#friend: lucent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lymtw · 2 months

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The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

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txt-ruby · 1 year

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dilf-lover99 · 1 year

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And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first.

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips.

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you?

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.”

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.”

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly.

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you.

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’.

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!”

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know.

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin.

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to.

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”

5K notes · View notes

jiminscockr1ng · 6 months

Text

✩｡°𝄞📱HOP ON THE STREAM𝄞°✨｡✩

╝ short story ╔

╰₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: jungkook x black!reader

╰₊ 𓂂➢ genre: streamer!jungkook x black!reader, strangers to friends/friends to lovers, lots of fluff, smut.

╰₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: nothing much; jungkook and reader does banter, reader slaps jungkook (permission granted), unprotected sex, pulling out, slight masochism (no prep), dry humping, etc. [let me know if there’s more]

╰₊ 𓂂➢ summary: you and one of the most watched streamers, jeon jungkook cross paths on a random sunday afternoon. oddly, the two of you become a hot topic over night— landing you in south korea with the spunky streamer for a round two.

╰₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 11,877 words

╰₊ 𓂂➢ author’s note: this took soooo long to write!! i haven’t reread or edited anything so if there are any misspellings or grammatical mistakes, just know i haven’t checked everything over yet. i’m just so happy to be done and i hope you all enjoy it!

You breathe in the fresh air as you walk one of the various paths of the humongous park. Randomly deciding that you needed to get out of your crammed apartment, you’ve made your way to central park. The sun shined lucently on your melanin skin— looking as if god himself came down to give you a huge kiss on your forehead.

You wear a white puffer vest over your black nike hoodie. The khaki colored cargo pants clings perfectly to your legs. Enhancing your curves just right and in all the right places.

Strutting down the path in your clean white air forces. You flip your butt-length knotless braids behind you to adjust your headphones, furrowing your brows though.

‘What the fuck is that?’, you think.

This obnoxious voice— it’s not even so much the voice, it’s the yelling. So enthusiastic and high pitched, nearly sounding strained.

“Yoooo! This shit is lit as hell, I can’t lie! If anyone in New York right now— dm me, for real. What? Chat stop hatin’, yall act like y’all ain’t ever seen rats before.”

You can hear the voice growing closer despite the Sza song that is blasting in your ears. Nothing pisses you off more than hearing someone’s voice through your headphones. It simply shouldn’t be possible— you have good fucking headphone! Expensive as shit!

You decide to ignore it until you see a figure walking beside you in your peripheral view. You look to see what or who it could be and it’s a man. Young man. Fairly long black hair— hanging fluffy over his undercut, cute nose, bright doe eyes, eyebrow piercing, two silver lip rings accessorizing his thin pink lips.

Hot as hell, if you do say so yourself. And the man seems to be… talking to you. Pausing the song that blasts into your ears to hear him, your feet halts to respond.

“What?” You curiously ask. The taller man seems to find your response quite hilarious. Laughing, his smile catches your eye. He has a really nice smile. But that’s not exactly the point right now.

“I said, are you taking applications?” He repeats. If you thought you were confused before, you might as well be underneath a google search for oblivion. Because what is he talking about. “I’m sorry, applications? I’m not sure I’m understanding you correctly.” You stammer on your words and then your eyes widen when the man takes a step closer to you. Not too close, but just enough to get a whiff of his cozy-like scent. His demeanor— the look in his eyes is seductive. It intrigues you but also at the same time makes you want to run for your life.

“Application for free feet massages.” He says with this low voice as if he’s spitting the most legendary game at you. He absolutely is not. Evident on your face as you scrunch it up in disgust.

Before you can even curse him out he bursts into a fit of laughter. That’s when you notice the huge light extension connected on the top of his phone. Then the buff man standing close behind him, holding the biggest camera you’ve ever seen. You should’ve known.

“I’m fucking with you,” he says. “I’m streaming right now—” He turns to point at the camera. “Chat told me to come talk to you.” You awkwardly nod, knowing that you’re being recorded right now. “I can see that.”

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You simply nod your head, continuing your way down the path. You’ve always seen different youtube videos of youtubers or different streamers approaching people on the streets. You’ve never really imagined someone approaching you like that. It’s entertaining to watch— you agree, but admittedly it’s quite awkward being caught off guard.

Still, you can hear the man talking behind you. Assumably to the ‘chat’.

“Chill yall. I’m not gonna do that.” He tries to speak lowly, replying to the people who wish him to approach you again. “I’m gonna look like a fucking freak.” He cards his hand through his hair. It did not help that he wasted his moment to shoot his shot, too busy trolling. To be fair he panicked once he got a better look at you. You’re stunning. He knew he fumbled once you started talking to him. The chat was simply telling him to recover the trophy. The trophy being you.

“Hey,” you hear the familiar voice again. Fighting to not roll your eyes. He jogs toward you and you stop walking once again. This time, you’re a bit frustrated. You snatch your headphones off of your head. “If you’re gonna stand here and ask me some dumb shit again—”

“No, no that was my fault.” He raises his hands in defense. “I really wanted to ask for your social. You’re really pretty, just wanted to talk to you.” He calmly says, in contrast to the obnoxious high energy voice he used previously. You’re not buying it though. This has to be another prank.

“Listen, I don’t know what prank you’re pulling for your stream but I just wanna be on my way.” You can see the panic behind his eyes as you speak. He doesn’t make it too apparent but it’s there. He can’t fumble— he won’t fumble!

“I promise I’m not pulling any prank on you. Look!” He extends his hand to show you his phone. It seems to be some sort of monitoring set up for his stream and in the corner is the live chat box. You read as the thousands of comments that quickly scrolls by. Comments saying, “not a prank”, “L rizz”, “she bad as hell”, “he don’t know what to do with allat”. You decide that you’ve seen enough.

Enough to know he’s being honest. For the most part… you guess.

“Okay.” You shrug in defeat, not really knowing where to go from here. “If you’re not cool with sharing your social can I at least get you something to eat?” He asks and struggle to not show your immediate interest. You’re hungry as hell and free food is the best. Especially when a greek god is offering to pay for it. So of course the answer is yes. But you don’t forget to play a little hard to get. Guys love the chase.

“Mm, I don’t know.” You try to sound highly unsure. His eyes are practically pleading with you to say yes. Probably so you won’t embarrass him in front of his viewers. “You’re not gonna kidnap me, right?”

At that moment, he smiles again. A smile of relief. “Naw, forgot to bring my van with me— you’re good.”

The two of you— plus the unreasonably large cameraman walk a good amount of distance to reach the nearest taco bar. Reckoning that walking would be safer after the little van joke, you both talked the whole walk there.

Learning that his name is Jungkook, born in Korea, studied in New York at a young age before moving back to Korea. He fell into the streaming lifestyle after gaming for a few years. It seems that a lot of his viewers are active in the US. And ironically, this is his first time being in New York since he moved back to Korea. This also just so happens to be his last day here, catching a flight back home tonight.

It being just a weird little coincidence that the two of you met. Once seated at the restaurant’s table you can Jungkook continue getting to know one another. The fact that the camera is still recording the conversation is completely disregarded by you and Jungkook.

“Tell me more about yourself, though. Like what do you do— other than take random walks at central park?” He asks, completely invested in your life. You let out a nervous laugh as you try to put your situation into words.

“Umm, well at the moment I’m going to school and working.” You say but Jungkook wants to know more. Not just the surface level stuff. “Okay, going to school for what?” He asks curiously, his doe eyes wide and peering deeply into yours. You have to break eye contact, afraid of getting lost into the dark irises.

“Cosmetology— trade school. I do that part-time and work full-time.” Jungkook’s eyebrows raise at your presumably active schedule, whispering a “wow”. You nod your head. “It’s a lot but I have a lot of plans and I already feel that I’m behind so… stress now and it’ll pay off later.” You shrug nonchalantly before taking a sip of your strawberry lemonade the waitress had just brought to your table.

“What plans, exactly?” You furrow you eyebrows, a little smile forming on your face. “You sure do have a lot of questions.”

“Guilty,” he returns the smile. “But really, I’m interested. Here I am thinking you’re the lucky one. I’m not sure how the hell I caught you on an off day.” He says and you can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy in the inside. Jungkook is an amazing listener and you have yet to really elaborate on your future plans to anyone else— fearing to feel like a bother or hear any discouraging comments. You find yourself growing a bit excited to talk about your dreams. The dreams you work hard to achieve everyday.

“I want to open my own salon.” There goes that breathtaking smile again. “That’s incredible, really!?” You nod your head slightly, an odd feeling of shyness washes over you. “Yeah um, I spent two years in college after high school majoring in business. I knew from a young age that working for someone else wasn’t a feeling I enjoyed. However, I still didn’t know what I wanted to do.” Jungkook rests his chin on his palm, willing to listen to you talk all day.

“After I received my associates degree, someone recommended me to try out cosmetology school. I was doing hair already— only friends and family. So I ended up going and I actually really enjoy it. So,” You scratch your arm to try to distract the mean and discouraging voices in your head telling you to not say anything about your plan in case things fall through. Jungkook nods his head for you to continue, anticipating to hear more about your story.

“So I— uh began planning. Like opening my own salon and stuff. Saving my money up. Tapping into other things like nails and makeup, stuff like that.” You say rather awkwardly and unconfident. Jungkook can’t help but notice. “Don’t try to water it down. It’s your plans— your dreams. Stand proud on that shit.” He says making you giggle. Encouraging nonetheless; despite the uproarious way he put it.

“Okay okay,” you sigh. “I want to open a huge salon. Where people can come and get their hair done, nails, makeup, a spa, masseuses— all that. The ultimate feel good, self care spot. With a beauty supply store inside of the salon.” You continue adding on, listing off all of your ideas on your freshly manicured fingers and Jungkook smile grows as you do. His energy easily rubs off on you.

“Yo, that’s lit as fuck! So I can go get my hair done and then go buy products at the same place?!” He indulges into your plans and you nod, laughing at his candid excitement. “Or better yet, after I get my hair done— I can go and get a massage.” You hold your hands over your face to hide the overwhelming feeling of happiness. Somehow, the guy has figured out how to make you feel absolutely on top of the world.

To your surprise, you’re actually enjoying his unexpected company. More than enjoying it, you can practically drown yourself in the amount of entertainment you’re receiving. You seriously haven’t had this much fun in your spare time in so long.

All of your friends are introverted homebodies. As an ambivert, your mood is based solely on your companys’. And Jungkook is a natural extroverted, outgoing individual. You can’t help feeling high energy when around him. You gracefully indulge in his presence. Him and the nachos that you’re aggressively shoving down your throat.

“Damn little lady, you sure know how—”

“Don’t even finish that fucking quote.” You playfully glare at him across the table, your words muttered together due to the food stuffed inside your jaws. Obediently, he shuts the fuck up. “This is actually really good. I need to come here more often.” You comment once you finish chewing. Jungkook perks up.

“Lemme try some!” He says, all too excited. “My nachos?” He nods his head and you hum in agreement. When picking up a nacho— making sure to get the necessary ingredients on top of it, you extend your arm for Jungkook to grab it.

Instead, he opens his mouth wide, indicating the want of you to put it in his mouth. You nearly flinched. “I am not hand feeding you these fucking nachos, Jungkook.” You state and he pouts. It’s the cutest thing ever but you’re being recorded so you must focus!

“Why?” Still pouting, his eyebrows creased.

“Because…” You turn your head to look at the camera that stood up on the table right beside yours and Jungkook’s. His camera man sitting at the same table, chowing down on his burrito. That seems to be a clear answer for Jungkook.

“Don’t worry about the camera— it doesn’t matter.” He fans his hand, insisting for you to feed him your nachos. You look down at his phone—

“They’re saying you’re a munch.” His pout falls in to a stank face as he snatches his phone off of the table to look at the chat. He scoffs. “Y’all are literally D1 haters!” He continues arguing with the chat as you let out little giggles at some of the comments that were made.

“Fuck them, can you just feed me the nacho.” He says in defeat. A mischievous smile rests on your face. “Say please.” You demand and Jungkook rolls his eyes but of course, obedient as always. “Please!” He sings, you couldn’t help but laugh. Nodding your head you feed him the nachos and he moans in satisfaction. That did a little something to your insides.

A smudge of sour cream is left on the corner of his lip, his tongue failing to lick it off. Mindlessly, you reach to wipe it off with your finger. Jungkook’s eyes widen a bit at the action and his cheeks turns a faint pink. Again, you laugh. Something you seem to be doing a lot of. “Awe, are you blushing?” You tease and his expression immediately goes nonchalant. “No, it was just unexpected.” You couldn’t help it though. You have the upper hand. “Poor Kookie can’t handle the rizzler.” You joke and he laughs. Revealing that toothy smile you adore.

“You’re not funny.”

“I really am though. I’m gonna take over your whole career one day. They call me the career snatcher.” You joke, putting on a feigned smug smile. Only to continue seeing that smile and hear the sound of his quite crazy high pitched laughter a little longer.

“Absolutely no one calls you that.” He says in between laughter.

“Wanna bet?” He shakes his head before pulling out his wallet, grabbing some cash to pay for the bill. “Nope, I wanna go somewhere fun.”

You watch as he tips the waitress, handing her a hefty 50 bucks. The waitress smiles brightly before thanking him and takes hold of your empty plates. His focus turns back to you and he drums his hands on the table. “Be my tour guide.” He says, wanting to spend more time with you. You find his lame excuse of asking you out again funny.

“You’re not a tourist.” He shrugs. “You literally lived her for like 7 years.” You add, flipping your braids over your shoulder. “5 years, actually. And that doesn’t matter.” He corrects.

You roll your eyes figuring that he’s too stubborn to come out and say he wants to continue hanging out with you. Fortunately for him, you’re not sure you want to leave him just yet either. “What do you want to do?” You question and his face lights up. Truly, like a kid whose parent said they can eat ice cream.

“Is there an arcade around here?”

Unlike last time, you allow yourself to catch a ride with Jungkook and his cameraman, Benny. You’re sure that Jungkook won’t kidnap you and Benny actually seems to be a big softly despite his tough apearance.

Once the three of you enter the famous arcade you’re swamped by nearly a dozen kids. All seeming to be die hard fans of the tall muscled man next to you. His smile as he talks to the kids is so lovable you can’t help but to smile yourself as he interacts with them. Giving out hugs and autographs and pictures.

The kids don’t hesitate to follow you and Jungkook around the arcade. You couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Not even fully adjusting to the fact that you’re being recorded and people can see everything you do and say in real time, now there are dozens of people— kids, teenagers, a few adults tagging along.

Jungkook seems to have noticed your change of behavior. He grabs your hand, dragging you along with him. “Let’s play a game, c’mon!” He shouts and your heart drops as you feel his hand in yours. The two of you approach a shooting game. Jurassic Park. You’ve played the game multiple times before and you’re actually pretty good at it.

“This one.” He says, sounding out of breath. You nod as you grab a scrunchie out of your pocket. Jungkook is so hyped he doesn’t even notice the action. Boasting himself up to the crowd that surrounds the gaming booth. “You sure you can keep up, _______? You know I’m a gamer, right?” He brags on and you put your braids in a ponytail behind you. “Jungkook is trash!”Someone amongst the crowd screams and you don’t even try to hide your laughter.

“What is the beef?! Y’all hate on me on and offline.” He turns to look at you. “Watch, I’m about to destroy you,” he says competitively. You’re not sure if he knows that this is a team game. You two will not be competing against each other, rather against the dinosaurs that are trying to stomp on you.

The crowds’ laughter tells you that they are aware as well. You shrug your shoulders at them and they tell you not to say anything.

You two settle inside of the booth and you try to not think about the way his thighs rests next to yours. As the game starts up you take off your coat and Jungkook swipes the card.

The countdown starts and you both raise your guns. The cut scene starts and almost immediately the dinosaurs start running to attack you. You began shooting the targets and notice that Jungkook’s shooting is off.

“What— where is your dinosaur?!” You couldn’t help but laugh. Shooting the dinosaurs that attempt to attack you and even handling Jungkook’s load of work. You hear some people watching gasping and hyping you up which frustrates Jungkook.

“What am I supposed to do?!” He screams and on queue Jungkook dies leaving you in the game alone. You join in with the laughter surrounding the booth and Jungkook sinks into his seat as he watches you shoot all of the dinosaurs.

Eventually you win and turn your focus on Jungkook, who glares at you. You chuckle before mockingly tapping his cheek, grabbing your jacket to get up out of the booth. A few people approach you to give you high-fives and when Jungkook exits everyone makes sure to boo him. If it wasn’t for the way you’re cutely smiling back he would’ve definitely continued his trash talk. Instead, he reluctantly follows you to the next game.

The two of you end up playing almost every single game in the arcade, some fans even come to play alongside you guys.

You and Jungkook are currently picking a song on the dancing machine arcade game. Jungkook is really excited about this game— his competitiveness taking over. “Why do you keep trying to beat me, Kook?” You ask as he carefully scrolls through the song selections, that seemingly are all K-pop songs. “Because you keep winning! So until I win, I won’t stop trying to beat you.” You burst into a fit of laughter at his childish protest before putting on a feigned pout.

“Awe, he’s passionate.” You slowly rub his back and you can feel his muscles tense underneath your touch. “Stop… you’re distracting me.” He mumbles, the words only fall onto your ears. You simply giggle finding it cute that you some sort of affect on him. “Just pick a song, it’s really not that serious.”

He groans before picking the next song: Regular by NCT127. You both get into position and the people surround you both, cheering for you. You turn to see Jungkook’s little frown on top of his focused face. You don’t know whether to feel bad or swoon over how cute he looks right now.

The two of you start dancing and you come to a conclusion. Jungkook must’ve put this shit on hard mode.

You can barely keep up, nearly tripping over your feet as you try to predict the next dance move. Jungkook seems to be having a hard time as well.

When he notices you getting the hang of it he lets out a loud “no”. You scoff before quickly glancing at him. “What is this your villain origin story— get it together Kook.” He absolutely could not get it together. The big ass shoes he’s sporting didn’t help much either. So he resorted to sabotage.

You feel a light shove to your shoulder, knocking you off of the machine. Jungkook laughs when he sees your face. But when you run back on the machine it quickly drops. You hook your foot around his making him fall onto the ground.

Roars of laughter surrounds the two of you as you tussle while attempting to do the dance steps. Jungkook manages to pick you up off of the ground while dancing. You can’t even fight it, your body so weak from laughter. When the song ends he put you down and you slap his shoulder. “You cheated!” Jungkook only laughs at you before the score drops on the screen.

“I won! I fucking won— look at you!” He points and laugh at you and you just watch him, completely worn out. “You happy now?” You say, grabbing your puffer vest, slipping it back over your hoodie. He happily nods.

“I should get going. I have work in the morning.” You purse your lips, feeling disappointed to even say the words. You can tell Jungkook is as well by the way he hesitatingly nods his head and calls for Benny.

“We’ll drop you off at your place.”

Benny pulls into the parking lot of the apartment complex and you make sure you have everything before leaving the car. Jungkook places a hand on your arm and asks for you to say something to the chat before you leave.

“Okay right,” you say to the camera. “This was a fun little surprise. Jungkook’s really cool even though he can’t play games for shit.” He softly nudges your shoulder while innocently looking out the window making you giggle. “It was really fun meeting some of you today. Keep supporting Jungkook, he’s a really nice person and is just really… authentically him.” Jungkook turns to look at you and he believes that he could throw up from the way the butterflies in his stomach are moving. Looking at your pretty brown eyes, your smooth brown skin and those plumped lips that are just so tempting he could—

“Okay, I’m leaving now. Bye!” You wave your hands at the camera before awkwardly leaving the car. Jungkook sits there in panic as he watches you approach the door. It’s not supposed to end like that, right?

He hurriedly hops out of the car, jogging up behind you. Similar the way he did when he first saw you at the park. You turn your head at the sound of footsteps behind you, surprised to see Jungkook. “What are you—”

“I’m walking you to the door.” He says, trying to act nonchalant as if he didn’t just sprint out the car after you. “I can walk to the door myself. You know, because I’ve been living here for 3 years now.” You speak sarcastically and Jungkook sighs. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.” You roll your eyes at yet another one of his lame excuses but decide to not say anything more.

Within seconds you meet the door and Jungkook mentally curses at the fact that it wasn’t some long path to get there.

Staring up at the tall raven haired man you wish that he would have just stayed in the car. Because now it’s going to be a lot harder to say goodbye. Because you know that you’re never going to see him again.

“Ahm—” you choke as you begin to speak. “I don’t know what to say.” Awkwardly rocking on the heels of your shoes. He lets out a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah um, same.” You look back at the car and see that you two are in fact not being recorded. “I had a really nice time with you today— it was fun.” Jungkook says and you nod. The awkward tension between the two of you makes you want to run inside the building and don’t look back.

“You sure you’re not just saying that?” You reply, teasing him one last time. He scoffs. “Wow, even with no cameras you still don’t believe me.”

“Hard to believe someone who jokingly gives out free foot massages” The both of you share a laugh. Jungkook opens his arms wide, indicating his want for a hug. You more than willingly comply, immersing yourself into his warmth. His arms wrap around your body as yours do his. You don’t want to move. You don’t want him to leave. For some reason, the mere 5 hours spent with him feels like 5 months and you don’t know how to say goodbye.

His chin gently rests on top of your head as he gets a whiff of your coconuty aroma. “You have my number, _______. Don’t be scared to use it.” He mutters atop your head and you nod into his chest. “You have mine too.” You add before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’m gonna go inside now. Text me before you board your flight.” Your voice is low and gloomy, matching Jungkook’s face. You make your way through the door, sending him one more wave before heading up the stairs.

That night you went to sleep in a horrible mood. The weird feeling of missing someone you just met consuming you. You even called off of work just to get one more day to relax.

Never in a million years would you have thought that by the time you wake up tomorrow, you’d be the hot topic all over social media.

Notifications rapidly blare from your phone, waking you up— something your alarm failed to do. You squint your eyes as the bright light of your phone nearly blinds you. You gasp as you check the time, realizing that you’ve slept like a baby for more than half of the day. But blind is what you think you are once you see all of the notifications.

Millions of followers on your social media accounts. Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter— all of it. Completely flooded with likes, follows and comments and dm’s. You go on Youtube to see you and Jungkook all over your feed.

What surprises you the most is the text messages from Jungkook. You didn’t expect him to actually text you after yesterday, assuming that he was just being kind by giving you his phone number. But when you open your message app, you see a thread of messages from him.

jungkook: jus got on the plane. hope ure sleeping well ❤️ 9:47pm

jungkook: is it like weird that i kind of missed u? 9:50pm

jungkook: i asked benny but u know he’s like kinda old and stuff. 9:50pm

jungkook: do feel like that too? like do u miss me? 9:51pm

jungkook: nvm don’t answer that shit 😭 9:51pm

jungkook: jus get sum rest. 9:52pm

jungkook: omggg i jus landed in taipei and ure like famous!!! wake upppp!!! 1:32pm

You should’ve braced yourself for the roller coaster you just went through reading his text messages. Nonetheless, you text him back.

you: are you sniffing crack or something? calm down 😧 1:52pm

jungkook: why r u jus waking up 🤨 1:54pm

you: i called off and overslept. it was rough last night. 1:54pm

jungkook: have u checked any of ur socials?? 1:55pm

jungkook: the stream is like literally EVERYWHERE! 1:55pm

you: yeah i’m looking now. this is actually crazy— i knew you were popular but fuck! my notifications are flooded 😭😭😭 1:58pm

jungkook: sorry about that ☹️ 1:59pm

jungkook: but hey this is all u. i bring ppl on my stream all the time nd this never happens. they jus rlly fuck with u 🤷🏻‍♂️ 2:00pm

you: i guess… 2:01pm

you: i don’t know what to do now. like what am i supposed to do? 2:01pm

jungkook: nothin u don’t wanna do. don’t stress over it 2:01pm

jungkook: jus be u 2:01pm

you: thanks kook. 2:02pm

jungkook: no problem 😉 2:02pm

you: by the way, i did miss you too. 2:05pm

you: a lot actually, it’s weird. 2:06pm

jungkook: benny says it’s normal 2:07pm

you: lmao benny’s probably right 😅 2:07pm

jungkook: my flight is gonna take off soon. i’ll text you when i get home. ❤️ 2:08pm

you: 💕 2:08pm

It’s been two long months since Jungkook left. Needless to say, you haven’t taken your mind off of the tall dreamy man since he’s popped up in your life. Partially because the two of you have been texting each other nonstop.

Despite both of your busy schedules, you always find ways to keep in touch. Texting each other constantly, facetiming when you’re both free, occasionally going live together on instagram. And the people loved it. You assumed that after a while the buzz would dwindle but the people are dying for more content.

The attention did more good than harm. You received a lot of attention from the hair you did and people have even dm’ed you to do their hair. It’s really incredible that a mere five hours has changed your life. Your family and friends are so happy for you, begging to meet the one and only Jungkook. The Jungkook who you have grown so close to over the past two months.

Everyday you feel like you’re living a dream. Never forgetting to tell Jungkook how grateful you are to him. To which he always responds with “you deserve it”.

You sit on your coach as you watch your phone in anticipation. Waiting for the ringing to stop and hear—

“Did it come?!” He says over the phone. You put on a performative show, sighing and pouting your lips. Completely disappointed. Jungkook’s enthusiastic smile falls and just as it does you whip out the thick paper, shoving it the camera.

“It cameee!” You shout and Jungkook’s face lights up. He jumps up and down in pure excitement. “Oh my god! Let me see, let me see— hold it still!”

“Geez, I’m trying my best.” He intently observed the cosmetology license that you were awarded. “I’m so proud of you, _______” He sincerely speaks and you feel your chest tighten. Jungkook recently has had that kind of effect on you. You shyly smile, lowering the certificate and putting it on your kitchen counter.

“How does it feel to be a licensed cosmetologist, ma’am?” He lowers his voice, mockingly speaking while holding his hand out like a reporter. You laugh before speaking. “It feels amazing! I would like to thank my 4 kids at home for being my inspiration, Miss Sally at the Sisters Hospital, my loving family and my dear husband who’s always stuck by my side.” You feed into the act. Something that is normal and just makes sense with you and Jungkook.

Jungkook dramatically gasps. “Husband! I didn’t read any of that before this interview. Too bad, I had set up a whole proposal for you. This was a gig! Now my heart is broken.” He holds his hand over his chest, faking a heartbreak. You pout.

“Awe, I’m so sorry. But you happen to be too late Mr. Jeon. My love for you has died many many years ago. You must move on!” Using your poor british accent makes Jungkook break character. “Your accent is horrible. Never do that shit again.” Your face falls.

“Suck cock and die.” You say and Jungkook laughs. “You’re such a whore, i’ll do all of that later. But is that it?” You furrow your eyes brows as you stand your up phone against your purse on the counter, turning around to reach in the fridge to grab the carton of strawberry lemonade. “Is what it?” You ask but Jungkook is too focused on your ass to respond. You swiftly turn back around catching him looking.

“Eyes up here, cowboy!” You shout, snapping your fingers at the camera. He raises his hands as if surrendering. “My bad. You know, men.” He shrugs, one hundred percent unashamed.

“Yeah, yeah. What were you talking about?” He falls open as he tries to remember what he was talking about before he fell into a trance. “Oh yeah!” You raise a brow.

“Was that all you got in the mail?” He asks and you furrow your brows. Confused on why he would be asking that because no one really cares about mail. “No, I got other stuff but that was the first thing I saw and then I immediately called you.” He nods quietly before carding a hand through his raven hair. It was styled much different from the first time you saw him. Perfectly layered, shaping his face with very precise curls at the ends, the back falling into a mullet. He looks amazing.

“Hello?!” He screams through the phone. You hum in shock, not realizing that you were staring at him. “I said check your mail.” You furrow your eyebrows once again. “Why do you want me to check my mail so badly?” He groans, pulling the phone close to his face. “Just check the fucking mail.”

You roll your eyes before walking over to your mail. “Don’t get shot, JK!” You scream at him from across the room and you hear a faint giggle from him coming from your phone. You walk back over to the counter, setting down a couple of packages and a few envelopes.

He makes you go through all of it in front of him. You were beginning to grow frustrated at his lack of communication and context. Not understanding why he suddenly took interest in your mail. You finally make it to one of the packages and you freeze when you read the box.

From your best friend, to you. — JK

You gasp before looking back at the man on your phone screen. The goofy smile on his face makes you wish you can jump through the screen and lather him down with hugs and kisses.

“You fart! What did you send me?!” You scream out and Jungkook tries to maintain a poker face. “Open the box.” You can’t control the huge smile on your face as you take your keys to eagerly tear the box apart.

Inside is a camera with a note on it The same camera Jungkook uses for filming. “You’re gonna need this for what’s at the bottom.” You read the note aloud. Your heart is racing so fast at the well thought out gift and you aren’t even halfway through. Underneath the camera is a shirt that reads, “I love Jungkook.”

You glare at the man through the screen and he laughs. “Awe, you do? You really mean it?” He can’t even keep a straight face, dying laughing at how unserious he is. “I’m not wearing this.” You lie. You would wear this everyday if you could remember to wash it.

“Whatever, just keep going.” You roll your eyes before diving back into the box. Underneath that is envelope. You pick up the envelope at the bottom of the box and open it. There’s a card inside and what seems to be a well written letter inside. You look at the camera. “Can I read this out loud?” Jungkook closes his eyes as he nods and you begin reading.

“Dear _______, from the very first day I met you there wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you. Our friendship is something I hold dearly to my heart and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Usually around this time of the year I’d be depressed or stressed out in my room wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. But you’ve kept my mind busy. Always making sure to encourage and support me when I can’t do the same for myself. You make me happy and I always try to do the same for you although I am conscience that I may fall short in that category at times. My intentions are always good.

You always thank me— saying things like, ‘I changed your life’ and that you have better going opportunities for yourself because of me. Because of that day. I always tell you that you deserve it and I truly mean it. You deserve every bit of happiness that comes your way. But what I really need to tell you is how you changed my life. Life is not what it appears to be through the screen and behind the scenes I was really struggling. You inspired me to keep pushing forward and made me realize that my goals are possible. You do that a lot. Inspire others. Whether you notice it or not or believe it. I don’t know what kind of mindset I’d have right now if it wasn’t for meeting you that day— so thank you. Now for the real surprise! A surprise I’ve been dying to get to you and I know I’m going to be going crazy until I know you’ve received this. I miss you so much and I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you do as well. Let’s change that…”

You hiccup as you finish reading the letter. Tears streaming down your brown cheeks that carries a reddened undertone. Jungkook laughs horrendously at you as you cry from the words Jungkook poured out into your letter. “I totally did not expect you to cry.” He says in between laughter, holding onto his stomach for dear life.

“I didn’t even know you could read, let alone write.” You say, joining in with the laughter as you wipe away your tears. Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Don’t make me take it all back.” He says and you shake your head. You’d never forget a word that was written in this letter. Impossible. “What do you mean let’s change that? I hope you don’t mean this phone call, this was absolute hell Jungkook.” He laughs, fluffing his hair out. “No, you devil. Flip the page.” He says and you raise your brows. You weren’t even aware that there was a second page. But when you do. You nearly throw the card because of what taped to it.

“What the fuck!” You scream and Jungkook even flinches. Covering your face as more tears fall down your eyes. Jungkook awkwardly look at you not really knowing if that was a good reaction or not.

“D— do you like it or…?” He trails off. You drop your hands from your face to check and see if he’s being for real.

“Are you kidding me?! You got me a ticket to fucking South Korea— what do you mean, ‘do you like it?’ I fucking love it!” He smiles and leave to get a tissue to blow your running nose. When you come back you find him sitting in his gaming chair.

“Thank you,” you mutter. Your voice is coarse from all of the crying and screaming. Jungkook smiles at you once he notices your back. Even after crying he still thinks you’re absolutely stunning. He can’t wait for you to be by his side in person.

“Thank me by packing a bag.”

You fan yourself at full tilt, sweat forming on your forehead, ruining your perfectly laid edges. The black baseball cap and mask that covered half of your face seems to be collecting heat for later. You roll your heavy blue luggage behind you as you exit the Incheon International Airport.

As you exit, the bright sun beams over you. Immediately, you remove the cap and mask, stuffing it inside the side poket of your purse. You look around the busy streets trying to find the familiar man. Within seconds you see him. That tall, raven haired, bubble nosed, doe eyed, breathtaking man. Who’s currently running across the street, arms up in the air, smiling from ear to ear like a lunatic.

You can’t even get your insult out before he nearly knocks the wind out of you, engulfing you into a big hug. You stumble over your feet but Jungkook makes sure to keep you upright. He picks you up in his big, strong arms, spinning you around out of pure excitement. “_______, are you real?” You laugh at him, smacking his arms to let you down.

“You ask me am I real after picking me up? That’s usually how people get the cops called on them.” You joke and he glares at you. “Yeah, you’re real.” He says, dissembling a disappointed tone before walking away and you slap his back, following him to his car.

The drive to his house from the airport is short of two hours. The two of you catch up on lost time, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Jungkook has the whole weekend planned out for the two of you. Lots of sightseeing and lots of streaming. You couldn’t help but be excited because knowing Jungkook and his energy, it’s bound to be a crazy productive time.

“Can you just tell me at least one thing? It’s just one thing— I’m sure you have tons of shit planned for today.” You whine and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I told you that we’d be streaming.”

“We were gonna do that regardless of the plans!” Jungkook looks at you once he’s made a stop at the red light. He forgets what he was going to say when he looks at how sunkissed your face is. The sun seems to be doing wonders today. Jungkook always found himself stuck on your ethereal beauty. He can’t even put in words how hypnotic you are. One glance at you made him feel like he’s somewhere over the moon, Jungkook sometimes have to remind himself that he shouldn’t feel this way. Not towards a friend. But fuck— look at the way the your skin is basking in the sunlight! He just want to take a bite out of you and—

“Would stop staring at me and drive please? The light is green.” Your brows furrow at the man who seems to be in a trance while staring at your face. Not the first time and you doubt it’ll be the last. Jungkook reluctantly eyes the road again, stepping on the gas.

“Wow, you pick random people off of the ground and have a staring problem. Do you do that with everyone or just me?” There’s a pause. The silence is loud. Only the sound of the music floods the car.

“You wanna get something to eat real quick?” He changes the subject. You let out a little snicker before saying that you aren’t hungry. The silence in the car maintains and easily shifts into a comfortable silence. You take the opportunity to observe his side profile.

Noticing so many things that you hadn’t during those few hours two months ago. Things that the facetime call hadn’t even picked up. Mindlessly, you run a hand through his hair. Playing in his soft, raven, layered curls. Collecting his hair in your grip, you hold it on the top of his hair, creating a messy ponytail. You notice the tan line on his neck.

“You have a tan?!” You shout, making the man flinch at the sudden volume change. “Yes… did you have to scream?” He glances at you briefly, eyes widened, before adverting his eyes back on the road ahead. Dropping your grip from his hair you take a moment to observe his freshly tanned skin.

“I just notice,” you hum.

“You look good.” You add, nonchalantly and you see him trying to hide the goofy smile forming on his face. You laugh. “What?! You do.” You insist and he nods his head with a downturned smile. You find it real ironic that he’s flustered after constantly being so cocky over the phone with you.

“Whatever.” He speaks lowly, scratching his eyebrow. Smiling up at him, you look at him in awe. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re not being all cocky.” You tilt your head to the side, purposely teasing the man. Stopping at yet another red light, he takes the time to smirk at you.

“If you want to suck my dick, just say that.” Your smile drops, face scrunching up in disgust.

“You make me sick.”

“Welcome!” Jungkook dramatically says, arms wide open, doing his awful impersonation of Cory Kenshin. You raise your brow as your friend continues to dance his way through the apartment, completely unimpressed.

You kick off your shoes at the entryway before stepping inside of the luxurious apartment. Jungkook does a little twirl in his black socks before ending it with a star pose. You can’t help but laugh at the obnoxious performance, shaking your head as he breathes heavily in his pose. “Esta es mi casa!” Your eyebrows furrow before sighing in defeat, walking past the man as you make your way the large island in the kitchen.

“I see your Spanish sucks just bad as your performance.” He sends you a glare before walking over to you. “Good thing I’m not here for either of those things.” You say before clapping your hands together. So,” Jungkook raises a brow as your eyes shift left to right. “Where’s your room?”

The notorious smirk returns and fluffs his hair. “Damn, you just got here and you already trying to get me in bed.” He says smugly, stepping closer to you as he looks you up and down. You would try to act all disgusted like you usually dissemble but the way he’s towering over you is making you a bit weak in the knees.

You stagger your way past him before he could come any closer. For some reason, when you two planned for you to stay in this tall, wealthy, tatted up, gym rat’s home for the weekend there was never any thoughts that this might be a problem. But now that you’re here, in an apartment alone with him. You can’t help but realize that this might be a problem.

Shaking the thought, you focus on the current problem: you can’t find his room. You enter the random door down a random hall and it leads you to the gym set up he has. Curiously, you observe the room, looking at the excessive amounts of weights and machinery.

“Found my room yet?” You jump at the sudden voice, turning around just to get towered over by the man once again. “Can you stop doing that.” You frustratedly say.

“Stop doing what?”

“Standing over me!” Your brows crease together as you look up at him. His hair hangs over his forehead as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Can’t help it if you’re short.” He battles and you scoff at the comment. “I’m not even that much shorter than you, you’re just doing it on purpose— move!” You attempt to push him away from you but he doesn’t budge. Not even a little step back. Not even an inch. Your hands placed on his chest— more so on his pecks. You can feel how firm they are. If only you could just squeeze them, just a tiny bit you—

“Having fun?” He asks, smirking down at you for what seems like the umpteenth time since you’ve landed in South Korea. Your hands are burning and so is your face. You’re absolutely right. This is gonna be a problem.

“Fuck the room, I’m gonna unpack in the kitchen.”

Eventually, Jungkook helps you bring your belongings in the room you’ll be sleeping in after you carefully folded them on the island.

His apartment is not what you had imagined at all. Sure you had seen a few glimpses of it during facetime calls but there was no full house tour. His home is very neat and capacious, everything very minimalistic. White flooring, walls, countertops, ceilings. Topped off with all black furniture throughout the whole apartment. Honestly, it’s hard to go wrong with that. Did you mention it was clean?

Jungkook gave you the overall tour of the house before the two of you settled in his (much anticipated) room to start streaming. The stream was fun to say the least. Highly energetic, as expected from the popular spunky streamer. You answered a lot of questions and played a few games.

What wasn’t expected was all of the comments shipping you and Jungkook together.

Tons of comments flooded in— all types of ship names and theories of your relationship. ‘An alleged friendship’, they called it. You were too flustered to even respond to them so Jungkook would entertain it by constantly teasing you. Jungkook ended the stream with his usual outro. Of course not without letting the viewers know that you’ll be back to streaming in a few hours. Attending to all of the things Jungkook has planned for you two to do today.

You sit on the gaming chair next to Jungkook, leg bouncing up and down. Something that started out as a question has led to a small argument. Over something so ineffable, you can’t even explain it to yourself without getting conflicted.

“How are you not seeing this from my point of view?” You question (hypocritically), growing frustrated with your friend who is more confused than anything. Because why does it matter if his fans think you two are dating?

“I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now. It’s not a big deal, _______.” He reaches out to grab your hands in attempt to calm you down, but you quickly pull back. He sighs in defeat. Leaning back in his chair.

“It is though.” You say with less agitation, fiddling with the ends of your braids that rests on your lap, quickly growing tired of the back and forth.

“Enlighten me.” Jungkook perks up, leaning forward in his chair. The whole situation has you flustered and now you regret even saying anything to the man who is now too close for comfort. “Because,” you advert your eyes away from him, looking at the streaming monitor. “You entertaining it will make them start thinking that we’re actually dating and we’re not.” You explain, face as stoic as you can manage. You hear a shift in his movement before turning to look at him again. His arms crossed over his chest.

“Would that be so bad?” He says, seemingly a little offended. You furrow your brows in confusion, not sure what he’s getting at. “Would what be so bad?”

“Dating me,” he emphasizes and you can literally feel your heart sink. Feeling as if you’ve just dropped ninety degrees on a deadly roller coaster. “You’ve been talking as if I’m the fucking plague or something. Why is it so bad that people think we’re dating _______, hm?” He tilts his head after his interrogation. You remain silent. Scared you might say something stupid if you talk.

“Am I not attractive to you? Or, you think I’m frontin’ for my streams—”

“What are you trying to get at here?!” You shake your head in confusion. The roles have quickly changed. Now Jungkook is the one frustrated and you can’t be anymore lost than what you are right now.

“Nothing, obviously!” He stands up, walking over to the large windows in his room. His back facing you as he interests himself with the view outside. You hesitantly approach him, standing not too far behind him as you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s none of that. That’s not—” You pause and his shoulders rises then falls before he turns around to face you. “Can you ever see yourself being in a relationship with me?” He rips the bandage off, tired of beating around the bush.

The question sends a funny little twirl to your tummy. It’s not your first time hearing the familiar question. Having heard it from a few friends several times every time you mentioned the name of your distant friend.

Hearing the same question— out of Jungkook’s mouth now, is totally different. It indicates that he himself has thought about it. What it’d be like if the two of you were together. But the same response stands. “We— you know— I haven’t really… thought about it.” You stammer over your words. Feeling slightly intimidated under his gaze.

“I mean, I do find you attractive— I have eyes for god’s sake. I enjoy talking to you and… all that good stuff.” Jungkook watches you as you sort through your thoughts. His eyes flickering back and forth between yours and your plump lips. “I’m not really in touch with my emotions, like I can be really oblivious at times.” You speak lowly, standing confounded by this whole interaction.

There’s never been a moment in time where you found yourself falling victim to a guy. Not loosing your virginity until your college days— even those encounters were filled with nothing other than pure lust. While everyone else was busy having crushes and dating, you focused on your future. You however aren’t oblivious to the fact that your body reacts differently while around your so called friend. But you never thought anything of it really— the man is hot! Anyone who has a beating pulse could say that much. Figuring that the tall dreamy man is simply just too hot to handle, you brush it off. Now as you stand helplessly, spotlight on you, you try to remember those feelings and what they could mean.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is stuck. Again. He can’t even help it and he doesn’t try to fight it anymore.

You’re gorgeous— and he has no clue as to what you just said even though his eyes never leave your tempting lips. You notice how the silence floods the room, creating an intense tension between the two of you. As mentioned before, oblivion fills you and before you can say anything to break the silence, Jungkook beats you to it.

“I’m about to do something and if you want me to stop, I give you all permission to slap me.” His words are rushed and he doesn’t give you the time to speak, scared of what might fall out of your mouth. His hands gently take hold of your face before his lips meet yours.

Kissing you. Jungkook is kissing you. You process the sudden action rather slowly. His soft lips move against yours as you hear the boisterous sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Wait… Jungkook is kissing you?

Said man is left with a stinging pain to his cheek, his hand abruptly lifting to hold the reddened flesh. His eyes widen as he comes to terms with the fact you just slapped him. Well, he did say you could. He honestly just didn’t think you would act on it. You whisper out a small “sorry”, feeling horrible for hitting him despite the authorized permission he gave you and Jungkook is unable to look you in your eyes, mood gone pensive.

He figures he’s gotten his answer but stands corrected once you wrap your arms around his neck, feverishly placing your lips on his. There was a feeling of absence— emptiness after you not so lightly smacked him away. Now that your lips are interlaced with his again and that rapid sound of your heartbeat is drumming in your ears again, your fingers scavenging through the curly mullet. You think you understand. Understand that you might be a bit smitten with the highly energetic streamer. Highly energetic and talented with his mouth, you must say. His hands travels to your waist, the crop top your sporting allowing him feel the smooth of your skin under his touch.

“Wait.” He murmurs against your lips before pulling away. Heavy breathing fills the bed room. You look at him with much desperation in your eyes. Desperate for the sweet taste of his lips curled around yours. He prays for the good lord to give him strength. Sighing, he manages to find his self control. “I really do like you _______ and as much as I enjoy kissing you, I need to know your intentions.” He says, fingers tracing shapes on your waist.

“I— I think I like you too.” You respond, sounding more like a question than an answer. However, that’s not good enough for Jungkook. He needs to know that you like him and you want him— it doesn’t matter if it’s to the same extent that it is for him. Just something to let him know that you’re invested in him because he’s damn sure invested in all of you.

“Okay, I’m not gonna break this down into simple terms because you’re not thirteen but—”

“Good because you’d be considered a pedophile if I were.” You tilt your head sarcastically and he shakes his head refusing to even respond to that comment. “If I were to go out tonight and find a woman— and hook up with her,” he emphasizes the last part. “Would you be mad— or feel any type of way?”

With no delay, you flick a brow and slightly cock your head back. Utterly offended. “Why the hell would you go and do that?” The response is so bitter, you almost question whether or not it came out or your mouth. Jungkook’s face of anticipation is sent flying and a huge toothy smile is etched across his face, gushing with relief. “Okay,” he whispers. You close your eyes, shaking your head.

“Okay?” You ask and he nods, the bunny toothed smile shines on. You beckon him to further explain his thoughts and is ultimately caught off guard when he grabs your arms instead. Wrapping them around his neck before lifting you off the ground, his hands grasping the back of your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You gasp out, heart pounding rapidly as you feel a spark run through your veins. So abnormal, you never felt anything like this before. You haven’t even been in this man’s presence a full 24 hours yet and somehow the problem you were previously worried about, doesn’t appear all that consequential. Not when the solution has been presented.

“I’ve waited so long just to hold you in my arms. And now that my confession that I had planned for today is completely ruined—”

“You were going to confess?” You spew out, interjecting his words for the umpteenth time today. “Why you’re full of questions, aren’t you?” He teases before placing a soft kiss onto your cheek. Traveling with you in his arms, you close your eyes while he places slow, tender kisses against your neck. Gently placing you on the cool, welcoming bed. Your body sinks into the resilient foam, feeling snug and warmth when Jungkook’s large frame slightly hovers over you.

“It didn’t take me long to realize that I have feelings for you. Now, I don’t know how that cute little mind of yours work.” He slightly snickers when you cutely purse your lips, tucking a lone braid behind your ear. Looking at you with much adulation in his eyes, you can’t help but cotton into. “But I do know that I will do everything I can for you to feel at least half the amount happiness you give me.”

Reaching your hands out, your thumbs caress his cheeks, brushing over the faint scar. Jungkook shivers under your feathery touch. “I do.” Your thumb slowly travels down to his swollen lips. Fiddling with the silver lip ring that decorates the bottom of the pair. “You make me happy. I’ve never felt this way before.” Jungkook leans down, his knee sinking down further into the bed, to capture your lips again.

Your hands’ fervently roaming the other’s body. Jungkook shutters at the feeling of your hands on his body when they travel their way under his white crew neck. The taste of your coconut flavored chapstick making him dizzy. His lips leave yours, going to strip away his shirt. Exposing his toned muscles and sleeve of tattoos that you’ve yet to fully appreciate and admire.

You let out a shaky breath underneath the lusty muscular man. “You’re not really gonna hook up with someone else right?” You thoughtlessly ask. There’s no way he’s going to present this to any other woman. Not after this. Not when you’re ready to bow down to kiss his feet and willingly fold yourself like a pretzel for him.

The buff man nearly chokes on his laughter. “No, _______” That ethereal smile beams back at you. He leans down to place another kiss on your plumped lips. “I only want you… only you.” He confesses, followed with open mouthed kisses against your neck. Your eyes fall close. Jungkook’s hands make their way under your crop top, cupping your rounded breast through the thin layer of your bra.

You wince at the pressure put on your sensitive nipples. He trails kiss down your neck to your chest, slowly lifting your shirt and you help him, breaking the kiss for no more than a couple of seconds to pull the clothing over your head.

The two of you are like two horny teenagers, desperately going at it. You’ve never been one to crave sex— it’s enjoyable, sure. But you can also go long ways without having any sexual interactions. You can and you have.

However, with Jungkook, you need him. You crave him. Suddenly, after all those dickless years you can no longer stand strong. At least not under him. The deprivation of his touch is killing you even though he’s right above you passionately caressing and kissing all over your body. It’s not enough. If there was a way to be in his skin, you’d most certainly figure it out and act on it effective immediately.

You waste no time, eagerly snatching all of your clothes off, the clothing being discarded every which way across his spacious bedroom. You let out needy whimpers as Jungkook glides his dick up and down your wet folds, his long length laying flat, mushroom tip repeatedly brushing pass your clit, stimulating you further.

“You’re so wet baby.” Jungkook grunts relishing in the way his dick slides so easily across your slippery cunt. “Stretch me out, Kook.” You breathlessly say, clenching your tight pussy around nothing, feeling the need of his length to fill you up.

“I should prep you first. I don’t want to hurt you.” Showing uncertainty behind his soft words that makes your stomach shake. You’ve never been one for masochism, but ironically enough, the thought of Jungkook tearing your pussy up, stretching your tight cunt makes you even more aroused, if even possible. You let a low moan out at the idea and Jungkook’s dick twitches.

“No please— just fuck me. Need you now.” There’s no delay, Jungkook is more than delighted to fulfill your desires. He strokes his girthy length, slick from your loads of arousal before dipping his dick slowly into your opening. A load grunt leaves Jungkook’s mouth once the mere tip of his dick slips in. He can already feel the pressure of your tight cunt around him.

Your cunt engulfs his member as it slowly disappears in the depths of your core. Covering your mouth with your hand to diminish the sound of your loud lewd moans. Once his dick is fully inside, he lowers himself to plant a kiss your lips. Light and feathery and full of care. “Are you okay?” He asks, still feeling a bit perturbed. His eyes laced with concern.

You weakly smile at him, initiating another kiss. “I’m all good.” You say, which instantly satisfies the buff man. He quickly pecks your lips before lifting up again. His hands caress your thighs as he gently separates them.

Conjoined moans feel the room as Jungkook slowly stretches you out. His thick, long dick penetrating into your cunt. The sounds being released out of your mouths’ and the squelching sound of your juices lapping around Jungkook’s dick is music to your ears. After a hand full of thrusts you beckon Jungkook to go faster. Jungkook, being the obedient man he is, thrashes into your cunt. His pace quickens all while deeply infiltrating your leaking cunt.

Your arousal creating a large wet spot on the silk black comforter, lathering the inside of your thighs. “Fuck, you feel so good around my dick— mm. So tight and wet, so fucking beautiful.” He lowly curses before grabbing onto your hand. Your body jerks forward as Jungkook continues to fuck into you. He bite his lip, trying to stay strong and not cum right away. But the way the warmth of your pussy is hugging his length, it’s not so easy.

“K— Kook, shit right there.” You grab onto your boob with your free hand for moral support because you feel like you’re going insane. Your pussy clenches around his dick sending him groaning. “I’m gonna cum, fuhh!” Jungkook hastily nods his head before letting go of your hand, going to rub his thumb against your slippery clit. Your back arches against the bed as he fucks into you so good, overstimulated from the amounts of pleasure.

“Cum on my dick, _______.” Jungkook grabs your waist, pounding into your pussy harder. Which is followed by a trail of incoherent whimpering and whining. You let out a loud scream as you release your load around Jungkook’s length.

The sounds of your pussy squelching around Jungkook’s dick as he rides out your high grows louder and soon he’s due for his own release.

“Fuck!” Quickly sliding out of your cunt, he strokes his length in haste before loads of thick white semen drags out onto your stomach.

Heavy breathing crowds the room as you try to recuperate from the previous event. Jungkook gets up from his bed without a word, leaving the room. After a little over a minute, he returns with a towel and a pack of baby wipes in hand. Coming to clean you up. It’s impossible to hide your growing smile whilst Jungkook silently and intently cleans you up.

“After care goes crazy.” You jokingly comment and Jungkook tries to remain stoic but fails miserably when he ends up laughing. “You can’t take anything serious, can you?” He shakes his head, smile still holding up.

“I take you seriously.” You lowly speak. Jungkook shoots you a smile before going to recover your clothes off the floor, throwing the towel in the garbage. He slips his boxer briefs back on and tosses his shirt to you, wanting you to wear it and you do. The room is silent. A little too quiet for comfort and you don’t want to grow accustomed to the silence so you grab Jungkook’s wrist to stop him from cleaning.

“Sit down.” You say softly, but the tone is simply a facade. Jungkook is well aware that you’re demanding attention so he cooperates. “I want this.” Simply put, but very self explanatory. Jungkook lets out a sigh, staring into your eyes intently. “I wonder what could’ve possibly changed your mind.” He sarcastically speaks, reflecting on the irony of the situation. Your hands wrap around his neck, fiddling with the hair on the nape of his neck, tempted to pull him into another longing kiss.

But you don’t. You don’t need Jungkook thinking you’re only saying this because your dick crazed. Despite your emotional awakening happening prior to having sex with Jungkook, you know that there’s something else there in your heart. Your interest and liking for Jungkook resides outside of sexual attraction and interactions. His meek attitude and sexy figure is just the cherry on top. There’s a connection between you two that makes you inexplicably happy— a sense of security.

“I’m new to this whole relationship process— never been in one my entire life. Everyone speaks of finding the perfect person, their person. And if it’s anything like how people have explained… I think it’s you.” He watches as you stare lovingly into his bambi eyes.

“It’s me?” He whispers, his breath lightly nuzzling your lips that are just inches away from his. You hum, face etched in mischief.

“What is that you said to me? Wha— would you be mad if I hooked…”

“Up with another woman, yes I did say that.” He finishes, lowering his head to hide the growing smile. “And if I recall correctly,” you dipping your head as Jungkook dodges teasing looks. “When I asked you if you’d actually do that, you said no.” You catch his face in your palms forcing him to look at you. The bulbs of his face are bright red and his dimples are deeply inscribed in his risen cheeks.

“Only you.” Repeating the words he vowed to you earlier. You nod your head, uncontrollably squeezing his cheeks in your hands. “Okay well the same goes for me.” Quickly placing a kiss on his forehead before speaking again. “Only you. You have my word.” Jungkook shyly nods, refusing to look you in the eyes still. You giggle at his oddly shy behavior, cracking out and amused “what”.

“Kissing me on my forehead and shit— feels domestic as fuck.” You release a loud laugh in his face to which Jungkook joins in, unable to control himself, your laugh being contagious to the man. Pinning Jungkook on the bed, you smother his face with kisses.

The scene is something you yourself would often cringe at when witnessing other couples. Hypocritically, you bask in the laughter that escapes yours and Jungkook’s mouth. Revel in the way Jungkook’s strong hands grab at your waste when your lips curls around his. This is something you can get used to. You never want to stop feeling this way ever. And you have a feeling that as long as Jungkook is by your side, you’ll feel this way for a very long time.

On top of the world.

“We’re behind schedule.” Jungkook mutters against your lips and you strain your neck to peek at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. You are in fact behind schedule. “Benny will be here any minute now.” He says, grabbing your arm so he can roll from underneath your hold. Leaving the room to put his clothes on and use the restroom.

You also get up to put your clothes back on, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. When Jungkook returns he sneaks behind you and circles his arms around his waist, his chin atop of your head. His tatted hand traveling just under your breast. “You’re so gorgeous, _______.” He whispers softly. You hum with your eyes closed as Jungkook pushes his clothed crotch against your ass. His mouth latching onto your neck, being sure not to leave any marks. “Kook,” you say once you feel his hand dip underneath your shirt, going to cup your tit.

“Hmm?” He continues to grind his growing bulge against your thick ass. You tightly squeeze your thighs together, feeling the familiar sudden sensation between your legs. “No, we have to go.” You shake out of his hold, turning around to see the faint pout on his lips. But soon reluctantly agrees.

“Benny’s outside.” You say, looking out the window as Jungkook hurriedly grabs everything he needs. He jogs over to you with a bright smile on his face. Pecking your lips which takes you by surprise. “Got everything.” You nod your head and the two of you stalk down the stairs. Jungkook smacks your ass before you open the door, gasping, you turn around with a warning glare. He smirks down at you.

“You better behave once we HOP ON THE STREAM.”

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#who(re) you 🍂#jiminscockr1ng #˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚#bts smut #bts fanfic #kpop smut #bts x black reader #black reader #bts x reader #jungkook x black reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

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whorediaries-09 · 10 months

Note

oneshot in which reader is drunk and desperate for sex but james feels like she'd give her consent drunkenly so it wouldn't be proper consent, but she's begging, and he eats her out and she's babbling out thank you's

hi love, thank you for sending in the request. i quite literally am in love with it.

meddle about;

pairing- fdad!james potter x reader warning(s)- age gap (nothing borderline illegal), 18+ content, mention of alcohol. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- might make a part two if ya'll want to.

ps- okay so for better understanding, reader is harry's friend and is as the same age as oliver wood.

the slut club early winter event

'cause it's not just a figure of speech you got me down on my knees

you're warm. you don't know whether it's because of the alcohol stimulating every inch within you, or because you can feel your friend's dad's toned thighs underneath yours. either ways, it's a nice feeling that fills you up. to be on a motorbike, your shoulders clad in a sweater that isn't yours, riding under the stars under the lucent light of the streetlights. it's blinding you think, how your heart beats with how tightly pressed you are against his back.

it wasn't supposed to be him picking you up. you had called harry, and somehow his dad was there, a few moments later. you were drunk, and similarity of their features had fogged you for a few moments. you'd successfully stopped yourself from hugging him like he was your best friend. he'd smiled at your dumb found expression, before his eyes raked over your figure, the skimpy dress upon your body. mid november, you stood, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. he took of his sweater and made you wear it.

you remember yourself asking what he was doing with sirius' motorbike. you remember his grin while he elaborated his explanations, slowly so you could catch up,

'i'm learning how to ride one. and besides my car is at the mechanics. the broom wouldn't exactly be okay if i just carried it to a muggle bar, and well disapparating is really complicated when one is drunk.'

so that's how you ended up here, on the warm couch of james potter, exhaustion dripping of your body.

'hi,' you blink, as he appears with a bunch of things on a tray. he offers you a subtle smile, setting the tray on the coffee table. his hands cup your cheeks, while he makes sure you're watching him, and your subconscious is with the moment.

'hey, dove. i'll wipe your makeup off okay?' he asks, the question tearing off softly from his lips. you stare at his lips longer than you intended to, longer than it was appropriate,

'yeah, yeah,' you nod. his hands work with the packet of wipes, slowly rubbing the cleanser soaked sheet over your face, wiping off your unsettled makeup.

your mind swirls south. his hot breath is fanning over your face, hand holding your face in place while his tongue prods out from between his lips. you inch closer to him, your knees touching with his. you feel the edge of his nose almost touch yours and you shudder. it's a weird feeling of warmth that pools in your stomach when you think how his lips would taste against yours. you wonder how his strong hands would grip you, while he'd rut his cock into you. you wonder how his voice would sound while he'd whisper sensual words in your ears.

with utmost adoration, you look into his hazel eyes. the moonlight beams through the window, enlightening the softness of his eyes. you feel his breath hitch as you move closer to his face, tilting your neck. he gulps, his heart beating against his throat.

'we shouldn't do this...' he whispers. but he doesn't let go of your face.

'but i want to. i need you mr. potter, so bad,'

your world collapses. his lips entangle with yours, as he pulls you closer to his body. he ravages your mouth with his tongue, exploring every bit there is left untouched. he sucks on your teeth, bits on your lip, and caresses your body as if he's got it memorized, as if he's got you written across his mind. he kisses you as if you'd flee if he left you. he devours with his passion, consuming you whole.

you think he might kiss you till you're lips are blue. he tastes of cinnamon and oranges. you're breathless by the time he leaves you, with a little shake. he grunts, trying to scoot away from you, but the beauty of your swollen lips and disgruntled sighs leaving your mouth leaves him mesmerized.

'fuck,' he says. you raise an eyebrow, moving towards him. he stands up.

'what's wrong?'

'no...i don't think we should do this-this is wrong-'

'i need you, please, please have me,' you beg. he's standing against the wall, your hands wrapped around him, pushing him towards the wall behind him.

'no no, you're drunk,' he says. you bite your lip,

'i maybe drunk, but i want you. i wanted you sober, i want you drunk,' you insist. he looks down upon you, contemplating your words. your fingers reek over his chest, trailing up to his neck. your finger entangle with his curls, and you bring his face down.

'feel my cunt, it's so wet, just for you,' you mumble against his lips. his breath shudders. he takes a deep breath, inhaling in you. his hands arm around your hips, wrapping your legs aground his hips. he dives into your mouth, pushing away things strewn across the hall, taking you to his bedroom. his hand fumbles with the door, as he locks it.

he pushes you on his bed, his hands not fast enough to get rid of the dress you're wearing.

*****

it's maddening, the pace his tongue works on your clit. you're over the edge of the bed, your legs spread apart, his face buried into your pussy. filthy moans leave your mouth, as his tongue dives into your cunt, devouring you better than your wildest dreams could ever. you'd dreamt about his face buried between your thighs, while he ate you out and made you scream till your throat was raw.

'ple-please,' you beg, rutting your hips into his mouth. you feel him smile against you, the frame of his metal glasses cold against your hot skin. his finger circles over your clit,

'you taste so good sweetheart,' he croons. you numbly nod your head, fondling with your breasts.

'thank you,'

he shoves his finger inside your sopping cunt, diving his mouth between your legs again. he licks a stripe up your slit, curling his finger inside you as he sucks upon your sensitive bud. he swirls his tongue, spitting on your cunt, rhythmically moving his fingers. your breathing rate increases, stomach rising and falling as you feel the coil of orgasm build within your guts. your hand reaches his head full of curls, pushing his face closer to your dripping cunt. your thighs wrap around his head, and you scream.

'fuc-fuck i'm so close,'

he hums, the vibration sending chills down your spine. he increases the pace of his fingers, feeling your walls clench around him.

'oh fuck, fuck, thank you, thank you-' you slur, as your toes curl, and eyes roll backwards. your hips rise, and he growls,

'god cum on my tongue,'

you vigorously nod your head, moving your cunt against his splayed out tongue, letting your orgasm grip you. you release your juices on his tongue, and he devours you, lapping up every inch of your juices on his tongue.

'thank you, thank you, fuck, thank you,' you babble, mindlessly.

he stands up, his cock erect and huge in all its glory. he holds you by your neck, making you sit on your knees, the fabric of the carpet digging into your skin.

'now you're gonna return the favor won't you, love?' he whispers.

#james potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders headcanon #the marauders #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter one shot #james potter fic #james potter x regulus black #marauders fanfiction #james potter fanfiction

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nico-nico-suavecito · 4 months

Text

And Still We Dance

in memory of everyone lost at Pulse on June 12, 2016 and in honor of the spaces in which queer joy flourishes

my first time clubbing was at a bar called tracks. because of its proximity to the train tracks, you could feel the rumble if not for the bass

i’d go with my childhood friend who danced like he was the only one in the room (which got us in trouble a few times) flailing his fists waving his arms like he had never danced before

it was there that he told me: you’ve been watching that girl all night. when are you going to talk to her?

it was there that i swallowed my fear crossed the swirling sea of bodies to ask her: do you want to dance and we danced that entire night like we were strobe lights unsure of how to be on and off each other at the same time

i never went with any intention to get off, so much as i went for a chance to leave my body on the dance floor. didn’t matter the music, even on those how many times can you play Titanium sort of nights.

and on those nights, i felt nothing like metal and more like the mist of hot breath refracting the night. trans and lucent enough to waltz with the spotlights.

i could dance sober then never had to take a hit to crackle electric light in the loafers without a single drink back when i could go to the gay bar without the thought of shots fired –

how many of us are mist these days?

and is this not our history the way we keep existing reviled in the way our bodies move with other bodies the way we move around the fist that tries to catch us

the other day, my friend and i pulled off a canyon road, the road we drive most nights when we feel our lives falling apart.

we seem to make this drive more often lately.

they showed me the spot where they told the truth for the first time to the moon and the mountains and the river below that they were as queer as the moon, the mountains and the river below.

we shouted into the echo our not so secrets knowing the wrong sort of people could hear us and do to us what lead does to flesh

but here we still are carving out space like wind carves a canyon

can you hear the train whistle can you hear the hum of a hundred phones looking for love on the other side

can you hear my pulse pounding like a bassline

----

my limited edition handmade poetry collection, the weeds grow anyway, is available for preorder. get your copy today.

#poetry #lgbtq #poem #trans #queer #trans joy #queer joy #pride month #pride month 2024 #pulse remembrance #queer art #trans art #trans poetry

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lucent-roase · 1 month

Text

another new intro because my original another one sucked:

hi! i’m Lucent. i love to draw and occasionally write. i only draw TOH (and a very small amount of other fandoms i’m in) on this blog.

i love asks, but i will politely have to decline dms unless we have established a relationship of some kind, acquaintanceship or friendly. too much spam and random questions about drawing scooby doo. i don’t know how to draw scooby doo.

now for some personal things:

i use she/they/he/xe (quite the lineup, i know) pronouns, which you might have already seen in my bio. i don’t really mind with labels otherwise, though.

i’m in a relationship!

i won’t draw anything suggestive. the characters i draw are almost all minors.

anyways i wanna leave this on a lighter note, so i will add that i run track and i am in the 100m and 4x100m relay. woohoo!

#lucent’s posts #intro post #this again #i would love to be friends with anyone who also wants to be friends

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cvnt4him · 3 months

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Hello!! I was so wondering if you could write Izuku x reader angst? Like they are on a mission and reader gets hurt badly protecting Izuku? Or a pretty heated argument?!

Instead of doing just one or the other I'm doing both and put them together🤯

How could you..

Readers quirk is energy based, they can give energy to others and also take energy.

You were on a mission with izuku. It wasn't rare for you two to be paired up with each other but when it came down to hero work the two of you hardly seen each other, you always had to wait until after school or the next day but lately you two just haven't seen much of each other at all.

You were so excited to see him! His messy forest green curls, and those big lucent emerald green puppy dog eyes of his, how could you not be? When you two seen each other you called out to him making him turn to you with a confused face before it instantly lit up. He had a huge smile on that adorable freckled baby face of his.

"y/n!! I've missed you so much!"

"me too, baby!!"

You two hold each other for a while, giggling with your foreheads to one another before Endeavour breaks your two up. You both apologize, glancing at each other trying to hold back your giggles.

Endeavour figured since he already took shoto katsuki and deku on a patrol with him that izuku could take you himself, it was your first time being at Endeavours agency and being on patrol in general so you were really excited to get to do this with tour boyfriend!!

Izuku was just as excited, especially because he knew he could keep you safe. There had already been a petty jewelry thief a couple of blocks away and shoto reported back to izuku that they took care of it so there wasn't any real danger for you to get in! He promised himself he wouldn't let you get in danger.

While you two were walking and talking about whatever came to mind he couldn't help but to just admire you, the way you spoke so passionately about whatever you're talking about. The way you smiled so brightly at him, so blinding. You were truly astounding. Astonishing. There are so many words in this world, yet none of them can even begin to compare how truly perfect you are.

Just as izuku was going to jump into the conversation he was stopped by you. He looked at your horrified face then over to what's in front of you to see shoto on the ground with blood leaking down his face, and katsuki being choked by some muscle filled man.

Obviously it was instinct for the both of you to help. You quickly ran to help aid your two fallen friends who were hurt as izuku went to fight, occasionally glancing at you and your friends to assure you were okay. You helped them up as they both agreed they still wanted to fight.

They both ran to help izuku, he had gotten punched a couple of times causing his nose to break. You ran to him to assure he was okay, he winced as you checked out his nose. You always had some aiding things on your suit for times like these, your quirk wasn't a close range type of thing so you had to learn how to help people from afar.

Izuku smiled as you finished cleaning his wound and placed a fire truck bandaid on it. He rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead before running back off into battle, you had a hard time with your quirk considering it was energy based, if you were tired or not well rested or hungry or just didn't have enough energy your quirk couldn't work.

The man they were fighting was quite strong and definitely not something to take lightly, izuku got roughed up a bit along with your friends but that wasn't going to stop them from fighting. They were all pretty tired and you tried your hardest to aid them with as much energy as you could before your body started tiring out. Izuku sat you down so you could take a breather, a random civilian had called the police who contacted the pro heroes.

No one knew how long it would take for the pros to get there and you were all tired and out of energy, katsuki being the firecracker he is, he wasn't going to stop until his body was spent.

Izuku tried his hardest to get katsuki to reconsider but he just wouldn't, katsuki hadn't seen where the villain had gone so he just stood there panting and out of breath checking his surroundings. Where could the man have possibly gone, he was huge there was no way he could just.. disappear like that. Right?

Deku seen the man appear from behind katsuki and rushed towards him to push katsuki out of the way, you knew something bad would happen if the man caught izuku you just couldn't sit by and let that happen. You pushed shoto away from you, who was trying to help make sure you got rest, and gathered as much energy as you could to rush over to your boyfriend.

It's like time had stopped. Everything was happening before your eyes at such a slow pace, you pushed izuku out of the way and trapped the muscular man in a bubble that used up all of your energy, time had seemed to go back to normal as you collapsed to the ground. Katsuki groaned and instantly got up from being pushed out of the way by izuku. Izuku was confused, what could have possibly happened, he made sure that he pushed katsuki out of the way. So if he was okay and katsuki was okay what happened?

Izuku looked up to his friend to see him looking up at the big strong men moving in slow motion inside of a bubble, it brought a huge smile to izukus face, but then they all seen the bubble starting to crack, izuku instantly realized that was your quirk being in use. He looked down to see you unconscious. Izuku wanted to rush to you before shoto called out to him. The bubble above him popped and the huge man came crashing down, before the man could touch izuku he zoomed past him and grabbed you.

He held you close with tears in his eyes, he was fuming with anger. He let you get hurt even after he told himself he wouldn't, he couldn't believe that you'd gotten hurt.

You woke up in the infirmary, your head throbbing and your body sore. You felt like you couldn't move, you knew it was from the over use of your quirk but even still the only thing on your mind was your boyfriend. You needed to know he was alright. You tried to move but your body cramped horribly, you groaned in pain but tried to push through it. Alas, you couldn't it was too painful to endure, tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you laid back in agony. You wanted your boyfriend and you couldn't have him.

Just as you were about to turn over and lie back down you were scared up by the door opening, you see your boyfriend and the two boys you were on patrol with. Your face lit up as you see your green haired boyfriend walk through the door with a worried face. He rushed to you now that you were awake he could hold you close.

Shoto smiled as katsuki simply groaned and rolled his eyes at the loving display. You heard izuku sniff in the crook of your neck, it broke your heart to hear your love cry like this. He pulled back from the hug and wiped his face with his arm, he couldn't bring himself to even look at you like this, in the state that you were in.

You sat up the best you could, confused why he couldn't bring himself to glance at you. You try to smile at him only for him to inhale and let out a shaky breath before clearing his throat. You could tell he felt guilty, extremely guilty to the point it was so obvious he was beating himself up. He looked dead, tired, hungry. Just completely out of it. You hated when he got into moods like this, he always brang himself down.

"izu--"

"How could you..."

"how.. how could I what, zu..?"

"you- you jumped in front of me. You could've gotten yourself seriously hurt-- you did get seriously hurt. Because of me."

"izuku no it was my choice. I didn't want you getting hurt."

"so what, you got hurt instead? To what.. save me?!"

"yes."

He scoffs and rubs his temples, he couldn't believe you. The fact you'd just willingly admit it and not even try to excuse what you've done. You were hurt because of him. You were stupid and reckless because of him. He couldn't live with himself because of what you've done. You went and got hurt after he promised himself he wouldn't let you.

You sigh heavily, the tension in the room is so thick that a knife couldn't even break it. The two boys behind izuku looked so awkward. Shoto had a hard time understanding most social cues so he just mindlessly blinked and looked between the two of you silently, katsuki was literally drowning in the tension, he cleared his throat only to be interrupted by izuku.

"look. I just.. I love you, and- and you got hurt.. because of me. I can't.. I can't live with myself knowing I'm the reason you got hurt."

He stammered on his words hiding his hand close to his heart, it was beating out of his chest in anger, sadness, and so many more feelings he felt like he could explode.

"izuku. I'm not going to apologize for my actions. I knew the cost and I knew what would come. I was completely in control when I acted."

That only seemed to anger the greenette more, tears falling down his face as he dug his nails into the palms of his hands, sniffling and trying his hardest not to break down right then and there.

"ARE YOU S- SERIOUS?! YOU WERE HURT. BECAUSE OF YOUR SHITTY THINKING."

Izuku spat at you, tears streaming down his face as he sniffled and hiccupped. He tried so hard to hold all of his emotions back but he just couldn't. He was falling apart at the seams because of you. He loved you so much and he felt that he failed to protect you.

"okay.. and what about you, huh? You pushed katsuki out of the way and didn't even think about yourself. You're so busy trying to protect others you never take a minute to think about yourself. It's always hero this and hero that but never what does izuku want. How does izuku feel? So I'm sorry for trying to be a good partner by protecting you. But I will not apologize for protecting you."

Izukus eyes widened at your words. He hadn't even realized that he'd jumped in front of katsuki, he just acted on pure impulse. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were flushed, he didn't know what to say or even how to react after that. He was just stunned. Katsuki and shoto took it upon themselves to see themselves out.

You were fighting back tears for numerous reasons, but the only one that kept getting louder and louder inside of your head was the one saying izuku was going to break up with you. You felt that it would come. You were afraid, but you were also angry. How could he break up with you for you protecting him after he almost carelessly lost his life? The one thing you seem to be asking yourself.

He looked down towards the ground and tried his hardest to wipe his face with his hands. His face was covered by his hair, you wanted oh so desperately to kiss his tears away. You were just afraid that he didn't want you anymore.

"I'm.. I'm so sorry.."

Izukus voice was low and hoarse, he was shaking and tears were still spilling from his eyes. He was just so emotional that he could see himself stopping anytime soon. You didn't exactly hear his words but guessed along the lines that he was apologizing, you felt so guilty that he even felt the need to apologize.

"come here, izuku."

You say bluntly with your arms held out reaching for him, within an instant he rushed over to you, collapsing in your arms tears rushing down his face even more. You simply chuckled and held him close, kissing his head and burying your nose in his hair. His tears got all over your hospital gown, dampening it with the salty liquid.

This was your first argument like this, but you were positive it wasn't going to be your last.

AN: it's currently 11:26 I was so scared I wasn't gonna get this done on time y'all, I don't plan on missing a single day chat🙏🏽🙏🏽

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littleroaes · 4 months

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To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed.

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows.

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs.

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold.

There are five of them.

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun.

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ).

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ).

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back.

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes.

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning )

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light.

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again.

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?”

You sigh, sprint up the second floor.

“Y/n?”

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely.

“What?”

“The letters…”

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?”

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall.

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.”

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse.

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead.

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit.

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city.

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon )

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city.

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door.

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile.

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right.

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.”

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose.

“Jaehyun.”

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice.

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink.

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players.

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe.

“Yeah.”

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear.

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle.

Fuck.

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you.

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–”

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong.

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes.

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae.

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.”

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail.

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders.

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit.

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.”

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back.

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door.

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before.

You side eyes him still and sits up.

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice.

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone.

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit.

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.”

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious.

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him.

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders.

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again.

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it.

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees.

“Too bad, too bad.”

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again.

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?”

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.”

Hyunjae smirks.

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.”

“Sure.” He nods.

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.”

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.”

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.”

( friday evening )

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink.

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on.

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him.

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand.

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear.

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves).

“Not so fast.”

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully.

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner.

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks.

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe.

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles.

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house.

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens.

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out.

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again.

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat.

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square.

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions.

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass.

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month.

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room.

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences.

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book.

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?”

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings.

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone.

“Sorry.” You deadpan.

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off.

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks.

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub.

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party.

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first.

“Oh, Y/n.”

He smiles, still holds the book before him.

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.”

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence.

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously.

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly.

“Why are you here?” You ask.

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk.

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively.

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page.

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.

You nod.

“We all do.”

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence.

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing.

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option).

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. .

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly.

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.”

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle.

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.”

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?”

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap.

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after).

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers.

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.”

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again.

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor.

“Mindy?” He says.

“Oh, Yeah.”

They both laugh.

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.”

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol).

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub.

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open.

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.”

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back.

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room.

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls.

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain.

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.”

“I am?”

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness.

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree.

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return.

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest.

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame.

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing.

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.”

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state.

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs.

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end.

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.”

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down.

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him.

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist.

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–”

“Sunwoo!”

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above.

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you.

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense.

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.”

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans.

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path.

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back.

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated.

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms.

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back.

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow.

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him.

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face.

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence.

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you.

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette.

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.”

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.”

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut.

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs.

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric.

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps.

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.”

“Oh, Juyeon?”

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line.

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him.

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead.

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?”

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it.

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod.

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head.

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity.

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.”

“Really?”

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?”

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack.

“Jump on.”

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt.

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.”

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly.

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting.

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks.

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator.

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap.

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat.

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes.

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside.

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.”

You look up, “Oh.”

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap.

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head.

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings.

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?”

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet.

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.”

They sit there until the lady comes out again.

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing.

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer.

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair.

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother.

“Oh, you see!”

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does.

After another conversation, the topic returns.

“So when did you meet?”

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither.

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.”

Lady nods, “Since when?”

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?”

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.”

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile.

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze.

“Then I confessed in university.”

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both.

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass.

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to.

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air.

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay.

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood.

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat.

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it.

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers.

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.”

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.”

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat.

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits.

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’.

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor.

“Really?” You say surprised.

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.”

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t.

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly.

“What?” You lean away.

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!”

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back.

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.”

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders.

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks.

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.”

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders.

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too.

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears.

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”.

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers.

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring.

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop.

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips.

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move.

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.”

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?”

“At the library.”

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans.

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it.

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down.

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side.

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces.

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week.

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph.

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate.

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow.

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs.

“Did anything happen?”

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted.

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time?

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers.

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence.

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae.

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight.

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past.

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated.

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party.

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines.

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision.

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak.

“What?”

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats.

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head.

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.”

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world.

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…”

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye.

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?”

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time.

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.”

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp.

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within.

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly.

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs.

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer.

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again.

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from.

“Bye Y/n, see you around!”

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals.

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only.

“You never take water with you, Ice God.”

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun.

“You’re close with Sunwoo?”

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.”

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses.

“Let’s run.” He says.

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain.

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.”

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats.

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does.

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable.

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot.

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch.

They stand still catching breath.

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers.

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you.

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look.

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X.

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently.

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.”

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’.

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer.

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret.

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric.

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you.

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up?

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace.

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted.

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders.

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear.

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure.

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back.

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain.

“, and it fits you.”

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing.

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles.

“Thank you, Jaehyun.”

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too.

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice.

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!”

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe.

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped.

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses.

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!”

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid.

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why.

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic.

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact.

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth.

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away.

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away.

“I’m sorry.” You finally say.

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again.

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart.

“I was-”

“It’s oka-”

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks.

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you.

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular.

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling.

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past.

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field.

“I actually like you too, Y/n.”

It hitches in your throat.

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks.

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why.

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot.

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside.

05 . CHAPTER FIVE

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games.

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come.

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened.

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely.

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same.

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”.

He doesn’t get it.

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling.

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup.

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head.

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot.

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned.

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain.

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages.

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room.

You suddenly shout, “Move!”

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power.

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads.

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring;

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest.

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor.

“I’m sorry-”

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net.

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome.

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up.

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.”

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure.

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.”

He pauses.

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.”

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles.

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..”

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.

They both laugh.

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch.

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why.

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields.

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out.

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion).

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm.

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs.

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?”

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face.

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.”

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.”

“Don’t do this.” You complain.

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth.

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend.

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball.

“I missed.” He deadpan.

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon.

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?”

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp.

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary.

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip.

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack.

“You stole my pocky?”

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from.

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends.

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.”

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them.

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you.

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing.

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm.

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat.

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points.

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n.

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face.

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you.

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down.

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder.

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song.

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round.

He dares to look down. He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own.

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer.

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him.

“You do it then.” He smiles.

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.”

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless.

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair.

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder.

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink.

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand.

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal.

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong.

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling.

“Y/n!”

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek.

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point, nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work.

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color.

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms.

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.”

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen.

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off.

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups.

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in.

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net.

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts.

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way.

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too.

“I have some for you.”

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier.

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate.

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food.

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral.

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine.

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.”

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?”

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.”

“My stones?” You tilt.

“You.”

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies.

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.”

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.”

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious.

“You remember that?” He says surprised.

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them.

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly.

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms.

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age.

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side.

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say.

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles, “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.”

You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence.

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him.

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing.

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good.

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence.

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin.

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell.

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them.

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple.

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining.

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close.

“You know…” He starts.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing.

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.”

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way.

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out.

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes.

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes.

“I’m actually a Capricorn.”

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again.

“You’re really cute.” He smiles.

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?”

He nods that his fringe follows.

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.”

He pouts with big eyes.

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly.

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots.

You pretend to think, “Hmm.”

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room.

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open.

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor.

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest.

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes.

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?”

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story.

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die.

“Eric?” You lie down.

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you.

“I forgot.”

Eric snorts, “Really?”

“Mm.” You insist.

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”.

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field.

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely.

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you.

For now, he’s in denial.

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently.

06 . CHAPTER SIX

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels.

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time.

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles.

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon.

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight.

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third.

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left.

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.”

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name.

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you.

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows.

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively.

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking.

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk.

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again.

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase.

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across.

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently.

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward.

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?”

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen.

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question.

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?”

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade.

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass.

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head.

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly.

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that.

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life.

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off.

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up.

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders.

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up.

The space opens again.

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers.

“I’m sorry.”

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything.

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became.

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.”

He looks up.

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly.

“But you’re actually very kind.”

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression.

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently.

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles.

( wednesday, afternoon )

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place.

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet.

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something.

“You’re sad.”

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention.

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently.

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin.

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired.

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down.

You nod.

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon.

“Honesty is always valued.”

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen.

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.”

You smile weakly.

07 . FINAL CHAPTER

( saturday, evening )

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows.

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps.

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely.

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted.

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door.

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you.

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods.

“Welcome in!”

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject.

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking.

“Do you know where Eric is?”

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms.

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him.

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric.

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him.

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward.

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you.

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.”

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too.

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water.

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t.

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting.

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles.

You smile too and nod.

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool.

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back��therefore it can’t be you.”

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body.

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it.

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.”

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.”

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond.

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.”

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go.

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows.

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house.

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.”

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood.

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met.

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up.

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins.

You found him.

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away.

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you.

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does.

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes .

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical.

“I’ll tell you later.”

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.”

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts.

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest.

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue.

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment.

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window.

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–”

“I love you too.”

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization.

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time.

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement.

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you.

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says.

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter.

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?”

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking.

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.”

You pause.

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position.

“Not when you exist.”

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face.

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer.

Though, Sunwoo has other plans.

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts.

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world.

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

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