Not because of love or separation anxiety, but because of this stupid force shit.

But the other girls’ boyfriends had joined in through various parts of the day, and it had all turned out for the better. For a little while (or the entire sunlit day), the two of you had done things that normal couples did. And you had basked in the warm glory of the ordinary. Everything you did was cliched and normal and so fucking rudimentary, that for a while, you forgot any force or magic that bound you together. You were just a normal girl, he was just a normal guy. And you did normal things.

But a planned date? You both knew that had way too many variables.

As you would have it, you had underestimated one Mr. Na Jaemin.

He may be the quiet one, the introverted, reserved one, the boy that liked staying indoors and away from the sun. But he was also the ace who had the ability to achieve anything he put his mind to. So, he gave you a day and a time and told you to be ready.

And maybe the universe had been rooting for the two of you. Because the next appearance incredibly, beautifully and perfectly happened just as you had finished your last swipes of lip tint. You had looked at him with wide eyes and he had smiled at you a smug smile, saying

“I told you I’ll be here for our date.”

You had no idea what the boy was on, or what handle he thought he had on this force, but you liked this spirit much better than the spirit from his other appearance where he had been so sad and angry. The truth was, neither of you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know what this was, or why it happened, or how you could control it. But if believing it made him feel any better (it did), you were willing to believe it for him.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Anywhere you like. Ask me for anything. Nothing is off limits,” he looked sincerely into your eyes.

But you’d never been one for the glitz and the glamor (neither had he). So you had taken him by the hand and just gone on a leisurely stroll of the city he’d never explored. You made him try all the street foods he’d never tasted, even when he insisted he wanted to take you someplace fancier (let’s be real, neither one of you liked the fancy shit). You showed him your old school and the house you grew up in. You showed him the park where you had almost had your first kiss. Jaemin had been petty enough to grab you by the waist and kiss you deeply right there, telling you not to have any other first kisses in this spot (not like he had any competition lol). You would’ve smacked him had the park not been totally empty. But it was and you were all too happy to abide by his request.

When he kept pressing you for wishes that he could fulfill, you asked him to buy you this little beaded bracelet a lady was selling by the riverside. They were dirt cheap and didn’t look like much, but you told him that you wanted something to remember him by. To look at on days you missed him terribly and couldn’t summon him. To comfort you and reassure you that you belonged to him and he belonged to you. While he had bought you it willingly, he had sulked as you moved on, because you were simply not wishing for something that was valuable enough (because he still hadn’t heard your true wish). So what was a girl to do? You attacked him with kisses to his sulking face, because Na Jaemin wouldn’t be the kind to enjoy PDA when it is turned to a cringey max in front of other people. Surely it would make him crack (you thought). But you had forgotten that this boy’s flirt was bigger than his introvert, and in this world, there were no cameras and prying eyes to worry him. So if he had grabbed your waist and kissed you silly right there on the pathway by the river whilst people watched, it didn’t faze him. It fazed you, though, because you ended up pushing him away, leaving an extremely smug expression on his face.

“Don’t play the game if you can’t commit all the way through,” he smirked, thoroughly satisfied with the turn of events, but hurriedly walking you away from the chaos so you’d stop getting these looks. When the two of you had moved sufficiently away from the crime scene, he turned back to you,

“I wish you’d ask me for something more.”

You peeked at him through your lashes because all of this was much too perfect. The day had been better than anything you had ever fantasized about (you unimaginative dummy). “You’ve already given me so much.”

“I’ve hardly given you anything at all. I wish you’d ask me for something bigger,” he said in a forlorn voice, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And in a moment of incredible bravery, you told him what you wanted, what you truly wanted. What the true wish in your heart was. You whispered it to him in abstract and poetic words which no one would have understood. But this was Jaemin. He understood.

So you returned home.

Your heart beat fast. But Jaemin’s beat faster.

He had stopped by a store to get some things you’d need and you had averted his eyes the entire time. But you couldn’t escape or hide from him. You were bound together by magic. And when you finally got home and the door shut the rest of the world behind it, you turned to one another. Nervous, anxious, scared, and in love.

Jaemin took your face in his palms and kissed your lips and you kissed him back. Nice and slow. No rush, no urgency. Just careful, nervous anticipation.

“Wanna go to your room?” Jaemin asked carefully.

“Yeah,” you replied in a whisper. So he took your hand and led you in and when you walked behind him, you realized how tall he was. How broad his shoulders were. They way he held his posture. And all of it made your face burn hot with a newness that tingled.

He set his purchases down and you realized that he had bought candles as well. Your heart fluttered as he set them out and lit them, filling the room with a soft, comfortable scent. You averted your eyes once more when he looked up and caught you staring. But you could stare at him. You were allowed to stare at him. Then why did it feel so sinful? Why did it feel so forbidden to look at the boy you loved whilst the two of you braced in the mysterious caution of what you were about to do?

He walked to you, slow and meaningful. He took your hands and looked down at the ground.

“I know you don’t want anything from me…”

“... Jaemin…”

“... but I just… I want you to have this, okay?” he said as you looked at him quizzically. He pulled out a necklace hidden round his neck and under his shirt and unclasped it. He reached to sweep your hair to one side to put it on you. “Just like you want to remember me… I want to see this missing on me and know that you have it. That you have a part of me.”

“Jaemin…” was all you could whisper as he adjusted the delicate chain around your neck.

“Y/N. I love you,” he told you, his voice low and brimming with sincerity.

You smiled, warm and reflecting the storm in his chest. “I love you, too,” you whispered because you didn’t trust your voice to do anything else. So you stood on your toes and kissed him, and this felt familiar. This felt calming and sweet and took your mind away from any greater consequence everything in this moment could or could not have. You just wanted to be in his arms for now and steady yourself. He wanted to steady himself, too.

So he gently laid you down on your bed and pressed a kiss to your lips, just like that. This kiss didn’t have the fever of when you used to kiss like pretend lovers. This had the steadiness of a love realized. The uncertainty of a future unknown. The uneasiness of a decision on the wary. He sensed all of it in your lips and pulled back to look in your eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, anxiety making his deep voice get lower.

But your decision was made. This is what you wanted. “I’m sure,” you told him, rubbing the worry away from between his brows.

“We don’t have to… go all the way. If you’re not ready…” he breathed out, voice airy and fearful.

You lifted your head and kissed him so any seed of doubt he had in his mind about what you wanted would go away. “Jaemin… I want this… I want you.”

He nodded with a determination that came slow. But when it came, he looked like his mind was made as well. So, he leaned over you and kissed you, nice and long and luxuriously, letting the temperature build to the heat the two of you were already used to. You had kissed like this so many times. This was something you knew. But when his lips started moving from your jawline to your neck, your heart started to race. Your breath started to shorten. Jaemin noticed and pulled back to tell you,

“If you want me to stop at any point, just tell me, okay? I’ll stop right away,” he reassured you like you didn’t already know that this boy would never hurt you (he would never).

You knotted your fingers in his hair. “Keep going,” you whispered.

He kissed your parted lips once, then pressed another one to the curve of your neck. He nuzzled your skin and kissed on the sensitive spot behind your ear and you shivered.

“Can we dim the lights?” you asked.

“Mhmm…” Jaemin pulled back and nodded his head. He got up to flip the switches and suddenly, the room darkened till your eyes adjusted and you saw everything bathing in soft candlelight.

Something about the light darkness made you feel more brave, more aroused, more in control. You realized there was nothing to be afraid of. You trusted this boy. You felt your desire for him. So, you sat up on the bed and invited him in. When he delicately moved your neckline to kiss along your collarbone, you cupped his face. When he slowly moved the strap down your shoulder, you stroked the nape of his neck. When he carefully started pressing his lips down the dip of your throat next to the necklace he had put on you, you exhaled. Your heart raced, and you’re sure he felt it against his lips. But you had felt his heart racing when you had held him, too. Everything was alright.

He laid you down again, touching you in places that felt new, kissing you where you’d never been kissed before. His hands softly slid up and down your leg, taking his time, allowing you to relax into his touch and trust him. When he felt your body respond and saw your hands ball into a grip on his shirt, he dared his own hands to get bolder. He pushed against the hem of your dress till his fingers skirted nearer to your core. He stopped.

“Can I?” he asked your permission in a whisper.

“Yes,” you stroked his hair then closed your eyes when his fingers pressed over your waiting flesh. He felt your nub and started to rub slow circles on it through the fabric of your underwear. He leaned over you, on one side of you and you gripped his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.

“Does this feel good?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” you confirmed in a labored whisper. His touches were innocent in their boldness, but you’d never been touched like this before, and now your skin was on fire.

He leaned down to kiss you while his fingers pleasured you. But he wanted to make you feel good, so he carefully slid his hand inside the band of your underwear and watched your face as he rubbed your warm flesh up and down, wanting to give you as much pleasure as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you there?” he asked and when he saw the uncertainty in your eyes, he added, “It might make it easier… if you come like this first…”

You wished your face didn’t burn at his words but it had so you just nodded.

“I’ll go slow,” he assured you before he trailed kisses down your body till his face was between your legs. He tugged at the waistband of your underwear and looked into your eyes as if to check if this was okay. When you nodded again, he slowly slid it down your legs.

Though your dress still covered your body, you suddenly felt very, very exposed--more exposed than you had ever been to anyone. But this was Jaemin.

“I love you,” he told you as if he read your mind and bowed his head to press a kiss to your clit and your back arched off the mattress in a silent response. It felt new. This sensation felt new. But you had a feeling tonight would be full of the kinds of newness and first times you’d never again get to feel (maybe so).

He pressed another kiss and looked up, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down the insides of your thighs to help you relax. When you did, he kissed your clit and swiped his tongue over it gently and heard you gasp pleasurably. So he kissed and licked some more till your breaths and exhales turned into moans, making his heart soar as his head grew lighter and he felt the twitch in his pants. Fuck, he wanted to hear you make that sound again. He wanted to hear you make those sounds all night.

He reached for the lube he had gotten. He put some on his hands (maybe more than he needed) and rubbed it between his fingers to warm them up.

“I’m going to add a finger in, okay baby?”

“Okay.”

“Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop,” he said, then gently began to circle your opening. He saw the shortening of your breaths in the rise and fall of your chest. He pressed a kiss on your bent knee. “I love you, baby,” he reassured you yet again and pushed his finger in so gently that you didn’t feel any discomfort at all. And to put you more at ease, he pressed his lips to your clit once again, taking his time and building a rhythm against the responses he saw in your body. He moved his finger inside of you carefully and listened to your moans, feeling a strange sort of joy in his chest, one he hadn’t felt with you or anyone before. Hearing you moan beneath his touch was an experience he was never going to forget. His head was so full with your sounds and his skin was so full of your scent that he felt drunk. He felt crazy and light-headed and drunk. But he needed to focus.

“Is this good, baby?” he asked, his own voice shaky as he saw the girl he loved laid out before him, moaning and exposed and beautiful.

“Yes…” you exhaled, biting your lip to absorb the pleasure, “... a bit to the side…”

“Here?” Jaemin moved his finger inside and you put your hand on his to guide him.

“Here... God, yes, right here…” your moans came quicker, as did your breaths and Jaemin wanted you to come, so he brought his mouth hot onto your clit and licked it in the strokes that had made you moan the most. Soon, he felt the immense, almost violent sort of satisfaction when you gripped onto the hair on the back of his head and tensed under him before pooling wetness onto his finger. He felt all these sensations all the way to his hardness.

He came up to kiss you again then rubbed more lube onto his fingers to get it to temperature and massaged it onto the entirety of your flesh, making it warm and comfortable for you.

“Is it too cold?” he asked.

“No, it’s good,” you whispered, then exhaled into the sensation of Jaemin’s finger easing inside of you again, to coat you in maybe more lube than you needed.

He looked down, away from you and got up to undo his jeans. You felt your desire for him run hot in your veins. This boy was so concerned about your pleasure, about not hurting you, about making it good for you. And you wanted to give him everything. So, you found yourself pushing your dress down your shoulders and baring yourself for him.

When he lifted his pretty lashes, his breath was caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected it, but seeing you this way made him sure he was in heaven. This was it. He was never going to have a moment in his life that felt this surreal. He looked at you for longer than necessary, boring the image of you, naked save for his necklace, and beautiful and perfect, deep into his mind. It’s an image he was going to revisit often, more often than he would ever admit.

He approached you with a newfound purpose. He was going to love you like no other, even if it hurt him. Even when the magic faded and the force could keep you no more and he would never get to see you again. He was here now, and you were here now. And this was enough. He was going to love you, no matter the consequences.

He knelt on the bed and you knelt with him, just to have a moment of togetherness, a moment of calm and love and comfort before the heat would build. You took his face in your hands and kissed him.

“I love you,” you told him like he told you, because you saw on his face that he needed to hear it.

“If it hurts… if you want me to stop… just tell me, okay?” he asked of you in a soft voice.

“I’ll tell you,” you kissed his face, holding it with tenderness.

“I don’t want to hurt you… I want this to be good for you…” he looked down.

So you held his face again and forced him to look at you, “I won’t let you hurt me, I promise.”

He nodded at what he heard, like your words had given him courage. He sank back on his heels and you sank with him. He ripped open a foil and you helped him roll down the rubber onto himself. He picked up the lube, but you took it from his hands and warmed it in your fingers like he had done for you. You touched him softly and watched his cock twitch at the brief contact. You looked into his eyes as he had done and he nodded as you had done. So you wrapped your inexperienced hand around him and massaged the lube on him, making him close his eyes and hiss at the sweet torture.

How beautiful this boy was. How many times had you watched his videos? How many times had you admired his beauty? But nothing compared to what you saw in front of you now. Nothing in this world could have prepared you for how hard his beauty would hit you when he sat before you like this and you took his pleasure into your hands. His dark lashes brushed against his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. The chisels of his stomach tensing, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he felt your hand pump him. When he had had enough, he opened his eyes and looked into yours and leaned in to kiss you deep and thorough till he was laying you down again.

He pulled the covers up over the two of you, to your shoulders, so he could keep you warm but watch your beautiful face through it all. He laid on top of you, not too much to be heavy on you, but just enough so you could pull him in and hold him and love him when he needed courage. He reached under and lined himself against you, rubbing you with his tip as you looked upon one another’s faces.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” you replied though your heart raced and your breaths came shallow. There was no going back from this. There was much to lose, and his hesitation and your insistence told you that the both of you knew it but didn’t want to address it. Neither of you had to speak it. Both of you knew what was at stake. Speaking it wouldn’t change it.

But this had been your one wish to him. Before, you had kissed like lovers and hugged like lovers and yearned like lovers. Now your love was true. And that was going to make everything okay.

Jaemin’s mouth parted as he began to push into you. He braced himself with his forearm next to your side, while the other held his length, trying to ease himself into you. Though he was careful and concerned and kind, you couldn’t possibly hold back the low gasps of discomfort that escaped your lips.

“Slow, please,” you reminded him lowly, though he didn’t need reminding.

He nodded, lips parted, and almost as if there was no such thing as too careful in this moment, he stroked even more lube onto himself then began easing himself into you.

He heard the whimpers you couldn’t hold back and cupped your face and kissed your cheek,

“Want me to stop?” he whispered in a strained voice, because now that he was inside you, he never wanted to stop. He was lightheaded with how perfect this was, how perfectly you fit on him, how much you were squeezing down onto him and giving him painful amounts of pleasure and making it hard to think. Fuck, he couldn’t think. But he had to. He couldn’t do that to you.

You shook your head, “Keep going, please…” you replied though you kept grimacing and exhaling deeply against the fullness you felt. Jaemin had been so careful and had prepped you so well that there wasn’t any noticeable pain… just a stretch and a fullness you weren’t used to. But you wanted to kiss him to make it easier so you turned your face and found his lips.

Jaemin kissed you back with the passion he knew but he moved in you with slow delicacy for the girl he loved. He knew he loved you though his mind was fuzzy because being inside of you was the best feeling he had ever felt in his life. He wanted time to stop and the world to end and everything to still. He wanted it all if it meant he could stay like this with you forever. He wanted to lose himself and move in you.

“Is this good?” he spoke in a strained voice.

“Mmm… keep going, Jaemin, please…” you moaned, moving his hair away from his forehead.

“Hold me,” he begged. So you held the back of his head and pulled him in so he’d be on top of you fully and you could hold him in your arms. He built a slow rhythm that had you seeing stars but you felt his heart beat against yours. You wondered if it had finally happened, if his and your hearts finally beat the same. If you had cheated space and time and magic and force and made your hearts together as one. And Jaemin wondered the same.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he spoke in your ear, “I love you like crazy,” his voice sounded labored as he moaned into the crook of your neck.

You pulled the covers over him to protect him and kissed his head to love him, “Jaemin…” your voice keened of its own accord.

“Don’t let me go,” he begged, and how could you deny him? You held onto him with everything you had, and he moved in you and gasped hot in your ear. He wrapped his arms around your middle and you wrapped your arms around his back and for a moment, the two of you allowed yourself to exist like this. Not as you two people who kept being put together then pulled apart over and over by a sadistic phenomenon that enjoyed your pain. But as two souls that had become one, and no force in the world could split it into two ever again.

The heat built and built and the nervous anticipation from earlier was lost in the passion that you and him created. It was you and him and you were making love, and nothing hurt and everything was fine.

“How do you feel?” he held your face to check.

“Good, Jaemin, please, don’t stop…” you breathed out. Your eyes fluttered shut to take in all the pleasure this boy was giving you though the tightness in your abdomen was building.

“I don’t think I can last much longer,” he groaned as his movements became more tense and his voice became more strained.

“It’s okay, baby…” you stroked the back of his head.

“I want to kiss you,” he implored desperately, so you held his head and kissed him while he moved and moved and moaned and moaned till his voice broke off the kiss and he groaned out, louder than you had expected, right in your ear, causing you body to shudder with his as he found his release inside of you and he moved through it all.

Eventually, his movements slowed and his head found home on your shoulder as he slumped heavy on you, and you held him. You closed your eyes and you held him and you heard his breaths even out with yours and you wondered if now the two of you even breathed the same. When your eyes grew heavy, you forced them open. You didn’t want to lose this. You didn’t want to close your eyes and find him gone. You gripped onto him, as if doing so would keep him here, right with you where he belonged.

When the moments of stillness had subdued and you found your breaths again, Jaemin felt the movements return to his body and he lightly rubbed your side with his hand. He lifted his head up with a saint-like motivation, because he never wanted to move from where he was.

“You okay?” he pushed your hair away from your face and pressed his palm to your forehead.

“I’m okay,” you nodded and traced your fingertips on his back.

He pecked your lips, then held your hip softly so he could ease out of you carefully. He heard your gasp, even though you hadn’t gasped in pain, just the sudden feeling of emptiness and the memory of him in your skin. He pecked your forehead then sat up on the edge of the bed. He picked up his shirt, one he had discarded earlier and eased it onto you, covering you. You felt your heart yearning at the simple act. So when he got up, you held his hand.

“Don’t leave,” you whispered.

He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it tenderly. “I’m getting you some water. And we have to clean up,” he said kindly.

“What if you walk out and you disappear?” you told him the fear in your heart.

He sat down next to you and leaned over your face, “If I walk out too far, I’ll appear right next to your side.”

You looked away before stupid, fearful tears could betray you and sneak out in front of him. How fucking cliched. But what could you do? He held your face and turned it back to him and looked at you till you looked back.

“Nothing is going to happen. I’ll be right here,” he said strongly.

“You promise?”

“I promise. I’ll leave the doors open, so you can keep laying down, okay?” he stroked your cheek.

“Okay…”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You couldn’t move. You were too afraid to move. You were too afraid to breathe or move or blink or cry because how would you know what action of yours would make him disappear? You had never known either way. But now you wish that you did. You wish you knew exactly what it was so you never moved that way ever again and he could stay with you for as long as you liked, even if it meant forever. Was forever a possibility with Jaemin? You didn’t know. But now that you had a taste of what it could be like, you yearned for it. And that made your heart hurt.

He returned to you, Jaemin returned to you, just as he had promised. He came to you in nothing but boxers and helped you sit up like you were made of glass, asking you not to move too quickly or too suddenly. He held the cup to your lips and made you sip, like there was no such thing as overly attentive in this moment. Then he tended to you and cleaned you up just enough so you could sit up comfortably. When you did, he kissed your temple and asked,

“Do you wanna go and wash up by yourself? I’ll change the sheets till then.”

You nodded because he was still here and he looked so calm. Like nothing would go wrong. Like everything was exactly as it was meant to be. That gave you some courage and you left, careful to leave the doors open. When you returned, he was still there and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach softened up. He had blown out the candles and made your bed and when he saw you, he held back the covers inviting you in.

When he had you tucked in, he got up to turn the lights off and your heart raced, knowing for sure that he would disappear in the darkness. But you felt him climbing in next to you and taking you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest. And you exhaled into him, searching for his face in the dark, unbelieving that you could have this moment. This moment could belong to you.

“I’m afraid to sleep,” you confessed.

“Don’t be. I’m with you,” he kissed your head.

“Please don’t let go,” you whispered, holding him tight, too painfully tight, like if you didn’t, he would vanish into a puff of smoke, leaving only your aching emptiness behind.

“I’ll never let you go,” he held your head to his chest in a promise and pulled the covers up to keep you warm.

You couldn’t fight the feeling. You were human after all, and you couldn’t fight the sleep in your body though you willed yourself awake any time you drifted off. But each time you reopened your eyes, he would still be there. He’d rub your shoulders and stroke your hair and wrap his arms around you to soothe you.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered so softly that it sounded like a drift in the air. When he saw you losing your battle with sleep he stroked your hair and hummed. You felt the vibrations of his sweet, hummed lullaby in his chest beneath you and in the air around you. But when his voice finally made it to your ears, you slept. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You were just a human with no powers that could fight the magic or the force or any mystery of the world, let alone sleep. So, sleep you did.

When you woke, and your eyes adjusted to the morning light and then saw him still laying next to you, you couldn’t bear it. You’d been much better at holding yourself back last night when the tremors and trepidations had thrown caution to the wind and composure in your nerves. But come morning, all of it was gone, leaving behind nothing but your raw, unadulterated, ugly emotions. Because you held into him and sobbed into his chest in a gratitude that you couldn’t endure. The relief crushed you. He was here. He was still here. The force had been kind and had kept you with him so you wouldn’t feel the loss of him when you’d be most vulnerable in your aching for him. You sobbed and you sobbed till you worried him, and he kept checking your face and asking you to please stop crying.

But he felt the unbearable relief, too. He had spent all night holding you tight and fighting his sleep and praying to something he didn’t believe in. He had prayed and prayed to the sky, to the force, to the mystery, to the powers that be to keep him here with you. At least for this night, if not any other night ever again. He wanted you to wake and see him next to you and know that he didn’t desert you. That he wanted you though the heat had subdued and the night had ended. He wanted you to open your eyes and know that he still wanted you. That he still loved you.

So he had prayed and he had bargained that he would do anything, just to stay with you come morning light. He would’ve fallen to his knees and begged to the sky if it came to it, because he had never wanted anything worth begging for before. He would give up anything, just for this one moment.

He kissed your head and wiped your tears and when you didn’t stop, he kissed your tears. He held you and rocked you till your breathing slowed to sniffles and your heart calmed. He rubbed your side and looked down at you. You saw the curious shadows his eyelashes cast on his face through the diffused sunlight in your room and you wondered if you’d ever see a more beautiful sight ever in your life. You never wanted to leave this bed. But eventually, you would have to.

“Are you okay? Are you very sore?” he asked gently.

You shook your head, “No. Just a tiny bit.” How could you hurt after he had loved you so good? He hadn’t hurt you one bit.

“Can I make you breakfast?” he smiled at you.

“Okay,” you smiled back.

You leaned on the counter while he cooked for you, watching how he looked so at home. It was an odd sort of morning, one that felt new and familiar at the same time. You sat and ate and fed each other and talked like everything was normal. Nothing was out of the ordinary, everything was as it was meant to be.

He insisted that you go about your day and make no changes on his account. He waited with his back to you as you showered. But the images from last night were imprinted in his mind. So when he slowly turned, you invited him in. Because they were burned into your mind, too. You both kissed in the shower, lost in one another. He held you and rubbed you gently to pleasure till you came apart on his hand. When you sank to your knees and took him in your mouth, he guided you, his groans lost into the splashing of water on your bodies.

When you got ready for your day, he helped you. Drying your hair and zipping your dress and stealing as many kisses as he possibly could. He sat by your feet to tie your shoelaces and when he got up and walked you to the door, he kissed you deep, like a normal boyfriend sending off his normal girlfriend onto her normal day.

“Coming?” you asked when you broke away.

“I have a feeling I have to get back to work, too,” he sensed.

“Oh…” you replied, though the dread you had felt about parting from him the night before was gone. You had had your fill, but not in a way where you didn’t want more. Rather in a way that filled you with hope of what could be. This was good. This was normal. This was something you could have. The previous evening and night and this morning had proven it to you. You knew it in your heart. “Well, then…” you held his cheeks, “... have a good day,” you smiled, basking in the normalcy.

“Have a good day,” he echoed, kissing you goodbye.

He held the door and waved and watched as you walked away. He kept watching you for as long as he could. Because when you turned to look over your shoulder, he was gone.

If there was something you had learnt about Jaemin, it was that each appearance brought with it a different side of him. The energetic and the laid back. The bright and the dark. The ice and the fire.

There were days when you got the best of him. The lightest, brightest parts of him that made it seem like everything in the world was good. But there were also days when you got his darkness. Where he felt tired and drained and nothing you could say or do would make anything okay.

Today was the latter.

You felt the heaviness in the air as soon as he appeared. Eyes distant, presence forlorn. You knew something was the matter when he sat next to you in the library and you took his hand. You tried to believe that he was sitting in silence in respect to the studying students around him (that included you). But as soon as you walked out together and you hugged him, your worry intensified. Because you knew that his mind was far away. He wasn’t present.

“Are you okay?” you tilted your head up to look at him.

He looked down at you, and though he tried, his eyes remained distant. “I’m okay,” he nodded.

“Let’s go home,” you took his hand and felt how he didn’t immediately grip it like he always did.

“Don’t you have classes?” he asked with a politeness you did not like.

“No. I was just catching up on some readings,” you told him, studying his face.

“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” he said, too considerately. Too formally.

“It’s okay, I wanna go home,” you replied. You took his hand and tugged on it. He moved. Not like he had a choice but to. He had to move when you moved.

The two of you walked for a while in a silence that felt heavy. It felt burdensome. And the further you walked, the heavier it grew on your shoulders. Almost as if in response, you felt Jaemin reach to you and take your bag and carry it for you, like he could at least take this from your shoulders while everything else held them down. You had experienced his mood swings before. When he was tired from work, when he felt something wasn’t happening his way, when he was generally just on an energy recharge. You had seen it all. But this was different.

When you reached home, you could hide no longer. Neither of you. You weren’t protected by distractions or other eyes or the openness of the sky or the air that could diffuse whatever tension existed between the two of you. Now, you were confined in the walls of your house where you had to exist, together and alone. Where the tension had no place to go, no air to dissipate in. The walls and the ceiling would rebound it till it came back to you, demanding to be addressed.

So you turned to him. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” you took his hand because your mind idly remembered reading somewhere that couples should hold hands when they fight. And you were a couple; though you’re not sure if this was a fight, whatever was impeding on you both.

He didn’t let go, which you supposed should’ve been a good sign. But the words he spoke told you otherwise: “I don’t think I can keep appearing to you anymore.”

You studied his face curiously. You saw the stone cold set of his features. You heard the evenness of his tone. You felt the composure in his form. But you knew him better.

“What makes you say that?”

“I just… I know,” he answered.

“You and I can’t control it, Jaemin,” you tried to reason sensibly against whatever gloom was betraying him today.

He scoffed once, like he didn’t need the reminder. “Don’t you feel it, Y/N? Can’t you tell it’s going away?”

“Jaemin…” you pulled him closer by his hand and looked up into his eyes and urged them to reveal their true feelings, “... what do you mean? What do you feel?”

“I think our time is up,” Jaemin said in a voice that sounded like a breath.

“Our time isn’t up, Jaemin,” you stood on your toes to kiss his face, “Our time has just begun.”

“If not now, then when? How long do you think this can keep happening?” he looked up urgently and let his voice showcase a bit of the frustration he felt, still too in control.

“For as long as we’re together. For as long as we need each other,” you replied with certainty.

He smiled then and cupped the side of your face. You leaned into the touch. “I don’t think we have that power,” he said sadly.

“We do,” you said stubbornly. He swept his thumb across your cheekbone and kept looking at you like he was memorizing your face.

“It’s fading, Y/N. I can feel it fading,” his tone was so defeated that it made you angry.

“It’s not. I don’t feel it, Jaemin. I don’t feel what you’re feeling,” you shook your head. How could he be so sure that the magic was leaving? How was he ready to give up so easily?

“Listen, Y/N,” he turned his body to you and took your face in his hands, using his thumbs to lift your chin. “I’ve loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, okay?” and for the first time since you had met him, you saw tears make his eyes shine. He didn’t let them fall, not even once.

“Jaemin, stop. Stop it right now.” you pushed against his chest. You weren’t going to allow him to do this.

“Please, Y/N--”

“No, Jaemin--”

“--just let me say this, please. Just let me tell you,” he pleaded desperately. Like a man asking for his last wish. Who were you to deny it?

“What?” you gripped the fabric of his shirt in your hands.

“Be well, okay?” he stroked your head.

“Jaemin…”

“Study well and live well. Don’t forget to eat your meals on time. I know you forget to eat when you’ve got work. Don’t do that anymore, okay?”

“No, because you’ll remind me!” you weren’t going to let him say goodbye. It wasn’t in his power to decide when you’d say goodbye. How dare he act like he knew what he was talking about?

“Meet with your friends every weekend and never be alone, okay? You don’t like being alone. You like having friends. Even on days you feel like being alone, tell your friends how you’re feeling. Let them be there for you,” he held your face and didn’t let you move though you were fighting him. You were gripping his shirt and pushing him off of you and fighting him. But he wanted to be heard.

“I’ll see them just as much as I’ll see you!” you pressed, shaking your head.

“Just know that you’re the most amazing girl on the planet. The best girl I have ever met. You’re kind and brave and strong. And you’re a fighter. Always fight back, Y/N,” Jaemin said intensely and you grabbed onto his wrists and tried to pry his hands away.

“Jaemin! Stop it right now!”

“Don’t miss me too much, okay? Live well and be happy. Live the happiest life you can ever live. And if you ever miss me, just remember…”

“Remember what? Remember what, Jaemin?”

“This was all in your head, anyway.”

And with that, he disappeared right in front of your eyes. Like a puff of smoke. Here one moment, gone the next. He didn’t leave behind a trace. Not a footprint, nor a scent. All he left behind was a girl he once loved.

10.

Live well, be well, eat well, study well.

How could you not do any of those?

What ailment could make you stop doing any of those?

You were human, after all. You were going to live and breathe and eat and do whatever it takes to keep yourself moving on.

What did magic mean, anyway? What was power, what was force? What was mystery, what was appearance? They were ideas in the air. They were philosophies and thoughts. One couldn’t touch them or hold them or keep them or store them. They hung like smoke so you felt like you could see them, but you couldn’t reach out and hold them. No one could.

But you were magic.

You had lived your life even through moments you had felt alone. You had been wronged, but had never let it make you cynical of life.

You were power.

You had picked yourself up and gotten yourself out of bad situations. You had changed colleges and made friends and given yourself a life you deserved.

You were force.

You continued to study like crazy and get good grades. You worked part time and exercised and had your shit together. You took every challenge head on and never let it defeat you.

So what if the mysteries and appearances had forsaken you? So what if the wonder and magic had left your life? You were human. You would always find a way to live on. You were the biggest force of them all.

You never watched his videos again. You averted your eyes and your ears from any news of him, any mention of him. You didn’t look up every time and hope to find a face. You never double checked over your shoulder at night, hoping to feel a presence. You didn’t flinch anytime you turned and found someone sitting by your side. You ate all your meals on time. You met your friends on the weekend. You ate well, you slept well, you studied well, you lived well.

But you were human, after all. If you had forgotten to take the necklace off from the moment he put it on you, you didn’t begrudge yourself. If the beaded bracelet remained on your nightstand all this time, you didn’t hide it. When the evenings became chilly and you had to use his jacket to keep you warm, you didn’t berate yourself. When you closed your eyes and saw his smile, you didn’t shake the thought away.

The magic had disappeared and the force had disappeared and he had disappeared. But the memories hadn’t. They belonged to you in their entirety. No mysterious being could keep them. No human could extract them. Your only enemy was time. Because as time went on, the memories started to fade. You were human, after all.

So you sat in the library and put your head to work (exams were the biggest force of them all). Your time was better spent on things that were real and tangible and definite. You were working on yourself, and that mattered more than anything else. More than anything else in the whole, unexplainable world.

When you were nearly done, a girl you’d seen around campus came to sit next to you. You weren’t lonely anymore, but perhaps your soul was, and lonely souls existed and flocked together.

“Hey, Limmy,” you acknowledged her as she sat.

“Why do you look so down these days, Y/N?” she asked instead of a greeting. Though you’d only spoken to her maybe once or twice, you knew that she was known for being odd. You only saw her as free-spirited, though. A lonely soul, just like you, stumbling her way through life.

“I guess it’s the exam stress,” you offered, smiling at her.

“But your eyes are so sad,” she observed and you felt a sinking feeling deep within your chest. Friendly strangers had the ability to see you, perhaps. You were a magnet to familiar strangers through all of space and time, it seemed. The kind of strangers that stop by and give you a good time and then leave forever.

“I, uh…”

“Is it because your comfort character is gone?” she asked directly.

You felt your heart stop. Though her words made no sense, you knew exactly what she was talking about. No, you couldn’t know what she was talking about. How could she know? How could anyone know? No. You were mistaken. You didn’t know. She didn’t know. “My… my what?” you may have stupidly ogled at her. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Mine stopped coming to me a long while ago. She may have found someone else who needed her, I think,” she looked off into space, nodding her head.

“What do you mean, Limmy? What do you mean she stopped coming to you?” you turned to her and despite yourself, spoke pressingly.

“Oh, you know. She must have been assigned to someone who needed comforting more than I did. Her videos kept being taken down, but she wasn’t coming to me. So I figured,” she shrugged.

You’re pretty sure your eyes popped out of your head. You hadn’t realized you were pulling on Limmy’s sleeve, holding her so she wouldn’t walk away. So she would give you answers. You needed answers.

“How do you know I had a… a comfort character?” your voice sounded as incredulous as you felt.

“I could see him,” Limmy said.

“Yes, but, how did you know what he was?” you asked impatiently.

“Because I could see him, silly.”

“Yes, but how did you know? How did you know how he… what he was?”

“No one else could see him, probably. You don’t really know anything, do you, Y/N?” she pouted at you.

“No, I don’t, I really don’t, Limmy. Please, tell me everything, please…” you were begging, you were desperate for answers. Limmy wasn’t matching your desperation, and that was making you more wretched. But she wasn’t leaving either, even if she spoke in riddles and that was giving you the kind of hope that was frustrating and dangerous.

“Well, some people have the sight and some people don’t. I don’t really know how this works, either,” she giggled, like she wasn’t privy to the storm in your chest. How could she be? All you were doing was pulling at her and begging.

You tugged on her sleeve, “What did you mean ‘assigned’? Who was assigning them?”

“The FLAT, of course. Who else?” she said indifferently.

You had no idea what any of that meant. Nothing was making sense. So, you kept asking, “But do they ever come back? Did you see your… your comfort character again?”

“Oh yeah. I went to her fansign.”

“And? What happened?”

“She didn’t recognize me,” Limmy answered a bit sadly.

“Huh? Why? Why didn’t she recognize you?” you pressed, maybe being a bit insensitive to her emotions. But you had no handle on yourself in this moment.

“They lose all their memories of you when the SYNK ends and they stop coming to you, unfortunately. Comfort characters are created for a reason, you know. Wow, you really don’t know anything,” Limmy shook her head, almost as if in disapproval.

But your heart was aching so hard that disapprovals didn’t matter. Politeness didn’t matter and sanity didn’t matter. Your hand left Limmy’s wrist and clutched at your own shirt. You tried to breathe.

“Limmy…”

“Hmm?”

“Was it all… did I imagine it all?” you asked her the question you were most afraid to ask.

At that she smiled wide, almost as if in happiness. “Of course you did, silly.”

You nodded and got up because you couldn’t take it any longer. You were going crazy. He’d been right and she was right. You were losing your mind. You collected your things and turned on your heel. But right before you left, Limmy spoke again,

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

11.

It’s funny how curiosity works. Sometimes, the unfamiliar really piques your interest so you don’t stop at anything till you get answers that satisfy the itch in your brain. Other times, it stays under the radar because your mind holds onto smaller, familiar things that seem more comforting than the unknown.

Whilst it was happening to you, you had remained cautiously uncurious. You had forbidden yourself to ask more than what you knew, to understand more than you did. You don’t know why. You had tried, in the very beginning, to make some sense of it. But perhaps you had been too afraid. First, too afraid of what people would think. Then too afraid that questioning it would break the spell. As if asking too many questions would offend the force (or FLAT or SYNK or whatever the fuck Limmy called it) and it would stop bringing him to you.

But now your curiosity burned like a thousand suns because you wanted to know what it was that happened to you. What happened to you? Who did this? What were you when you existed with him? What was he when he existed with you? Did the world change to a fantasy when you were together? What language did you even speak to one another? Fuck, you don’t have the answer to anything even though whatever happened had changed you.

How could you have been through something that changed you; it changed you, mind, body and soul, and nobody saw it happening? It happened to you. It happened. How dare he or anyone else in the world pretend like it didn’t? Who gave them the right? Who gives anyone the right to label what has or hasn’t happened to you. Whether it was real or imaginary. Only you had that right. It happened to you and you had the right to get answers.

And all of it had brought you to this point where you were sat in your room, the place you had shared so many memories with him, waiting on a fan video call.

You had never thought you’d see the day.

You remember Jaemin pointing out once how you had no posters, no physical albums, no lightsticks, no merch, no memorabilia or anything at all that helped him or other people identify you as a fan. Perhaps you had never had the motivation to partake in fanfare. But a fan you were. And you weren’t ready to believe that he wouldn’t remember you.

How could he not remember you? How could he not remember every kiss, every touch? Was it not burned into his skin like it was burned into yours? Was his soul not changed forever the way yours was?

‘They lose all the memories of you when the SYNK ends,’ she had said. But she did not know what you had shared with him. Had a ‘comfort character’ ever fallen in love with the object of their comfort offerings? Who would know?

But you had to know.

You needed answers.

So you waited, heart in your hand, knowing everything you would say to him and knowing nothing at all. When the call came, the storm calmed to something else. An untimely deflation. A silence in time. You felt the yearning in your chest. Because you were human, after all and you hadn’t seen his face in God knows how long.

And when you did, it took your breath away. You forgot how to speak. How to function. How to move.

“Hello there,” he said in his beautiful voice. But you knew right away that now, this beautiful voice would haunt you forever. It held no familiarity. No sense of belonging. No sign of memories.

You had heard his voice in every possible way a voice can be heard. You had heard it whisper sweet nothings. You had heard it hum soothing lullabies. You had heard it gasp in moments of passion. But all of it would fade to the back. This. This would be your freshest memory of him that would steal the sleep from your nights.

He greeted you with polite, pretty kindness that he offered his fans. You were a fan. You had always been.

“Hi…” you said and your eyes brimmed with tears. He saw it right away and started to coo at you. You realized he was probably used to this. People would probably cry in front of him all the time. He probably had his pretty words of consolation on lock for his adoring followers. Because that’s the kind of comfort he offered you. The consolation of a kind idol speaking to a fan who had been moved to tears at seeing him and getting his attention, even if for two minutes. The kind of fan who held tight onto this parasocial relationship because of whatever solace from their lives it offered them.

This is what it was, now. A one-sided relationship, because seeing him confirmed in your heart what you had known in your mind: this man didn’t remember you.

“Do you know me?” you asked because you always held onto foolish hope, hating how your voice sounded thick with your tears.

He smiled with the sheepishness of a man caught in a sticky spot, “Were you in the other fansign as well?”

“No, I…” you began. But what use was it? He didn’t know you. He would suppose you were this fan or that fan. You should hang up the call while you still held your sanity.

But you found yourself speaking again and the words you spoke surprised you. “I just wanna say… thank you for saving my life.”

How fucking cliched your words were. He had probably heard them from a thousand fans in a thousand different ways, but you couldn’t help it. He sat back in his chair and smiled adoringly.

“Please, don’t cry,” he said softly. He had always hated it when you cried, but he didn’t know it now.

“Thank you for telling me that I am brave and strong even when I didn’t believe it myself,” you told him, though you’re not sure he understood because of how tainted your words were by the breaths that kept hitching in your throat. “You’ve been my guardian angel all this time and you don’t even know it.”

If just for a moment, you saw his eyes flash something. But it was gone in the next moment. You saw the sincere gratitude on his face, but it was the polite kind he offered to a fan. Not to the girl he had once loved.

“Of course you are brave and strong. You’re the strongest person in the world, okay?”

You nodded because the more you spoke to him, the more his unfamiliarity broke your heart. You were torturing yourself in the limbo of wanting to leave and wanting to speak to him forever, even if it hurt you.

But even the power to make this decision was taken from you, because you heard the offensive timer beep, signaling the end of your time with him.

“Please, don’t cry,” he repeated. “Remember to eat your meals on time okay?”

You laughed through the tears, “Thank you for reminding me. I always forget to eat when I work.”

“Don’t do that anymore, okay? You have to eat to get energy,” he scolded and you watched as a staff member urged him to get on the next call.

“Goodbye, Jaemin…”

“I will always remember you,” he said as a sign off, almost as if to mock you.

And when he left and the screen went blank, you allowed yourself to fall into your bed and cry into your pillow. You allowed yourself to cry all the tears you had been holding back for the boy who had stolen your heart and loved you so good that it changed you forever. You allowed yourself to grieve the magic you had lost. You allowed yourself to come to terms with the fact that he was never going to return to you. Because he had forgotten you. You were forgotten like a bad dream. Or an item stored away too carefully, never to be found again.

You were human, after all.

Humans felt despair and anguish. Loss and sorrow. Humans pushed their feelings to the back so they could function properly in the day. And in the loneliness of the dark, humans allowed those feelings to surface.

Living, breathing, studying, eating, being.

Humans did it all. Even when those things lose their taste. Humans don’t have a choice but to be. And you were human, after all.

You went on though your shoulders were weary. You lived on though each step was an uphill. You hadn’t known you were the brave kind till you had to stand in the face of fear and loss and sorrow. Because it takes a brave person to accept them for what they were but still keep pushing on.

But humans heal, and so did you. You had no choice but to heal. Who were you to give up on the life that was given to you? Your life was the most beautiful thing in the world. Your bravery was the truest thing in existence. Your perseverance, your intelligence, your ability to fall and keep getting back up was what made the world go round.

So what if you were forgotten. You would forget, too. You were human, after all.

12.

You were having a strange kind of dream.

The colors were vivid one moment then calm the next. You were travelling one moment then resting the next. Your body felt numb one moment then alive the next. It was the kind of dream that disorients you, one where you’re not sure if it’s a dream or a nightmare. One where you don’t even know if you’re dreaming or not.

Your body felt too aware of its existence, but your mind wasn’t too sure. You felt the heaviness of your being on the mattress, but your mind couldn’t figure out where you were. But then your body turned to its side, and there he was.

You smiled.

He looked so real. Sometimes, you would wonder if you would forget his face. If the sparkle in his eye or the innocence in his smile would fade from your memory like the pain had. You’d been so wrong. Because you were imagining him so perfectly right now, every nitty gritty detail. Lying next to you, his body turned to you like you were turned to him, arm tucked under his head. His features soft, his eyes open as they looked at you.

“It’s you,” you whispered.

It felt good. This was a good dream. This wasn’t a nightmare like you had thought. Everything was alright. He was laying next to you in your bed, and he looked as good as you remembered. His skin was still as smooth, his lashes still as pretty. You’re impressed by the power of your dream. How well it had constructed him from your memory.

“I missed you,” he whispered back.

You had no idea he could talk. Your imagination had a different kind of strength today. Because it even had his beautiful voice on lock. The way it rasped in its softness. The way it reflected the tenderness of his heart.

Oh, but the words. The words sounded so sweet. They were truly the words you’d been longing to hear. But there was poison in this sweetness. These words could hurt you. You smiled still. Everything sweet in life was poison, anyway. Maybe, if just for a moment, you could savour it.

“Don’t lie,” you accused in a whisper.

“How could I lie to you? Have I ever lied to you, hmm?” he said in an almost pout.

You smiled. You supposed he was right. But lies always sounded so sweet and the truth had always been appreciated for its bitterness. How could there be sweetness in truth?

“I missed you, too,” you whispered, and wondered if those words were enough. They seemed so small. So insignificant. But if you were dreaming, who was to say you had any control over any word you uttered, anyway?

But Jaemin felt the meaning behind them. He always did. Because his eyes filled with a tender sort of sadness and he reached out a hand to your face. How warm that touch felt, even in your imagination. Just as warm as you remembered. Just as loving, just as meaningful. Your eyes closed, even in your dream, just to give into that feeling. Who was to say if you were dreaming or awake? People could dream with their eyes opened or closed. But his hand was on your face and the warmth was real enough for you to wish for it to never end.

“You forgot me,” you accused him on another account. The hurt burned in your eyes and dripped into a hot tear on your pillow.

“How could I ever forget you?” his thumb stroked your tears as he whispered.

“You did,” you whispered and closed your eyes again as his lips pressed into your forehead. Oh, it felt too real. This was dangerous, this was very dangerous. If you let yourself savour it anymore, you wouldn’t be able to wake up. You would never be able to tell your dreams apart from your reality.

“I’ve told you, Y/N. I don’t have that kind of power,” you heard the smile in his voice.

“What kind of power?”

“The power to control anything. The power to forget you,” he pulled back to look in your eyes so you believed it was true. Who knew? Who could say what power he had or you had? If he held all the memories in reality or was just appearing in your dreams to comfort you.

“Then don't ever forget me, okay?” you whispered.

“Okay,” he promised, then held you to his chest. You heard his heart beating, and you wondered if it still beat with yours and you gave in. Your dream was too vivid to be safe, but it was okay to lose your mind for a little bit. It was okay to let your fantasy get out of control, just for a while, because this feeling was sweet, even if it was poison.

“I’m afraid to wake up,” you admitted.

“Why?” he pulled back to look at your face.

“Because this dream will end and you’ll be gone,” you whispered and you wish you didn’t because Jaemin looked at you with a sadness that told you he knew it was true. And there was nothing to be done but to hold you in response. Pull you close where your head tucked under his chin and over his heart.

“Oh well. You’re here now. I guess that’s enough,” you said in the moments where you could feel the dream slipping into darkness. And just before it did you felt hot moisture drip on the top of your head. It made you sure that you had truly lost your mind because of how real the sensation was even in fantasy.

But Jaemin had never cried to you in reality.

13.

You woke up a little disoriented. Your head had a dull sort of an ache, one you were sure would go away as soon as you had your first cup of caffeine.

There was so much you had to do today, even if it was a day off. You had to do your laundry because there were only so many times an outfit could be worn before it demanded a wash. And your sink was full to the brim with dishes; to the point where you had actually considered switching to paper plates and plastic cutlery (you were sure mother nature would find it in her heart to understand the struggles of a college student). You also had to do some meal prep because eating ramyeon for all three meals was going to bite you in the ass (or your cardiac health) sooner or later.

You groaned at all the chores you had lined up, even on your day off, and that made you lay in your bed just a little bit longer. Maybe if you pretended you had no chores, they would go away. But five minutes into your lay-in you groaned and got up. You were a grown ass woman (you think) and you had to stop avoiding responsibility one time or the other (now would be great).

‘Get up and take charge of your life, you lazy ass,’ you pep-talked yourself and got up, pulling your hair back and checking your face in the mirror once. On the upside, your skin didn’t look too bad and you had all your assignments lined up well in advance. You would maybe do some light revision this weekend and you’d be way ahead of the game. Maybe you’d call your friends and see if they’d want to do something together. You just needed to cook and clean and do laundry and you’d be right on track.

“You got this,” you said out loud to yourself in the mirror and gave yourself a knowing nod. You just needed caffeine to start your day and you could get shit done. You turned and picked up your bra off the floor, and your shoes, and your socks. It was one thing going commando when you were at home, it was another thing spewing all your stuff on the floor. You needed to get your act together.

You picked up all your discarded clothes from the floor and put them in your laundry hamper. You piled your books so they would at least stack in one place before you could return and sort them the fuck out. You picked up the shoes so you could put them where they belonged because why did you even bring the dirty things into your room?

As you made your bed, you got a flash of the strange dream you had last night. But remembering dreams is hard, and you were struggling. The more you tried to remember, the more it slipped away. You’re sure you had dreamt of him in some way. You sighed.

The dream was gone and he was gone, and you had long stopped dwelling on it. There were bigger things that needed your attention (you had to be your own housemaid for starters). So you grabbed your dirty shoes and made your way out your room. But as you did, you heard a sound. And your heart stopped.

There was someone in your house.

None of your friends had any keys or knew the code to unlock your door. The landlord would never just show up without telling you. Fuck. Someone had broken in. You tiptoed your way back into your room to grab your phone so you could call the emergency. You held your stilettoes in one hand (they could do some damage if chucked well), and your phone in the other. You tiptoed your way out, making sure not to make a sound till your kitchen came into view. You saw a pan sizzling away on the stovetop and you heard your stomach gurgle. You internally berated it to be quiet, but also, what the fuck. What sort of an intruder breaks into a stranger’s house and starts cooking? Very carefully, you moved a little ahead to see if you could catch a glimpse of whoever it was. Your heart raced like crazy as more of your kitchen came into view. You stopped and slowly leaned forward on your toes, silently moving your head so you could just see the person behind the countertop…

“You’re awake,”

You heard a voice from behind you that made you jump out of your fucking skin, and in a moment of flight, fright or fight, you did something incredibly stupid. Instead of chucking the stilettos at the culprit and dialing the number to the police, you ended up flinging the phone with full force and holding the shoes to your ear.

And Na Jaemin ducked, turning to his side while his arms protected his head. The phone hit him squarely in the ribs before it clattered to the floor while you startled and jumped back several places, shoes pressed to your ear.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The two of you stayed in place, absorbing what had happened (you had just hurled your phone at him with all your might). However, move you’d have to, so eventually, Jaemin picked up your phone from the floor before standing up and wiped it on his shirt and walked to you.

You looked at him wide eyed, not moving. Fuck, this was the final straw. Because the dream started coming back to you in bits and pieces and you remembered that you thought you were losing your mind.

But this was too much. You felt too present, unlike the last time. This had to be real. Your handle on reality was much too strong. You couldn’t be losing your mind.

The thought was as relieving as it was confusing.

When you still didn’t move, Jaemin walked up to you and carefully took the shoes you were holding to your ear out of your hand and set them down. Before he could say anything, his head whipped around to the kitchen.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he presumably remembered what he had on the stovetop. “Give me a moment,” he said and he rushed to stir and flip whatever had been cooking. And all you could do was watch in amazement.

When he had everything in order, he wiped his hands on the towel and walked to you again. He took your arm and led you into the kitchen, sitting you down on the stool.

“I made you breakfast,” he explained as he began to lay out an impressive spread in front of you. You looked down and wondered if he had been cooking all morning. Because he had thought of everything. All your favorites and all the things he’d insist you eat for your health and all the things you had tried together. But how could you eat?

“I don’t understand…” you stated in a weak voice as he laid out your utensils in front of you.

He looked up from across the counter and sighed as he smiled, “I don’t understand, either.”

And while your mind was blank and running a thousand miles an hour at the same time, you decided to start simple, “You’re... here?”

“I am. I’m here,” he confirmed, not looking away from your eyes.

“But… but you said it went away… the force. How… how did you know?” your voice is so small because you feel so confused and so helpless. How many times could a heart be played with before it decided it has had enough?

“I don’t know, Y/N… I just felt it,” he moved around the counter to stand in front of you.

“What do you mean you felt it? What was the feeling? How come I didn’t feel it?” you pleaded for answers.

“I don’t know… I just feel it in my body when I’m being taken to you. And I could feel it fading,” he tried to explain.

“Oh…” you supposed it made sense. He was the one who had to do all the teleporting, anyway. Perhaps it would make sense for him to have that feeling. “But how come it came back? How come the… force is back?”

“I don’t know if it came back,” he answered begrudgingly.

“What? Then how did you get here?” you asked, confused. What on God’s good earth was he on about?

“Trains and planes can be niftier than teleportations, you know.” he took your hand then and held it in both of his and looked at it like he was savoring the moment.

Trains and planes.

Trains and fucking planes.

How simply he put it. Like it was normal to sit on a plane and make your way to a girl you had met through magic. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world to stop relying on a magical force and teleportations and just sit on a… train (or plane) to see your girlfriend (ex-girlfriend?).

You had so many questions that you didn’t know how to prioritize them. You asked one, anyway, “But… you forgot me… how could you take a plane for me if you forgot me…”

“Because you came to me,” he looked up into your eyes.

“Huh?”

“You came to me and it all came back,” he smiled at you.

“I… came to you?” someday, someone was going to have to stop speaking to you in riddles and explain in simple terms what it was that had happened in your life.

“The video call,” he reminds you as if he heard your mind.

“Oh…” you looked away to think back, as if doing so would put the pieces together (they didn’t). “But you didn’t remember me even then…”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t know. Maybe it was seeing your face again that triggered something. Because I got off the call and I couldn’t shake off this feeling the entire time. I couldn’t stop feeling like something was missing. Then I looked for this…” he hooked his index around the necklace sitting pretty on you and gently tugged, “... and it all came back.”

You thought for a moment. Had the two of you found some sort of a hack? Had the two of you crossed over too much memorabilia from one world to another that it broke the system? How did any of it make sense?

“But I figured out something else as well…” he began.

“What?”

“Your world and mine are the same.”

“Huh?” of course they were the same. What did he mean?

“Our worlds are the same. You just live where you live and I live where I live,” he explained and it made you want to smack him, though you’re sure that was not the mood of the moment.

“Of course they are the same. How else would I watch your videos or attend your fan call?” you tried to keep your voice patient.

“I mean, it’s the same world, and we exist at the same time, like normal people in the normal world, separated by land or sea. We might lose the magic and I might lose the teleportations. But Y/N. I am never going to lose you again,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him and you had to brace yourself with a palm to his chest so you wouldn’t fall off the stool (probably what he wanted).

“You mean we can be a normal, um… long-distance couple?” you offered, trying to create some rhyme or reason to this madness.

“Except we might not always need trains or planes or anything. I’ll just teleport to you every time I want to see you,” he nodded happily.

“But you said you can’t control it, Jaemin. You said you don’t know if it’s back,” you reminded him before your heart could hold too much hope.

“I did. But this wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to remember you or see you ever again. But I did. And I know we’ll figure it out,” Jaemin squeezed your hand, like he was urging you to believe it.

“But we would still never know when we see each other or for how long. That part is never going to change,” you tried to reason.

“We might or we might not. We’ll have to try. I know I’ve had moments where I could feel you calling for me and then there I’d be next to you. There would be moments where I’d want something so badly, and then you’d be the one providing it to me. But, Y/N, even if the magic goes away and the force goes away… we have like… cell phones and stuff…” Jaemin added the last bit sheepishly.

Cell phones.

You stop a bit because of how fucking weird that sounded. The two of you were bound together by magic. By a mystery you could never figure out. By a force that would teleport this man in space and time. By the SYNK or the FLAT or whatever the fuck it was called.

“Yeah… I guess technology is better than any kind of magic, huh?” you said because this was the strangest feeling in the world. This was a moment in time where the two of you were speaking something you had shied away from since the day you had met each other. That you could exist together in the real world. The kind of world that had no magic, just… cell phones.

Your hands held onto his shoulders, though you looked away in thought, as if to absorb this strange information.

“Um… so you… you came here by, like… regular transportation,” you repeated, feeling a strangeness that made you feel dumb.

“I did,” he grinned and nodded. “Although, I did try something last night.”

“What… what did you try?”

“I’d forgotten to pack my socks. So I tried thinking of the spot I had left them back at home,” he told you.

“And? Did it work?” you asked curiously.

He looked down and wiggled his toes, “Well, I went back to get my socks and came back in record time, so it must have worked.”

“So… that travel fare… that was a bad idea?”

At that, Jaemin laughed out loud and held you in a hug. “Nope. It brought me to you, so how could it be?”

“Wow,” you exhaled into his chest.

You had no idea what anything was anymore. You had no idea what to do when there we so many crossovers between reality and fantasy, truth and falsehood, analog and digital, thoughts and action, teleportations and human means of fucking transport.

But here you were. And here he was. He remembered you and you remembered him. He was human and so were you. This was your world, but this was his world as well. What separated you wasn’t magic, or any type of force. Just a few miles that could be travelled. The same way any sort of miles separate any sort of humans that live far away from one another but are connected by a bond of family or friendship or love.

Trains, planes, cell phones, long-distance. How rudimentary these words sounded. How fucking ordinary. How normal, how regular. You loved them. You loved every bit of the simple, ordinary, everyday, fucking unmagical aspect of them.

So, your normal boyfriend held your hand and sat next to you. He piled your plate with all the breakfast he had prepared for you and fed it to you. When you were done, he did your normal dishes while you sorted your normal laundry and you wondered what more normal things you could get up to now that time or force or magic weren’t enemies, but allies. How the two of you had managed to make it happen, you didn’t know. Perhaps, neither of you would ever know.

But if magic was real and comfort characters existed, maybe the two of you did break the system. You added too many variables, did too much with it you weren’t supposed to. You existed and loved and yearned together and tricked the force.

Because there was something the force hadn’t realized.

That in this curious scenario for two, Jaemin wasn’t the comfort character. He had never been the comfort character.

It was always you.

14.

“It’s not even time yet, you know?” you said as you answered your boyfriend’s video call.

“I know but I wanted to call in before time so I could count it down as it happens,” he grinned proudly. Even on the grainy video call, he looked handsome as ever.

“Are you home?” you asked as you smiled at him fondly.

“Mhmm. I just got done with my schedule, so this is perfect timing,” he said in his chirpy tone.

“No wonder you’re on an energy high,” you sniggered.

“Hey, I’m on an energy high because of you.”

“Touché.”

“Okay, okay, it’s time!” he sat up, excited and giddy.

“Oh God, Jaemin. Just please don’t do anything embarrassing,” you covered your face with your free hand, but it only made him giddier and his smile wider and you knew you were in for something wonderfully cringey.

“10… 9… 8…” he began to count.

“If you try to act cute, so help me, God…” you warned.

“7… 6… 5… 4…” he counted down animatedly, and no warning of yours was souring his mood.

“3… 2…” he counted and suddenly, his screen froze. You saw his grin imprinted onto the screen unmoving before the call cut off. Of course. No amount of careful planning could duel with the SM WiFi. You shook your head and smiled, getting up off your bed.

“... 1,” you suddenly heard behind you. Jaemin took your shoulders and spun you around to face him. “Happy birthday!” he grinned and pulled you into a kiss. He kept kissing you like a brat though you pushed against his chest to pry him off of you. But as far as embarrassing things went, this was good. This was bearable (lol you thought).

Jaemin pulls away, his silly, pleased grin still on his face. “Okay, now for the birthday song sung in the cutest voice in the world!” he announced but you covered your ears.

“Jaemin, I swear to God, if you even try, I’m--”

“--awww, why, but I wanna sing to the birthday girl,” he cooed in his stupid voice and cupped your cheeks to make them puff up.

“I swear, I am literally going to…” you trailed off, warning him with your eyes.

He laughed happily, way too pleased with the reaction he received but then thought it better for his life and health to back off. “Okay, then. No birthday song.”

“No birthday song,” you confirmed, tapping his chest with your palm.

“Fine,” he puffed, “But if not birthday song, how about birthday sex?” he offered.

“Birthday sex sounds… better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” he said before he looped his arms around your waist and pulled you in so you’d fall on top of him on your bed. You yelped loudly till you both laughed and kissed and loved.

You shared so much happiness and so much life and so much normalcy that it gave you both lots of hope for the future. The magic might end or it might not. The force could forsake you or it could not. But you didn’t need it anymore. All you were ever going to need was one another. And that was enough.

- THE END -

1K notes · View notes

andromedasstarship · 4 years ago

Text

in the stars - chapter 3

photo credit - unknown

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, depictions of murder/violence, angst, verbal fighting, drinking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking (cigarettes)

summary - “If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought this was what ‘seeing red’ meant

a/n - hi besties! im so sorry this update took so long! i really wanted to make it perfect and was struggling with putting this together. to make it up this chapter is a whopping 5.9k words so uh enjoy lol!

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3

chapter 2 // chapter 4

-----

You had to physically stop yourself- gripping the desk chair beside you so hard your knuckles turned white- from following Aaron out the office door and demanding he make sense of the whole good cop- ha!- bad cop show he’d been putting on since the two of you had been horribly reunited outside of the police station.

This had been the second instance of him implying or accusing you of somehow worsening the case. And he hadn’t even been in LA for over 24hrs. It wasn’t fair, you thought, angrily grumbling to yourself about all the different ways you’d love to give him a piece of your mind. If he’d been a regular man, that you’d never met before, you probably wouldn’t consider his current behavior to be so- out of pocket? disgraceful? insulting?- offensive. You knew he had a reputation for being...,a hardass on the job, but that didn’t mean he had to go overboard in his treatment towards you. Maybe he wasn’t going overboard, maybe this was just how he treated every- you weren’t sure exactly how to define yourself in the case- witness? Maybe this is just what his team expected in terms of his behavior towards people he didn’t know.

But he did know you, he knew you quite well. He knew you well enough to know you’d never purposely attempt to slow the case down. Even without his fancy profiler skills, you were certain Aaron Hotchner knew every little thing about you. Or at least he used to.

And while Aaron may know everything there was to know about you, you were beginning to doubt if you actually knew anything about him. As expected, over the past two months the case had been taking an extreme toll on you; constantly looking over your shoulder and worrying that someone was lurking behind every corner. What made it worse, was that it was yet another situation that required you to keep a secret. You ‘had’ the officers at the station and your agent, but besides them you were dealing with this completely on your own. Making the situation about yourself felt wrong, but you couldn’t even begin to explain how hurt you felt at Aaron's accusations that you were somehow more part of the problem than you were a victim. Yes, you hadn’t gone up to him and explicitly told him how badly you were hurting, but it’s not like it took a genius- or a profiler- to reach that conclusion themselves.

It hurt, to have someone whose validation you had once- still did- crave so much, suddenly act as if you were a ‘bad guy’. Maybe you were being dramatic, you thought. Maybe you were overreacting and reading far too deep into such short interactions. On the other hand, you reasoned that it was perfectly acceptable to have feelings. Before you could delve deeper into that mental tirade, a sharp knock on the doorframe grabbed your attention. Looking up, you saw JJ leaning halfway into the room.

“Sorry,” you said, awkwardly letting go of the chair, “I uh, got caught up with uh, just you know, thoughts about the case!” Smooth. You tried to put a cheery tone in your voice. You tried to subtly study her reaction as you walked over to her and it was clear she wasn’t exactly buying into your sudden happy attitude. She didn’t press you though, something you were grateful for. Instead she just moved out of the doorframe, letting you join her in the hallway.

“The rest of the team has split up already, would you like to start in the basement?” JJ asked. You had only spoken to her a couple times, briefly at that, but you already found great comfort in her presence; you could see why she held the position, her ability to comfort and connect with others was unbeatable. Definitely need to send JJ a case of wine as a gift.

You nodded dumbly, joining her in the hallway and taking her down towards your basement. Internally, you guessed the little ‘tour’ would only take an hour tops, considering all the little spiels you’d have to give about each room.

You felt a bit like when you went through airport security or when a police car was on a road you were driving on. That sinking feeling that somehow you were going to get in trouble even though you knew you didn’t have anything to hide. Damn Aaron. His apparent lowly opinion of you was definitely messing with your head. Oh well.

As you lead JJ towards the basement, you could vaguely hear the other agents throughout the house. A door opening here or the sound of papers rustling over there. You hadn’t exactly asked how they would be able to tell if something was missing or out of place. But honestly? You didn’t really care what the team did in your house, as long as they figured out how the unsub had gotten in there.

You’d already come to terms with the fact that the unsub had managed to steal your clothes and jewelry, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that he had gotten into your house. Part of you secretly wished he had pick-pocketed you on a busy street or was stealing stuff off a film set instead. It would’ve been equally as bad and creepy and horrifying, but it would’ve been worth still feeling safe in your own house.

Smacking the lightswitch on the wall behind you, the entire basement became illuminated. “So,” you started, really drawing out the word, “this is the basement. It’s technically one big open floor, but well,” you gestured lazily with your hand, “you can see it’s kinda still split up. There’s a movie room behind those doors right there.”

JJ stepped ahead of you, walking towards the high windows in the basement. You watched as she ran her fingers along the window edges, carefully going over each one. “Do these open?” She asked, turning back to look at you.

You quickly shook your head. “They’re mostly just for, like, decoration purposes.” You responded, giving a slight shrug. “I um, I’m not down here much unless I’m having people over. And those stairs we came down are the only way to get in here.” You added, thinking that’d probably be helpful.

JJ gave you that nice smile again and started towards the movie room. “I’m just gonna look in here real quick and then we can go back upstairs, okay?”

You stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, rolling back and forth from your heels to your tippy toes, awkwardly playing with your hands in front of yourself. You knew her movie room scan wouldn’t take wrong, there were zero windows in there and no other point of entry besides the door she had walked through.

Just as you expected, JJ came back out no longer than five minutes later. Once she got closer to you, you turned slowly on your heel and started back up the stairs. “We can start upstairs and then meet the rest of your team on the main level?” You offered.

“Lead the way.”

“There’s um, two ways to get upstairs. There’s that main staircase you saw in the foyer and also there’s a ‘servants stair’ in the back,” you said, making air quotes with your fingers at the ‘servants stair’ part, “I have people that work in the house sometimes, but it’s not an actual designated staircase for anyone.” You explained, unsure of why you were feeling so anxious.

“Why don’t we go up using the second set of stairs? Since I’ve already seen the main set.” JJ said.

You nodded dumbly again, and walked in the direction of the back stairs. Once upstairs, you gave the same room spiel to JJ about six times. This is ‘x’ room, yep those windows can open, nope no one regularly comes into this room, yes the balcony doors do lock from the inside.

Just as you thought earlier, the little tour took just a couple minutes under an hour. You and JJ were standing in your kitchen, both of you leaning against opposite countertops. According to JJ the whole team had agreed to meet up in your kitchen once they were done with their scans, so it seemed that you two were the first to finish. Also expected.

You were lucky you hadn’t run into Aaron the entire time. At times you could vaguely hear his voice coming from another room and all that did was pull on your heartstrings and remind you of when the two of you were together. Aside from the sadness factor, you still weren’t sure you could trust yourself to not yell at him as soon as you saw him again.

“That’s funny.” JJ said amusedly-more to herself than to you-, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What is?” You asked. She had moved from her spot by the countertops, to standing in front of your liquor wall, staring up at a bottle you couldn’t quite recognize from your position.

“Oh, just Agent Hotchner? Out there,” she said, gesturing broadly out to where the rest of the team might be, “he loves this brand of scotch. We joke sometimes that he’d pick it over us if he was given the choice. But apparently it’s super difficult to get. He started getting lucky a few years ago and found a way to buy it, but recently I guess that luck ran out and he hasn’t been able to find it anymore.”

Your eyes went wide at that. Yes. That scotch was super difficult to get and it was ridiculously expensive. And yes, Aaron loved the stuff. The two of you used to constantly argue over money. He hated that you were always the one paying for everything and had created a ‘rule’ that you weren’t allowed to buy him any gifts. Of course, you managed to find a way around that rule and found that this specific scotch was his gift achilles heel. So, you used to send him a steady supply while also keeping a bottle at your place for the rare occasions he was over.

“Oh?” You squeaked.

“Yeah, it’s super rare or something. They only make so many batches a year don’t they?” JJ asked, turning back to look at you.

You quickly pulled your emotions in when she turned towards you, just giving her your third dumb nod of the day. “Yep, super hard to get. Super super hard. I uh, got as a gift once, I don’t even like the stuff.”

“You should tell Hotch. I bet he’d pay pretty well for it.” She said with a laugh, shaking her head. Definitely will not be doing that.

----

Upstairs, Rossi and Hotch were looking through your upstairs office. While your downstairs office was more work based- you stored scripts and had meetings down there, etc.-, your upstairs office was used for your more ‘personal’ work tasks.

“If the unsub is taking her clothes, we might have better success scoping out her closet. See the potential entry and exit points from her room that the unsub must be taking.” Rossi proposed.

Hotch nodded at that, putting down the stack of fan mail he’d been flipping through, trying to find any repeats or ‘creepy’ letters. He made a mental note to have Reid come and read through the piles of other mail you had neatly stacked around the room.

Your attention to fanmail had been one of the things that had quickened the process of him falling in love with you. He had had his doubts in the beginning of you relationship- he had stereotyped you for sure-, your age and status giving him somewhat valid concerns that you’d be insanely disconnected from the normal world. You’d proved him wrong in many ways since the beginning, but one of those ways had been the many days you’d call him from this room, reading through every single letter you were sent and always making sure to send a small note back.

“Good idea, let’s go.” Hotch said. He walked out of office and didn’t think twice, his body automatically walking towards the room a few doors down from your bedroom. You didn’t keep your closet in your bedroom, you had actually put a little couch and sitting room in your bedroom closet space. Instead you’d taken an entire guest room and converted it into a full dressing room/closet that was a better fit for your needs.

As Hotch went straight into the room, he missed the narrow look Rossi was giving him from the doorframe. It only took a couple minutes, but eventually Hotch looked up, cocking an eyebrow at Rossi. “Are you going to come in?” He questioned.

“You knew her closet wasn’t in her room.” Rossi noted, amusement clear in his voice.

Hotch’s face paled, before he steeled his emotions back over. “I saw the clothes while walking past earlier and made the deduction.”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she Aaron?” Rossi teased, clearly finding a lot of enjoyment in this conversation.

“Dave,” Hotch groaned, running a hand over his face, “just, not now okay?” He asked, the desperation clear in his voice.

Rossi certainly didn’t have the entire story figured out, but he wasn’t dumb either, he could piece things together. As much as he’d love to keep busting Hotch over this, there was something about how gentle he had been with you in the conference room and his current clear discomfort that persuaded Rossi otherwise. Rossi grinned at Hotch and raised his hands in mock surrender.

“So, we know the unsub doesn’t have to necessarily be quiet, her room is at least what, 3-”

“Four and across the hall.” Hotch huffed out, not looking up to meet Rossi’s eyes.

“Four and across the hall away. So he doesn’t need to sneak past her if he’s coming in at night...”

----

Back in the kitchen, you turned your head at the sound of the back patio doors opening, showing Morgan and Spencer. Guess they’d be the second pair done with their house tour.

Just as you were about to open your mouth and offer the two of them something to drink, you noticed the rather grim expressions on both their faces. Upon better inspection, you saw Spencer was tightly gripping on to a dirty journal.

“What’s that?” You asked curiously, trying to get a better look at it.

“I found this uh, journal out by the edge of your property line. I think it may belong to the unsub.” Reid responded, giving you a tight lipped look.

It was terribly cliche, but you couldn’t help but gasp at that. Your eyes going wide and your mouth hanging open.

“I flipped through it, there’s nothing that clearly identifies him, but it seems like he was keeping track of your comings and goings. As well as keeping a list of the things he took from your house, we can cross check that list with-”

“Can I look at it?” You interjected, a morbid curiosity consuming your mind.

Reid gave an unsure glance at the two other agents in the room. “I think it’d be better for the rest of the team and I to look through the journal first, and make sure there’s nothing uh...upsetting in it.”

----

With the new revelations that the unsub had managed to break into your home multiple times, the team decided it would be best for at least one of them to be with you at the house at all times; during the day they would assign a plainclothes officer to discreetly sit watch. It was comical, the way they decided on the watch and then promptly assigned Aaron the first shift of the night.

You wondered why he agreed to it, knowing he could’ve easily pulled a seniority boss card and taken himself out of any and all future watch shifts as well. He probably didn’t want you to get closer with any of his agents, should you accidentally say something a bit too personal. He also probably assumed that with the late hour of the night, you’d immediately be going to bed or at least locking yourself away in your room for the rest of the night.

The team had stayed hours after their first walkthroughs of the house, the new list and notes from the unsub giving you all a better idea of what to look for. You had gone through the list of clothes and jewelry in front of the team, giving them a base description of what you assumed the unsub had meant, whether or not you had considered it missing and where you thought you’d last seen it in the house.

Unfortunately, whatever Aaron had been banking on wouldn’t be happening. You hadn’t been able to shake the sinking feeling that your house was no longer a home anymore. It was painfully cheesy, but you knew that trying to sleep would be futile. Nor did you really feel like being ‘alone’ in your room. That didn’t mean you were going to strike up a conversation with Aaron or ask him to play a board game or something, but you wouldn’t be shutting away from the rest of the night.

After the team left, you had gone upstairs and changed into a more comfortable outfit for the evening; just your trusty sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You were now walking back down the stairs and towards your kitchen; you grasped a lighter and your emergency cigarette pack in one hand. As you made your way into the kitchen, you could feel Aarons eyes on you from wherever he was seated in the living room. You pointedly ignored him, instead setting the pack and lighter down, freeing your hands so you could mix yourself your favorite drink.

Once your drink was prepped, you balanced all your things in your hands and made your way back through the living room and out the grand French doors that lead to your backyard. You walked over to one of your lounge chairs that overlooked the pool and had a beautiful view of the sky and bright lights of the city. You turned on one of your favorite playlists and made yourself comfy in the chair, lighting up one of the cigarettes.

With the first inhale, you felt your body relax. It was a horrible habit- you knew that-, but if there was ever a time to stress smoke, you reasoned it was probably now. Over the sound of your music, you faintly heard one of the doors open again, but you didn’t bother turning around.

“I thought you quit.” Aaron said, quite literally coming out of the shadows. Even though you didn’t turn to look at him, you could perfectly imagine him in your mind; probably leaning up against one of the legs of the cabana, arms tightly crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

“I did.” You replied plainly, blowing a steady stream of smoke out of your mouth. Using your free hand you picked your glass back off the chair side table, twirling it slowly. As you took a long sip, you could hear Aaron walk closer, not quite coming into view yet.

“Drinking and abusing substances in response to a traumatic situation is widely frowned upon.

“Thank you Surgeon General,” you said, rolling your eyes before adding, “no offense Agent, but right now, I don’t really think it matters.” You didn’t even bother attempting to argue that you were on your first drink and first smoke.

“It matters, when my team will be counting on you tomorrow. The expectation is that you’ll be a useful and legitimate resource.” Aaron said, voice tight.

“Do you really think I’m dumb enough to actually believe, that you believe that a single drink is going to render me useless?” You asked, finally turning your head so you could give him a pointed look. When he didn’t answer you rolled your eyes again, turning back away from him. “It doesn’t matter, Agent, I’m unavailable to be a resource tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, unavailable?” Aaron asked. He finally walked into view, sitting down on the chair next to you. He positioned his legs over the edge facing you, resting his elbows off his knees.

“What do you mean unavailable?” You said mockingly- the alcohol in your system and stress of the day emboldening your behavior. You paused for a moment to take another drag from your cigarette; Aaron didn’t miss the way you turned your head further from him during your exhale. “You have your job Agent, I have mine.”

“There is a dangerous free man out there with a special interest in you. He’s not only managed to break into your house but is also murdering surrogate women in place of you,” he said, voice growing louder as he went, “and you think you should go to a film set? How immature and irresponsible are-”

“Stop doing that!” You cut him off, snapping your head to face him. For a brief moment, you were taken aback by how close he’d been sitting. “Stop painting me to be some dumb self centered girl. This is the fourth time today.” You said, staring him hard in the face, neither of your breaking eye contact. He always looked so good with a beard- stop that.

“I’m trying to do my job and protect you,” he paused, eyes scanning your face, “I couldn’t handle anything happening to you.” In that moment, his voice was so painfully honest and it almost made you want to agree to do whatever dumb rules he had for you.

Almost.

Instead, you swung your legs to the side of the chair opposite to him, standing up in a quick blur of motion. “Stop doing that too!” You exclaimed, running your free hand over your face. You took a long drag from your cigarette, placing one hand on your hip. Aaron was giving you a genuinely confused look and you just wanted to wipe it off in one big swipe. “Stop doing some weird little bait and switch between acting like I’m a diva and then trying to end it with some vaguely little sweet comment.”

“You actually think I don’t care about your safety?” Aaron asked, the faintest bit of hurt in his voice. He stood up as well before continuing. “You think this isn’t a difficult case for me?”

“You do not get to do that!” You said angrily, pointing a free finger out at him. “You are not allowed to try and make yourself a victim in this story while you simultaneously make me part of the problem. How the hell can you see yourself as even remotely ‘good’ when you left the way you did?” There it was. Maybe it was immature, dragging the breakup into the argument, but the days’ tension- not to mention the months of bottled up emotions- was finally snapping inside of you.

“If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought that this must be what ‘seeing red’ meant.

“Do you treat all your witnesses like this?” You were full on yelling now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Is this your version of appropriate conduct, Agent Hotchner? You’ve proven to be nothing but incompetent! You can’t even see two inches past your own fucking face to consider this from my perspective!”

Your words had their intended effect. Aaron’s face fell for the briefs of moments before years of bottling his own emotions took back over. You had to give him some credit for keeping it, outwardly, more together than you were. “I won't fight with you over something as trivial as this. You’ll report to the station in the morning with the rest of the team.” He ordered, voice dangerously low.

“I have to work!” You exclaimed, putting heavy emphasis on each word.

“Going to work isn’t safe. Do you understand that? Your stalker is well acquainted with your schedule, you need to step away from what’s expected of you. It’s dangerous-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head, “are you even listening to yourself? Your job is dangerous every single day, hell you didn’t even step away when the job was dangerous specifically to you! How am I supposed to take advice you can’t even follow?” At the end of your sentence, you angrily stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray, leaving the butt in the tray.

“This isn’t about me.” Aaron snapped, voice loudest it’d been all night. “I’m trying to keep you safe. What part of that don’t you understand?” He asked, giving you a tough look. You found yourself at a loss for words and he took your silence as an opening to continue. “I can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“Are you finally understanding how exhausting it was to love you!” You blurted out, the words catching even you by surprise. You forcibly blinked back the tears forming your eyes. “That this, is how I felt each time you were called away on a case?”

Aaron was equally as shocked, his mouth opening in vain a few times as he searched for the proper response. “I made sure you were properly aware of the risks and demands of my job before we started our relationship.” Bad answer.

“And I never complained,” you replied, a defeated tone creeping into your voice, “not once, did I?”

“If you’re going to accuse me of hypocrisy, you should recognize it in yourself. You were equally if not more in demand than I was.”

“I thought you liked that I was so ‘in demand’!” You said, the frustration growing again. “What was it you always said? You liked not having to worry about me alone at home, waiting up for you.”

“You’re coming to the station tomorrow Y/N. Final order.” Aaron repeated, completely ignoring your last statement.

“You know what,” you said, the fight in your voice gone, “I don’t have to put up with this and your lame attempts at trying to be a good guy. I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You quickly leaned over to swipe your cigarette pack and glass of the little table.

“Are you actually going to run away from this?” He asked, almost as if he was trying to bait you back into the argument.

You scoffed loudly, staring him dead in the eyes. “You did.”

You angrily walked around him, nearly stomping the entire way to the door. As you were halfway into the house you paused for a moment, not even slightly turning your head back towards him. “Blankets are still in the same spot in the living room.” You said, slamming the door behind you as soon the sentence left your lips.

-----

The next morning, promptly at 8am, an email from your agent was sent to Aaron. It was incredibly petty and inherently personal, but to an outsider it was nothing out of the ordinary for someone of your status. Aaron was near furious, as expected, but even in his stubbornness he could see you had the high ground. Long story short, the email plainly stated vaguely threatened that if your work schedule were to become an issue for the team, you could easily send a ‘spokesperson’ from your team to deal with any and all future communications. Y/N 2, Aaron Hotchner 0.

Back at your house, you were having a lovely morning. The victory tasted sweet in your mouth as you got yourself ready for the long day. Sometime around 4:00AM Reid had switched out with Aaron and the two of you were currently in your kitchen; Reid sitting at one of your countertop stools while you stood over the stove. After being angrily informed by Aaron that you wouldn’t be required to come into the station with Reid, you decided to make a simple breakfast for the two of you. Reid had wanted to leave sooner, but he was also under orders to not leave you alone until you were safely in your own car and on your way.

You weren’t sure how he felt, but you thought you and Reid got along quite well. He was the closest in age to you and even though he didn’t really seem to understand any of the little jokes or references you made, there was still some level of mutual understanding there. It didn’t hurt that he was quite easy on the eyes as well, of course he wasn’t Aaron by any means- stop that!

Over breakfast, you spent the entire time answering Reid’s many questions about various actors and actresses he was a fan of. Lucky boy, you thought; as all the people he mentioned were quite nice even when the camera was off. What was it that people said about never meeting your hero?

He graciously offered to do all the clean up, as you had cooked, which gave you a bit of extra time to make sure you were ready to go. When you both were ready and Reid had confirmed the plainclothes officer was positioned on your street, he helped you to your car.

With one hand on the top of your car, just as you were about to sit down, you stopped and turned to Reid. “I enjoyed breakfast, would you please tell Agent Hotchner how sorry I am that my schedule’s gotten in the way?” You asked, giving him your sweetest smile. It was another petty move and Aaron was sure to see right through it; the team had amazing skills at reading people, you knew that, but you were an equally talented actress. “I’ll make sure to let you guys know when I’ll be back at home tonight.” You added, before sliding into your car. Reid closed the door gently behind you, waving from the outside of your garage as you pulled out and drove off.

-----

Case wise, the next two days were quiet. You had won the ‘going to work battle’ by a longshot and happily went about your scheduled days. Aaron hadn’t taken another watch shift since the argument, something you were grateful for. It wasn’t until the fourth day, that the case started to pick up again.

“Agent Hotchner?” A young officer stepped into the conference room, holding out a thick manila envelope. “This was just dropped off at the front desk, addressed to you.” That certainly captured the entire team’s attention; every head turning, as if off on a swivel, to face the officer.

“Who dropped it off?” Hotch demanded. ‘Who dropped it off?” He repeated, an added aggression in his voice.

“Some kid! Some kid dropped it at the front and left before anyone could get a word out!” The officer said hurriedly, raising one of his hands up in a meek surrender.

Hotch stepped up to the officer, easily snatching the envelope out of his hands. “Assure that my technical analyst has access to your entire security feed. Now.” He ordered, not giving the officer as a second glance. “Morgan, call Garcia and make sure she accesses those tapes and identifies the kid immediately.”

Hotch went back to standing in front of the long table in the middle of the room, setting the envelope down in front of him. “Gloves, I need-” A pair were placed in his outstretched hand by Reid before he could finish. “I don’t want anyone touching anything that comes out of here without gloves, understood?” He said, not looking at anyone in particular. His focus, completely drawn to the angry penmanship that spelled out his name. After quickly pulling his gloves all the way on, Hotch grabbed the envelope again, internally shoving down his emotions before ripping off the top edge in one clean pull. Nothing could have prepared him for the way the envelope was overflowing with hundreds of photos of you. He tilted the envelope and they all came falling out, covering the table in front of him. Reid mentally estimated there were over five hundred photos of you- some seemed to be cut, some looked to have writing and designs on them- and there were even a few slips of paper thrown in the mix.

“Hotch, Garcia managed to grab the plate from what the kid drove off in. She's running it-” Morgan said, his sentence running off as he took in the table full of photos. “Holy shit.” He said quietly, making his way closer to the table as well.

Hotch reached down, picking up the closest photo to him. There you were, standing on a boardwalk with your hand blocking the sun from your eyes. You looked beautiful- stop that. As Hotch further studied the photo, he picked up a second one, taking another good look. It struck Hotch and the team then, the majority of the photos were grossly intimate; as if the unsub had taken them by himself. Hotch’s stomach twisted when his eyes fell on a photo that looked like you were posing for it, throwing a big smile and peace sign up at the camera.

“Did Garcia get any hits on any scorned lovers?” Emily asked, holding up a photo of you and a man. The face and body of the man had been aggressively scratched over and cut up, but Aaron had a sinking feeling it was of him.

“Yea, I got another potential ex photo right here.” Reid said, holding up another picture. In this one you had clearly been looking up at someone, but the photo had been crudely cut up to exclude whoever it was.

Morgan held up one of the slips of papers, giving it a confused look. “You lost Aaron?” He said, reading off the paper. “What’s the reasoning for singling out Hotch rather than someone closer to her age like Reid” He questioned, not expecting anyone to answer.

“I got one of Hotch’s face scribbled over. He must’ve gotten the photo online.” Emily added, holding up a professional headshot of Hotch. “Is anyone seeing photos of the rest of us? The unsub could see all of us as interfering with his connection to Y/N.”

Hotch’s stomach was twisted in all different directions. He knew the moment of truth was coming and was internally cursing himself for not coming clean sooner. But that paled in comparison to the sickness he felt over the unsub clearly being someone who had such personal access to you. He was certain that some of these photos dates back years. The idea that whoever was doing this had been so close to you, for so long, could’ve brought him to his knees.

“Hotch…” JJ said, her voice accusatory. She looked up at him, face a mix of confusion and a hint of betrayal. She held up another photo and the entire team went quiet. This photo was clearly taken at a distance, but there you were looking lovingly up at a man who was certainly Hotch.

Hotch had one hand clenched tightly on the edge of the table, taking a deep breath before he looked up at his agents staring expectantly at him.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you all,” Hotch started, running his free hand over his face, “I met Y/N five years ago and we were together for three, until I ended things.” He was sure someone had audibly gasped at that. “I know you all may have various concerns over my proximity to the case and are valid in any anger you may feel towards me. But right now, I need to go call Y/N and make sure she’s safe.”

Hotch didn’t give anyone a chance to reply, instead whipping out his phone and near running out the door. Leaving a team of confused and shocked agents in his wake.

-----

a/n - of course, thank you all for reading. it means the world to me! also just the quickest of shoutouts to @kylorendrip and @ssahoodrathotchner who both constantly put up with my writing complaints and all the random ideas i bounce around their dms on the daily.

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @alexrodriguez1269

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #hotch #aaron hotchner/you #aaron hotcher/reader #'stori writes #in the stars #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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