#ft. hoshi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blue-jisungs · 5 months ago

Text

love.

[ song inspo ! ] love. by wave to earth

[ author’s note ! ] i literally had an idea and started writing this fic on 25th of november 2023. its 22nd of november 2024 btw. ANYWHO. i do hope you enjoy it BC I SURE DID. treat it as a small warm up for whats abt to come in the summer (hopefully). a bigbigbiiig shout out to my bby @fairyhaos who proofread it and corrected my silly mistakes. yena i love you with my whole heart im so grateful you managed to stay sane while doing that <3

[ summary ! ] mingyu is VERY whipped for you ever since first meeting and he shows it through his actions, rather than words.

[ extras ! ] idol!mingyu x animal shelter worker!yn ft wonwoo the bestie. mostly fluff but there is a bittersweet moment (read: a pinch of angst and whole lot of comfort)

[ warnings ! ] mention of animal death, abuse and poor keeping conditions; swearing, food (i love soup if u couldnt tell), alcohol mention, couple of swears, wound and blood (nothing major though), reader is said to have a period (idk if thats a warning but i figured id list it too),,, painfully cute n teeth rotting <3

[ word count ! ] 12k

the coldness in the room made you shiver, despite a hoodie and blanket on your lap. with a heavy heart you looked around all the cages and then at the old dog napping on your lap.

“i’m sorry baby” you mumbled and with shaky hands clicked ‘post’.

putting your phone away, you focused on petting the grey-furred dog. you’d start working once she was awake.

“okay, time for a break!” hoshi yelled out and ran to grab his water.

wonwoo slumped his shoulders, only to stretch them afterwards.

“any plans for today after this?” mingyu asked, approaching his friend. he shook his head as a no, brown hair falling on his face. “i thought we could go out and grab something to eat. there’s a new ramen place that opened up.”

“sure, why not” wonwoo smiled and reached for his phone. mingyu noticed the slight change in his friend’s features as he looked down at the device, the corners of his mouth dropping down slowly.

“what happened?” mingyu tilted his head. wonwoo typed something quickly on his phone and a small sigh left his lips.

“remember my friend, y/n? she sometimes swings by” he asked, putting away his phone. mingyu nodded “she’s having some financial difficulties.”

“aw man, that sucks” mingyu grunted, genuinely feeling worried. a friend of a friend was someone who he’d help, even if he doesn’t know you well. “what happened?”

“it’s a long story…” wonwoo mumbled and suddenly his eyes sparkled. “maybe she’ll tag along with us for the ramen? i’ll pay for her. but maybe it would take her mind off things…”

“sure, no problem!” mingyu grinned. “and i’ll finally get to properly meet her”

“just… please don’t scare her” his friend snickered and mingyu just rolled his eyes playfully.

arriving at a small but cozy restaurant, you took off your coat and hat. the delicious smell of food filled your nostrils and you went further inside, looking for wonwoo and his friend. finally, you found them in a small private room. you smiled upon noticing mingyu.

“oh, y/n! why didn’t you text me when you arrived?” wonwoo asked and you just shook your head.

“my fingers froze, i literally couldn’t type” you giggled and noticed his friend standing up. “also, hello. mingyu right? hi. i’m y/n.”

“hi, yes, i’m mingyu. it’s nice to finally meet you, y/n. i’ve heard a lot about you” the man smiled, his canines showing. he reached his hand out to greet you and you had to pull yourself together.

“good things, i assume?” you chuckled and shook his warm, large hand.

since he and wonwoo were roommates, you sometimes bumped into mingyu when you were visiting your best friend. but it was usually just ‘hi’ or some small talk. you were basically strangers. however, it was no secret that mingyu was your type; even wonwoo knew this. (which was why he was always putting off the meeting of you two or told mingyu to stay in his room when you were visiting). you were always too shy to make a move though.

“as if there were bad things about you, y/n” wonwoo cut in, patting the place next to him. you finally tore your eyes away from mingyu and sat next to your friend, smiling at him. “have you guys ordered yet?”

“no, mingyu insisted that we wait for you” wonwoo tapped the menu in front of him and handed it to you. “but we’ve already decided what we want.”

while you scanned through the positions on the menu, mingyu couldn’t take his eyes off you. sure, he’d seen you a couple of times but only for a mere moment when passing you in the hallway. you looked so cute right now… with your cheeks dusted pink from the cold, some snowflakes still resting atop of your head (but they melted within seconds). your brows knitting adorably while you were focused on the menu and–

mingyu felt wonwoo’s gaze on him. he gulped and smiled awkwardly at his friend, looking away from you (temporarily).

after ordering, you started chatting about some casual stuff: your work, their preparation for comebacks, what was the latest and all of that. once your ramens arrived, you knew that the topic would eventually come out.

“and what about your shelter, y/n?” wonwoo asked, digging into his meal. his ebony eyes looked at you tenderly from above his steamed glasses. mingyu tilted his head, like a curious puppy. you sighed and shook your head, slowly stirring the warm soup. noodles and toppings swirled and interlocked with each other.

“for context, i do volunteer work at a shelter outside the town” you explained to mingyu. he was listening carefully, picking the meat in his ramen. “and i’ve been doing that for like five years now. each winter was harsh but now…”

you bit your bottom lip and sent him a reassuring smile. your chopsticks kept stirring softly, absentmindedly. the bottle green shaded seaweed tangled with the fresh egg yolk spilling into the broth.

“for a while now, the animal food has been becoming more expensive. and so have the bills. during summer, there was an accident, and we had a flood because one of the pipes broke down. on top of that, one of our doggies had to be taken to urgent care… it all cost us so much money that now… we barely can pay bills” you mumbled, staring at the droplets of fat swimming in your ramen. “i’m doing my best, working two, three jobs at a time but…”

“but it’s not enough. you posted an announcement about closing down, right?” wonwoo asked and mingyu’s eyes went wide. three jobs? at a time? that sounded like a nightmare. you took a bite and nodded sadly.

“if nothing changes by the end of december, we’ll have to. i don’t even want to think about what we will do with all the animals” you sighed and looked at mingyu “but hey, life. rich people will go buying purebred dogs or puppies meanwhile… i'm not saying it’s bad, but you know how it is.”

“could i go see your shelter?” mingyu suddenly asked, causing wonwoo to frown. you nodded, taking a sip of the warm soup. your friend fixed his glasses, hiding his puzzled expression.

“it’s an hour drive, though” he chimed in, reaching to pour you and mingyu some tea.

“i don’t mind. i’d like to see it and if you need some help, just let me know” mingyu offered and flashed you a toothy smile. you saw him frown a little and suddenly grab his phone. he tapped something twice and returned his attention to you.

“i really appreciate it” you responded, looking the man in the eye and sending him a genuine smile. mingyu’s gaze lingered on you for a while longer before you suddenly heard wonwoo choking on ramen.

mingyu never would have thought that he’d be spending a free weekend (a rare occurrence!) in the suburbs, ankle deep in snow. the animal shelter was in front of him and he could already get a whiff of the… not so pleasant… smell of wet fur and dog food.

suddenly, he heard wonwoo laughing.

“the look on your face” his friend snickered. “better start getting used to it.”

wonwoo insisted on tagging along with mingyu. knowing you, you’d get him to help you with some stuff. he reasoned the more hands you had to work, the quicker the job would get done but the truth was that he didn’t want to leave mingyu alone with you. yet.

it’s not like he didn’t trust him, obviously. it was just… you were his friend… and he was his friend… before he started playing cupid, he had to test the waters.

barking of dogs ripped through the air, echoing in the silence.

“yah, yah! bunny, calm down!”

wonwoo nudged mingyu and they went into the direction of the noise, snow crunching underneath their feet.

they saw you with a big, white dog almost blending with the snowy landscape. your hat almost fell on your eyes, a big scarf covering your lips.

“stop it!” you grunted and yanked the leash. the dog stopped in its tracks, ears pointing up upon hearing the strangers approach “oh, you’re here!”

the dog barked but stood still in front of you, as if ready to protect.

“hi!” mingyu waved, instantly feeling stupid. this was dumb. and embarrassing.

you cracked a smile and fixed your scarf, waving back.

“let’s go back inside” you said, tugging the leash. “i think bunny had enough.”

“bunny? what a cute name” mingyu murmured.

“she’s white and fluffy… and jumps. she jumps so much” you breathed out the last part and started going back “follow me!”

“are you alone today? or is someone with you?” wonwoo asked. the dog indeed skipped a lot, white tail whooshing in air with excitement.

“all alone” you answered.

you were inside in no time, the smell hitting mingyu more clearly. he scrunched his nose and ignored wonwoo’s yet another snicker. they watched you put the dog back in the cage – which was hard due to its resistance. however, mingyu was impressed. one sharp look and a pointer finger was all it took for bunny to obediently sit inside the cage.

you stayed in jackets because the heating had to be used reasonably. you brought tea in a flask that you made beforehand and some snacks. you sat in the office that all the workers shared.

mingyu noticed you had a fleece pullover with the logo of the shelter sewn on your right.

”thank you for visiting, i really appreciate that you wanted to spend your precious free time with us, here” you smiled and poured them the steaming tea. its faint but pleasant smell filled the room.

“no, no. the pleasure is all mine, i promise. there’s other workers too, right?” mingyu asked and looked around. there were a lot of pictures framed, mostly of the staff with the animals. but there were some of you and wonwoo. cute.

“yeah but i usually take the weekend. my other friend will be here in a couple of hours. you see, they’re all students so they appreciate their free time and we’re volunteers, after all” you explained. “i can handle working and going here, the commute is just a joke”

“oh, where do you work?” mingyu asked, genuinely interested.

“i’m a vet. i finished my studies and stayed in the field. because of that i can help here too” you explained and saw how his face morphed into an impressed one.

“woah. good to know, i’ll call you if there’s something wrong with my dogs” he smiled and wonwoo mirrored the gesture.

“you have dogs? can i see them?” you shifted in your seat, sparkles of excitement in your eyes. mingyu thought it was absolutely adorable – but hey, he loves dogs too, he would react the same way.

“they're called aji, bobpul and bobtori!” he grinned and showed you his wallpaper.

“oh they are so cute, what the hell?” you whined, a pout forming on your lips. “ i love them.”

mingyu sighed, heart beating hard against his rib cage. wonwoo just rolled his eyes playfully, crossing his arms on his chest.

“you love all animals” he snickered.

“i do, you caught me. do they live with you?” you asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

“no, they live with my parents. i sadly don’t have much time to take care of them and i don’t want to leave them all alone in my apartment” mingyu said softly. wonwoo nodded and stood up.

“before we get to work i’ll go use the bathroom real quick” he said and left. mingyu watched his silhouette disappear and once his friend was gone, he leaned forward to meet you halfway. you matched his mischievous smirk that came about on his features.

“let me use this opportunity to ask you one thing: can i have your number?” the corner of his lips rose up and your cheeks dusted with pink. “just, you know… i’d love to help more, i love animals. and this grumpy cat would bite my head off if he knew i asked you.”

“oh yeah. he’s a real meanie sometimes” you chuckled and nodded. “sure, i’ll give you it. some extra help will always be appreciated… i hope you won’t change your mind after today, though.”

you winked and he just chuckled, giving you his phone to type your name. you could be sure he wouldn’t, even if he left exhausted.

mingyu was whipped. he knew it was wrong – you were his best friend’s best friend, he shouldn’t really feel this way. especially only after two meetings. but not only were you mesmerizingly pretty, your heart was also so pure. his plan on obtaining your number worked perfectly, so now he could text you whenever he wanted.

and he was so smitten that he did. you basically texted everyday so he was aware of all the hard work you were doing for the animals.

he wanted to help, he really did, but comeback preparations kept him busy too. so he observed slightly from afar, checking on the shelter’s instagram for any new information. he also spread the word amongst his friends and left some hints for carats.

but nothing seemed to change for you, bills still being quite overwhelming.

“i’m just so tired, you know?”

one day you called him while you were alone in the shelter to guard over the animals before your colleague arrived.

“i work my ass off but no one seems interested in adopting the old doggies or cats. they all care about puppies” you sighed, looking at the calendar. it was halfway through november so still a lot of time left until you’d have to shut down.

“i’ll take one” he blurted out, not entirely processing what left his mouth.

“don’t you already have three dogs…?” you hummed, amused.

“well… yeah…” mingyu chuckled, melting upon hearing (and imagining) the smile that formed on your lips.

“i’m not stopping you but consider your dogs too, though. i don’t want you to do that for me but rather for the dogs” you hummed tenderly “but i appreciate it, you’re really sweet”

he grinned and caught a glimpse of his face in the reflection of a nearby window. his smile dropped, shaking his head aggressively.

pull. yourself. together.

“i’ll think about it. maybe an old senior dog would like to spend its years with some energetic friends? trust me, my babies would entertain anyone” mingyu puffed his chest proudly upon thinking about aji, bobpul and bobtori. “oh, by the way my next weekend is free. i’ll stop by to help then, if you'd like?”

“oh, that’s great! we’ll have a cat food delivery so some strong arms would be useful” you explained excitedly and mingyu huffed, pleased, already thinking of ways in which he could flex his biceps.

if he had listened more carefully, he wouldn’t have had to curse mentally at his own stupidity.

mingyu was scared of cats. not that he didn't like them, they just… were evil. and can freak out with their cold stare…

which was why, right now, instead of being happy that he was alone with you… he was… scared.

“cats?” he repeated after you.

“cats. they're a bit further so that’s why you didn’t see them last time… and i’m happy you agreed to help me with them because i’ve got loads of work” you hummed and rubbed your arms.

(actually he was the one who proposed helping and you agreed.)

“yeah. sure. of course… no problem” mingyu chuckled nervously, hair rising on his neck at the mere thought of touching a cat.

you turned around and scanned his face.

“what?” he asked, blinking slowly.

“you don’t like cats, do you?” you raised an eyebrow and he gulped. guilty.

“no, of course not. love those little fellas, actually” he shook his head and was taken by surprise when you grabbed him by the arm and led to the section with cats.

some of the felines started meowing, some of them not caring at all.

“good… i’d have to tell wonwoo if it were otherwise” you snickered and pointed at a green bag in the corner “would you mind carrying it over here? i might as well use your muscles while you’re here. it’s not like i haven't told you that those will come in handy, by the way”

mingyu grinned and obliged. the bag with cat food was really heavy so he was a bit shocked.

“don’t tell me you carry it yourself… “ he whispered, shocked and you smiled, opening it once it was close enough.

“a girl gotta do what she gotta do, especially when i’m alone here” you shrugged “but hey, i don’t need to go to the gym because of that”

you shared a laugh and you kneeled.

“now, we’ll feed them first. just do that, easy” you hummed and showed him.

you opened the cage and grabbed an empty bowl. quickly closing the cage again, so the cat wouldn’t escape, you scooped a handful of cat food with a small shovel. at the sound of the snacks rattling against the bowl, all the cats started stirring and meowing in unison. then you opened the cage and swiftly put it back where it was.

“when they’re busy eating, i also refill their water. i usually put it in the other corner because cats in their natural habitat don’t drink in the same place where they eat… but it’s okay if you put it next to the food” you shrugged, grabbing the water bowl.

“that’s all. easy, right?”

right.

you stood up and patted his back encouragingly.

“you do that row, i’ll do this one. also, do you mind if i play some music? i usually do that when i’m here…” you asked a bit shyly.

“sure, no problem!” mingyu smiled and stared at the next cat he was supposed to feed. its’ green eyes scanned his… threateningly…

the sound of wave to earth discography ripped gently through the halls as you began work. mingyu gulped and shuffled closer, hand resting above the lock of the cage.

he kept opening and closing his palm in hesitation. there’s nothing that could go wrong. it was just a cat. a poor, homeless cat… that just wanted to be fed. nothing more.

mingyu took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive head first into a freezing cold ocean, and rapidly opened the cage, grabbing the bowls.

the cat sent him a judging stare, not moving from its place. refilling the bowls, spilling a bit of water and food, he noticed the animal’s nose twitching curiously.

then he opened the cage and put them back in. the moment the container with food touched the blanket, the feline rose up and approached it. mingyu closed the cage a bit too harshly, a loud clunk disturbing the peaceful atmosphere.

you turned around to check what was going on and noticed his buff chest rising up and down a bit irregularly.

“is everything okay, mingyu?” you asked worriedly. he looked at you, a boyish smile painting on his lips.

“yes, absolutely. i was just scared it’ll escape…” mingyu chuckled anxiously and calmed down, especially after hearing his name coming from your lips. it sounded so… nice and delicate.

“don’t worry. even if, nothing will happen” you hummed and got back to your task.

mingyu let out a shaky breath and looked at all the cages he had to do as well.

welp, one done. now rest of the row…

mingyu clenched his fists, trying not to be clumsy. he heard you humming along to the songs and immersed in the intimate setting of this situation. just the two of you, dimmed lights in the room and outside – snow falling, dancing and twirling in the dark sky.

out of the blue, when he was about to close a cage, the cat inside of it slipped away. it was smooth, liquid-alike, when squeezing through a really small gap. a yelp left his lips and he started at, falling on his back.

you whipped your head around and notice a blur of a grey tail.

“are you okay?” you asked, walking up to him. he simply dusted off his pants and nodded, a bit too stunned to speak. when he noticed you were reaching your hand out to help him stand up, there was a loud meow. “come on, let’s go find that trouble maker.”

your hand was soft and warm against his (and he thought he saw a faint blush forming on your cheeks). he stood up. you were calling the cat and pspspsing at it.

“tualha, come on! your friends want to eat too” you called gently. mingyu observed you, walking right behind. you were calm and composed - not angry at him nor the cat, not rushing.

“tualha? that’s an unusual name” he tilted his head and saw your grin.

“a really good friend of mine came up with it” you explained. “she’s cute and fluffy but can be a meanie sometimes.”

mingyu tried to copy your actions and started calling the feline as well, the sound alerting some of the dogs.

only when barks reached your ears were you able to localize the escapee. you noticed the grey furred cat sitting afraid in the corner of the room, pupils thin as a needle. quickly scooping the cat into your arms, you tried to calm her down.

“she has trust issues, that’s her biggest con, to tell you the truth. people get impatient when she doesn’t cuddle with them after a week or two. that’s normal but they don’t see it” your words echoed quietly against the empty corridor as you walked back.

mingyu scanned the feline. indeed, she was fluffy and majestic-looking, definitely an expensive breed. her eyes were a shade of light green, fading into faint yellow. her cute, beige nose was crunched.

“it took her two months to open up to me” you murmured and he noticed how feather-lightly you were caressing the cat’s chin and head. you noticed his focused gaze and smiled. “she’s pretty, huh?”

to be honest, he abhorred cats. they were scary and mean. dogs, for him, were infinitely preferable.

but maybe… well, tualha was pretty. but not as pretty as you. well, of course, you’re a human and not a cat– what was he even thinking about?

he nodded shyly, not having enough courage to say it out loud. you came back to her cage and kneeled down to put her in. mingyu rested his hand atop of the doors, holding them open for you.

and just when you left tualha in the cage and mingyu was about to close it, she jerked forward and with a mean hiss, swung her paw.

mingyu didn’t even feel it at first, too focused on closing the cage. it was only when your hands grabbed his with a yelp that the pain struck him like bricks falling down.

a scratch was stretching from the knuckle below his index finger to a little below his wrist. it was deep and bleeding and he hoped it was not too serious. his face twisted in a grimace but he remained silent, mirroring your reaction.

“i knew it, she was too calm. i’m so sorry” you said, voice full of sadness. there was a pang in his heart; he did not like the emotion soaking your voice, at all. “i’’ll patch you up.”

“don’t apologize. it’s fine. it’s not like my hand is gonna fall off, hm?” he teased and followed you to the office.

“well, our cats are vaccinated so you’re going to be fine” you grinned and sat him down on your chair whereas you rushed to grab the first aid kit. his ebony eyes followed your moves. he noticed your hands were littered with scars and cuts as well. some were fresh, some faded out. there were even a couple of bite marks peeking from under your long sleeves.

you noticed his gaze and just smiled, finally fishing out the saline solution.

“i work with gloves but as you can see, it’s inevitable” you sent him an encouraging smile and rose your arm up, the sleeve of your hoodie rolling down and revealing more of the former injuries. “i guess that’s what our jobs have in common, the risk of getting hurt.”

you grabbed his hand and sent him a small smile. he was so focused on your glowing beauty that the next words you said only hit when he felt them.

“this will sting.”

he hissed, the feeling setting his teeth on edge.

“you’re a big boy though, it’ll just be a short while” you teased and he scoffed.

“will i get a band aid?” mingyu pouted dramatically and adored the way even your eyes smiled.

“oh you will. believe it or not but it has dogs on it!” you opened your mouth in a fake shock expression and you two laughed, the pain somehow… disappearing into thin air.

not even once in your life had someone picked up a phone call from you so fast.

“hello?” mingyu’s voice was energetic despite it being 9am on a thursday morning.

“hi, mingyu! that was quick” you chuckled, pouring hot water into your cup. before he could answer, you continued. “i was wondering if you’d want to accompany me–“

“yes”

a laugh left your lips and you put away the kettle, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. that man was impossible.

“you didn’t even let me finish, dummy” you fought a grin (unsuccessfully – it spread on your lips widely).

“so? i’d like to accompany you to whatever. even if you were offering me to clean all the cages or dig through trash” his nonchalant voice rang in your head and you had to breathe in. why was he like this…?

“well, luckily for you it’s none of that. i’m going shopping for supplies. food, toys, bowls, medical equipment, all of that. i just figured… i’d ask if you wanna tag along” your voice grew small, overtaken by sudden shyness.

“of course. is that a date?” his question was followed by a somewhat nervous laughter.

“yeah, sure” your voice was calm, emotionless even. however, inside you suddenly got all warm and giddy.

“great, i’ll see you later then!” you could swear that what left his lips was a squeal but he hung up so quickly you couldn’t really process it.

and neither the fact that you haven’t given him any details.

and yet, somehow, you managed to meet him. after texting him the address, mingyu arrived at the parking lot.

he rushed to you, a huge checkered scarf covering his cheeks.

“i hope you hadn’t been waiting for too long! it’s freezing cold, let’s go inside!” he gasped dramatically “also, hi”

“hi!” you grinned and met his joyous expression. he looked really adorable all cozied up with a puffy hat and red nose.

snow swirled around you two before you reached the store, pleasant warmth hitting you upon entering the building.

you grabbed the cart and whipped out your phone to look at the checklist you made.

“thank you for coming with me. these tasks can get a bit boring alone” you hummed, leading the way. aisles of animal food were spread out in front of you, different brands displayed on the shelves.

“oh, i heard that one is bad for animals, isn’t it? it contains too much wheat and it can be harmful” mingyu pointed at a specific, ruby colored bag. you looked at him amused, blinking in awe.

“what a smart cookie you are” you teased, nodding your head “and obviously as for sugar…”

“corn syrup” he puffed his chest and you giggled, walking up to the trusted brand displayed.

“and do you know which chocolate is the worst for dogs?” you asked with a cocky smile. his, on the other hand, dropped gradually. he pushed the cart closer to you and stood walked up closer.

“white, duh. it has the most amount of sugar!” he rolled his eyes, a confident smile forming on his lips.

“actually, no” you laughed and stood on your tippy toes to reach the animal food bag. it was just out of your reach, and your fingers merely brushed against it. “it’s the safest, if i dare say. it contains the least amount of cocoa powder which is very toxic for dogs-”

you felt mingyu’s hand on your waist as he stood behind you and reached for the item. you stuttered, falling flat back onto your feet.

“i, uh. that is why the darker and bitter chocolate is the uh, the-” you stumbled over your own words as he pulled down the food effortlessly. “the more danger it is to, um, the dogs.”

“hm. i didn’t know that” he tilted his head, canines poking out as he gave a smug smirk. you shook your head gently and huffed. so that was the game he was playing.

as he loaded five more of those bags into the cart, you tried to wipe out the memory of how gentle his touch was.

“okay, ma’am. what next?” he asked enthusiastically and you smiled, taking him by the arm. mingyu pushed the cart, following your lead.

“some toys and blankets. we are running out, you know how it is with the cats…” you sighed and showed him the target aisle. it was full of various colorful toys in different shapes and sizes. you kneeled down to the lowest shelf and grabbed a cherry-shaped squeaky toy. you looked up at mingyu, exchanging grins. “one thing i never do is limit myself when it comes to these. i like to think that, you know… pets are like kids. they definitely have their favorite toys and blankies. maybe this will be the one, you know?”

“you’re right. even my dogs have their faves” he hummed and kneeled down to match your level.

gently taking the cherry-shaped toy, he squeezed it once. it made a loud noise and your face flushed red with embarrassment. the man just laughed wholeheartedly at your cute reaction.

“look, you’re matching shades now!” he put it next to your face and you slapped his hand with a laugh.

“shut up”

you spent an hour or so in the aisle, goofing around with the silly toys. mingyu picked a lot of cute ones (and some ugly too - but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that), whereas you focused on warm blankets. all of them had small drawings of cats, dogs and different animals.

“before we go to check out, let me grab one more thing!” you announced suddenly, running off. mingyu was left flabbergasted but stayed in place, patiently waiting for you to come back. in the meantime he checked his phone and his eyes widened upon realizing a couple of… aggressive messages have been sent from wonwoo.

hello we were supposed to play today ?!

brother ?!?!?!?!

now hold on where are you

what the fuck

why and for what reason is your and YNS ICON BOTH IN THE SAME PLACE

MINGYU.

HELLO ??????

mingyu panicked, just remembering that wonwoo and him had the ability to see each other’s location on find my app. and, apparently, he had yours too. heart beating like crazy, finger hung up in the air above the keyboard, thinking of a response.

“boo!”

he yelped, almost dropping his phone. you let out a gasp and helped him catch it mid-air, eyes wide.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t think you- you’d get scared like a little girl” you choked through laughter, grabbing his arm. he let out a shaky breath and couldn’t help but laugh too; it was just too contagious. as you clutched your stomach, the cute sound escaping your lips, his phone started exploding with notifications.

“it’s… you caught me off guard, you jokester” he mumbled shyly as you calmed down, finally looking at him “and by the way, wonwoo knows we’re here right now”

he watched your eyes widen and smile drop. pointing at your face with a snort, he nodded.

“now that was funny” mingyu snickered and slowly started looking for the checkout.

“you’re going the wrong way! and also, what do you mean he knows?” you asked, snatching his arm before he could wander too far.

“he texted me” mingyu shrugged “i didn’t reply though. someone prevented me from doing that” he pointedly nudged your elbow and you rolled your eyes.

you arrived at the cashier, loading all the products at the pay desk. you were so focused on hiding the thing you’d snatched at last second that the words ‘cash or card?’ hit you too late.

“card!” you said loudly and whipped your wallet, looking for your credit card. when you finally found it amongst all the other cards, you put it to the register… but were met with a soft clink of plastics bumping.

mingyu put his card down first with a satisfied smile.

“consider it a non-anonymous donation for the shelter” he winked at you and started packing the bags. you blinked slowly, frozen. “chop, chop, y/n. the kitties are waiting”

“asshole” you grumbled and helped him put the stuff into bags.

you just grabbed a box of chocolates you snatched earlier. you thought that’s the least you can do to repay the favor. you put them aside and joined mingyu in packing the items into the car trunk.

“i’d love to help more but i promised something to wonwoo so i need to go” mingyu sighed, stealing a glance at you. you looked hesitant.

“it’s okay, you already helped enough. no one likes the shopping duty” you giggled and reached for the box. “i was gonna give that to you later but since you’re going, here”

you pushed the box of sweets into his hands a bit awkwardly but now he didn’t have the ability to decline since he was already holding them. he looked at you stunned, mouth slightly falling apart. his heart skipped like crazy.

“thank you for today. and you really didn’t have to pay, like i know you have a lot of money but…” you joked.

“hey, give me a call and i’ll buy the shelter for you” mingyu pursued his lips in a teasing manner and you just laughed.

realization sank in and your eyes widened.

“you don’t mean that” you huffed, shaking your head. that’d be too much for one person… realistically speaking, investment in the shelter (that wasn’t even yours) was just pointless. it was on the verge of closing for a reason.

mingyu got scared he pushed the line and made you uncomfortable. it sounded as if he was bragging about his money… do you hate him now? do you think he thinks he’s better than you?! just wanted to hide his embarrassment, trying to think of an excuse, answer, explanation… anything!

“i mean, thanks but… no, i mean… that’s…” you started stumbling over your words yet again that day. this man was going to be the death of you.

“you know, the offer stands. i’ll get going now, bye!” he blurted out hurriedly and leaned in.

his cold lips pecked your equally cold cheek and he walked away in a rush.

you watched him disappear into his car, snow falling on your face. frozen, you couldn’t believe what he just did – or rather, how awkwardly cute the gesture was.

a few, long moments passed before you closed the trunk with a loud, fond huff, fighting back a huge smile.

“...no, i won’t, mom” you groaned, drawing hearts and dogs in the snow with your free, gloved hand “he’s just helping me, that’s all. since you, by the way, couldn’t”

“first of all, im busy. he recorded his parts earlier. and i think he was the first one to do so, which is… strange” wonwoo’s voice echoed in your ear “second of all, even if he’s just helping, he’s a man”

“so are you” you snickered and doodled a small cat with glasses, reassembling wonwoo.

you looked up with a smirk and met mingyu’s amused face.

“wh– well, yes. he’s… just… i don’t appreciate that. at all” he sighed and you could practically see him fixing his glasses in sheer frustration.

“what? me making friends with your friends?” you teased and mingyu drew a small puppy next to cat wonwoo. you watched him do that with a cute smile.

“he’s just a friend?” wonwoo asked and you fell silent, feeling caught in his trap.

mingyu sent you a puzzled look and you just shook your head.

“don’t you have games to play? shut up” you grunted and lifted your phone to hang up. “love you, stinker”

“now that was ru–” your best friend’s voice was cut off by you ending the call.

a small crease formed between mingyu’s brows as his finger halted movements in the cold snow. ‘love you’. something bitter spread out over his heart and he couldn’t put his finger on it but–

“he’s such a mom” you let out a deep sigh and tucked your phone away, standing up “let’s go?”

obviously after your shopping date with mingyu, wonwoo was all over it. asking questions and making comments, he was either preventing you from further meet ups or encouraging them. suggesting some, even. you couldn’t crack this sneaky cat’s plans but one thing was for sure: he planted an idea of having a crush in your head. and you weren’t sure how to deal with that.

mingyu grabbed the leash of four dogs. he had three larger stray dogs: a beige and black stray called toffee, a gray-furred tramp who looked just like he was taken out from lady and the tramp, and nami who was a somehow ginger and somehow blonde furred dog that loved to steal. he was also walking bunny, the jumpy samoyed he had met before. you, on the other hand, were walking with six smaller dogs as that was the limit. your group contained of two chihuahuas that were taken away from a puppy mill, minnie and mickey, a chaotic abandoned shih tzu named rocket, a white stray with couple of black spots which were the reason for naming him pongo (mingyu started noticing a pattern of the animals being named after movie characters… and he found it beyond cute), and last but not least – a three legged dachshund that was named slinky (after the famous toy dog in toy story series).

“you name them all?” mingyu asked as you began the walk to the nearest park. usually volunteers from high schools would come and do this but due to it being the winter holiday, most of them were unable at this time. hence why you asked mingyu to help (which sounds rather silly but is the truth).

“usually. when people drop them off, they rarely have name tags. we often give them cute names or names after characters because… you know, look at pongo. he’s not a dalmatian but just looks like a shrunken version of him” you smiled, snow crunching under your feet. the dogs were calm; even though they were excited — they loved whenever they could leave the shelter — they were trained to be calmer on such walks.

you looked at him shyly, poking your cheek with your tongue.

“and also i’m a firm believer that they need cute names. and i just like animated movies, sue me” you murmured and he giggled at your adorable face.

mingyu tilted his head suddenly and pursed his lips.

“but there are some other cats and dogs not named after anything, right?” he pointed at rocket. “like this little fella here”

you giggled. the cold bit your cheeks gently, falling snow swirling in front of your eyes.

“that’s right. rocket or like… coco, have you met coco?” you asked and he shook his head. even if he did, he probably wouldn’t know. “some of our pets got here because their owners had to part ways. maybe they moved out, maybe they were too sick to take care of… they don��t always tell us. so we just take them in. or sometimes we just take strays that do have name tags on… like teddy! we also call him stinky but, uhm… he doesn’t stink, don’t worry”

“i see” he hummed, rubbing his hands. the dogs were really friendly and calm, making him smile in amusement. and, regarding stinky… maybe that’s just a nickname. you called wonwoo ‘stinker’ earlier…

“my three babies wouldn’t be so peaceful. by the way, i think my parents are coming over soon! if they take aji, bobpul and bobtori with them” mingyu puffed his chest out like a proud dad and you were weak in the knees for such a sight. “i’ll send you photos”

“you better! they seemed so cute” you grinned.

“do you have a pet at home?” he asked, chilly air filling his lungs.

“ah, i wish. i’m too busy to have one on my own. but these are my kids, so i don’t mind” you grinned.

the walk was peaceful, the doggies were very obedient, as usual. you even made small snowmen – well, snowdogs – with mingyu. you giggled as the pets sniffed the creature you made out of snow.

the way your hands occasionally brushed against each other as you shaped the snow dog’s face made you blush… and you thought he was red too but you blamed it on the cold.

mingyu was rolling balls of snow to form the body of a dog and his four-legged friends were running after him, a chaos of swooshing tails and mingyu’s cute giggles causing you to grin.

you managed to make four snowdogs and you snapped a picture of your masterpiece before heading back since some of the smaller dogs started shivering a bit.

“we’ll warm them up” you hummed. “and, us too. i’m taking you to grab some hot tea and i don’t take no as a refusal”

mingyu just sighed dramatically but nodded.

“sure, whatever you– ah!”

“rocket!” you yelled out as the dog suddenly jolted forwards. it saw a squirrel coming down from a nearby tree and decided to chase it. other dogs must’ve caught his energetic spirit and followed him, dragging you two.

“what’s-” mingyu was flabbergasted but suddenly saw the ginger rodent running away.

“ya, guys! stop!” you ordered with a stern voice. and it was just pure chaos.

rocket stopped, his leash getting tangled with your legs. the squirrel made a u-turn and started running the other way. toffee was the first one to notice and jumped forward, causing mingyu to fall on his back.

“mingyu!” you gasped and wanted to help him stand but the restraining material tied around your legs caused you to tremble when slinky stood between you two, which you haven’t noticed before. mingyu sat up and you yelped when you lost control over your own limbs.

mingyu tried to catch you but you just fell next to him. snow stuck to your clothes and the dogs who had been pulled by the sudden crash continued nagging incessantly.

“sorry, i’m sorry” you groaned and tried to stand up but tramp made a circle around you two and started barking, entangling you further. you got pushed onto mingyu, who fell onto the slippery ground again. your hands rested against his chest as you almost fell on him fully.

you locked eyes with him and one look was all it took for you to start laughing out loud.

“i’m so, so sorry! i don’t know what has gotten into them! they never… react that way!” you gasped out amongst your giggles and mingyu just kept laughing.

you carefully unwrapped yourself (with mingyu’s help) from the leashes and he helped you stand up, offering his gloved hand. then, finally, you began to make your way back to the shelter.

what you only noticed after opening the main gate was that you were holding hands with mingyu. you must have forgotten to let it go… and he hadn’t said anything.

as much as you loved winter and cold days brought you comfort, today was a literal reflection of your mood. dark, freezing, distanced.

with shivering hands you dialed wonwoo’s number, the cold stone steps making the shaking of your body worse. your tears were probably frozen on your cheeks, nose runny both from crying and the temperature.

“y/n, i’m kinda busy. what’s up?” your best friend picked up and you could hear various voices in the background. he was probably out, it was a friday night after all.

“sorry, it’s nothing, then” you said, trying not to sound off.

“are you su– ya, asshole!”

“hi y/n!”

you subconsciously smiled upon hearing mingyu’s excited voice. you sniffed and pulled yourself together.

“hello, mingyu. how are you?” you asked, staring at the swirling snow in front of you.

“you sound a bit off… is everything okay?” he asked, genuine worry in his voice. that was your breaking point and you couldn’t help but break down again into tears, trying to pull away the speaker “wa… y/n, you’re crying? hey, what’s happening? wonwoo-!”

your best friend was quick to snatch his phone back.

“y/n, what’s going on?” wonwoo asked, voice dropping due to worry.

“it’s nothing, i just… everything just sucks today and i’m stuck” you choked through your tears “at the- the shelter”

“fuck. mingyu, have you had anything to drink?” wonwoo asked, a soft rustle coming through the speaker.

“no, i was supposed to drive chan home” mingyu’s voice sounded further away but you could still faintly hear him. frostbite started sending needle-like pain in your hands, skin drying.

“go get y/n then. i’ll order an uber for chan, he’ll understand. y/n, stay there, okay? mingyu is on his way” wonwoo told you gently. “stay on the phone with me”

“nooo, you’re busy. don’t worry, it’s just my dramatic period ass” you mumbled, wiping your runny nose. the sole thought of mingyu seeing you in this state made you cry even harder. there goes a good impression.

“hey, it’s fine. mingyu will be there soon… nooo, why are you crying even harder?”

twenty minutes later, a car pulled into the shelter’s parking lot and you heard the creak of the main gate being open. there were the crunching footsteps of someone running in the snow, dogs barking at the sudden presence and… then, finally, mingyu stood in front of you.

“aigoo…” he whined upon seeing you all shivering, red faced. eyes swollen, nose as vibrant colored as a cherry, cheeks wet. “let’s get you home”

you shook your head.

“i locked myself out. with keys to the shelter, my car and my place. i’ll get them back in the morning when the first shift comes in” you said, voice hoarse. mingyu took off his puffy jacket in a hurry and put it over you before you could protest. then, he also took off his scarf and hat, forcing them gently on you. they were undoubtedly oversized and fell on your eyes but you looked cute. and needed warmth, of course.

“my place, then. don’t protest, we need to warm you up” he ordered and reached his hand out. once you grabbed it, you both gloveless, he hissed at the coldness. “asap”

“asap baby…” you hummed the newjeans song and mingyu laughed, helping you stand up. then, he wrapped an arm around you and quickly wiped your cheeks.

“you’re freezing. come on”

you let him guide you to the car. mingyu wasted no time in driving back home (not before turning up the seat settings so it warmed up too), already thinking of what kind of soup he’ll be able to cook for you from the stuff he has in his fridge.

“do you like miso soup? i was planning on preparing it for my parents’ arrival so i have ingredients” mingyu asked, finally stopping at red so he whipped his head to look at you.

a huge grin bloomed on his face, canines poking out.

you were fast asleep, snoring softly. your breath fogged the window that you leaned your head against.

you stirred awake, a sudden aroma hitting your nose. you slowly opened your eyes and stretched. you were… comfortingly warm. looking around, you realized you’re… in a bed. in a bed that was not yours. furrowing your brows, you suddenly remembered. your period in the morning… the bad news… you locking yourself out… existential crisis… and finally, calling wonwoo… and mingyu. mingyu arriving, picking you up and then-

oh.

you were in mingyu’s bed.

it was comfy, warm and very snuggly. lots of pillows and fresh covers. you noticed you even had a hoodie on, it was definitely his. it was a plain navy shaded gap hoodie with a zip on, he probably took the first one and quickly put it on you for more layers so you warmed up. but why did that make you all warm inside?

you slowly put your feet on the floor, meeting a fuzzy carpet. you looked around the room and smiled at how pretty it was.

the sudden feeling of being an intruder in this place washed over you, causing you to head out.

you decided to follow the delicious smell that woke you up and you were led to the kitchen. it was quite big, well organized and– then it hit you. wonwoo and mingyu were roommates. that thought had originally intimidated you: countless times you were over and you just greeted each other. you were just a friend of a friend.

and now… he was something more than a friend. at least, you want him to be.

“hi” his voice called out and you shot him a small smile.

“hi” you replied, watching his tall figure roam around the kitchen. he looked so comfortable, just like a fish in the water.

“i made some soup, i was planning on cooking it up tomorrow either way” mingyu said and placed down two bowls. “you woke up just in time”

you hummed and sat down, wrapping the big hoodie tighter around your body. mingyu noticed and only smiled a bit. then, he sat down next to you.

the goldenish liquid sat there steaming, pieces of emerald colored scallion and wakame algae. tofu was swimming in there happily as well, along with some mushrooms.

your stomach let out a loud growl, almost sounding like one of the dogs at the shelter. you exchanged amused looks with mingyu and were about to dive in when your hair got in your way. it must’ve fallen from behind your ear.

before you could reach and tuck it away, a larger and rougher hand did it instead.

you looked up and locked eyes with mingyu, who leaned a bit closer to help you out.

your heart skipped a beat and heat rose to your face. your head was working like a steaming machine: why, why, why did you feel this way? why did such a small gesture make you all fluttery inside?

because it was more than a silly crush. it struck you. you’re seriously in love. love was such a weird word, very basic in english. greek itself had at least 8 types of love, like eros, agape, pragma or ludus. and for sure one of them reflected how you felt about mingyu. head over heels, yearning, in love, even a bit intimidated; even wave to earth sung about love that endured through hardships, and how it could be seen in small things. because who would make you soup? who would want to spend their free time just to help you? to care about you in a way that’s intimidate but not sexual?

“eat up” he hummed and brought his hand back, reaching for his utensils. you realized time froze only for you and mere had seconds passed, so you nodded and decided to consume the meal.

a variety of tastes hit your tongue and you just let out a dramatic groan, sending mingyu a thumbs up. you almost wolfed down the soup but tried to savor the effort he put in. hunger was stronger, though.

“this is so delicious, oh my! you never told me you’re such a talented cook!” you grinned. you tried to be normal, trying not to act in a way that screams ‘i like you!’. now that you were aware, it suddenly became like a part of you that you had to carry.

mingyu seemed flustered, shrugging shyly.

“it’s just a soup” he mumbled and you swore you saw a hint of red on his face. you let out a deep sigh.

“either way, it was the best thing i’ve ever had in a while. wonwoo is one lucky guy” you chuckled and mingyu nudged your arm, giggling.

“now, tell me. what’s up? something tells me it wasn’t just you locking yourself out” the man asked softly, going back to his soup. he still had some left.

“it’s just… everything fell on me, you know. i also just started my period this morning so i’m extra emotional. the keys were the breaking point but… i received some news earlier today. one of our doggies had to be put down and… it just made me extra sad. teto was with us for almost seven years. i wish he could’ve passed in a loving home– fuck, i’m gonna cry again” you scoffed, looking up to avoid the tears from gathering. taking a deep sigh and allowing yourself to calm down, you felt the comfortable silence between you two.

you swallowed and returned to look at him with a sad smile.

“no tears left to cry, hopefully. i cried a whole river while waiting for you” you tried to crack a joke. mingyu mirrored your small smile but pure compassion was written all over his cute face. “and then the keys… and i just felt so helpless. and cold… and you know, there’s only a week left to get the money and we still need a lot to afford all the bills. just one word, in the end: overstimulated. so don’t worry, i’m fine”

mingyu listened to you, his ebony irises holding a small, sad glint. you could see the tiny crease between his dark eyebrows. he really cared.

suddenly he scooted closer and trapped you in a warm, tight hug. your face got smushed into his arm and you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist.

you stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. this was nice.

he rubbed your back softly but you sensed some nervousness in his movements. maybe he was scared he crossed the line.

“thank you” you whispered.

once you did that, his fingers halted momentarily. then, he rubbed subtly bigger circles on your back with more confidence yet in a solacing manner.

you found yourself sitting on the couch, rubbing bobtori’s belly gently. wonwoo looked at you with a soft smile.

“thank you for agreeing, i couldn’t ask anyone else” mingyu said, putting on his elegant shoes. well, he looked very handsome.

“no biggie. consider it a favor after all the help you gave me” you hummed and wonwoo sent you a confused look. you just shook your head.

“another thing is that i just don’t trust my other friends. maybe cheol, he’s such a dog dad. but he was busy today” mingyu sighed and brushed his hair back again. “okay, i’m ready. we’ll pick up my parents, eat out before finally coming back. they are sleeping at our place so don’t get shocked when we’ll return with them… you know what i mean…”

“you’re rambling. let’s go” wonwoo sighed and you saw a flash of a smile on his face.

“yes,, i’ll call you if anything happens. have fun, boys!” you grinned and watched wonwoo push mingyu out of their place. he was looking over his shoulder and his mouth was open as if he wanted to say something but the sound of doors falling shut behind silenced him.

you hummed happily and stretched your legs on the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket.

mingyu asked you to watch over his dogs for a night out with his parents. you felt proud he chose you… even if he had other friends.

you came to an agreement with yourself that you shouldn’t do anything about your growing feelings towards mingyu. it had been five days since mingyu picked you up and took care of you… and your realization. it was mindblowing how such a simple gesture of someone tucking your hair away could make you aware.

logging onto the netflix account that you shared with wonwoo, you decided you’d watch an episode or two of your favorite series and walk the dogs out. they were really cute, just like mingyu. but seeing the three white, fluffy dogs had made you laugh. kpop idols have a soft spot for them, apparently.

you took them on a walk while the evening sky made the city turn into a purple lake. deciding to keep the walk short and sweet, you grabbed a snack as well and just let yourself immerse in the peaceful atmosphere of the walk. unlike the one you shared with mingyu and your animals. he had been wrong though, his girls were very calm.

wave to earth played in your ears, shutting off your brain completely. you just walked mindlessly through the nearby park in the neighborhood, observing the dark shades blending, creating a starry sky above you. once city lamps lit your way and you decided to head back, to warm up. it was slightly windy, the weather pinching your cheeks like an old aunt that hadn’t seen you in a while. and even though you had dressed up the dogs (mingyu insisted), you’d forgotten your hat. you were just wearing a checkered scarf.

you looked down at it and caressed it with your free hand. brows knitting, you realized it wasn’t yours. well, you probably took a random one from the stand.

returning back, you warmed up the dogs a bit and dried them off with a towel since it was snowing a bit. you ate your snack and sighed, reaching for your phone.

deciding to check if someone donated money, you saw that mingyu was calling you.

“hello?” you answered, surprised. it’d been only two hours since they left.

“hi, i’m totally not checking how are you but… how are you?” he breathed out and you huffed a laugh.

“i’m fine. and your babies too, we just got back from a walk” you smiled and observed the three white as snow dogs roam around the room.

“good, okay. we’ve just had our meal and we’ll gonna grab some dessert. do you want anything?” mingyu asked and your mouth fell ajar. how was this man still single?

“i, uh… that’s really sweet of you, mingyu. but i don’t need anything, go back to your parents” you giggled. here are that swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“riiight. i’ll take something either way. i’ll text you once we’re on our way back. and i’ll drive you home” he announced and hung up before you could protest.

“asshole” you grumbled with a smile and noticed aji jumping to join you on the couch. “do you want to watch something too? you won’t believe this, girl. there’s this cartoon show for dogs, mhm?”

you put on bluey and snuggled into the couch. you read somewhere that bluey was dog-friendly: the cartoon is made with such a color palette that dogs can enjoy it too (considering their different way of perceiving colors). you had tested it on some of the dogs at the shelter - whereas some watched, intrigued, like small kids, others didn’t care. maybe it depended on the personality.

you felt your eyelids getting heavy, especially with aji’s comforting weight on your tummy, and gradually, they closed. a quick nap wouldn’t hurt anyone.

mingyu stepped in and wonwoo went to show mingyu’s parents the guest room. in the meantime, he went to look for you since you hadn’t replied to his texts. he heard a quiet noise coming from the living room and walked in, noticing the tv was on. then he saw it.

you were asleep with his dogs snuggled with you. of course, bobtori woke up once she heard the doors opening but was too lazy to run up and greet him.

his heart swelled in his chest, a smile blooming on his features. he watched you snore quietly.

quiet footsteps brought him back to reality and he saw his mom.

“oh, she’s the friend you like?” she asked and giggled. “she’s cute!”

“mom” he groaned, feeling like an embarrassed teenager. sure, he’d mentioned you a couple (a lot) of times but–

“what? and our babies like her! that’s just so cute. i wanted to meet her but let her rest, don’t wake her up with your clumsiness” she shot him a sweet smile and patted his shoulder before walking away. “good night, son”

“sleep well, mom” he hummed and watched her walk away. then, his gaze returned to you. he was debating whether to wake you up or not but aji suddenly stirred awake. she jumped down and barked, mingyu’s eyes widening.

“shush, aji, everyone is asleep” he whispered and kneeled down. aji wagged her tail excitedly and leaned on his knee. “hi baby, i hope you were good”

“they were angels”

mingyu looked up and saw you rubbing your eyes, bobpul licking your face. he gave you a toothy grin and scratched aji behind the ears.

“i’m glad. sorry for waking you up” he said, remembering his mother’s words.

“it’s okay” you hummed and turned off the tv, fighting a yawn.

“do you want some hot chocolate?” mingyu asked suddenly. you nodded, your hand gently landing on top of bobpul’s head. you petted her gently with love in your eyes.

mingyu sighed, the sight in front of him just heartwarming. he could get used to that.

“how was it?” you asked, turning your attention to him (yet you didn’t stop petting the dog). you noticed he’d taken off his blazer and loosened up the buttons of his shirt.

“really nice. oh, right, there’s some food i brought. and my parents are asleep in the guest room, wonwoo probably in his already, too. you know how he is after social gatherings” mingyu chuckled and started working on the hot beverage

“out like a baby, i know” you laughed and the thought of mingyu’s parents presence suddenly made you nervous. “i’ll keep going once we drink it. i don’t want to take up any more space or the free time you set aside for your parents”

“no, it’s fine! don’t worry about it now” he looked over his shoulder and adored you for a moment. then he returned to the hot choco recipe his dad taught him. he heard you shuffle around but focused on the milk in the saucepan, turning it up so it was on a medium heat.

next, he whisked cocoa powder and a bit of sugar. while the beverage was still warm, he added chocolate chips that added more flavor. whisking again, the faint sound of metal clinking mixed with your footsteps. he felt your presence behind him before he felt your soft breath hitting his arm. you were peeking curiously and exchanged looks with him.

he reached for vanilla extract and added a splash to add a little more sweetness.

“can you get me two cups?” mingyu asked and you nodded. you grabbed your favorite mug (of course in a shape of a dog’s head, mingyu thought with a huge grin) and one that had some flowers on it.

he poured the liquid from the saucepan directly into the cups, not even spoiling a single drop.

“whipped cream?” he asked, looking at you for an answer. you nodded enthusiastically, sparkles of joy in your eyes. you felt like a little kid at christmas.

mingyu added the whipped cream and finished it with chocolate sprinkles on top.

“wait!” you gasped and opened their snack drawer. at first he was surprised you knew where it was but then he remembered you’d been here countless of times.

you grabbed a blue colored packet and shook it with a chuckle.

“i bought it once on my way here” you hummed and opened it. those were… animal shaped marshmallows.

mingyu closed his eyes and scrunched his face. could you get any cuter?!

once he opened them again, you were just finishing up placing the sweet decoration.

“and done. let’s sit down” you offered and grabbed the mugs, placing them down on the table. you had a sense of deja vu – sitting at the table in the same place, something warm in front of you. mingyu next to you and a panoramic view of the city surrounded by night darkness.

mingyu was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

“what?” you asked softly, taking a sip of the hot choco. the sweetness exploded on your taste buds, making you hum in sheer delight. “ah, that’s delicious”

he suddenly gulped, putting down his cup with a soft clank.

“i think i like you”

the silence was so loud you could hear wonwoo’s snoring from his room.

panic settled in mingyu’s body after realizing he blurted it out loud. he was just thinking about how caring you were towards his dogs and how pretty you were and… it just slipped out. his pupils were blown wide, chest rising up and down irregularly in panic.

he felt your hand brush against his shoulder before you shook him.

“hello?!” you whisper-yelled, him finally snapping back to reality. “i was saying: ‘are you serious?’”

mingyu blinked slowly, unable to look away from your e/c eyes. he nodded slowly, almost hesitantly. your face broke into a smile, a visible wave of relief washing over you.

“mingyu, listen. i like you too. i realized it a while ago. don’t freak out, okay?” you giggled upon seeing his face twist in shock. his mouth opened and closed simultaneously like a fish out of the water, brows furrowed.

“you like me?” he repeated. a loud snort left your lips.

“dummy, you always were my type. i think i’ve had a crush on you ever since i bumped into you for the first time in the hallway. i was just too shy to strike up a conversation. but now that we got closer i just… the feelings got more serious” you explained slowly, calmly. it was comforting, the silence of the room combined with the warm lighting of the kitchen. “because what do you mean a busy kpop idol would spend his free time with me? picking me up while i’m locked outside in the other side of the city… or helping me and the animals i take care of, especially cats, of which you are terrified of”

“you noticed?” he breathed out shyly, a deep red shade decorating his cheeks.

“i’ve dealt with people scared of cats before and you perfectly fit the description. that’s why we finished early that, i let you go out of pity” you giggled and took your arm away. “what i’m trying to say is that... you have a really pure heart and because of that, my own heart is going crazy”

“are you insane? it’s you who’s the kindest person i’ve ever met” mingyu was flabbergasted, shuffling closer. the hot choco was slowly getting cold, the sugary dog-shaped marshmallows dissolving in the liquid. he grabbed your hands and drew circles on atop of them “you are such a beautiful human being, i aspire to be as kind as you. there’s love in everything you do, you care about the pets like they are your own kids and i just–”

“just kiss already, brats”

you both jolted up from the sudden voice.

mingyu’s dad carried on walking and ignored you two, passing you by. he grabbed a glass and filled it with water, and then as if nothing happened, slowly padded back to the guest room. you kept staring at the dark corridor from which he had suddenly appeared, making sure he was gone. only when you heard a distant soft click of the door closing did you turn your head slowly to mingyu.

once you locked eyes, you two burst out laughing. you leaned forward, resting your head on this shoulder. his chest was vibrating with laughter, the cute sounds of his chuckles making you laugh even more.

“he’s right, i should kiss you. but i wanna do it properly, if you don’t mind” he said after he calmed down a bit. you leaned away, tilting your head curiously.

“fine. let’s go on a date, then. no helping me, no shelter. just… a normal date” you decided, puffing your chest out. his eyes twinkled with excitement as he nodded eagerly.

“deal. now let me drive you home” mingyu hummed and grabbed the cup.

maybe he was hallucinating but he thought one of the marshmallows melted and shaped into a heart.

mingyu was staring at you in awe, literal hearts in his eyes. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, still not quite believing that you were currently on a date with him. additionally, he finally got to see you in something else than work attire or jeans. you had put on a pretty black dress and some jewelry that shone in the candle light.

“admit it, you’re whipped” you chuckled and heard your phone buzz from your purse.

“no, i’m casually admiring. totally normal” he hummed and nodded. “shall we get the bill?”

while mingyu settled the check, you quickly went to see the notification. your eyes widened.

you heard him stand up and walk up to you.

“is everything okay?” mingyu asked, slightly worried. you just nodded, standing up with a slight smile.

“let’s go outside”

once you were dressed up in your winter coat (and mingyu’s scarf that apparently was the one you accidentally put on before - and took it home, unaware), you strolled down to another place to get some dessert.

it was the end of december, so the city was prettily decorated with ornaments. fairy lights shone with a yellowish glow, underlining the falling snow. people were walking around you, their chatter sounding in the background.

you took mingyu by his arm, snow crunching underneath your feet. the moon was also visible this night, curiously peeking from behind a cloud.

“you said you were just casually admiring, hm?” you asked tauntingly, causing him to frown. some snowflakes landed on his dark hair.

“duh. i totally casually normally like you” he answered.

“riiiight. and the money transfer that was made last minute by an anonymous donor on the funding site was, perhaps, not someone i know?” you laughed, peeking at him curiously.

mingyu bit his lower lip to prevent himself from smiling. oops.

“listen, i… sorry if that’s weird i just…” he stuttered “truth be told… i’m kinda crushing on you, heavily”

“i noticed” you snickered and he just rolled his eyes.

“uh, yeah. it was me.” he added shyly. but he’ll keep one thing to himself, though.

he already made the money transfer when you two and wonwoo went out to eat. he just set it to go through at a later time, so it was made during the last, final day of fundraising. he didn’t want it to seem suspicious but he had no clue it’d turn out like this. that you’d connect the dots so fast and, well, on a date with him.

“mingyu?”

he blinked twice and stopped in his tracks once he noticed you stood in place.

“hm?” he hummed, frowning.

you sent him a warm smile and before he could realize, you were standing on your tippy toes.

your hands slid up to interlace behind his neck, your soft but a little cold lips brushing against his.

“thank you” you whispered, not quite kissing him yet. “for everything”

he closed the very minimal gap between you two and kissed you gently, sending shivers down your spine. you felt warmth and the slight taste of wine you had shared earlier.

but most of all, you felt love.

svt mlist | event mlist

taglist. @rubywonu ,, @tricky-ritz ,, @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,,

@nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,,

@laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,,

@mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee ,, @wheeboo

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wheeboo · 2 months ago

Text

paging dr. heartthrob | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. You can’t afford to be burnt out, especially during a crucial era of your life: being in medical school. Enter your best friend—a boy with a tough-looking exterior, a skateboard that’s seen better days, and a heart softer than his beat-up converse—Lee Chan, with his backpack full of snacks, and an uncanny ability to show up exactly when you need him most. He may not be a doctor, nor exactly your therapist, but he certainly is a heartthrob, and your heart can’t help but always page him. PAIRING. skater boy!lee chan x med student!fem!reader (ft. lowkey stoner!vernon, med student!jeonghan, med student!joshua, soonyoung) GENRE. fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive, slow burn, college au WARNINGS. heavy swearing, food + drinking mentions/consumption, so much fucking mutual pining!!!, reader experiencing burnout + self-doubt issues, chan has a mullet, piercings, and tattoos yes, (3) shirtless chan scenes, chan is a self-critical perfectionist, mention of scars, descriptions of minor injuries, hospital mentions + visits, mental health topics, drug use (weed & vaping), reader has a panic attack and passes out, kissing, terms of endearment, vernon makes a sex joke at the end lmao WORD COUNT. 24.2k

notes: hi hi everyone! this fic is part of the @camandemstudios "the lonely heart's cafe" collab! it also takes part in the same universe as my favourite horangdan @etherealyoungk upcoming fic with hoshi HAHA. ty to skye and also @bananabubble + @imujings listen to me ramble abt this too. pls don't forget to show love all the other authors in this collab <3 HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEE CHAN!!! 🫶

You slam your textbook shut. You don’t think you can reread the same page about neurotransmitters and synaptic transmissions any longer without losing your mind for the third time that night.

Your head feels like it’s two seconds away from combusting, and the pressure coming from upcoming exams, assignments that are constantly due the very next day, along with endless clinicals is suffocating. You’ve been staring at this textbook for what feels like hours or even days, but nothing’s sticking. It’s as if your brain has reached its limit for the day, and you’re left grasping for focus that you can’t find.

“Screw it,” You mutter under your breath, closing the textbook and tossing it to the edge of the bed where it threatens to fall off if you don’t catch it in time, but you ignore it, too tired to even care, and it falls onto the floor below with a soft thud.

Running a hand through your hair, you can feel a headache beginning to creep in, a dull throb behind your eyes. Your body feels heavy, as though it’s been holding in all your exhaustion for the past five months. Accepting your fate, you flimsily fall back onto the bed, granting the greenlight for the comfort of the sheets to swallow you whole.

Then a tap hits your window.

You ignore it at first by grabbing your pillow and burying your face in it, too bummed out to scold the freshmen who think that it’s cute to throw pebbles at people’s windows for the hundredth time this semester.

Another tap follows, then another, becoming more insistent after each one. At this point, they may as well blow a missile through your damn window. But then you hear it𑁋the sharp hiss of a psst, before a muffled, yet unmistakable voice holler out your name. A groan escapes your lips as you drag your body off the bed and shuffle towards the window, pulling the curtain aside and sliding the sash up. You’re immediately greeted by a whiff of cold air hitting your face.

The irritation leaves your body within a second once you spot the figure that’s waving up at you from the ground below. There’s a jump to your heart when you catch a glimpse of the scheming grin that runs across their face.

“Chan? What the hell?” You whisper-yell down towards him, glancing around you as if your voice was loud enough to wake up your next-door neighbours. “It’s midnight!”

You wouldn’t be surprised if you somehow mistakened your best friend as a burglar from how the dark hoodie he’s wearing engulfs him. But you watch as he pulls his hood down and adjusts the scratched-up skateboard tucked underneath his armpit, flashing you that boyish grin that never fails to disarm your guarded-up walls. His breath curls in the cold night air, and you catch the glint of his lip piercing when he tilts his head back to look at you.

“Come on, Y/N, I got reinforcements!” He reveals a black plastic bag from somewhere behind his back, waving it up to you like he’s just discovered some kind of treasure.

You squint, trying to make out what’s in the bag, but it’s too dark to see anything clearly from your window. “What is that?”

“Snacks,” he calls back, his grin widening. “And caffeine. Actually, wait𑁋” He reaches a hand inside the bag, shuffling throughout its contents. “No caffeine, because you need to get your insomniac ass to sleep.”

You roll your eyes at that. “You’re actually a goddamn idiot.”

“So I’ve been told many times. Now, are you going to let me in before that stupid security guard comes and tackles me to the ground again?’

Briefly, you can’t help but smile at the memory of that one specific time a few months back where Chan had been caught sneaking around the apartment complex. The poor elderly security guard nearly had a heart attack when he found Chan struggling to climb the side of the building with a skateboard in hand because you jokingly refused to let him inside your messy apartment. You had to spend an hour talking your way out of that one, and even then, you weren’t sure if all your talking and dumb excuses were enough to convince the security guard that Chan wasn’t a robber trying to get to you through your window.

“Ugh, fine. Give me a second,” You relent, pulling away from the window and hurrying to unlock the door. After a minute, you could already hear the recognisable, obnoxious stomps from the stairs that were echoing throughout the quiet hallway of your apartment.

When you see Chan emerge all breathless like he’s run a marathon in that oversized hoodie, skateboard still tucked under his arm, you can’t help but shake your head, crossing your arms together as he gallops down the hallway and to your door.

Then he looks at you, and for some reason, it almost seems like he looks… different. You don’t know why, because in your eyes, he still looks the same. His dark hair had grown longer𑁋pretty much a mullet at this point𑁋and he had recently changed his lip ring to a sleek silver hoop that catches the faint light in your apartment hallway. The hoodie he wore was thrifted from this store in a sketchy part of town that closed up two years ago, its print faded and frayed at the cuffs of the sleeves. His beat-up Converse shoes are practically at the verge of dying. You think he’s definitely worn it more than a million times, but that wasn’t anything new. There wasn’t anything on the surface that was new.

Yet as he stands there, rosy cheeks flushed from the cold, his grin as radiant as always, there’s something about him that makes your heart stutter for just a moment.

“Okay… You’re doing that staring thing again.” Chan snaps his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back from your head. “You gonna let me in or not?”

You snap out of it, quickly stepping aside to let him in. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“And yet, you still tolerate me.” He shoots you a wink before brushing past you, and you observe as he leans his skateboard against the wall of your place. Then he flops onto the wobbly chair in front of your desk like its second instinct, like this place is his second home, and in a way, it is, because you’ll always be the first to let him in.

Chan lifts the black plastic bag as if he’s showing it off to you and sets it down on your cluttered desk, which has been overtaken by textbooks, flashcards, and an impressive collection of empty coffee mugs. You feel yourself fall into a pit of embarrassment at the mess, but this is Chan you’re talking about𑁋he’s seen you at your worst, or… the worst he’s seen so far.

“You know, I’ve heard these snacks are scientifically proven to cure stress,” he claims while handing you a plastic bowl of cup ramen.

You snort at that as you grab the cup of ramen from his grasp and place yourself down on the floor right by him. “Oh, really? Did you read that in The Medical Journal of Lee Chan’s Dumbass Theories?”

“Damn right I did.” He flashes you that lopsided grin, popping open a bottle of water and taking a sip before passing it to you. “Drink. You look like you haven’t had anything but coffee for days. Can’t imagine how much shit is in your head right now.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose at the thought. “I know. I’ve got a headache trying to memorise whatever the hell is in these textbooks.”

“And what’s the medical term for a headache again?”

You peer at him with narrowed eyes when you take another sip of water. “Cephalalgia.”

“See, you’ve still got it in you,” he quips wholeheartedly while leaning back in the chair, a leg propped up on his knee, a pleased smirk to his face when he captures the faintest sight of a smile to your features.

You only let out a scoff as you stand up to fill water into your cup of ramen, placing it in the microwave right after. Even then, you swear you can still feel the way his eyes are wandering over you as you move around the small kitchen, the tonnage of his gaze making your skin tingle. You try to shake off the odd sensation, focusing on getting your ramen prepared. You can hear Chan shifting in the chair behind you, the sounds of rustling hitting your ears as he rummages through the snacks.

Silence overtakes the both of you for a few minutes. It’s comfortable. It always is when it’s with him.

It’s a bit scary, too. Even though it shouldn’t be.

“I went to the skatepark earlier,” Chan suddenly pops in.

When the microwave dings, you carefully take out the cup of ramen. “Practicing your 900?”

“What can I say? I’ll be the next Tony Hawk,” he teases amusedly. “I’m just kidding. Could never be on that man’s level.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself one day doing all those… tricks and shit,” You say as you settle on your bed, pushing away pieces of paper of horrendous math calculations, making them fall down to the ground.

Chan shrugs, looking nonchalant as he leans back in his chair, casually stretching his arms behind his head. He was always pushing himself, always looking for the next adrenaline rush, no matter how reckless it seemed. It's a bit worrying sometimes. “Eh, I’ll survive. A little pain is part of the game.”

“Still. Just… be careful, alright?” The softness and genuine concern to your tone isn’t hard to miss as Chan looks over at you, the teasing spark in his eyes dimming for a second.

Chan plops a chip into his mouth, the crunch bouncing off the walls of the room.

“I will, don’t worry.” Then he leans in like some sort of villain in a superhero movie. “So… I’d like to propose an idea.”

You already know what he’s about to propose. “Chan, no𑁋”

“You, me, these snacks I robbed from the store, and a few episodes of Gilmore Girls.”

You pause mid-bite, your spoonful of ramen hovering just inches from your mouth as you stare at him in disbelief. A part of you wonders if the lack of caffeine in the bag had somehow changed his brain chemistry, but then again, this is the Lee Chan you’ve always known since you were fourteen𑁋spontaneous, reckless, and somehow endearing despite it all.

“You’re such a weirdo,” You murmur under your breath, but the smile on your face betrays you as it always does.

“Come on! You know you want to, Y/N,” he says smugly, and as he catches the slight unsureness to your features, he lets out a sigh. “Relax with me, please?”

For a moment, your mind weighs about the mountain of work that’s bound to be dumped on you, the looming exams, the clinical hours you’ve been drowning in… and then you think about the weight lifting off your shoulders every time Chan’s around. Even just for a little while, the world seems to slow down when he’s here.

He’s a goddamn terrible influence on you in the oddly best way possible. Oh, the irony.

“Okay, fine. Just… one or two episodes, alright?” You give in.

The way Chan’s eyes light up from your words sends a flip to your stomach, and he’s quick to leap off the chair to sink himself down right next to you on the bed. His warmth is quick to surround and engulf you, making himself comfortable in a way that feels so familiar it almost makes your heart race. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you shift slightly to make more room for him, attempting to ignore how suddenly hyper aware you are of his closeness to you.

He rolls his sleeves as if he’s prepared to commit his entire being to this mini-marathon of episodes, and you catch a peek of the tattoos that roam up and down his arms. You’ve seen them countless times before, but tonight, they seem to catch your attention more curiously than ever, and your gaze lingers for just a second too long before you snap your attention back to the screen of the laptop being placed between the two of you.

The bed creaks slightly as he adjusts himself, pulling the blankets up over both of your legs and getting comfortable as if he owns the place, before pressing the play button.

Even as the episode rolls in front of you, your mind… wanders to the boy right next to you. To Chan. To your best friend.

He isn’t looking at you when you’re looking at him, too focused on the scene playing before you. And just the single thought of him is enough to fill every part of your mind, every crevice in your heart. It’s overwhelming.

But it’s not just tonight. It’s not just this moment.

It’s every time he’s around.

The warmth of his body against yours feels too comforting to ignore. The way his carefree smile that you’ve seen thousands of times over the years always makes you forget the time, the way his eyes seem to see through you sometimes that you feel almost bare, the way out of the eight billion people walking this planet right now, he’s the only one who knows you better than anything else.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

Is this it? Is this what people talk about when they say it just clicks?

You want to laugh at how oblivious you’ve been, but the thought that keeps echoing through your mind is no, this isn’t new𑁋it’s been there for a while.

But as you steal another glance at him, the realisation hits you like a fucking bulldozer, like a speeding train, like a bullet penetrating through your body, like a punch to the gut you’re sure will leave a bruise. You nearly choke on your ramen.

You’re falling for him. You’re falling for your best friend.

No, scratch that. You’ve already fallen. Hard. For God knows how long. Fuck.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even know. You’re utterly screwed.

You were at the cusp of middle school and high school when you met Lee Chan. Even though you’re only a year ahead of him, the eighth graders at your school seemed to have a superiority complex bigger than their egos could contain. Back then, he was just another scrawny seventh grader running around with wild passions, and you were just trying to survive through these awful years of awkwardness, or just middle school in general.

It was during one of those ridiculous dares that you met. Some eighth grader had dared him to steal a soda can from the teacher’s lounge fridge, and he’d been caught red-handed𑁋by you, unsurprisingly, as you were sent to pick up some paperwork for your office aide duties. And instead of being embarrassed or causing a ruckus in the middle of the hallway, he had grinned at you like he threw the most disastrous prank in history.

“You won’t snitch, right?” he had asked, while holding the can of soda behind his back.

“Well, I’m an office aide after all,” You had responded sarcastically, crossing your arms together. “I could totally report you to the principal.”

But your words hardly phased him. Didn’t phase him at all. In fact, he’d just looked at you like one of those geeky kids confident in winning their Pokémon Go battles.

“Let me give you a reason not to then,” he had said, revealing the soda can from behind his back and offering it to you. You had stared at him in disbelief, and after a short while, you’d finally taken it. He had just shot you a smile and shuffled past you, as if nothing had happened, but not before adding, “Come to the playground after school. I’ll show you something cool.”

By something cool, he showed you something called a kickflip. You had no idea what a kickflip was at the time, but Chan was way too eager to show you as he grabbed hold of a skateboard that was once used by his father. You had watched him try and fail repeatedly, but never once had he looked embarrassed or frustrated. It was that lighthearted attitude of his that drew you in, something you admired even then. And so, you stayed after school, watching him persist until he finally nailed the trick, his smile wide and victorious. Maybe the world felt lighter in those moments too𑁋that maybe going to high school wouldn’t be an absolute shitshow.

That as young and dumb that you were, maybe life had good things for you.

Because it was with him.

You didn’t call it a crush though, because all the eighth graders who were stuck in their heads all mentioned how crushing on seventh graders was disgusting and gross, that going after the hot high schoolers was cooler. Thus, you ignored the small flutter in your chest whenever he made you laugh after nearly face-planting while practicing, turned a blind eye to the way your heart skipped when he gave that ungodly smile after nailing another trick.

You told yourself it was nothing. You were just friends. Best friends, even.

“I think I have a crush on my best friend,” You downright admit in the middle of the cafeteria, unconsciously stabbing your salad in front of you with a plastic fork.

Jeonghan peers at you while slurping up his banana milk. “Eat your ugly salad.”

You glare at him but take a begrudging bite of your salad anyway, chewing slowly as if it might somehow alleviate the embarrassment swirling in your chest. It’s been almost a week since you’ve come to terms with your feelings for your best friend. Jeonghan sets his banana milk down and leans forward, propping his chin on the palm of his hand with the kind of smug expression that tells you he’s about to make this conversation even worse.

“Well, you could𑁋”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Jeonghan raises his hands in the air like he’s surrendering, letting out a scoff. “How inconsiderate of you.”

“Just𑁋Don’t you get it, Jeonghan?” You ask after stuffing a piece of cold lettuce in your mouth. “This is medical school. The pressure’s insane, and everything is a goddamn mess. I can’t just throw everything away over a stupid crush. And it’s not like Chan would feel the same way. We’ve been friends for so long… and it’s just stupid to think about anything more. I’m stupid for even falling for him in the first place.”

Jeonghan watches you carefully while mulling over your words, then his lips curl into a slight smirk, yet a hint of softness to his eyes.

“You know,” he starts, leaning back in his chair, swirling the banana milk in his cup. “It’s not stupid to have feelings. It’s natural. What’s stupid is throwing those feelings under the rug and leaving them to the dust mites.”

“But I just…” Your voice trails away as you struggle to find the right words. “I already have a lot on my plate right now, and it almost feels wrong to think of him that way. As someone more than a friend. I feel like a pervert or something𑁋I don’t know.”

“A pervert?” Jeonghan questions with a raised brow. “Aw, do you dream of giving him a little smooch on the lips?”

You choke on the next bite of your salad, coughing and trying to hide your face in your hands as Jeonghan just snickers, completely pleased at your reaction.

“You’re actually the devil’s worst nightmare personified,” You mutter under your breath, but there’s no anger behind it.

“Ah, well, that’s a new one,” Jeonghan remarks amusedly. “Better than the devil’s knight in shining armour, I suppose.”

You sigh, dropping your fork and slouching in your seat. You don’t think you have the energy to think about all of this right now. There’s a certain heaviness that settles in your chest as you reluctantly chew your way through the rest of your salad. You have other things to worry about right now, such as the mountain of schoolwork on your desk, your pathology exam on Friday, and having to impress your grumpy fifty-year-old attending tomorrow.

“Come on, let’s get through pharmacology.” You start to pack up your belongings, sealing off the remains of your unfinished salad and stuffing the container inside your backpack. Jeonghan watches you knowingly with a sigh as he gathers his own things.

“You’re avoiding the conversation,” he points out, standing up and tossing his empty drink into the trash bin.

“I know,” You admit, standing up to join him. “I just don’t have the mental space for it right now. I have so much to do, and thinking about Chan and... whatever this is... it’s not helping.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything after that, and you appreciate the quiet while shoving your laptop and notebook inside your backpack before flinging it over your shoulder. He doesn’t want to apply more pressure on the wound than needed.

One day, he thinks, you’ll have to face it, and that it’ll come to bite you in the ass sooner or later.

You could really use a shower right now.

After an entire day of clinicals and back-to-back lectures, all you want to do is melt in your bed and let the world fade away. But instead, you find yourself trudging towards the skatepark, because you promised to meet up with Chan for God knows why. By all means you’re definitely late, and you aren’t even sure if Chan would be at the skatepark as he’d have to wait almost an hour for you to show up, yet the thought of disappointing him somehow hurts more than the aching fatigue in your legs.

You spot him instantly. He’s mid-trick when you approach, his skateboard spinning in the air before he lands effortlessly with a triumphant grin. You see him fan himself, wiping his sweat off with his shirt he retrieves from the ground, catching sight of his exposed form and the tattoos that run up and down his skin. His back is turned towards you as well, and you catch a glimpse of another tattoo that he has: a series of Japanese letters that trail down his spine, spelling out his zodiac sign, Aquarius.

After a mere pause, he turns his head and spots you, his face lighting up like it always does, and you feel that familiar flip in your stomach again.

“You’re late,” he calls out, kicking the skateboard up into his hands and jogging over to meet you.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Blame my neuro attending. That man has the stamina of a marathon runner and the patience of a saint. Could rival Derek Shepherd, to be honest. I think I aged ten years today.” You set your bag down on the floor next to a nearby bench. “You didn’t wait long, did you?”

“Nah, not that long. You actually came after Vernon left𑁋idiot left his vape here,” Chan says while fishing the vape out of his pocket and taking a shameless hit from it, a cloud of vapour floating into the air when he exhales, before offering it to you with a teasing grin. “Want a hit?”

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head with a laugh. “Offering me, a med student, that shit is crazy. My lungs are precious thank you, unlike you and Vernon.”

“Tell that to those bozos.” He points to the noisy teenagers at the other side of the park, before sitting right next to you on the bench. “Can’t even roll over there without getting smacked in the face with weed.”

Your smile falters just slightly as you watch him lean back, his face tilting towards the darkening sky. The dim light of the streetlamps catches on the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the relaxed purse of his lips, and highlights the sleek dragon tattoo that snakes up his arm. He looks... peaceful. Content. Like the world isn’t asking too much from him tonight, like there’s no ginormous weight of expectations pressing on his shoulders, unlike you.

“I messed up today during clinicals,” You randomly confess, making Chan turn toward you. “There was this patient today… a girl. Seventeen years old, has a tumour that’s basically about to split her brain in half. I kept arguing with my attending about treatments, and I was so sure I was right𑁋that we could do something more about it𑁋but in the end, I just... made it worse. I felt like such an idiot, because… because there wasn’t anything we could do. She only has one chance with surgery, and she took it, despite her low chances of surviving.”

Chan listens to you, his eyes gentle and thoughtful, understanding but not pitying. It’s the same way he used to listen when you were venting back in high school, always patient, never rushing you to fix yourself or your emotions.

“You’re not an idiot,” he tells you, but his tone is nothing like a scold. “You care. That’s the difference. Not everyone would have fought that hard for her, even if you didn’t win. You’ve got a heart the size of the ocean, dude, you know?”

You smile faintly, chest tightening a little to his words. “The mother-fucking ocean?”

Chan grins at your lightheartedness, nudging you with his elbow. “Yeah, the mother-fucking ocean. You’re stubborn as hell, but you’ve got that heart. And that’s what makes you good at what you do. It’s what makes you you.”

You look down almost in guilt from his words, unconsciously playing with your fingers in your lap. You don’t know why, but it hits harder than usual tonight, and for a second, the rush of everything you’ve been holding back hits you𑁋the exhaustion, the worry, the feeling that you’ve been carrying more than your fair share of burdens these days. They almost threaten to burst out of you, but right now, they don’t. Not yet at least.

“You’re gonna be a good doctor,” Chan continues. “I don’t even have to be a doctor to know that. You just… you get it. You’re going to go out there and do great things. Maybe even better things than me.”

You almost want to laugh at that, almost want to tell Chan just how much shit he’s done that is far greater than what you could ever dream of. You’re not sure if he realises it himself𑁋how great he is, how much you admire him, love him𑁋but you think you could spend more than a lifetime telling him just that if you could.

Maybe you’ve been avoiding these feelings for too long, but the truth is, they’ve been there for as long as you can remember. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment these feelings shifted from friendship, to admiration, to something more𑁋maybe it was when he helped you get through the first few years of high school, or when he held your hand during a school dance, not in some romantic gesture but because you were scared of your anxiety acting up𑁋but it’s always been there. He’s always been there.

“I… Thank you, Chan,” You say softly. Then you tilt your head back, looking at the same sky he is, the heaviness in your chest easing just a little. “You’re kind of annoying, you know that? But you’re also... you’re really great yourself. Like, better-than-I-deserve great.”

Chan just chuckles at that. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, turning his head slightly to look at you. “That’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit from you.”

“Wow, okay. Forget all that I said then,” You retort back playfully, shaking your head and crossing your arms together. “You’re the worst person alive, actually.”

When you’re busy gazing up at the sky above, Chan turns to you. His eyes flit over you, basking how your eyelashes slowly bat together from tiredness, how your lips are slightly curled up in relaxation, how your features glow from the singular street lamp illuminating the skatepark. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and glances away, his thoughts racing faster than he can keep up with.

“You meant it though, right?” he asks.

“What?” You question, turning towards him.

“About me being great or whatever.” You can tell he’s trying to brush off the hesitation, but you sense the uncertainty in his voice. “You meant it?”

Out of all times, you wonder why he’s questioning it right now, at almost midnight in the middle of the skatepark. You’ve told him countless times how great he is, always hyping him up for skate competitions and giving him comfort on the times he’s down himself. Why… is he suddenly asking if you meant it?

“Well, I… Of course, I meant it,” You respond, catching his eye. “Why wouldn’t I?”

For a short period, there’s just silence, comfortable, a pinch of awkward𑁋a word you can pretty much never associate with your interactions together𑁋yet heavy. The way Chan’s features soften on his face from your words seem more important than the stars blinking up in the sky right now.

Then all it takes is a tiny giggle from him, and you can’t help but groan.

“Oh no,” You grumble pesteringly, shooting him an exasperated glance, but your tone is light, teasing. “I fueled your ego now, didn’t I?”

“Yep. I can walk around like I’m the best thing since sliced bread,” Chan jokes, puffing out his chest with pride. “My greatness has been confirmed by a certified medical professional.”

“Whatever, big head,” You sneer back playfully.

Chan stretches out a bit more on the bench, his legs extending and his arms behind his head. You can tell he’s getting more comfortable too, probably ready to call it a night, just like you, and you can’t help but let yourself soften a little.

Without thinking, you shift your body and lean your head down to gently rest it in Chan’s lap. His body stiffens for a few seconds as if he wasn’t expecting it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets you settle, and after a beat, his hand comes to gently rest in your hair, and something tugs at your heartstrings from the feeling. Your eyes slowly flutter to a close.

“You okay?”

Those words almost make you want to cry.

“Yeah,” You reply quietly. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

When you open your eyes back up, Chan is looking down at you, studying you, his thumb tenderly tapping the top of your head as he waits for an answer.

“Alright.” You let out a deep inhale, blinking back up at him. “I’m not.”

Then his hand stops moving, and you nearly regret even telling him that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks cautiously.

The corners of your lips tug up slightly, another sigh leaving you. All you can do is shake your head.

“Not really.”

Chan just pulls away, not entirely, but enough to give you a little space. His hand stays near, though, and he’s still watching you, his expression soft.

“Okay.”

For now, the two of you let your gazes drift back up to the sky, and you think𑁋maybe falling for your best friend isn’t the worst thing in the world.

The number 87 is scratched at the top of the page of your medical jurisprudence exam.

“Thanks for letting me cheat off you, by the way,” Jeonghan chimes in jokingly over your shoulder, nudging you in the arm before walking past you and out the door.

You roll your eyes at his comment but remain standing right where you are at your seat, and you don’t know why you can’t get yourself to move. Your fellow classmates𑁋all dressed in their finest set of scrubs𑁋brush past you and out of the classroom, but you could only clench your first around the paper in your hand.

An 87 isn’t bad; if anything, it’s great. Hell, it’s probably better than some of the other people in your class. You should be happy about it. But for some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something off. It’s the fact that you’re standing here, staring at a number that’s supposed to represent your hard work, your achievements, yet it feels empty, hollow, even.

You don’t feel proud of yourself.

All you can think about are the countless nights you’ve spent studying for something that doesn’t even feel fulfilling anymore. Your mind wanders over the sleepless nights, the skipped meals, the times you could hardly breathe because rotations had you stuck in the hospital𑁋what was it all for? A number? A stupid grade on a piece of paper?

You take a deep breath, trying to push the thought away.

“You’re doing fine,” You remind yourself, quietly, under your breath. But somehow, it doesn’t sound as convincing as you need it to. “You did good. You’re fine.”

Yet, there’s a voice that echoes off the walls of your head: you can do better.

You meet Jeonghan and your other mutual friend Joshua in the hallway after managing to finally leave the large lecture hall. The two of them are chatting enthusiastically amongst each other, comparing their exams and the questions they received credit for along with the ones they got wrong.

You force a smile to slip across your face when you approach, though it merely feels like a mask you’re getting tired of wearing.

“If I manage to survive this program, then I better be gifted with twenty years worth of coffee,” Jeonghan says while stuffing the exam paper inside his backpack. On the other hand, Joshua seems to be way more organised than you and Jeonghan combined, slipping his paper into a colour–coordinated folder before holding it under his arm.

“What did you want to go into again? Pediatrics? Can’t imagine you with children for the life of me,” Joshua comments playfully.

“Alright, mister, you’re the one who wanted to go into plastics,” Jeonghan retorts with a smirk, nudging Joshua in the ribs. “I can totally see you standing in front of a mirror practicing how to say, ‘Oh, ma’am, you’ll look amazing after this rhinoplasty.’”

Joshua rolls his eyes but laughs. “At least I’ll make my patients happy. I’m not sure kids would survive under your care without learning sarcasm as their first language.”

“Sarcasm builds character, my friend,” Jeonghan states matter-of-factly, wiggling a finger up in the air as if to emphasise the point. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach those little demons how to get through life in the correct way.”

You give in a chuckle at their banter, clumsily folding your exam paper in half and stuffing it deep inside your bag, hoping you’d probably forget all about it by the end of the day. Though the tension inside you doesn’t seem to want to disappear quite easily. You should feel happy to be surrounded by friends who’ve stuck with you through this hellish journey, but instead, you’re just... floating.

It’s like you’re suspended between reality and expectation, unsure of where you really fit into either world. You try to push it down, but the feeling keeps creeping back, making your chest feel tight.

“Now I think this calls for a celebratory shot of champagne, or Iced Americano, whatever you want to call it,” Jeonghan announces to you and Joshua as all of you are walking outside.

The time has nearly reached evening by this point, the warm hues of the sky painting the sunset that’s illuminating the campus. It’s a sight that would normally give you a sense of peace, an opportunity to relax, but it doesn’t give you that feeling right now. Far from it. You should be happy, you remind yourself again and again. You’ve been working towards this for your entire life, yet here you are, dragging yourself through the motions like a robot programmed to survive but never to live.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most𑁋the thought that you’ve lost yourself somewhere along the way. You can’t remember the last time you felt truly at ease, or when you last let yourself just... breathe.

Your steps don’t fall in rhythm with Jeonghan and Joshua as you trail behind them. All of your energy feels like it’s been drained out of your body, and that you’d much rather be in the comfort of your apartment to study and distract yourself.

“You guys can go ahead,” You say to Jeonghan and Joshua with a soft, yet tired smile. “I think I’m just going to head home and get some rest. Catch up later?”

Joshua frowns, noticing the tension in your voice. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” You reply nimbly with a half-shrug, even though the word feels like a lie when it leaves your lips. “Just… tired. You know how it is. You two deserve to celebrate, though. Go and enjoy yourselves.”

Before you could give Jeonghan or Joshua any chance to respond, you give them a half-hearted wave before hiking off in another direction. You blink away the heat that was threatening to form in your eyes, keeping your gaze focused on the ugly, cracked pavement ahead as you hurriedly make your way back to your apartment. Every step feels heavier than the last, and you swear you feel yourself sinking with each one you take. You tell yourself it’s fine𑁋that you’ll feel better once you’re home, but you can’t tell if you’re just trying to convince yourself that.

By the time you arrive at your apartment building, perhaps more time has gone by than you expected. The sun has nearly set at this time, making way for the moon to take over with its nightly duties, casting its pale glow over the world around you. But it doesn’t seem to paint its glow on you.

When you start trudging your way towards the entrance to your building, a voice freezes you in your path.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

Your heart sinks in your chest at the voice, almost urging you to step inside your place before that particular gnaw of guilt could grab you, but you freeze nonetheless. You reluctantly turn around to none other than Chan jogging up to you, his skateboard nearly falling from his grip as he lands right in front of you. He’s breathing a bit heavier than usual, as if he’d been running to catch up.

“You haven’t texted me all day,” he tells you breathlessly.

You lift a brow at that, a corner of your lip lifting up at his clinginess. “And you ran all the way here to tell me that?”

“Well, duh, I have to make sure you’re alive.” He wipes off some sweat from his forehead. You could tell he just rolled here all the way from the skatepark.

As you let your eyes scan over him, you can’t help but notice how effortlessly cool he looks with his messy fair falling in front of eyes, and the way he still seems to be trying to catch his breath from the exertion of running up to you. There’s a softness in his expression that makes your chest tighten, and it’s enough to make you lose focus on everything else. The exhaustion, the doubt, the ache in your chest𑁋all of it vanishes when you look at him.

Truthfully, you missed him too. You always do.

“You’re such a dork,” You prod, trying to suppress the soft warmth that spreads through your chest. You know he’s only teasing, but his concern still cuts deeper than you expect. “See? I'm alive and breathing.”

Chan eyes you suspiciously, before grabbing ahold of his skateboard from under his arm. “Alright, if you say so…”

Before he could place the skateboard on the ground, you stop him.

“Wait, Chan.”

Chan shoots his attention back to you, and perhaps that’s enough to make your legs feel like jelly and your throat to go dry. You hesitate, biting back the emotions threatening to spill out of your mouth, but something about the softness in Chan’s gaze makes it feel like this is the right time to let it out. Even if it’s just a little bit.

Without thinking, you take a step forward, then another, and another, before leaning in to gently let your head fall on his shoulder. Chan freezes, his body tensing at the sudden contact. For a second, you wonder if you’ve done something wrong, but then he exhales, his warmth radiating against your temple. You don’t notice the way his hand hovers uncertainly over your back, contemplating, before he ultimately brings it back to his side.

“I got my results for an exam today,” You admit quietly.

Chan thinks he knows where this is going, breathing out a defeated, “Oh. Did it… I mean, did you𑁋”

“I passed,” You mutter with a slight chuckle. “With flying colours.”

Chan doesn’t respond immediately, the only sound being the gentle rustling of the evening breeze. You can feel his shoulder shift slightly under your head, not out of discomfort, but then you feel his arm gently slide over your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him. Maybe you’re close enough to the point he can feel your heartbeat.

“Then why do you sound so down?” he asks. “If you passed, you should… you should be celebrating, right? That’s a big deal.”

“I am celebrating.” You huff out a breath. “Now that you’re here, I-I could celebrate.”

Chan tenses at that, like your words rendered him speechless. “Because… because I’m here?”

You nod lightly against his shoulder. “It’s… easier to breathe when you’re here, I guess.” And then you smile faintly, even Chan can feel it. “Don’t let that get to your head, though.”

But it does. It does go to Chan’s head in more ways than one as he feels that familiar heat crawl up his neck from how those words fall naturally off your lips, like it was such a normal thing to say. And no, it doesn’t fuel the prideful ego he claims he has, doesn’t make him smug or self-assured; no, it goes straight directly to his heart, as your words always do. He’s glad the dim evening light hides the full extent of his reaction, but he knows his heart isn’t probably nearly as subtle.

And when you lift your head off his shoulder and pull away slightly, he can’t help but stare at you. You don’t say anything either, the words sitting in the air between you. But then you smile𑁋tiredly, genuinely, not forced or hiding anything𑁋and the first thought that comes to his head is that… you’re beautiful.

“You reek of sweat,” You suddenly point out teasingly, scrunching your nose. “How many hours did you stay at the damn park?”

“Oh, you know, only a good seven hours,” Chan replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Plus I did go to the gym with Soonyoung too…”

“And let me guess, no knee pads or helmet?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

Chan opens his mouth in defense. “Well, I𑁋”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” You cut him off playfully, rolling your eyes dramatically.

Then Chan lightly nudges you with the skateboard. “At least you’ll be there to patch me up, yeah?”

“Nope, sorry, I’m leaving you at the mercy of the cranky ER nurses,” You tell him, wiggling a dismissive finger toward his face.

Chan just steps back up to you, a twinkle of mischief that you capture in his eyes, before he grabs hold of the skateboard under his arm and shoves it in your hold, a low oof escaping out of your mouth. Then you watch with a scoff as he brushes past you and into your apartment building, and you jog to catch up with him.

“What the hell are you doing, Chan?” You call out after him, trying to juggle the weight of the skateboard in your hands. Chan glances over his shoulder with that signature grin of his𑁋half playful, half smug𑁋and it’s enough to make you want to smack him with the board. “And take this thing back, I’m not carrying it! Lee Chan!”

Chan looks back at you with his tongue sticking out, before disappearing around the corner. “Sorry, I’m going to use your shower!”

And for the first time the entire day, the laugh that leaves you is real. A real, genuine laugh that comes from deep in your chest, bubbling up before you can stop it.

“Hey, Lee Dino! You’re up!”

Chan picks his head up from where he sat on the bench, scrunching the empty water bottle and aimlessly tossing it in the trash bin beside him. He stands up, tugging his shirt off that was nearly drenched in sweat and throwing it aside near his belongings. The cool air of the afternoon hits his skin, caressing over the tattoos that paint his skin.

His muscles flex as he stretches his arms above his head, relieving whatever tension was flowing through his body. The key factor to skateboarding is balance, but it’s also about rhythm𑁋finding the flow between body and board, and Chan knows it all too well.

He inhales deeply, eyes scanning the open park in front of him, full of potential for the next challenge.

“Let’s see what you got today, Lee Dino,” Chan mutters to himself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Dino. A self-proclaimed nickname that was at first given to him by his father when he was just a kid and fascinated by the strength and coolness of dinosaurs in those silly comic books. His dad had joked that he wanted his son to dominate the world like the dinosaurs once did, and that nickname stuck ever since. It felt fitting to Chan, even now.

He strides confidently toward the half-pipe, his worn-out skateboard tucked under his arm. Placing the skateboard on the ground, he pushes it back and forth a few times with his foot, the wheels scraping the pavement below. He eyes the ramp ahead, its steep curve teasing him, almost daring him to take it head-on.

Chan doesn’t hesitate.

In one singular, fluid motion, he plants one foot on the board and pushes forward, flying off with a burst of energy that propels him toward the ramp. The world around him blurs for a split second as his focus narrows entirely on the slope ahead. His heart races, not out of fear but exhilaration. The crowd that had gathered around the park watches, a mix of awe and excitement in their eyes.

He hits the curve of the ramp, leaning into it just the right amount, and in one smooth motion, he launches himself into the air. The adrenaline kicks in, but it’s all muscle memory that fills him𑁋he knows exactly how to control his body.

Time seems to pause and the world around goes on mute as he floats above the ground. The board twists under his feet with the familiar flick of his ankle. His body moves effortlessly, adjusting for the perfect landing, and searching for the right second to take in a deep breath.

He lands back on the pavement with the grace of a dancer, his knees absorbing the shock of the landing, and the cheers of his friends and his fellow skaters power up to full volume right to his ears when the world comes back to him. But as he rolls around the bowl, his focused eyes are already scanning for the next trick he’s about to perform.

One trick after another, he continues, smoothly flowing from one move to the next. A quick Ollie here, a grind on the edge there, his body dancing on the board with a sense of freedom following right after him. He can feel the eyes of the crowd who have curiously gathered around the park to watch, but right now, it’s just him and the board.

One last run, he tells himself. Chan rolls again, more faster this time, building up speed as the seconds of anticipation pass. As he nears the highest point of the ramp, he shifts his weight and takes in one last deep breath. He’s going for a bigger one this time. A heelflip, followed by a 360-degree spin mid-air.

The muscle memory kicks in again as he pushes off for one final time. He feels the rush, the levity to his bones that make him fly, the thrill as the world spins around him. But as he spins, something doesn’t quite feel right, and he could sense it right away. A rush of cold wind catches him off-balance, and for a split second, he hesitates mid-air, yet he’s just a millisecond too late.

It’s a tiny moment𑁋one probably wouldn’t be able to notice it from how fast he was going𑁋but it’s enough to throw him off. His body is barely in the perfect alignment it needs to be. Panic flashes through his eyes.

And his heart sinks as he realises he’s not going to stick the landing.

Chan manages to land the board, but it’s far from the smooth he was expecting, slamming harshly that his body doesn’t fully absorb the shock. His right foot misses the edge of the deck just slightly, and the board wobbles beneath him. He tries to adjust quickly, but the momentum carries him a bit too far, and before he knows it, he’s stumbling off the side and onto the rocky ground, the skateboard shooting out from under him and skidding into one of the nearby flatrails.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself.

Collective gasps ripple through the air as he finds himself laying flat on the ground, his breathing heavy. Chan rolls onto his side, groaning in frustration.

“Man, you good?” Vernon’s voice pops in, the boy picking up Chan’s skateboard and jogging towards him. “That looked like a bad fall.”

Chan pushes himself up from the ground, shaking his head and laughing lightly, wiping his palms against the asphalt and feeling the sting of scraped skin. The fall had been harsh, his body aching slightly from the impact, but the sting is nothing compared to the frustration burning in his chest. He’s taken worse falls before, but this one felt different. This time, he knew he should’ve nailed it.

Maybe he was a bit too cocky. A bit too confident than he needed to be.

“Yeah, I’m good, dude.” He grabs hold of Vernon’s outstretched hand and stands back up on his feet with a grimace. “Guess I miscalculated that a bit, huh?”

“You sure about that?” Vernon asks skeptically, handing Chan back his skateboard. “You look like you’ve taken a hit.”

Chan just chuckles, downplaying himself playfully. “Nah, I’m fine. Maybe just a little bit of a bruised ego.”

But even with that, his mind races, still replaying the trick, analysing the split-second mistakes he made. Why had he hesitated? Was he not focused enough? Was it the wind? Or maybe, was it that nagging feeling of doubt that had crept in when he least expected it?

“You’ve been pushing yourself harder lately,” Vernon says, eyeing him knowingly. “You’re going to burn out if you keep going like this.”

But Chan only shakes his head dismissively.

“It’s just a slip-up.” Then he pats Vernon on the shoulder. “It’s all good, man.”

But deep down, he’s unsettled. He’s used to pushing through challenges, always looking ahead and striving for the next trick. But now, he feels like something’s holding him back, and it’s not just the fall.

He can’t help but think about you. A while ago when you’d reassured him, telling him he was great and making his heart do flips more than it should. Maybe he hadn’t fully processed it then, but now, with the fall still fresh like a wound, the words hold more poundage than ever. The words he told himself about his worth, the words you told him about his greatness… they don’t seem to line up with the failure he feels now. Maybe you were just saying it to make him feel better.

Or maybe he really isn’t as great as everyone thinks.

Because if you𑁋the one person who knew him best𑁋saw something in him, then maybe it was real. Maybe his greatness wasn’t just an illusion he crafted to keep himself from falling apart.

Later that evening, Chan finds himself taking a mindless hit of his vape. The skatepark has cleared away at this point, leaving only him and Vernon sitting on the edge of the half-pipe, the cool night air settling over the empty ramps and rails. The rush of adrenaline from earlier is now long gone, replaced by a quiet hum of exhaustion and contemplation.

Chan exhales slowly, watching the vapour dissipate into the dead of night, the faint flavour of Sour Fucking Fab coating his tongue. The nicotine buzzes in his veins, a distraction𑁋temporary, but enough.

His fingers absentmindedly tap against his skateboard, the frustration from earlier still simmering beneath his skin. Vernon leans back on his elbows, glancing at him with that same knowing look he always has when Chan is overthinking.

“You wanna talk about it now?” Vernon finally asks after exhaling a cloud of vapour of his own, leaning back on his palms.

Chan lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Not really.”

Vernon doesn’t push. He never does, seemingly having the unbotheredness that could rival a rock. The boy just nods, stretching his legs out in front of him, letting the silence do the talking instead. They sit there for a while, watching the overhead lamps flicker across the park, and the occasional car passing by.

Chan lets his legs dangle over the edge of the ramp, his skateboard resting beside him, scuffed and worn from years of practice. He takes another slow drag of his vape and drops his back down on the cool pavement below, sealing his eyes shut.

“You good?” Vernon asks again, his voice cutting through the silence.

Chan blinks, shaking himself out of it. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About your fall?”

Chan hums noncommittally. “Among other things.”

Vernon leans back against the rail, watching him closely. “You’ve been weird lately.”

Chan only lets out a breathy chuckle, yet doesn’t respond right away. It’s funny how one fall is enough to mess with his head. He just blankly stares up ahead at the night sky. He doesn’t have an answer. At least, not one he’s ready to say out loud. But Chan knows Vernon, and Vernon knows him, and he’s not going to let this go that easily.

“Do you think I’m actually good at this?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter than before.

Vernon turns his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “At skating?”

“Yeah.” Chan swallows the lump in his throat. “Or at anything, really.”

Vernon frowns puzzledly, sitting up properly. “Dude, what are you talking about? You’re literally one of the best skaters here."

“Yeah, but what if I’m just… I don’t know, pretending?” The words come out before Chan can stop them. “What if I’m just tricking myself into thinking I’m great when I’m really just average?”

Vernon studies him for a long while before letting out a slow breath. “Man, if that were true, you wouldn’t be out here busting your ass every day till the crack of dawn. You wouldn’t get back up after a fall. You wouldn’t care this much.”

Chan doesn’t respond right away, only pushing himself back off the ground. Then his mind drifts again, back to you𑁋your head resting in his lap, the way you looked up at him with something unreadable in your gaze. The impact of your words still lingers. You’re really great yourself. Like, better-than-I-deserve great.

“Have you ever thought that… maybe people see you as something more than you really are?”

Vernon lifts up a brow. “You’re speaking hieroglyphics.”

Chan scoffs annoyedly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Like, they think you’re this… great person, right? Someone who’s got it all figured out or whatever. But then, you screw up. And suddenly, you don’t know if you’re actually that person, or if they just convinced themselves you were.”

Vernon eyes him conspicuously. “Dude. That’s just imposter syndrome.”

A dry laugh leaves Chan. “Well, shit.”

“Okay, so you mess up one fall and suddenly you’re questioning your entire existence?”

Chan snorts, but there’s no real amusement behind it. “Maybe.”

Vernon stares at him a little longer, a little harder, then sighs.

“It isn’t just about the fall, is it?”

Chan hesitates, his fingers tightening around his vape. He wants to say yes𑁋that it’s just about the fall, just about that one pivotal mistake𑁋but he knows it’s not. He knows Vernon is right.

Because if it were just about the fall, he wouldn’t feel this restless. He wouldn’t be sitting here, staring at the cracks in the pavement like they held the answers to all the questions buzzing in his head.

And the thought of you wouldn’t keep creeping into his mind, either.

He smiles faintly at the thought of you, and he swears he could almost feel the warmth of your body when you laid your head on his shoulder the other day.

Maybe falling𑁋on the board, for you, for everything𑁋wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Maybe he just had to figure out how to land.

“You ever think that maybe no one’s expecting you to be perfect except yourself?” Vernon questions suddenly.

Chan turns to look at him in surprise.

“Think about it.” Then the boy breathes out a cloud of vapour, hitting Chan square in the face, accusingly pointing at him with the mouth of his vape. “And wipe that disgusting lovesick shit off your face.”

Chan chokes from his words.

“Chan?”

“...hm?”

You lightly flick the tip of your pencil on his head, causing him to stir in front of you. The two of you were in the library of your campus, and Chan for some reason voluntarily wanted to come with you, despite it being one of your boring study sessions. He’s sitting in the chair right across from you, hoodie over his face and face buried in his arms on the table, clearly dozing off.

“You’re sleeping,” You say, raising a brow. “Why did you even come if you were just gonna pass out on me?”

Chan slowly lifts his head, eyes heavy with drowsiness. His hair is a mess, sticking up in odd angles, and his face is creased from where he had pressed it against his arms. He blinks sluggishly at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but there’s something else there𑁋something softer, something warm.

“Mmm… moral support?” Then he shoots a glance towards your opened textbook and computer screen. “I barely understand any of the shit you’re studying anyway.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the smile threatening to spread across your face. “You could’ve just stayed home and slept, you know.”

“That’s boring,” he groans, rubbing his eyes before propping his chin on his palm. He studies your bare face𑁋tired eyes, a bit of breakout to your cheek, the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re frustrated. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I don’t know𑁋your shitty commute to school or if that one shitty nurse bothered you today. Just talk to me.”

You sigh, stretching your arms above your head before setting your pencil on top of your textbook. You could feel Chan’s eyes waiting for you as you try to rack your brain for anything to talk about. Anything that didn’t revolve around you practically moping through your coursework the entire day.

And then your face lights up.

“A baby held onto my finger last night,” You say, eyes softening from the memory. “Her name is Nabi, and she was sooo tiny, Chan, you have no idea. She wasn’t even my patient, so I had to sneak inside the nursery to see her, but…” You lean back in the chair, glancing down at your calloused fingertips from all the times you’ve practiced sutures. “I don’t know. She wrapped her tiny hand around my finger, then all I felt… was peace. It was relaxing. I haven’t felt peace like that in a long time.”

Now that’s an image that comes to Chan's head.

For a moment, like a spell, he’s lost in it. His mind wanders, as it always does when he lets himself think about you too much. He can imagine you there, looking down at Nabi with that quiet wonder in your eyes, watching you care for this tiny life. He pictures you cradling a baby of your own with the same peaceful look on your face as you guide them gently through the world.

And the thought hits him like a tidal wave: You’d be an incredible mother.

It’s not something he’s imagined before, not something he’s consciously thought of. But now that you’ve said it, now that you single-handedly planted the concept in his head, he can’t push it away. He’s seen it when you did volunteer work for young children back in high school, seen it when you showed him pictures of you cradling the newborn baby of your cousin with the fondest look on your face. He can see it so clearly.

“You’d be a great mom,” he blurts out suddenly, and he hardly processes the words until after they’ve left his mouth.

You blink at him, dazed. “What?”

Chan clears his throat awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I-I just think you’d be really good at it. You’ve always been great with kids, so…”

You blink at him again, unsure of what to say, and he can’t quite tell what you’re thinking in your head. But in reality, his words seem to hit you more than you expected. Perhaps you’ve been too caught up in your studies that it’s hard to imagine that kind of future for you right now. Yet, if somehow, life gave you that kind of situation, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe this would all be worth it in the end.

And so, you smile. It’s a small, just barely noticeable quirk of your lips, but it’s soft, and for some reason, it makes Chan’s heart skip.

“Yeah,” You murmur quietly. “Maybe.”

“Nabi was lucky to have you there, though,” Chan adds in. “Maybe she also felt peace too.”

You peer at him with an amused look. “Are you getting a soft spot for babies now?” Then you scoff sarcastically. “I guess the tough-looking skater boy can get soft, after all.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he jokes, trying to brush off the warmth spreading across his chest. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You could only roll your eyes. “Sure, I’ll keep your secret, buttercup.”

Chan just chuckles. He doesn’t mind being the soft version of himself with you. He doesn’t have to wear the hard exterior that everyone expects from him: the reckless skater with tough edges who never cracks under pressure. It’s easy, he thinks, to be soft around you. It’s easy for you to make him soft in the first place, with just a single glance, a smile, just you.

The room grows quiet now, other students filing their way out of the library for the night, leaving only the two of you. You glance down at your work, but your thoughts drift, still lingering on the conversation, and on Chan. You notice how his gaze has relaxed, lips curled like he’s trying to hide a smile. You don’t mind it𑁋this side of him. The one that feels less like a skating rebel and more like a person you’re learning to understand more every day.

He watches you as you get back to your work, highlighting parts of your textbook with that quiet concentration that he admires. It’s occasions like these when he finds himself noticing even the smallest details about you.

Yet his mind keeps repeating about the peace you mentioned, and there’s a sudden urge in him to bring it back to you.

“Come on.” He rises from the seat, stretching his arms over his head before grabbing his skateboard from where it rests against the table. “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

You blink at him, confused. “What?”

“You need a break,” he states simply. “And I need to clear my head too. Let’s go do something𑁋anything but this.” He gestures at your pile of notes and textbooks like they personally offended him.

You stare at him like he’s proposed the most ridiculous thing in the world, hesitation making you stiffen. You glance between your opened textbook and unfinished papers. You still have a lot to study, and it looms over you like a cloud. But then you meet Chan’s eyes, and your heart gets lodged in your throat.

It’s tempting. More tempting than you want to admit. You bite your lip, considering.

“Chan.” You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re on thin ice right now.”

“Oh, come on,” he coaxes, tiling his head amusedly as if he knows he’s getting under your skin. “Just for a little bit, please?”

You groan, throwing your head back dramatically. “You’re a bad influence.”

“I’m a wondrous influence, thank you,” he corrects smugly, already swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Now come on. Pack all that gross knowledge up.”

“Just so you’re aware, one day all this shit could help me find some revolutionary cure in the future,” You point out while stuffing all your belongings in your backpack. “Catch me on the front page of the New York Times.”

Chan smiles at that. Honestly, with already knowing how smart and studious you are, he wouldn’t even be surprised if that someday were to happen. He’s never once doubted your abilities, never once doubted that you’ll potentially save the world in some way, shape, or form, never once doubted that you’ll accomplish great things.

“Alright, whatever, as long as you don’t forget about me,” Chan says as you pack the last of your belongings.

You hit him gently on the shoulder. “I’d never do that to you.”

Chan’s heart does the familiar jump once again.

The two of you make your way out of the library, the cool night air hitting your skin as soon as you step outside. Campus is quieter at this hour, streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. Chan hops onto his skateboard with ease, gliding a few feet ahead before spinning back around to face you, rolling backwards.

“Okay, so… what’s the plan?” You ask him.

He pretends to think, tapping his chin dramatically. “We could get ice cream.”

“It’s freezing, idiot.”

“Or we could break into the football field and stare at the sky like we’re in some coming-of-age movie.”

You scoff airily. “We’re not breaking into anything, Chan.”

“Ugh, you’re boringgggg,” he exaggerates teasingly, but there’s no real disappointment in his voice. He kicks off again, rolling beside you as you walk. Then, as if something clicks in his head, his expression shifts and his face brightens up. “I know what we’re doing.”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Chan merely grins, and you know you have to give in. “You’ll love it, trust me.”

That’s exactly what someone who is about to get you in trouble would say.

Chan’s place has always been so… Chan. He shares it with another roommate𑁋a chill guy named Vernon who you’ve interacted a few times when you would visit the skatepark. The apartment is dimly lit, a shelf at the corner of the slightly unkempt living room containing a collection of vinyls and old CDs.

Posters of old rock bands and underground artists fill the walls. There’s another skateboard propped up by the door right next to a disorganised row of shoes and a stand propping up an electric guitar. The living room table is littered with books about sports you aren’t familiar with, loose papers, and a bong sitting casually beside an ashtray that contained some old rolled-up joints.

It’s been a while since you’ve visited his place personally as you’re used to him visiting you instead. It looks a bit different this time, some new furniture and decorations added that you haven’t seen before, but it still oozes the familiar comfort rightfully belonging to Chan.

“Bro, can you turn it down a little?” You hear Chan knocking a few times on Vernon’s door.

A voice is muffled on the other side, then the door swings open, and Vernon’s head pops out from the room. The two of them exchange a few words before Vernon turns his head to shoot you an acknowledgement.

“Yo, Y/N,” he greets you casually.

“Hey, Vernon,” You respond back with a quick smile.

Vernon faces back to Chan, glancing between the two of you, before poking him in the chest and muttering quietly, “Don’t fuck this up with her, man.”

Chan just swats Vernon’s hand away with a scowl, feeling the heat spread up to his ears. “Shut up.”

Vernon just shoots a knowing smirk before heading back into his room. You hear the music from inside lower slightly, yet still audible through the walls. Chan turns back to you, and you catch him fiddling lightly with one of his ears, but you don’t question it.

“Want something to drink?” he asks, slipping past you to head into the small kitchen area.

You give a nod. “Sure.”

You watch as he rummages through the refrigerator, half-expecting for him to pull out two bottles of beer or even just plain water. But instead, he fishes out two small juice boxes, sending you back to old memories of your middle school lunches and lazy summer days at the skatepark, and you bite back a chuckle.

He throws one to you, and you catch it mid-air.

“Seriously?” You question while stabbing the straw through the carton.

Chan only shrugs. “They’re Vernon’s. He bought them in bulk last time he got shit-faced high. Said they were ‘the peak of human invention’ or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, but when you take a sip, Chan watches in amusement as you dive in for more.

“Told you. Peak of human invention,” he muses while taking a sip of his own. “Our middle school has to take notes.”

“For sure,” You agree wistfully, sitting yourself down at the arm of the couch. “Alright, so what’s this grand plan of yours?”

A mischievous glint flickers in Chan’s eyes, and he disappears for a few minutes inside his room. When he comes back out, he has a few blankets hung over his shoulder.

“Rooftop,” he chimes eagerly with a grin.

You lift up a brow, eyeing him with skepticism. “I… Are we even allowed up there?”

Chan merely shakes his head, already walking toward the window where the fire escape is. “Nope.”

You groan but follow him anyway because, despite everything, you trust him. He’s always been the reckless one, the one who always takes risks, the one who hardly thinks before acting, but somehow, whenever you’re with him, you never feel unsafe.

The climb up the fire escape is easy, and soon, the two of you are on the rooftop, looking out over the other unappealing suburban apartment buildings beneath your feet. There’s a slight inkling of fear that you’ll get caught up here, but at this point, would it be the worst thing in the world? The answer is quite easy.

The night air is cool, a minor breeze driving through the air, blending with the soft music Chan plays from his phone. He spreads out the blankets, plopping down with an exaggerated sigh before patting the space next to him.

You settle down beside him, tucking your knees up to your chest. The streetlights ahead cast golden halos to the ground below, and for a few moments, neither of you decide to speak. But it isn’t uncomfortable per se𑁋far from it, honestly. It’s just a simple silence where words aren’t necessary to fill it.

“Junior year, Christmas break,” Chan says after a long pause, glancing toward you with a fixed look. “Senior year for you.”

You take a contemplative sip of your juice box. “The time you gaslighted me into running away with you for a night? Right before that embarrassing Christmas party at my house?”

“I was a pretty bad kid back then, wasn’t I?” Chan chuckles softly at the thought.

“Yeah, dude, what the hell happened to you? You used to be this scrawny little kid who spread rumours about snakes being at the playground so that other classes wouldn’t come.” You lean back on the blanket with him, exhaling a deep sigh. “Now you’re all… responsible and weirdly philosophical.”

Chan eyes you with a raised brow. “You haven’t changed.”

“I haven’t?”

“Nope. You’re still the same stubborn smartass girl who’d rather kill themselves in textbooks than touch grass once in a while.”

“Okay. Rude, first of all.” Then you lift your gaze up towards stars, and something in your chest aches. “But I guess some things never change, yeah?”

Chan stares up towards the sky as well, watching the same stars as you. “Yeah, I guess not.”

The two of you sit in another pit of comfortable silence for a while. You feel his shoulder brush against yours as he adjusts himself on the blanket, and for a brief second, your breath catches. It’s such a small thing𑁋his warmth seeping into your skin, his presence right beside you𑁋but it makes your stomach flutter in a way you don’t want to acknowledge.

You turn your head slightly to catch a glance of him. The sleeves of his hoodie have ridden up, revealing the large tattoo on his arm. You could tell how intricately designed the ink is on his skin, lines and shapes weaving together in patterns you can’t quite decipher but are distinctly, undeniably Chan.

“You ever think about it?”

“Huh?” You utter out.

“The future.”

You blink at him with surprise. Chan isn’t usually the type to dwell on these things. He lives in the moment, takes on whatever the hell life throws at him. If anything, you were usually the one to think about the future. You were always known for having a plan for everything, knowing exactly the kind of path you’ll take. But now, it seems more unclear than ever.

“I… don’t know,” You admit unsurely. “I think about what I want to do, who I want to be. But when I think about it now, with everything going on, I…” You find your voice trailing away, guilt slithering up your spine. “It’s hard to imagine it now.”

The only response you hear from Chan is a low hum, before he clears his throat.

“I think you’d be happy.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes soft even under the night sky. “I think that no matter where you end up, no matter what you do… you’ll be happy. You deserve to be.”

Something warm unfurls in your chest, like a flower coming in full bloom. You don’t know what to say to that, and even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to let it out. Your throat suddenly feels dry, your hands clammy, and you force yourself to look away in a flash to blink back some heat in your eyes.

Chan notices the pensive look to your face, but doesn’t push for anything more. He sits himself up on the blanket, taking a quick hit of his vape before exhaling a thin cloud of vapour into the night air. You fix your eyes on him, the dim light casting shadows over his face as he exhales.

His gaze drifts out to the neighbourhood of buildings ahead, but he seems to be lost in thought, withdrawn, like he’s fighting with himself about something he doesn’t know how to voice. The silence stretches again, but this time it’s heavier, different𑁋more intimate than you’re used to.

Then, you clear your throat. “We should probably head back soon.”

Chan doesn’t move from his spot on the blanket. “Yeah. Probably.”

But neither of you make an effort to actually get up. He wordlessly offers you his vape without looking, and you hesitate momentarily before shamelessly taking it from him, inhaling a little too deeply, but not caring enough to stop𑁋just to feel something other than this. The taste is odd at first, unfamiliar, but it quickly becomes something soothing in the cool night air as you breathe it out. You pass it back to him, your fingers brushing over the warm skin of his hand.

“Y/N?”

Your heart stutters when he calls your name. “Yeah?”

Hesitation lingers in the air. Chan sucks in a deep breath.

“You’re my favourite person, you know?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat at that, but you quickly mask it by giving him a playful shove in the arm, probably ruining the sentimental moment.

“I know, idiot,” You retort playfully, hoping it would be enough to hide the way your heart is racing. “You’ve told me that many times already.”

Chan just shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “I mean it.”

Your fingers nervously knead at the fabric of the blanket pooling around you. You can’t get yourself to look at him. You can’t.

Because you know. You know exactly what he’s saying.

And you don’t know what to do about it.

So instead, you swallow hard, keeping your gaze ahead. “You’re mine too, Chan.”

Chan doesn’t respond right away, and you don’t catch the faint smile that was beginning to bloom across his face. There’s a sigh that leaves his lips, almost one of relief, and he leans back on the palm of his hands, his eyes glued to your side profile.

“Yeah,” he mutters softly. “I know.”

Neither of you say anything more.

“Okay, listen, here’s the catch. She’s like… really great. Like… she spoils me and all that. It’s so overwhelming,” Soonyoung huffs out after dropping his deadlift and standing up. “I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend for her! I’ve never dated anyone before! How the hell do I ask her to go to the movies with me?”

Chan is listening. Well, not entirely𑁋Soonyoung’s words seems to be going in one ear and flowing out the other. He’s been listening to the older boy’s rant about this sudden new addition to his dry love life, the best part being that it’s his older sister’s best friend. Chan nods along anyway, keeping his gaze fixed on the gym floor as he absently rolls his water bottle between his palms.

Soonyoung only continues to ramble, pacing a little in front of him with his hands to his hips. “Like, what if I mess it up? What if she realises I have no idea what I’m doing and decides I’m not worth it? Or what if I’m too much?”

Chan hums, taking a long drawl of his water. “If she’s with you, she probably already thinks you’re too much, bro.”

The older boy shoots him a measly glare, popping down on the bench right next to him. “Wow, thanks, genius. You’re sooo encouraging. You’ve never been in love before, anyway.”

When Soonyoung snatches his water bottle, a few beats of silence fills the air. Chan continues to stare down at the gym floor like it contains all the answers in the world, all the answers he’ll never have, and Soonyoung gives him a few curious looks. And then, it clicks in his head.

“Wait a damn minute.” Soonyoung fixes his posture right away as his eyes widen, sitting up straighter. “Chan𑁋”

“Man, you really are blind are you?” Chan retorts with an amused click of his tongue. “No wonder you suck at being a boyfriend.”

“Shut up!” Soonyoung shoves him in the arm, before grabbing him by the shoulders like he’s just made the greatest discovery in history. “No way, is it Y/N? It’s Y/N, right?”

Chan’s reaction is immediate, the sound of your name already sending those familiar flutters to the pit of his stomach. This only makes Soonyoung beam up even more, and Chan already knows that the older boy will take this right into his damn grave.

He tries to pry Soonyoung off him, but he only relents.

Soonyoung is practically vibrating with excitement. “Dude, wow, didn’t you used to tell me you were going to marry her or something?’

“Why the hell do you still remember that?” Chan groans and rubs a defeated, embarrassed hand over his face. “I was, like, fifteen. A dumb, didn’t know their right-from-left kid. She was way out of my league at the time.”

“But not anymore.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“Come on, look at you! You’re hot, like a total eye-catcher and mouth-drooler material. Of course she’d be into you,” Soonyoung persists, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Literally anybody would swoon over you.”

Chan rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s different now, though. Med school is swallowing her whole, and she barely has time to breathe anymore. Besides, it’s just… complicated, you know?”

“You’re each other’s person,” Soonyoung affirms with confidence. “Don’t forget that.”

Chan’s heart thrums loudly at that. Now, the only thing he could think about was his conversation with you the other night. He can still feel the soft brush of your shoulder against his, the comfort of your presence beside him. You’re my favourite person, he had said; You’re mine too, you had said. It echoes in his mind like a tenacious virus infecting his thoughts. It’s true, he knows it is. You’re his person.

The big question is, though, how the hell does he gain the courage to finally face it?

Chan had never been the one to overthink things. He’s always been the careless kind. But with you, he finds himself replaying every single little memory with you, and it makes him almost want to combust.

Running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, Chan grimaces, tapping his foot out of unease.

“Love really is a piece of shit,” he mutters.

Soonyoung leans back on the bench with a reflective sigh. “Yeah, it really is.”

Chan side-eyes the older boy for a second, nudging him lightly in the shoulder. “Let me give you a piece of advice then.”

Soonyoung turns to face him with a puzzled look.

Chan just smirks, shoving Soonyoung in the forehead with his index finger.

“Stop being a pussy and your girlfriend𑁋do I need to spell it out for you? Your girlfriend𑁋to the damn movies already, you loser.”

No, this is not happening.

A tear squeezes past your eye and lands somewhere by your feet as you stare at the bold, unforgiving letters of the word FAIL written at the very top of an exam you took the other day. You will yourself to blink as if it would miraculously make the words change, for some mistake to have been made. But nothing changes. The numbers don’t rearrange themselves, the percentage doesn’t miraculously rise above the passing threshold. It stays there𑁋permanent, irreversible, mocking like a goddamn clown.

No, no, no, no.

Your throat tightens.

This is the fourth exam you failed in a row. You had studied until your eyes dried up and burned, pushed yourself past the brink of exhaustion, drained every last drop of energy you had left into preparing for this exam, hoping to make up for the list of others you scored below average on. You sacrificed sleep, skipped meals, ignored texts from friends. And for what? For fucking what?

For this shit?

Your vision swims.

Your pulse hammers loudly right to your ears, loud enough you’re sure it could drown out any kind of sound. Your knuckles tighten its grip around the paper until they turn white, nails digging into the palm of your hand.

Your breath hitches, and suddenly, it feels like the walls around you are closing, eager to shut you in. The room suddenly shrinks into a confined space that’s hard to properly breathe, the air too thick, your own skin too suffocating to be in. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribs, and a cold sweat trickles down the back of your neck.

You had been barely holding it together as it was, restrained by the threats of burnout. Long nights, endless studying, the constant weariness sitting heavily on your bones. And now? Now you have proof that none of it was enough. That none of it was worth it. That you weren’t enough.

A ding from your phone startles you out of your thoughts for a split second. You barely manage to catch the notification that jumps at you.

[10:37pm | dumbass 🛹] y/n?? are you okay? i don’t know what’s happening, but your friend jeonghan ran into me saying about how you ran away crying??

A choked sob escapes you before you’re able to stop it. You can feel the anxiety creeping its way from down your feet and up through your bones. You hardly realise how much you’re trembling from your hardened grip on your phone.

[10:39pm | dumbass 🛹] y/n answer me please i know you’re not okay

A cold panic grips your chest achingly𑁋you’re sure there’s a bruise there forming in some disgusting mental form.

What does this mean for you?

Your future?

Your dream?

[10:43pm | dumbass 🛹] y/n please i’m worried about you. i care for you so so much

There’s a tug at your heartstring at his text, but then you feel another tug, one that’s more stronger, more desperate. It’s almost as if the final nail to the coffin had been hammered. You crumple the piece of paper in your hand aggressively before flailing it somewhere across your apartment. There’s a darkness that seems to loom right over you, goosebumps dancing up and down your skin as you sit yourself down at the edge of your bed.

One last ding from your phone.

[10:47pm | dumbass 🛹] i’m coming over, okay? stay there for me, y/n i’ll be there in 5 mins

You stare at the screen of your phone, the words blurry through the tears that won’t stop raging down your face. You can barely process Chan’s messages. You know he’s worried. You know he’s trying to be there for you, but the weight of failure seems to crush your body like a boulder, and you aren’t even sure if you have the willpower to face him.

You can’t let him see you like this. You can’t allow him to see this weak, vulnerable, and ugly part of you. You can’t.

Time seems to tick by slowly as you pace around your room, but at every angle, all you can see is your scattered textbooks, the countless notes you’ve taken that never seemed to stick into your brain like it was meant to. All you see is the so-called effort that kicked you right back to this point. Your mind races with a million thoughts, each one a reminder of how much you’ve failed, how much you’ve fallen short of the finish line. The clock ticks mercilessly, and before you even realise it, Chan is at your door.

You freeze.

The knocks are insistent. Suddenly, the thought of Chan allows you to exhale a deep breath; the first, real one.

“Y/N? Open the door, please,” Chan urges, voice muffled through the door.

You could only stand there, staring at the door as if it could open by itself. Your heart is pounding even faster, your mind screaming at you to do something. You can just yell back that you’re fine𑁋that there’s nothing to worry about, but the truth is that you don’t fucking know what’s wrong with you.

“Y/N, please… I’m not going anywhere. Just… let me in.”

The pure softness to his voice seeps through the door and hits you square in the chest, and something inside your cracks. You know you should let him in, but your failure feels so raw, so final, that it’s hard to imagine someone, especially someone like Chan, still wanting to be around you.

And yet, he’s here, attempting to reach you.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away your tears, and against every thought in your mind telling you to retreat, you reach out and open the door.

On the other side, Chan stands with an arm leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair tousled and messy from the wind, his breathing rapid and fast like he’s just run from the other side of the world just to get to you. The thought only deepens the cut even farther.

“Y/N…” His voice falters immediately at the sight of your face: puffy, reddened eyes, your body shaking like the world is crumbling right at your feet.

His heart lurches at the sight, jaw tightening slightly as his instincts to protect you, to lash out at whatever did this to you, flare up. He doesn't even hesitate. Without another word, Chan steps forward, his arms wrapping around you in an instant, pulling you against his chest. You don’t do anything but fall right into his grasp, and it’s almost as if you fit perfectly in his hold. Like the space was always meant for you.

You allow yourself to believe it for just a moment.

“Shit, you’re cold and shaking,” Chan mutters under his breath, tightening his hold around you a little bit more, but you already know the chill comes from somewhere else𑁋somewhere deeper that you know he can’t fix just like that.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you exhale a breath that doesn’t feel like it’s cutting you from the inside out, your fingers digging desperately into the fabric of his hoodie. You feel the heat radiating off him, the comfort of being in his arms, but a sinking feeling grows heavier in your chest. You don’t deserve this. Not his warmth, not his care, not his worry. You can’t let him in, not like this.

But for a moment, just for a moment, you do.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his breath hitting the temple of your head. “I’ve got you.”

You swallow a breath at that.

You shouldn’t let him do this. You shouldn’t let yourself melt into him like this, shouldn’t let yourself believe that this is where you belong. Because it isn’t.

Because you know better.

Because you know this warmth is only temporary.

Because you know the second you let yourself rely on him, really rely on him, it’ll all come crashing down.

Slowly, the grip you have on his hoodie loosens, and you start to push yourself off him.

At first, Chan doesn’t notice. His hold on you remains firm, as if he thinks you’re just shifting, adjusting. But then your hands push against his chest𑁋just barely at first; it’s a hesitant, silent plea for distance.

He stiffens.

His hold loosens, just slightly, but his arms don’t drop completely.

“Y/N?” The way he calls out your name comes out in a mere echo, like his presence is far away, even when it isn’t. Even when he’s just right there in front of you.

You don’t answer. You just push a little harder. I can’t let myself love you like this.

And that’s when he lets go. The cold is swift to settle back over your skin, the safety of his warmth disappearing in an instant. Chan looks like he wants to reach for you again, a twitch to his arms that doesn’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t. He waits.

And that’s somehow worse.

You take a step back, putting more distance where there shouldn’t be any. “You should go.”

Chan flinches like you’ve slapped him, his eyes widening at your words, clearly taken aback, his expression completely faltering. He stays completely still in his spot.

“What?” He croaks out, his voice cracking weakly. “You can’t just𑁋”

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, forcing the words out even as they feel like shards of glass in your throat. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Why won’t you just𑁋” He stops himself, exhaling sharply before lowering his voice. “Why won’t you just let me be here for you?”

“Because it’s not fucking fair, Chan.”

“Bullshit,” he hisses out, but his voice is not angry, just desperate, hurt. “I don’t give a damn about fairness, Y/N. What’s not fair? That I care for you? That I want to be here when you need me? That I…”

“I’m not your responsibility!”

“...I’ve loved you for so fucking long it’s physically killing me inside?”

The truth spills from his lips like a flood he can no longer hold back. Silence swallows the room entirely, your feet sinking into the floor like quicksand. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, the world around you comes to a halt. The tension stirring in the air has enough power to crush you all at once.

You shut your eyes, willing yourself to feel nothing, willing yourself to pretend like his words didn’t just stab you straight through the heart.

But they do.

Because you love him. God, you love him so much.

But you can’t give in.

Because if you do, you’ll shatter. And if you shatter, he’ll be the one trying to pick up the pieces.

“You need to leave,” You deadpan, forcing the words out even if they cut through your throat like a knife.

But Chan only stands his ground, and takes a few steps towards you until he’s close enough that you could feel his familiar warmth again. Your hands twitch at your sides as he stands right before you, and for a singular second, you steal a glance down at his lips.

“Don’t do that,” he urges, leaning in a little more, the edge of your bed from behind pressing into the back of your knees. “Don’t act like this doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Maybe he’s close enough to catch the subtle shakiness to your breath, to see the way your eyelashes imperceptibility flutter, to see the way your lips part ever so slightly. And maybe, just maybe, he’s close enough to make you forget𑁋for a fleeting, dizzying moment𑁋why you’ve spent so long trying to push him away.

If you gave the world one more second, his mouth would be on yours. One more second, and you’d finally know what it feels like to kiss the boy you’ve loved for as long as you can remember.

Yet like a punch to the gut, reality slams into you.

You swallow hard. “It doesn’t.”

The lie tastes like poison on your tongue.

Chan lets out a broken laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you. “You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” His voice comes out hoarse and rough. “You can tell me whatever the hell you want, but I know you, Y/N. I know… I know that you feel something, too.”

You bite down on your lip so hard you swear you could taste blood. You don’t respond. You can’t.

“So just say it,” he presses on desperately, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Say it, and I’ll go. Say it, and I’ll stay. Look at me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t love me. God dammit, just give me something, Y/N, please.”

The way his voice becomes soft and pleading breaks something in you. Right now, you’re staring at the boy who has always been there for you, who has always known you better than you know yourself. The boy who is giving you a chance. A singular chance to pull him back. A singular chance to confess that you’ve loved him since before you knew what the hell the word love even meant.

And that same boy is staring at you like you’re his whole world, like you’re the only thing keeping everything from falling apart. You want to tell him the truth. You want to throw yourself into his arms and let him hold you together into eternity when you feel like you’re crumbling apart. But you can’t.

Because one day, he’ll wake up and realise that loving you is exhausting. That being around you is suffocating. That he deserves someone who isn’t this broken, utter mess of a failure.

So you do the only thing you can. You force yourself to break him before he can break you.

“Go home, Chan.”

“No,” he resists firmly, yet a pinch of shakiness to his voice. “Not until you say it… Not until you tell me that you love me too.”

“I don’t love you, Chan.”

Lie.

Silence.

You see the exact second the words hit. The exact moment his heart breaks.

You catch the way his body visibly deflates, the way the colour drains out of his face. Every fibre of his form tenses, and Chan swears to himself that he can’t breathe, as if your words completely knocked the wind out of him, tearing his heart out of his chest and right down to the ground. He’s still staring at you, searching your rigid face𑁋for hope, for any hint of regret, for something at this fucking point𑁋but he doesn’t find anything. His lips part slightly as if he was about to say something, but nothing comes out.

And then slowly, finally, he gives a nod.

“Right,” Chan says quietly, and his words are barren, empty. “Okay.”

He takes a slow step back, then another. And you almost call out to him, almost take it all back, almost tell him the truth𑁋that you love him more than anything, that you’ve loved him since you were kids, that pushing him away is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

But you just clench your fists at your side. Chan stands at your doorway.

Then he turns back to look at you, his hand right on your doorknob, and you can’t read his face, yet you feel the way his eyes are piercing right through you. He pauses. He’s waiting.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” is the last thing he tells you before crossing onto the other side.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, your legs give out beneath you. Your entire body trembles as you press a cold hand to your mouth, a loud sob spilling out of you before you could stop the dam from breaking.

Because you love him.

And you just let him go.

The burning sensation of alcohol runs down Chan’s throat, the bitter taste of beer stinging his tongue.

He finds himself out of breath, standing at the very edge of the half-pipe with his skateboard gripped tightly in his hands. He’s been here for what feels like hours, but the night air is still too cold to shake off the sting in his chest. Skating is the only way he could cope with all the pain, the confusion, the longing, with everything that’s been lingering on his mind every night.

“Dude, are you just going to skate until you die?” Vernon’s voice punches through his thoughts, the boy sitting splat on the pavement, an unlit joint at the tip of his mouth.

Chan doesn’t even acknowledge the question at first, his eyes boring holes through the concrete beneath his feet. Then, with a leap of faith, he places a foot on the skateboard and pushes himself down the ramp. The evening breeze catches in his hair as he concentrates on getting to the other side of the half-pipe, the wheels screeching loudly against the pavement as he flies through the air.

Just for a few seconds, he wills himself to not think about you, but when he lands on the other side of the ramp with a hard thud, the feelings all come rushing back. He slows down, rolling in a few mindless circles before strolling back up to where Vernon is. He flicks his skateboard on his foot, letting it rest against his knee as he takes another deep breath.

“Chan𑁋”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Vernon pesters, concern edging his voice. “You can’t just keep skating away from this, man.”

“I’ve been in love with her for years, don’t you get it?” Chan jabs his skateboard into the ground, frustrating coating his words. “She’s everything to me and she just… she just let me go. I left because that’s what she wanted. It fucking sucks.”

Vernon lights the joint between his lips and leans back on his palms, exhaling a trail of smoke into the air that disappears into the dead of night. He watches as Chan swallows another swig of beer and clumsily plops himself down on the ground right next to him, letting his skateboard roll away a few inches before pulling it back with his foot. The only sounds that interrupt the heavy silence are the nearby chirps of crickets and the clicks from Vernon absentmindedly fiddling with the lighter between his fingers.

I don’t love you, Chan, are the words that have been replaying like a broken record in Chan’s mind ever since that night. And now here he is, at the fucking skatepark in the dead of night, trying to outskate a heartbreak that clings to him like a second skin.

Chan’s eyes drift up towards the darkened sky, a contemplative sigh leaving him.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop, you know?”

Vernon lifts a brow. “Stop what?”

“Loving her,” Chan finishes, tapping his fingers against the can of beer. “It’s crazy how it’s always been easy to love her. Maybe even easier than breathing sometimes.”

Vernon’s eyes flicker from the glowing tip of his joint to Chan’s solemn face. “Sounds like you’re in deep.”

This earns a bitter laugh from Chan. “You’re not helping, dude.”

“Don’t stop loving her then,” Vernon mutters like it was the most simple thing in the world. “But don’t let it eat you alive either.”

Chan scoffs, shaking his head. “Easier said than done.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Listen, when I first started skating, I used to wipe out all the time. Like, bad. I’d eat shit and bust my ass so hard I thought I’d never get back up again.” Vernon pauses, taking another long-winded drag. “But I did, because that’s just how it works, man. You fall, you get hurt, you get back up.”

Briefly, Chan casts a glance down to his hands, taking note of the fading scars on his knuckles from all the times he’s taken falls throughout his life, all the times he’s hit the pavement and gotten back up again.

And he thinks about you.

And he thinks about you, wondering: how many times have you fallen without anyone there to catch you?

He thinks about the way your hands trembled that night, the way you practically crumbled in his hold, the way your eyes looked so exhausted, so defeated. He thinks about the way your voice cracked when you told him to go, how you looked at him like he was both the thing you wanted most and the thing you couldn’t bear to hold onto.

Chan swirls the can of beer in his hands, taking one last swig before slamming the can on the pavement with a loud clink, the lingering metallic taste mixing in with his bittersweet thoughts.

He should have stayed. Should have fought harder. Should have told you that even if you pushed him away, even if you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need him, he wasn’t going anywhere, because no matter which direction he goes, the path always leads back to you.

Because that’s what love is, isn’t it? It’s staying even when someone tells you to leave. It’s holding on even when they don’t have the strength to do it themselves.

He thinks about you again. About how you looked at him with that same damn expression you had the night your parents got into this big fight back during your freshman year of high school, the night you broke up with your first boyfriend during junior year who was an absolute dickhead to you, the night you first told him you didn’t believe in happy endings.

“Shit,” Chan breathes out frustratingly. “What the hell do I do now?”

Vernon shrugs, flicking the ash off his joint onto the ground until it dissolves into nothing. “Figure out if you’re willing to fall again.”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what if I hit the pavement even harder this time?”

“Then you’ll get back up,” Vernon says casually, with his cool, calm, and collected demeanour that’s almost irritating, even if the younger boy knows that he’s right. “Just like you always do.”

A plastic-wrapped sandwich is placed on the bedside table beside you, but you don't make a move to even acknowledge it. You know you should eat, you know you should do a lot of things, but your limbs feel like lead, and the thought of food makes you want to gag.

“Y/N? You need to eat.”

The worried tone of Jeonghan’s voice rings out from behind you, yet you could only find yourself sprawled atop one of the beds in the on-call room, your back turned towards the door and your eyes staring hazily into the dull, sterile hideous walls of the hospital.

There’s a defeated sigh that you hear come from Jeonghan, the noise of the hospital fading away when the door closes shut. Another presence enters into the room𑁋Joshua𑁋and you could only shut your tired eyes close as you mentally prepare yourself for them to attempt to dig you out of your hole once again.

But you’re beyond caring at this point. You can’t remember the last time you had a full night of sleep or felt anything other than the overwhelming deadweight of exhaustion and isolation pressing down on you. The only thing that seems to matter now is just getting through the damn day, making it to the next hour, then the next, until the cycle starts all over again.

The faint shuffle of footsteps signals Joshua’s approach, and despite how worn out you are, you can’t help but tense up slightly. You don’t want to explain yourself anymore. You don’t have the energy to.

“Y/N, at least drink some water,” Joshua assures, and you hear the snap of a water bottle opening and being placed on the bedside table right next to you.

You don’t reply at first, your gaze still fixed on the blank wall. You’re so tired, but somehow, sleep feels impossible. You feel your chest tighten, the heaviness of everything pressing down on you. The hospital. The clinical hours. The endless patient charts. The constant rush to keep up, to not fall behind. But beneath it all, another thing has been gnawing at you𑁋the night you pushed away the only person who could keep you from completely drowning.

Chan.

Thinking of his name alone is enough to send a wave of guilt crashing over the dam in your mind, and you bury your body even further within the sheets of the bed, willing yourself not to think about the way his face fell that night, the way his hands clenched into fists like he was holding himself back from reaching out to you.

You hurt him. You told him to leave. You told him you didn’t want him. You saw it in his eyes. And perhaps that’s what makes it worse𑁋knowing that you did it on purpose.

For a few minutes, Jeonghan and Joshua don’t say anything else. They’re not leaving; of course, they aren’t. The two of them have been hovering around you like ghosts for the past two weeks just watching, waiting for you to crack open enough to let them in. But some wounds don’t heal with a sandwich and a bottle of water. Some wounds don’t heal at all.

Then finally, a voice cuts through the thick silence.

“This isn’t healthy, Y/N. You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Jeonghan rebukes, sitting himself at the edge of the bed.

Your jaw tightens, flipping your body on the bed to finally face them. “Doing what?”

“This,” Jeonghan points out. “Locking yourself away, pretending like you’re fine when you’re not.”

“I don’t need a lecture,” You mumble flatly.

Joshua exhales sharply, crossing his arms as he leans against the bedside table. “We’re not here to lecture you. We’re here because we care. And you can’t keep wasting yourself away like this. It’s not healthy.”

Something inside you flinches, but you swallow it down, forcing yourself to remain still. You’ve gotten good at that lately. They’re right, of course. You know that they’re right.

A bitter laugh leaves you. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Joshua’s face softens, and he crouches down so that he’s level with you. “Being here and actually living are two different things.”

His words make you pull the sheets tighter around yourself, as if that will somehow shield you from their concern, from the way they’re looking at you like you’re slipping right through their fingers. You catch a glimpse of the unopened sandwich and water bottle standing on the bedside table, the sight making your stomach twist, and for a brief second, you consider reaching for it𑁋just to ease the worry etched into their faces.

But before you could make any decision, the overhead intercom jolts you to life.

“Code blue, third floor east wing. Code blue, third floor east wing.”

The words send a chill down your spine, and your body reacts before your mind can catch up. In an instant, you’re throwing the sheets off, shoving past Joshua and Jeonghan as you bolt out the door.

A patient is crashing. There’s no room for hesitation. No room for exhaustion.

Your feet pound relentlessly against the linoleum floor as you barrel down the hall, your body moving on autopilot as you dash down the hallway. The rush of adrenaline keeps pushing you forward. A part of you senses that Joshua and Jeonghan are right behind you, but you barely register their presence as you weave past other nurses and patients, making a beeline toward the east wing.

And then𑁋just as you round the corner, just as nurses and doctors rush in from all different directions, the sound of their voices mixing with the frantic beeping of monitors𑁋the world tilts.

Your vision blurs, black spots dancing in the corner of your eyes, parts of your body growing numb.

And then… nothing.

The last thing you hear before the world fades to black is the sound of Jeonghan frantically calling out your name. Your knees buckle, and suddenly, the cold, unforgiving hospital floor is rushing up to meet you.

“Is this like, what, our second time meeting ever?”

Chan shoots his gaze over to Jeonghan, who was still dressed in his scrubs and walking towards him with his arms crossed together. Chan leans his back against the wall behind him, his skateboard tucked securely under his arm. He steals a quick glance at the closed door right in front of him, and his chest aches knowing that you’re right behind it.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tightens his grip on his skateboard when Jeonghan stands right next to him. He barely knows the guy, but there’s something in Jeonghan’s gaze that makes it feel like he’s already sized Chan up.

His jaw tightens at the urge to barge into your room. But what would that accomplish? What would he even say? Would you even want to see him?

“Third,” he mutters, keeping his eyes trained on the door. “If we count the time we had a staring contest last week in the parking lot.”

Jeonghan scoffs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I still haven’t ruled it out.”

Chan exhales sharply through his nose, the faintest hint of a laugh escaping before his expression hardens again. He wants to be angry at Jeonghan, at Joshua, at anyone who’s been standing between him and you these past few weeks. But the hard truth is that he’s not angry at them. He’s angry at himself, specifically. Because while they were there𑁋staying, fighting for you𑁋he wasn’t.

“Did she ever tell you?” he asks Jeonghan.

Jeonghan lets out a contemplative hum. “Tell me what?”

“If she ever wants to see me again.”

Jeonghan stares at the younger boy for a moment. He leans against the wall as well, letting his uncrossed arms fall back to his side, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his scrubs.

“Do you really need her to say it?” Jeonghan asks, the question hanging in the air. “I think you already know the answer.”

And fuck, that stings.

Chan swallows at that. He feels restless, like his body is demanding him to move, to do something, anything𑁋kickflip down the hallway, punch a hole through a wall, slap reality into himself, burst into your room to shake you awake and demand to know why the hell you keep doing this to yourself. But he knows none of those things will change anything.

Minutes later, the door to your room opens, and out comes a disheveled-looking Joshua.

“She’s knocked out,” he says while stepping up to Chan and Jeonghan. “Got a minor concussion from the collapse, but the doctor says she should be okay once she rests for a little while.”

Guilt gnaws at Chan even more. Taking a leap of faith, he takes a step up.

“Can I go in?” he hesitantly asks.

Joshua’s eyes flicker towards Jeonghan, the two of them exchanging a knowing look between one another.

“Make it quick,” Jeonghan tells him. “We’ll cover you.”

Chan doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. He brushes past Jeonghan and Joshua, pushing open the door to your room with a bit too much force, the quiet click of the latch echoing throughout the quietness. His grip tightens around his skateboard, his heart hammering against his ribs as he lays his eyes on you for the first time in weeks.

And God, you look wrecked.

He’s greeted with the steady beep of the heart monitor. The hospital blanket is draped up to your chest, your body curled within like you’re trying to disappear. Even in sleep, you don’t look anywhere close to peaceful. Your brows are furrowed, lips parted like you’re caught in some action-packed dream you can’t escape from.

Chan rests his skateboard down against the wall, silently pulling up a chair beside your bed and sinking into it. He doesn’t reach for your hand, at least not yet, even though he wants to. He doesn’t dare.

Because what right does he have?

His fingers twitch where they rest against his knee, resisting the urge to grab onto your hand. You look so much different from the last time he saw you. Your face looks drained of colour, the hollows beneath your eyes painted dark from exhaustion. Your chest rises and falls steadily, and an IV stands intimidatingly at the side supplying fluids into your body.

For weeks, he’s been running through every possible scenario in his head𑁋what he would say, how he would say it, what he would do if you push him away again. But now that he’s here, staring at the way your fingers weakly clutch at the sheets, all those words fall apart in his throat.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he leans a bit forward, forearms braced against his thigh.

“You really know how to scare the shit out of people, huh?”

A humourless chuckle leaves him, but it’s quick to fade away when he catches sight of your fragile form again.

Silence. You don’t stir or react. But Chan keeps talking anyway, because gosh, he doesn’t know what else to do.

“I wanted to be mad at you,” he admits quietly, gaze flitting down to the floor for a moment before he forces himself to look back up. “I wanted to be so fucking mad because you told me to leave, and I…” His voice falters, shaking slightly as his breath hitches. “I actually listened. I’m so fucking stupid.”

Still no response from you.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he mutters. “How much everyone’s been losing their minds over you. Jeonghan has been glaring at me like he wants to kill me, which, to be fair, he might actually want.” A scoff leaves his mouth, shaking his head. “Your other friend Joshua won’t even look at me half the time. Vernon is probably done with my shit. Soonyoung is having his own existential crisis. And me? I’ve… I’ve just been trying to figure out if you meant it that night. When you told me to leave.”

His hands clench themselves into fists against his lap, the same way they had that very night. Memories hit him like a wave as he remembers the harsh adamancy to your voice, the way you stood there like you had already made peace with hurting him.

But then his eyes drift over to your hand and his breath catches in his throat. Without thinking, he reaches over to brush his hand over yours. His heart skips at the subtle warmth of connection, even through your cold skin. The pulse in his neck quickens at the touch. You still don’t move.

Slowly, he closes his fingers around yours, not expecting much. It’s tentative, almost apologetic, and it hits him at how much he’s wanted to do this𑁋to hold your hand and feel the comfort that came solely from you.

“You’re not invincible,” Chan whispers under his breath. “No one is. It’s not a weakness to let someone love you. To let me love you.”

A small, helpless laugh escapes him at the sudden confession, but it’s not like he could go about his days without telling you at least. He shifts in the chair, but his hand refuses to leave yours; if only, they tighten just a little bit more, his thumb gently caressing over your knuckle.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as his gaze rakes over you once more, the corners of his lips quivering upwards. “I could love you for the rest of my life.”

The room returns to its deathly quietness. Nothing to let him know that you’re hearing him. Nothing that would assure him that he isn’t just speaking into the void. Nothing but the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the hospital outside your room. Chan simply stays like that, his fingers resting lightly against yours, waiting. Hoping. Promising to stay here for as long as he can.

And then𑁋so slight he almost misses it𑁋your fingers twitch against his.

You find yourself running.

It’s three in the morning, you’re dressed in your sleep clothes and stumbling out of your apartment with a pair of slippers. You were given very specific instructions by Jeonghan, Joshua, and your clinical instructors to rest for a few days after your collapse, but after being spammed with messages from Vernon that Chan had injured himself from an accident while skateboarding, your feet seemed to make the decision before your mind could process it.

So now, here you are, pushing open the door to your building and bolting out into the quiet, empty streets like a woman possessed out of her damn mind. Your frantic breaths fog into the air, the cold nipping at your skin as you dash off in a desperate sprint all the way to Chan’s apartment.

Vernon’s texts had been frustratingly vague𑁋just a series of frantic messages about Chan taking a bad fall at the skatepark, about blood and bruises and the possibility of a broken wrist. The words had been enough to send your already fragile heart spiraling, and now, the only thing driving you forward is the need to see him. Why would Chan do something so reckless?

But deep down, you already know the answer, don’t you? Chan has always been reckless, not because he doesn’t care, but because he does. Too much.

You hardly remember the last time you ran this fast, and your lungs burn as you push forward out of pure desperation, slipper-clad feet slapping against the pavement. Every breath you take feels suffocating, an aching pressure squeezing into your ribs, but you can’t stop. Not until you see him. Not until you know he’s okay.

By the time you reach Chan’s apartment complex, you don’t even hesitate to burst through the doors. For a minute, you contemplate taking the elevator, but that would mean wasting the few extra seconds you could use to head straight to his place.

One flight of stairs. Two flights of stairs. Three flights of stairs. You nearly trip on the last step as you shove open the door to his floor and make a straight beeline toward his place. When you land at the doorstep, you lift a fist and pound a few times on the door.

The seconds pass torturously long before the door swings open, and you’re greeted with Vernon.

“Where is he?” You ask him demandingly, letting out breathless pants.

Vernon appears almost shocked at your presence before he steps aside to let you in. “He’s in his room. I got a first-aid kit on the kitchen count𑁋”

You don’t waste anymore time than that, pushing past Vernon and into the apartment. Stomping all the way to Chan’s door, you raise another fist up and pound against the wood, loud and insistently.

“Chan!”

Silence.

You knock again, harder this time. “Chan, open the door!”

Still nothing.

Frustration and worry boil over all your thoughts, and without thinking, you hectically twist the doorknob. Locked still. Of course.

“Lee Chan, if you don’t open this goddamn door right now, I swear to𑁋”

The lock clicks.

Your breath catches when the door slowly opens, revealing Chan standing under the dim lighting of his room, and your gaze sweeps over him closely. His right wrist is wrapped in some sort of sloppy, rushed, makeshift plaster, a bruise painted at the corner of his jaw, and there’s a nasty scrape running down his forearm. His skateboard sits abandoned against the frame of his bed, and from the looks of it, one of the wheels is barely hanging on.

He looks tired. More than that𑁋he looks completely shocked to see you. Something tightens in your chest.

Chan opens his mouth. “What are you𑁋”

“Are you insane?” The words spill out before you can stop them, your voice shaking. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Chan’s eyes widen at your words, startled. “I-It’s just a sprain, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” You goad, motioning over his figure. “Vernon made it seem like you broke half your bones!”

Chan shoots a glare over your shoulder to where Vernon was looming idly in the background. The boy only shrugs with his arms hanging in the air innocently.

“I panicked, alright? Sue me,” Vernon admits shamelessly, before disappearing around the corner and back into his room.

You release a heavy sigh, running a frustrated hand through your hair. You head back into the kitchen area to retrieve the first-aid kit before storming past Chan and into his bedroom.

Before Chan could say anything, you point to his bed. “Sit down.”

Chan doesn’t budge.

Your expression darkens. “Chan.”

When he catches sight of the desperate look on your face, he knows that resisting even more would be basically useless. He finally relents, placing himself at the edge of the bed as you quietly begin to rummage through the first-aid kit for antiseptic wipes and bandages.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy, tense in a way neither of you have the courage break and instead just let settle awkwardly. You bend down in front of him, carefully unwrapping his poorly done plaster. The scrape on his forearm is worse than you thought𑁋angry and red, still oozing slightly at the edges.

“You’re an idiot,” You mumble while carefully dabbing the antiseptic wipe against his warm skin, causing him to jerk slightly, a hiss leaving his lips. “Stay still.”

Chan silently watches as you clean his scrape, gazing over the worried lines etched on your features as you lean in closer, his muscles twitching from your gentle touch. For some time, neither of you speak, and you cautiously grab his hand. It’s only when you start wrapping the fresh plaster around his wrist that he finally breaks the silence. You definitely need to take him to the hospital after this to get a proper splint.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he states quietly. “You literally got a concussion, like, three days ago.”

You purse your lips together into a thin line as you glance over the bandage to make sure it’s secure and firm. “I know.”

When you step back from him slightly, your eyes land on the bruise to the corner of his jaw, and one of your eyebrows shoots up suspiciously. The bruise doesn’t appear that fresh. Chan can tell that you caught onto him.

“Where else are you hurt?” You ask with a pointed look.

At first, Chan hesitates, yet he could only shrink like a snail seeking into its shell under the serious expression painted on your face. His eyes drop down to the floor in guilt, and you watch as he shifts cautiously, reaching with one hand to clutch the ends of his wrinkled shirt before pulling up over his head.

Your heart stutters at the sight, and you can’t help but drink in his bare, topless form. You capture the entirety of the dragon tattoo that’s snaking up his arm and curling over his shoulder, the head of the dragon resting at the base of his neck, beneath the line of his trapezius muscle. The dark and bold lines making up the scales and claws are almost glistening under the faint lighting, contrasting heavily with his pale skin. You’ve never had the chance to appreciate the beauty of the art painted over his skin, at least not this up close. His toned chest and visible lines of his abs causes your throat to dry up and sends heat creeping up your neck.

But your admiration is quick to diminish when his muscles flex under the strain of the movement, and you spot another glimpse of a scrape to his collarbone, as well as a small cut on the superficial skin of his shoulder that’s hidden quite well from his tattoo. Without thinking, you let a finger delicately caress around the area of the one on his shoulder, and Chan visibly tenses up from that.

All you can do is simply stare, your heart clutching inside your chest.

“Chan…” You call his name so softly.

Chan bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

You lightly shove him in the shoulder. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

A wry chuckle leaves him, and it seems to lift a bit of tension in the room. “Yeah, maybe.”

Only giving a shake of your head, you reach out hesitantly, letting your fingers caress over his skin before you can stop yourself. Chan flinches from your touch, but he doesn’t pull away; instead, he traces your every movement as you carefully inspect the minor wounds painted over his body. Anytime your fingertips ghost over his skin, shivers run up and down his spine, but he forces himself to remain still. Just for you.

You’re being impossibly gentle as you grab another antiseptic wipe to clean the scrape to his collarbone, his Adam’s apple bobbing from your tenderness. He has to suck in a breath when you lean in even closer, swearing he could feel your warmth radiating onto him𑁋it’s comforting and terrifying all at once.

There’s something different in the way you look at him, as if you’re trying to commit to memory every new mark on his body, as if you’re desperately searching for more wounds he might be hiding from you. And maybe he is.

“You ran all the way here, didn’t you?” he asks, cutting through the silence.

Your fingers still for a second before you wearily sigh, firmly pressing down a band-aid over the scrape on his collarbone. “Yeah.”

His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but then he just laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot too, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, snatching another band-aid and routinely moving onto the cut on his shoulder. “Takes one to know one.”

This time, you stand up from the floor and sit down right next to him on the bed, undoing the wrapping from the band-aid and carefully applying it over the cut to his shoulder. You can’t get yourself to look at him as you press a tiny bit of pressure over his skin to ensure the band-aid sticks, but you feel his own gaze lingering on you, burning a hole right through your heart. It’s almost like a touch itself from him.

As you pull away from him, you lift your eyes to meet his, and for a singular millisecond, his focus drops down to your mouth before looking back up to your face again. Then, all he gives you is a faint, almost teasing smile. You nearly give in from just that.

“High school, freshman year. Sophomore year for you,” he suddenly says. “Last week of school. Friday.”

You lift a puzzled brow. “What?”

An almost dreamy look crosses his features. “That’s when I first knew I started having a stupid crush on you.”

Your stomach lurches from his words. Time seems to come to a halt as a wave of memories wash over you from that particular day.

“Remember? It was my very first skateboarding competition, and I was an absolute nervous wreck after fucking up my boardslide. You were there, cheering me on even though you had no idea what you were watching.” He laughs faintly to the memory, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly with his uninjured hand. “But then you smiled at me, and somehow, everything felt okay.”

You do remember. You remember that day very well. You remember being late to his competition because you had to attend the last student council of the year meeting back at school, yet you caught him just in the middle of his performance𑁋a performance that didn’t go entirely well. He had fallen, just like now, and you recall the way his face was flushed with embarrassment when he struggled to stand back up. But then he shot a quick glance your way, and you couldn’t help but loudly cheer him on, despite the pensive looks on other people in the crowd, and his face lit up immediately just from that alone.

Then the thought harshly slams into you. Lee Chan has been in love with you for more than ten years.

Chan shifts awkwardly in his position, his injured hand resting in his lap as he continues to hold a steady gaze on you.

“Kinda embarrassing, right?” he mutters with an uneasy chuckle, shaking his head. “Holding onto something like that for so long. Even when I tried to tell myself that it was all stupid hormonal shit, I could never get you out of my head.”

You still don’t respond, only the pounding of your heart answering for you that you’re sure as hell Chan could hear. For the past many years, you knew that you’ve been holding onto something for him too. But ever since you’ve indebted yourself to the consequences of medical school, with the burnout, the pressure, the exhaustion𑁋it made you feel like you had no right to hold onto love.

So you pushed those feelings away; the same way you had pushed him away.

But now, here he is. Still here. Looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

And it breaks you.

You turn away, staring down at the floor, curling your fingers against the sheets of his bed. “I’m a mess, Chan.”

“I don’t care.” His response is immediate, firm.

Your breath stutters. “I pushed you away.”

“I know.”

“I hurt you.”

“I know that, too.”

“So why…” Your voice trails off curtly as you regain your thoughts. “So why are you still here?”

“Because I’m stubborn,” he says with a shameless smirk, a glint of fondness in his eyes, before his face softens once again. “Because you’re my best friend, my favourite person; because I’ve loved you since we were kids; because I’ve always known your heart was the one I wanted to carry, even if it’s heavy. Your pain is mine to hold, too. It doesn’t scare me.”

Your mouth falls open, but the words get stuck in your throat, like they’re too fragile to speak, too big to fit. You don’t even realise how close Chan is to you until you feel his warm breath fan against your cheek, his presence so close you could almost taste it.

His face hovers near yours, and your pulse quickens in response. His gaze flickers down to your lips, just mere inches from yours, the softness of his features tugging at your heartstrings. The world seems to slow down, and your mind races𑁋why is it so hard to just breathe?

And yet, you don’t pull away.

Then, just as he leans in a tiny bit more, his lips barely a breath away from yours, he pauses, and it’s almost as if your beauty punches him in the gut for the very first time again. He sees everything𑁋the weariness that plagues your face, the glassiness to your eyes, the way you sneak a glance down to his mouth as well. He forces himself to swallow a lump in his throat.

You still don’t pull away.

“God,” he mutters softly under his breath, voice full of pure, unadulterated awe. “You’re beautiful.”

Your stomach twists violently at his words, completely knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“Chan?”

He blinks up at you, waiting.

“Have you ever been scared of… crossing that line?”

Chan blinks at your question, and for a minute or two, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he searches over your face, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

“Terrified out of my goddamn mind, actually,” he corrects with amusement. “But now… I do know that when I cross that line, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to go back.”

Amongst the heaviness in the air, those words almost single-handedly dissolve the barrier between you. Before you can second-guess yourself, before doubt can sink its claws into you again, you shoot one last sure glance down at his lips and lean in to finally close the distance between the two of you.

Chan lets out a groan at the sudden contact, your mouth bumping against his lip ring, but he throws that discomfort out the window.

It’s barely anything at first. Your breath catches against his warm and slightly chapped lips, but it’s enough. Enough for him to take it as permission, enough for him to finally cross that line with you. His lips meet yours softly and tentatively, like he’s afraid you might pull away. But when you don’t𑁋when you press just a little closer, letting your fingers curl against his bare shoulder𑁋he deepens the kiss, exhaling shakily into your mouth, his uninjured hand coming to pull you closer by your waist.

He tastes like something sweet and a little dangerous, like honey laced with fire.

Chan kisses you like he’s been waiting for this opportunity his entire life, and to be fair, he did wait that long. His eyes flutter to a close as he lets nothing but feeling take over, as if he’s memorised the shape of your lips in his head a million times over but only now gets to experience how soft and perfect they really are. How much he wants to kiss you even more.

Your fingertips drag lightly, carefully, over his bare skin, tracing the markings of the large dragon tattoo down his arm. He shivers and his muscles tense under your touch, a quiet, barely audible groan slipping from him, making his grip on your waist tighten. His thumb brushes over the fabric of your shirt, pressing just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth. He has to fight his restraint to fully consume you, like he wants to brand this moment down into his very bones.

“Fuck,” he curses, voice muffled against your mouth. “I knew it.”

Your body burns at his touch. A second hardly passes as you could breathe out, “Knew what?”

“That if I ever kissed you, I wouldn’t want to stop,” he rasps hoarsely, his breath shallow as his lips brush against yours again like he’s not quite ready to pull away, merely determined to make up for all the lost time and finally taste what he’s been holding back. “I’m so weak for you, baby.”

Chan has waited ten years for this. He isn’t going to waste a single second.

A shudder runs through you from the pet name and the way his voice sounds so low and full of longing. His hands slowly yet delicately drift under the hem of your shirt, and he inhales the little noises you can’t quite hold back. You feel his calloused fingertips from all his years of skateboarding meet the skin of your waist𑁋not pushing, just touching, worshipping. Your hand drifts to caress the contours of his back, drawing over the smooth, defined lines of his muscles beneath the ink of where his Aquarius tattoo is imprinted on his spine.

“I’m addicted to you,” he says in between kisses, his weight pressing down on you as your back falls against the bed. “I should’ve kissed you years ago.”

His lips move against yours sweetly, intoxicatingly. There’s a quiet moan that leaves your mouth, barely audible yet enough for Chan to feel it, and it sends a rush of desire coursing through him. But he doesn’t rush it. He knows how long he’s waited for this moment, how long he’s dreamt of it. And now that it’s finally happening, he’s cherishing every second like it’s his last day on earth, willing himself to memorise every subtle shift of your facial expression, every breathless sound you make, every brief contact of your skin on his.

You.

That’s all his mind is screaming at him.

You, you, you.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your lips, but his grip on your waist tightens like he’s begging you won’t.

You don’t.

Your fingers dig desperately into his shoulders, feeling the rising tension in his muscles, and you’re suddenly aware of the effect you have over him, the effect you’ve always had over him. He’s practically losing himself in you. His injured hand twitches at his side, somewhat frustrated at the thought that he can’t hold you in the way he wants to. But his other hand drifts a tiny bit more under your shirt.

You sigh into his mouth, and Chan swears he’s never heard a sound more intoxicating than that.

“You’re not real,” he mumbles, and you feel him smile against you. “You can’t be real.”

The chuckle you let out at that quickly dissipates when you feel his mouth trail to the corner of your jaw. Then his breath meets the pulse point by your ears, and he plants a soft, affectionate kiss at that spot. You melt into the bed just by that.

“For years,” he continues breathlessly, lips slowly ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ve been patient. So fucking patient. I swear to God, baby, I’ll give you everything.”

His words make you dizzy, like you’re floating𑁋weightless, like your body has been set ablaze from the inside and out.

When he pulls away after some time, his breathing uneven and heavy, his half-lidded gaze meets yours.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, worriedly, studying over your nervous expression.

You swallow hard against the dryness in your throat, still feeling the tingle at your lips from the kiss or kisses. You sit up in his bed slightly.

“Yeah, I’m…” You lower your eyes in a pit of shyness. “I’m okay. Are you?”

A sheepish grin blooms on his face. “Oh, I’m good. I’m grand. Half-busted clearly still, but…”

You lightly flick him on the head. “You’re supposed to be resting, dummy.”

“And you’re supposed to be resting too, idiot,” he retorts playfully, but then his face falls into nothing but affection. “And kissing me.”

The two of you let out a series of giggles at that. Your hands rests unsurely on bare skin of his chest and shoulder𑁋hardly realising how they got there in the first place. You’re both tangled in this delicate new dynamic, and yet, in a way, it feels so natural. Everything has changed, and now you find yourself standing right at the edge of something beautiful and uncertain, but still worth falling for.

Then, before you could kiss him again, a cough interrupts the two of you. You both look towards the doorway, and there’s Vernon standing there with his arms crossed.

“Alright, not to kill the mood, but before y’all start breaking the bed or whatever, at least close the door first,” he says with an impish smirk.

Chan grumbles annoyingly, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Seriously, dude?”

“Hey, I just wanted to check if you two needed anything,” Vernon shrugs innocently. “Didn’t mean to walk on y’all eating each other’s faces. But for the record, fucking finally.”

“Whatever, bye, Vernon!” Chan staggers off the bed to shut the door in the boy’s face, groaning something under his breath before plopping down right beside you.

The laugh you’ve been suppressing tumbles out of you all at once, a sense of relief and giddiness taking over. Chan looks over at you with a sheepish grin, chuckling along with you, his fingers gently brushing against the lines of your palm as you both try to calm your laughter.

“Chan?”

“Yeah?” His face lights up when you call his name. Cute.

“I love you.”

The utter vulnerability in the crack of your voice makes his heart lurch. Chan stares at you, as if he’s afraid that you might vanish if he blinks. But when he does blink, you’re still here in front of him. And when you blink, he’s simply smiling at you. It’s the same smile he wore when you were kids, the kind that could outshine all the stars in the sky, the one that made you feel like you could take on the world. Only now, it feels different. It feels like home.

He’s been knocking on this door for years, and you’ve finally let him in.

“I love you too,” he mumbles quietly, leaning back to tenderly press his forehead against yours. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

That line between friendship and love? Yeah. Erased.

There’s no going back, it seems. But for the first time in a long time, you’re beginning to look forward.

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