#fun fact i intially wanted this to be set in college but nah

[wincore]

heartbreaker | na jaemin

pairing: jaemin x reader

words: 8.9k

genre: ’’’bad boy’’’!au, high school!au, fluff, angst

warnings: jaemin breaks hearts, mentions of underage drinking

a/n: this is cheesy and very long ur welcome (not really!!!)

There’s a simple rule you and the rest of the students at your school follow. Do not fall in love with Na Jaemin unless you can handle getting your heart broken.

But of course, even the simplest of rules are hard to follow sometimes. Especially when the danger you’re warned against is so enticing, so charming and sweet, so warm. School isn’t a place that likes to harbour friendliness or even the slightest of warmth, no matter what they try showing on the outside. No, it’s competition and silence, loneliness and the cold. But human beings, especially children,  somehow have a way of finding light in the darkest of systems, and you’ve adjusted yourself with close friends and people to rely on early. However, it isn’t really possible to be satisfied with just that; no, everyone is missing a softness, a warmth that they’ve tried to live without for so long.

And it’s people like these who fall for Na Jaemin. People who are kind or sweet or shy, people who are tough or bold or frayed on the edges—all of them fall for Jaemin no matter what, because he has the warmth they think they’re looking for, the glow they haven’t seen in a while, feelings they haven’t experienced. Even though his reputation screams danger, his charms are undeniable, his smile stupendously blinding, and his eyes pure and soft. He’s dream-like, and his movements are gentle and caring and kind. Jaemin has everything you want, and everything you didn’t know you wanted till you met him. He just has his way of roping people in, tangling them in his red strings of ill fate, blessing you with his lies. Yet, at the end of it, you’ll be blaming yourself.

You and Jaemin have…a complicated relationship. You knew him when he was just Jaemin, the boy next door, the boy you used to play tag with, the boy you shared secrets with, and not Mr. Heartbreaker, a playboy, the boy you don’t want to get too close to for your own sake, the boy with thousands of hearts in his grasp. You don’t know how and when the boy with the sweetest of words started using them as a weapon, but you guess it was two summers ago. You remember his first victim, Park Jiwoo, easily the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, with long lashes and an innocent smile. You remember how it had morphed into an empty, lifeless one after the breakup. Jaemin’s first relationship was also probably his longest, and the ones after had ended in a quick trail of several broken hearts.

But people still fall in love with Jaemin, and you don’t blame them. He’ll smile the purest of smiles when you confess your feelings, take you on dates, talk with you on the phone for hours. He’ll hold your hand, sing his ‘I love you’s, look at you like you’re everything. But that’s it. Then it’s over with an ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re meant to be’ and a small, sad smile. That’s how every story with Na Jaemin goes, and to say you’re not curious would be an outright lie. You’ve always been curious since the boy you called your friend stopped talking to you, and the fact that you’ll never get that boy back is upsetting. But as your mother says, friends come and go—you’re the one who’s supposed to keep the light alive within yourself. It makes you wonder how many lights Jaemin has stolen.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” Jisung waves his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry,” you sit up straight. “I zoned out.��

“And missed the entire chemistry lecture,” Jisung shakes his head.

You did miss the entire lecture. But it’s not like you ever listened anyway. You take your bag and get up at the same time as Jisung, when a figure passes by, ruffling Jisung’s hair into a mess. Jisung glares at Jaemin but responds to his grin with a reluctant smile anyway. You still don’t know how Jisung manages to get along with Jaemin of all people, but you assume the beginning had something to do with Jaemin’s persistent stream of affection towards the younger boy.

When your eyes meet Jaemin’s, he grants you a wink, and you ignore it with a sour expression, making your way to your next class. You can almost picture Jaemin pouting, but he should be used to it by now. He should know the fact that there are people like you—too afraid of what their heart will do in Jaemin’s presence, too afraid of the betrayal it might present, and most of all, too afraid of collecting and joining its broken pieces. And there’s your story. You have to pretend you never knew him in the first place—never knew how fast he spoke when he was being stubborn, never knew the mole on his arm you used to complete with a smiley face, never knew how funny he looked with his mouth hanging open watching TV, never knew the secret handshake you made up. No, you don’t know Na Jaemin anymore, because he isn’t Jaemin; he’s the worst kind of person you’ll ever encounter, or so you tell yourself. He’s the kind who takes a heart with a promise and handles it with nimble fingers till he finds a new one, till he no longer cares about the promise.

“Are you going to ignore me all the way to the next class? We have the same class, you know,” Jaemin’s voice snaps you out of it. Ah, speak of the devil and his unrealistically sweet smile.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you shrug. Of course you’re ignoring him; you want nothing to do with him.

“Ah? I thought you were,” Jaemin tilts his head to think, but follows you at a steady pace.

You’re just a bundle of nerves around him sometimes, as you process all the questions that run through your mind every time. Does he even remember? Does he think of you in same detailed way you do? Does he think of you the way of you think of him, with the fondness of old memories and secrets shared? You almost scoff. Of course not. Does he look at you as another heart to break, a nameless soul to be charmed? You don’t want to think about that, but it’s very frequently you find yourself running the same thoughts through your head. You want to know what happened; two years are a long enough time for questions and bitter feelings to pile up.

You exit school to face the end of yet another day, the uncomfortably hot breeze doing little to lighten your mood. You’re often glad your house is far away, and you have a lot of time to think and be with yourself, before you have to do homework and be rooted to the real world again. The walk home is either the best or the worst part of your day. It depends entirely on your train of thoughts, the weather and the events around you. Today, however, weather is incredibly shitty and the events seem to take lead as they present a rather out-of-breath Jaemin by your side.

You almost jump at the sudden contact of skin against your palm, and Jaemin looks you in the eyes with panic written all across his face. They think he’s too easy-going, stress hardly ever showing across his features, but you remember the expression he had made when he had kicked the soccer ball into your grumpy neighbour’s house with a loud crash.

“Help me out just this once please,” he whispers in a rush, and drags you by the hand, almost running.

“Wh- what is going on?!” you huff as you take quick steps to follow behind Jaemin without tripping over your own feet.

“I’ll explain when we’re out of sight,” he says, looking back at you once.

Soon enough, you’re at the entrance to your house, and doubtfully glancing at Jaemin while unlocking the door. Is he really going to stay here? You’re not very sure about the strange appearance of your school’s infamous heartthrob right by your side.

Jaemin sighs in relief once you’re both safely inside, before turning to look around with wide eyes and his lips parted.

“Wow,” he breathes, “It’s still the same.”

You’re slightly taken aback as you repeat, “same?”

“Yeah, your house,” Jaemin says, casually.

“You remember?” you ask, somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft and eyes shifting elsewhere.

There’s a pause before you remember the dilemma at hand.

“Are you- is there a reason you ran for like fifteen minutes holding my hand?”

“Don’t take it personally, love,” he says, a teasing smile on his lips before they’re pulled to a frown. “I have a stalker. A few probably, but this one’s persistent.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, what?”

Jaemin grins. If he is in such a case, he doesn’t show any fear or worry as you would expect. He almost looks as if he’s joking, largely in contrast with the display he put on while approaching you a few minutes ago.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried?” you ask.

“Well, I mean. It’s not that scary, and it’s not exactly unusual, but I don’t like eyes on me.”

You almost scoff. The entire school has their eyes on him, and he basks in the attention, flashing his winning smile to any crowd waiting to see him, winking at some poor soul who’s been staring at him for too long.

You let out a short, sardonic laugh instead.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s hard to believe when you say it like that,” you say, still sceptical.

“I appreciate the love and time they give me, I really do,” he says, his features peaceful. “But I like being by myself sometimes.”

“Please, Jaemin, you break their hearts too easily for me to believe that.”

Jaemin frowns, a deep frown, but places a hand over his heart as a show of mock hurt, his lips turning to form a pout.

“I don’t think you should be treating your guest like this.”

“Who said you’re a- you invited yourself!”

Jaemin laughs as he pinches your cheek, “Ah, y/n, you’re still so cute.”

Your ears feel hot and you quickly turn your face elsewhere. You can’t even talk to him for the shortest of time without him giving you reasons to flush hot red. It makes it very clear that your childhood means nothing whatsoever to him; you’re just another heart waiting to be a part of his collection.

“Whatever- just um- just- don’t touch anything.”

“So I have permission to stay?” Jaemin’s eyes light up as his lips quirk upwards.

“Sure,” you respond, a little unsure yourself.

You’re not sure how you end up with Jaemin sitting on the floor of your bedroom, him looking around with curious eyes, but it makes you a little heartsick when you think you were like this at some point in your life. You don’t know why the wound hasn’t closed yet. You don’t know the boy in front of you anymore; people change in the strangest ways and perhaps you were too unprepared. That’s why you’re still baffled by these thoughts.

“You still have the stars we stuck?” Jaemin says, squinting at the ceiling.

“That my dad stuck because we were too short to reach the ceiling,” you correct.

Jaemin chuckles. “You looked cute trying to jump around and reach it.”

You roll your eyes, and divert your attention to the windows of the house next to yours, the familiar blue of the curtains contrasting with the reds of the boy in front of you. His eyelashes flicker up and down as he scans you, an unreadable expression on his face, and you feel yourself getting more and more uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Are you really here till evening?” you try to distract yourself.

“Getting excited?” Jaemin asks, moving closer to sit beside you.

You fight the untimely blush, and glare at him. “Excited for what?”

Jaemin smiles at you, a smile the Devil would claim to be his own, as he places his arms on either side of you, effectively caging you. You almost feel the air leave your lungs, with Jaemin far too close for liking and no sign of his blood-boiling smile disappearing any time soon.

“I can hear your heart beating from here,” he continues smiling, looking straight into your eyes.

In a flash of a second, your mind restarts and you push Jaemin with as much force as you can muster. He lands backwards on his butt with an ‘oof’, and rubs his back with a pained expression.

“I was just teasing, love, you didn’t have to get violent,” Jaemin explains, placing his hand on his hip.

“Well, that’s called harassment and I am going to stay far, far away from you now,” you say getting up and sitting on your bed with a scowl.

“You’re adorable when your cheeks are all pink,” Jaemin says, a certain twinkle in his eyes.

You face away from him, getting grumpier by the second. Jaemin doesn’t stop asking questions, and you wonder how anyone could fall for this idiot. His grin fascinated you once, but it just reminds you of all the girls and boys that feel their heart flutter seeing it for the first time. You’re nothing special; you’re just more cautious than the others. His lips are chapped although you’re sure he came in this morning with his lips pink and soft. You remember his mother scolding him for not taking care of himself in middle school. His eyes are still unreadable, but they’re strangely kind. You wonder if it keeps that warmth even when he’s off crushing someone else’s heart, winning another easy game.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Jaemin’s lips quirk upwards. “Wanna tell me something?”

You scowl again. “You’re so full of it.”

“I like the compliments.”

Jaemin winks. Is he being extra just because its you, his old friend, or is he this way with everyone? It’ll always confuse you, the way he behaves around people; you’re never sure if he’s painting an image for himself, or if he’s really that sweet, or nice, or funny. Looking at him now, he’s getting on your nerves more than anything, and your old resentment probably adds fuel to the fire.

Your mother is delighted to see Jaemin in your room again, and her stream of compliments (“You’ve grown so handsome!” “Ah, you must be capturing hearts every day!” “Such a sweet boy!”) brightens his wide grin, as he speaks to her politely and sincerely, like he doesn’t have a notorious reputation at school, like he doesn’t ruin lives daily.

Jaemin leaves with a curt goodbye, and his dazzling smile; and you’re met with a slap to your head by your mom for rolling your eyes at him. It would be a waste explaining Jaemin’s situation to your mom, and it’s not like she’d want to meddle with your life too much anyway. Besides, you wouldn’t actually want to ruin his perfect image, no matter how much he annoys you.

Jaemin goes home with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. He tries to fight the smile making its way onto his way that started with the onset of the flutters. It’s been quite a while since he’s felt this way, and he should be afraid, he should run already but the feeling is strangely addictive. Jaemin sighs when he enters his room. He pats his cheek a few times, Get it together, Jaemin, you can’t lose.

Maybe it’s because he’s been uneasy the past few days; the heavy feelings being replaced by the surprisingly light-hearted ones because of you probably caused this sudden dilemma. You aren’t even a player in the game to Jaemin. He could have tried sweet-talking, flirting, all of his other naturally attractive habits on you, but he always refrained. It felt wrong to let you fall; it always feels wrong when someone falls for him. Jaemin knows he won’t be able to help his fears, and he’ll have to run before he loses, before his own heart takes damage. Even if it’s the same fear he gets with everyone he’s dated, he’s been careful enough for you to not be one of them. He’s never known why, but the idea of it felt worse than the others.

Jaemin sighs again. Today felt different with you. It felt right. Right for him, his heart and his feelings. He wonders if that’s what all the people he’s dated felt for him in the beginning, still feel for him. That’s not a good sign. It means he should stay away. But the feeling resides in the pit of his stomach and he can’t wipe the idea of you.

Jaemin sometimes hates who he’s become, and the feelings associated with him. It’s comes naturally to him, all that he does, but he gets the feeling in his gut that it’s wrong. Jaemin doesn’t know why he still does it. Fun? Sometimes, but not really. Out of boredom? Again, same answer. Fear? That might actually hit close. He doesn’t mind the reputation he’s made if it will keep people away from his own heart, as they approach him with theirs. Jaemin just doesn’t find love beautiful anymore. Feelings are messy and unclear when they’re your own, even if you see them clearly in others. He’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep his prized possession safe. But it’d be a lie if he said he didn’t like showering his affections on someone else; he’s got a lot of it, but he never seems to be able to help the ending.

He’s been more distracted, perturbed these days, especially after Yangyang found his own pet to play with. But the weird thing is, they aren’t a pet at all, they aren’t a way to pass the time, aren’t a result of an inability to exercise self-control—the fact that they’re genuinely in love makes a sick bitterness pool in Jaemin’s stomach. He doesn’t want to feel this way; he’s never wanted to feel this way. It just so happened that the tide rushed in and he got stuck in the current.

Jaemin scowls at the ceiling, lying on his bed. If he can’t sleep, he might as well do something, he thinks as he gets up, running his fingers through his hair. He exits his room; he’s never liked staying inside for too long—it gives him a headache and makes him nauseous.

The night is slightly less hot than the day, but Jaemin likes this kind of weather. He could get something to eat now, hopefully Red’s Diner is still open, although he doesn’t necessarily have to worry about that. The manager gives him a free pass up till two in the morning. He plugs in his headphones and starts walking.

What Jaemin doesn’t expect is trouble, although he should by now. He barely escapes some burly guy, brother of one of the seniors he’s dated, with a bleeding lower lip and possible bruising in his chest. Jaemin hates getting hit in the face. His friends might be able to take a beating, but he prefers staying away from fights; it’s just not his kind of thing. He’s only learned defence, and picking physical fights just seems too childish for him. He sighs and hopes he can still buy something, and then he can go home, clean his face, and then eat.

You massage your temples, sitting alone at a table for two. You just wanted to breathe, you thought, as you had made your way towards Red’s, the unfinished book in your hand. The diner’s still fairly empty as when you had arrived, and you’re glad it is. No one’s there to witness the darkness under your eyes, or your parched lips as your eyes scan the words on the pages. Sleeplessness has given you a mild headache, but you don’t stop reading. It’s an otherworldly experience—to read your favourite book at a diner at midnight, but your peace is disrupted soon.

Na Jaemin stands at the entrance, a look of surprise across his face when his eyes meet yours. His lower lip is swollen and there’s dried blood by the side of his mouth. You can see a few cuts here and there if you squint, but before you can decide what to do, Jaemin takes a seat across you.

“Did I get hit that hard or are you really here?” Jaemin says, mouth dropping open.

“What- What is that supposed to mean? Jaemin, what happened?!”

“So I’m not hallucinating,” Jaemin leans forward.

“Are you- are you flirting?!” you look at him incredulously. “You really did get hit too hard, didn’t you?”

“I don’t really wanna discuss this right now,” he whispers, pointing towards his lips and frowning.

“Well, it doesn’t look too good to me,” you whisper, equally aggravated. “You should get it cleaned.”

You mentally curse yourself for letting your worries show. You’re supposed to stay away from this one guy, but you surely can’t leave him when he’s this hurt like this.

Jaemin snorts. “Yeah, right. I’m getting my food first.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but anger rises in your throat and all the way up to your forehead. You feel a sudden rush of energy as you grab Jaemin’s hand, and place the money for your food on the table before leaving, grumbling about how stupid someone can be.

“Where are you taking me?” Jaemin asks from behind you, his steps reluctant but complying.

“My house. It’s only two minutes away.”

You hope he doesn’t take this the wrong way, and that this is the last you see of him. He owes you at least this much, to stay away from your heart.

You stumble to your bedroom in the darkness, hands roaming around for the light switch. You feel glad as soon as you find it, and place a finger over your lips facing Jaemin. You push Jaemin inside, and close the door behind you, turning to rummage through your first aid.

“You have a really strong grip, you know?” Jaemin comments, standing a few feet away from you.

“Just sit,” you sigh. He follows and waits patiently as you gather all you need and stand in front of him.

“I didn’t even get food,” Jaemin complains. He’s about to open his mouth again when you glare at him, and he makes a show of shutting his mouth up.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see the look on Jaemin’s face. His eyes are widened, his lips barely parted, as he gazes at you with an unreadable emotion. It’s not a common expression you see every day at school, but you ignore the intensity of his gaze as you press the cotton against his lip. He flinches at first, but stays still for the rest of the time you take working.

It’s silent the entire time all the way up till you put on a band-aid on his jaw, and dab some antiseptic cream on his lower lip. Jaemin doesn’t speak even as you place your first aid kit away, and halt in front of him. You’re unsure of what to say as you clear your throat, but Jaemin opens his mouth instead.

“Will you patch me up every time?” he asks, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“No,” you respond immediately. “I just- I felt bad for you. That’s why. I’m not- I’m not doing this again.”

You stutter out your words, and Jaemin notices, his smile only spreading to his eyes. Why did your impulse have to bring him here?

“I like it when you worry about me. Remember when I sprained my wrist and you stayed over?”

“I’m being nice,” you say, crossing your arms. “And why do you even remember that?”

“Don’t you?” He looks at you curiously, and you sigh.

Jaemin pouts as he stands up, and he flinches ever so slightly, but you notice it anyway. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Did you get punched in the chest?” you ask, maintaining your stance.

“Hu-huh? I- I might have. I don’t really remember.”

“God, you’re so stupid,” you sigh.

Jaemin tilts his head, eyes not really focused. Does he even know how bad a chest injury can get? You curse yourself for caring this much. You could send him off like this; you’ve done enough, but no, of course not. This sort of impulse always get the better of you.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Woah. No one I’ve dated has been that bold before.” Jaemin’s eyes widen as he fakes a scandalized expression.

“It’s not like that, you idiot,” you flush red at his unnecessary comment.

You find flowers of bruises on his chest, and a few scratches. You get your first aid again and treat him once more, complaining about how stupid he is. You’re not very rational right now, you’re much too sleepy and you’re only running on adrenaline. Your grumbling isn’t even the worst you could do.

After Jaemin slips his hoodie back on, he flashes you another smile, accompanied with a wink. It’s like he teases you on purpose. You scowl, and look the other way. You don’t even want to think anymore; you’re just keeping it together till he leaves and you can crash. A part of you is still curious, though, unfortunately.

“How’d you even get beaten up this bad?” you ask, the words coming out reluctantly. Just who could beat up your school’s most adored boy?

“The…the boys,” he answers, his pitch slightly higher as he gulps, “They ran into some trouble.”

You scoff. “I didn’t think you were this bad at lying, Jaemin.”

“And how would you know?” he retorts, eyebrows twisting in confusion.

“I know that face,” you mumble.

Jaemin falls silent as he looks down at his hands on his lap. He looks back up after a few seconds, and opens his mouth but closes it soon after. Why does he look so guilty?

“It was some guy…the brother of someone I dated…I don’t really remember.”

Jaemin looks away, and you feel a mixture of anger and pity. You’re not sure if it’s the tiredness speaking, but you chide him, “If you don’t know how to fix something, don’t break it.”

Jaemin holds a small smile for a few moments before responding quietly. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Whatever, Jaemin, get some rest,” you say, patting his shoulder.

Jaemin stands up with a sweet, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

You find yourself smiling back for the first time; it’s present even as he leaves, and you send him off with a note to be careful as you watch his figure carefully make his way through the streets. You smile in your sleep too that night, but you don’t remember what you dreamt of in the morning.

“You look chipper today,” Jeno notes as Jaemin breaks into another grin.

“I do?” Jaemin’s eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t elaborate although he’d really love to.

“Stop pretending,” Renjun shoves him. “You know you want to, so spit it out.”

Jaemin shoots a look at Renjun, and massages his shoulder. “I’ll tell you if I want to. Stop glaring at me.”

“Let me guess,” Renjun says, a teasing smile on his face. “You’ve found the love of your life!”

Donghyuck snickers from behind Jaemin, and even Jeno looks amused. Yangyang resorts to shrugging, a sly smile making its way onto his face. Jaemin turns around to look at Donghyuck first.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” he glares while Donghyuck responds with a ‘hm’, his cheek pressed to the desk and eyes closed. Sometimes even Jaemin doesn’t get Donghyuck and his sleep schedule. Does he sleep in class to piss off the teachers or does he really not get sleep at night?

Jaemin turns to look around at the rest, still shooting Jaemin bemused looks.

“What? I’m not going to date anyone right now,” Jaemin shrugs. It’s true. He doesn’t feel like going through the process all over again. He hopes it’s not because of you.

“Do I hear correct?” Yangyang quirks his brow up, mock surprise on his face.

“I heard it too,” Renjun interrupts, mouth open in an exaggerated gasp. “Na Jaemin, Mr. Heartbreaker, isn’t going to date? How are you supposed to keep up your reputation?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “You guys are something else.”

Renjun grins, while the rest look equally amused after poking fun at their friend. However, as soon as you walk into class, Jaemin suddenly finds him staring after you. He finds it interesting how you never spare him a second glance, like you didn’t clean his wounds and treat him with all your care last night. He found your touch warm, soft and very, very real.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Renjun interrupts Jaemin’s train of thought. He feels uneasy at the comment—is he being obvious? That’s the last thing he wants.

“Why don’t you just use your usual tricks on them? If you’re that interested,” Yangyang suggests.

Jaemin isn’t interested, he swears he isn’t. But the more he promises himself the more the dreaded realization dawns that he probably is, that he might break your heart. He scoffs internally. It’s too soon, and he won’t date you, certainly. He made that decision a long time ago, and even though you don’t talk to him anymore, he couldn’t do that to his old friend. The ones who come to him pleading with their hearts, the ones who readily give it up when he shows the slightest interest—they never felt like anything to Jaemin, just a shadow of the warmth he could have felt, that they probably felt with him. Na Jaemin doesn’t fall in love easily, no. It’s what his reputation says, and it’s what he decided two years ago when…he shudders at the memory.

“How do you even make all of them fall for you, Jaemin?” Yangyang asks, not paying a lot of attention. “It’s like you speak magic.”

“Seems like they like the look of danger,” Renjun laughs.

“Then girls would be all over Donghyuck,” Jaemin declares, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy behind him from the corner of his eye.

“I heard that,” Donghyuck grumbles, propping his face up on one arm. The others laugh; Jeno is the only one who shoots Jaemin a concerned look, before turning back to his notes.

Jaemin takes one last look at you and decides, no. He’s going nowhere near your heart. But he’s allowed to rekindle old friendships, right?

You don’t get why Jaemin keeps buying you chocolate milk after lunch. Is this his repayment, or is he looking for something more? You shake your head at the latter idea; even if he did, you’re going to be strong and ignore him. You already have some of the answers you were looking for—yes, he remembers, and yes, he knows who you are, he hasn’t wiped off your history entirely from his brain. You don’t have as much curiosity left, and you can be on your own path now. Without him popping in at random.

You almost groan out loud as Jaemin sits beside you, chocolate milk in hand. You don’t show any distress, opting for a small smile and a polite ‘thank you’. Jaemin frowns.

“Something’s bothering you,” he says.

Yes, Jaemin. You.

“I think I look a little bothered all the time,” you say, looking elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t question further. You’re not sure why he’s being nice, and it’s scary. You don’t know what he’s like these days, whether he has other things in his mind now. It’s scary because you don’t know what he’s up to; you’re afraid because you can’t trust him. He’s in the middle of explaining how Renjun almost got caught with his artwork once when you interrupt.

“Jaemin,” you say, “Why are you doing this?”

“What- what do you mean?” Jaemin tilts his head.

“This.”

“I thought being nice is a good thing,” he pouts.

“Jaemin.”

Jaemin falls silent, and you think he’ll crack another silly joke and avoid the issue. But he stays quiet for what seems like hours before finally parting his lips.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asks, the same deep look in his eyes that he had when you were cleaning his cuts.

You scoff. “Who’s afraid of you?”

You’re not about to tell the lion you’re afraid of him and then walk right into his den. Jaemin smiles bright as usual before looking down at his hands.

“It’s nice talking to you,” he says.

So you let him talk to you. That’s all he does every lunch break, and you don’t know why the wall you put up shakes at the foundation so often. It’s nice talking with him, in fact. You’ve also somehow become Jaemin’s medic, and every time there’s a fight, he ends up at your house with you swearing at him while treating his wounds. You don’t know why he does it, why he keeps showing up even if his face is the last thing you want to see. You don’t know why he keeps getting into fights, if they’ve always been this regular an occurrence.

When Jaemin shows up once more, this time accompanied with more than some gashes and bruises, you’re almost overtaken with panic. He looks as if he’s about to faint, and whispers a “please” before stumbling right into your arms. You carry him to your room to inspect his wounds. As you lay him on your bed, you discover he still has some consciousness left in him as his eyes follow your every movement. You do your work, realizing he might have a mild concussion although there’s no sign of bleeding.

“What happened this time?” you whine, worry seeping into your tone.

“Baseball bat,” Jaemin manages, voice low and raspy.

“You stupid boy,” you almost hit him yourself. “You never fight back, do you?”

Jaemin smiles before fluttering his eyes closed, leaving you on the verge of a heart attack.

“J-Jaemin? Oh my god, are you dead? This isn’t right- what if I get sued? Wake up you crazy—”

“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Jaemin’s eyes open once more. “I feel like I’m getting hit in the head again with your yelling.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you grumble. “You must have one hell of a skull to not have died.”

“Of course,” Jaemin smiles despite the obvious pain. “Just let me sleep here tonight.”

You comply, patching up his wounds and applying the necessary. The look on Jaemin’s face is enough to convince you to give him your concern. After all, he’s a friend. But that’s all he is, right? You mumble a ‘good night’, not sure why, as you take your pillow and blanket to the living room.

Jaemin knows he shouldn’t but he keeps coming back to you. He likes the way your thumb brushes across his cheek when you check the bruises on his jaw, or the way your eyes focus on him entirely. He loves hearing the concern in your voice, even as you’re scolding him. But most of all, he adores your touch. It’s a warmth he’s feeling after a very long time, and he’s finding himself addicted.

It’s no good, Jaemin tells himself, The damage is done. Ah, but there’s always more to suffering, isn’t there?

You find yourself at a quaint café you’ve never visited before, on a Saturday afternoon. The walls are beige, and there are pink sticky notes in the shape of hearts on it. The lighting is mild; it’s mostly sunlight doing its job, but Jaemin manages to shine brighter.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. You don’t know why you still refuse to be too long in his presence. After all, you’re not exactly doing the job of staying away too well. Might as well give up.

“You keep saving my life, and I can’t even repay you?” Jaemin makes a face. “What kind of a man do you think I am, y/n?”

“A very extra one,” you scoff. He’s still the overly cheesy goofball you knew in middle school. The thought warms you as you eventually smile back at Jaemin. Every time his excitement shows up as random spasms of energy, his eyebrows moving with the tone of his voice, every time he laughs at his own joke, or when he apologizes for all the cringe that escapes his mouth, not really meaning it, every time he rolls his eyes and gets all sour if you ignore him—you’re reminded of Jaemin, the boy you know, your friend. His smile, by far, is the most reminiscent of your childhood, your friendship. It hasn’t changed one bit.

Jaemin offers to walk you home but both of you get distracted by the dog park on your way back. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been apart for two years, like Jaemin has a different reputation altogether now, like Jaemin is the last person you should be hanging out with. It’s the Jaemin you know, a bit more mature at times maybe, but the same in the end. You find a twinge of a feeling unknown in your chest as you watch Jaemin play with a little pug, trying to get it to give him a high-five. You’re not supposed to be feeling this, right? This is what you’ve been afraid of so far, isn’t it? But then, why does it feel so sweet?

“Is that Na Jaemin’s new sweetheart?” your ears catch onto some whispering behind you, as you sit with Jaemin on a wooden bench.

“Wah, I’m so jealous,” another voice whines.

“Don’t worry, he’ll dump them soon enough. You could try then.”

The voices bring you back to your bitter reality. 

You breathe in. What were you even thinking? You should never have let Jaemin open his mouth in your presence. You’ve let it happen; whatever you were afraid of is already beginning, and there’s no helping it now. You start to turn your head, but Jaemin suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer, and you feel a certain dread rising in your throat. The voices behind you disappear, probably disappointed, and you feel worse.

“Don’t listen to them,” he whispers, his voice strangely worried.

You can’t stop the flurry of thoughts that pass through. Is he treating you like another toy to play with? Just a way to pass the time? Of course, he’s just trying to add your heart to his collection. There’s no other explanation as to why he would start talking to you again after so long. If he really wanted to rekindle your friendship, he would have contacted you sooner. 

You don’t know how to trust him at all, do you? Your heart hammers in your chest as you turn to face Jaemin.

“Are you playing with me?” you ask, looking him in the eye.

“What- I- Of course not!” he looks taken aback.

No, no, no. Na Jaemin is a liar and you should never trust him. That’s the one rule you have to follow. He looks nervous, that you can tell from his face. You can’t believe how you fooled yourself for this long. Friends don’t treat you the way Na Jaemin has for the past few weeks.

“I…have to go,” you tell Jaemin before getting up and walking away as fast as you can.

You don’t understand the sudden settlement of panic, but you can’t think, can’t breathe. You feel like an idiot; this is what you get for letting your guard down. Jaemin can’t possibly want to be your friend - every single thing he does adds up to his schemes, plans you don’t want to get caught up in. You ignore his calls from behind you, but he catches up to you eventually by the side of the lane that leads to your house.

“You walk too fast,” Jaemin pants. His hair is in disarray from the running, his jacket halfway off his shoulder, and his cheeks flushed red.

“Jaemin,” you say as you stand there, frozen, “You’ve changed. And I don’t know you now. I’m sorry, but I think I really am afraid of you.”

You’re afraid of Jaemin, yes, but you’re also afraid of your heart.

Jaemin’s sharp intake of breath draws your attention, and you stand your ground as he walks closer to face you.

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin reasons, “It really isn’t.”

“When is it not like that, Jaemin?” you say, your voice heavy, “I’ve seen too many people cry by their lockers to believe that.”

Jaemin falls silent, and maybe you imagine it, but a flash of hurt makes its appearance across his face.

“Why do you do it?” you ask, your brows knitted. “Why do you keep doing it?”

Jaemin’s frown deepens. You know he probably won’t answer, that you’ll probably have to walk away soon. But he steps forward, his face barely a feet from yours as he speaks with uncharacteristic fear and sadness.

“Because I don’t want my heart to break,” his voice cracks, eyes shaking and looking down at his feet, and you feel pity among the mix of emotions stemming in you.

Before you can respond, Jaemin steps back. An almost inaudible ‘sorry’ escapes his mouth, as he turns around and leaves. And you let him leave, too confused with his answer, too confused with his actions, his smiles, his words, everything he does. You enter your bedroom with a heavy heart, and a nagging thought that you might have hurt Na Jaemin, a heartbreaker and a friend once upon a time.

Jaemin sighs as he hugs his pillow tighter, laying on his bed. Does he ever do anything right? Is he really as horrible as you think he is? He’s got so many questions he doesn’t have the answer to, and a hole beginning to form in his chest. Jaemin sighs once more, feeling anguish for the first time in a long time.

“Do you wanna talk about it? This is like- the eight hundredth time you’ve sighed,” Jeno says, not taking his eyes off his phone screen.

Jaemin sits up. He knows he called Jeno over; he’s the only one that listens as closely as Jaemin likes, but right now, he doesn’t feel like talking at all. Besides, Jeno’s too busy with the stupid game and it’s irking Jaemin even more.

“I messed up,” Jaemin says, finally.

“When do you not?”

Jaemin throws the pillow at Jeno, which effectively stops his gameplay. Jeno grins at Jaemin, who barely returns a smile before lying back down on the bed.

“Y/n should be the one here right now, not me,” Jeno says, “That is, if you want to talk it out.”

“I can’t do that,” Jaemin furrows his brows.

“Why not?”

“I’m- I’m not even that interested. Why should I waste any more time? It’s not like I’ll die without them,” he scoffs. “Maybe I should finally text that girl back. What’s her name again? Yoojung? Yoosung?”

Jeno stares at Jaemin, almost sighing. “You’re rambling out of bitterness now? You really did get feelings, didn’t you?”

“I did not!” Jaemin says, pitch a little higher.

Jeno sighs, leaning back against the wall. “I know you promised yourself you wouldn’t after…that. But I think it’s a good thing. And it’s y/n too! They know you best out of all the ones you’ve dated.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Which is surprising. This is the first time someone hasn’t fallen for you within two weeks.”

Jaemin makes a strangled noise, somewhat resembling a dinosaur as he turns the other way in his bed.

“It’s also surprising how you’re not running away,” Jeno says, raising his phone once more.

Jaemin turns his head at that.

“You’re afraid of real feelings, right? That’s why you run,” Jeno continues. “This time you’re not even facing reality.

“That’s not true! I…” Jaemin’s voice fades. It is true. He’s usually honest with himself and his feelings. And he knows real from fake. But this time, he’s not sure if he’s deluding himself for you. Is it because he missed you, missed being understood? Or did he decide he’s ready to fall in love again? Fear swells up in his chest at the thought. Absolutely not. He’s not giving away his own heart that easily, even if a part of him is ready to. But maybe, maybe he can let himself do it; maybe you’ll keep it safely with you.

“Talk to them,” Jeno repeats, attention already back to his game.

“Why did you bring me here?” you complain to a nervous-looking Jisung, shifting in his place.

“I- uh. I just thought- that uh, you know- maybe you’d socialize more um,” Jisung stutters.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re telling me that?”

Jisung looks away, and when he finds Chenle calling him, he looks almost relieved. He scrambles to his friend with a quick ‘bye!’, leaving you all the more suspicious.

It feels strange to be dragged to a party. It feels even stranger to be dragged to a party by Park Jisung. And to top all of it, it’s Na Jaemin’s party, the last person you want to see.

You contemplate leaving, but it’s Jisung who brought you here; and if he’s making an effort to socialize, the least you can do is appreciate it. But the music’s too loud, and there are too many people smelling like alcohol, too many couples making out and having fun for you to enjoy your time. Jaemin’s house might be more spacious than average, but it still feels too crowded, too suffocating for you to be in there. As the last of your patience fades, you make your way upstairs and into any quiet room you can find.

The bedroom you enter turns out to be Jaemin’s. You think you should leave; it’s not right to disrespect someone’s privacy, but you have nowhere else to go either.

The ticking clock gets on your nerve as you decide to walk around the room. The mirror is right by the window, and you remember drawing a moustache and a beard on it to substitute actual face painting. Jaemin had taken the marker and drawn spirals over your cheeks, as you whined at him to stop. You almost smile at the memory.

One of the drawers beside the mirror is left open; Jaemin’s still so careless, you realize with a huff. You turn to close it, but the sleek black diary catches your attention. Is it the one you and Jaemin used to draw in? You can’t help yourself as you take it out, promising you’ll keep it back immediately.

But the notebook you take out barely contains any drawings—it’s full of letters. There are hundreds, maybe more; each page is a short letter to someone and there are a few loose pages stuck hastily. It’s the words, however, that catch your attention.

Dear Chaerim,

I honestly do think your laugh is the sweetest. Please don’t feel insecure. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Haeun,

I admire your intelligence, your hard work. I know you have the brightest future ahead of you, don’t you worry about it. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Seohyun,

Your eye makeup is always lovely, as are your clothes. Don’t fuss over them too much. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Minsoo,

I loved making you smile, especially when your dimples showed. It looks much better than when you’re frowning. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Every line you read gives you strange sense of pain, like you feel the emotions the words were written with. Are these Jaemin’s words? Does he feel like this every time? If so, why does he still do it? After going through half the letters, you’re still nowhere near an answer. Midway through, a loose paper falls out. It’s a light shade of pink, contrasting with the faded white of the notebook pages, and the letter is only one line.

My dearest Jiwoo,

Why did you break my heart?

You sit on the bed, trying to understand Jaemin through the words he’s written. Is this Jiwoo the Park Jiwoo, Jaemin’s first real relationship, and perhaps… first love? An unknown feeling settles in your chest as your brain tries to figure out the boy you swore you wouldn’t care for anymore.

Footsteps break you out of your trance as you hastily shove the notebook into the drawer, shutting it close. You’re a little terrified to find Jaemin enter, his eyes shining as they meet yours.

You’ve never wanted to hold someone as much as you want to hold Jaemin as he looks at you with the sweetest, purest of expressions. When you watch him slowly make his way towards you, you let your fear reside. It’s just you and your feelings, and you have barely a few seconds to just let it be over with.

“Jaemin,” you gulp, when he sits beside you.

“Don’t,” he whispers, a faint smell of alcohol mixed with perfume wafting towards you.

Jaemin places a warm hand over your cheek, thumb moving in circles as a source of comfort. You breath hitches in your throat when he leans in, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You realize with a thud in your heart that you want him to kiss you. He stops a few centimetres away, not close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips, but enough to see him eye to eye. Jaemin sits back straight, the warmth of his hand leaving your face and you, disappointed at the lack of touch.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he asks.

You pause before nodding reluctantly. A defeated smile forms on his face.

“I never really want to, you know?” he continues, “But I’m always so afraid.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” you say, looking at your hands. “For overreacting that day.”

“No, no. You weren’t wrong.”

You look up back at Jaemin, and you can still find a hint of fear in the way the corner of his lips tremble.

“You’re worse than her, you know?” Jaemin smiles bitterly. “I’ve never been so afraid before.”

Jaemin takes your hand in his and slowly places it against his chest. His heart is hammering faster than yours, and you wonder how he’s keeping up his breathing. No matter how guarded you are, you think, Jaemin is more guarded.

“I am so, so afraid,” his breath hitches in his throat.

Jaemin leans in again, and this time you know your lips touching is inevitable. But he moves slow, and you find the fear in your heart spilling out the questions.

"You're...you're going to hurt me," you whisper, your eyelids flickering down halfway.

"I'm not playing this time," Jaemin's voice breaks, his words coming out as a whisper over your lips.

"Why?" you ask, doubt pooling in your chest.

"Because I'll lose."

Jaemin looks at you for a moment, and then he leans in once and for all, your lips meeting in a pending kiss. He pulls away several times to press more and more kisses against your mouth, as if he can't believe it, can't believe that he's actually kissing you. His grip around you tightens as he pulls you closer, and he hums against your mouth when you kiss him back.

You pull away with the need to breathe, and Jaemin begins to lean in again when you cup his face to stop him. You’ll admit this felt perfectly right, but there are things you have to make sure of.

“Jaemin,” you breathe. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“One drink isn’t enough for that, love,” he replies with a small smile.

“It’s still illegal,” you grumble before pausing. “You can promise me something, right?”

Jaemin looks at you, expecting you to continue.

“Don’t break my heart,” you say, your voice small.

“I should be telling you that,” Jaemin says with a laugh before placing his mouth over yours once again. You smile into the kiss, and he does, too. Whatever this is, you’re willing to give it a chance. You think it’s time your heart is let out of its cage.

Everyone starts school the next day with a letter in their locker. There are mixed emotions—mostly bittersweet, some forgiving and some upset. But Jaemin still stands with a polite smile and apologetic words, and an added gaze full of affection towards you. If it’s for you, he thinks, he’s willing to start fresh. Besides, he’s wanted to apologize for a while now.

Jaemin finds that once he starts kissing you, he can’t stop. It doesn’t matter to him anymore, the others. He can only see you, hear you, feel you, and it’s a new yet much longed for feeling that he’s experiencing. Jaemin isn’t afraid anymore, even more so after a few months, even during graduation. It’s like learning to trust all over again, like experiencing freedom for the first time. Jaemin finds himself smiling often, happy smiles. His heart that was once broken into pieces, that he once had to glue back all by himself now has you and your heart to take care of it.