#g:angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chocoreads · 1 year ago

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OMG! this was so brilliant and i had the best time reading it! i kept having to read it in chunks bc work ugh L-L but that also helped me stretch out the goodness as much as possible!! teehee

there were soo many beautiful scenes in this fic and i loved its overall atmosphere (it had this like candlelit cozy feeling ?? that i rly adored, especially during the winter scenes) and i want to commend u author for ur amazing ability to help the reader slip into ur universe!

these were some of my favourite paragraphs :3

AND I KNOW THERE WERE OTHERS TOO but these were the ones i remembered to screenshot! the snowflake line for joshua was so perfect <3 i also love the elegance of your writing style in this since it compliments the royalty aspect of the fic and how it subtly came out during the characters conversations. gr8 world building and attention to detail!! the payoff to this fic was *chefs kiss* nothing felt rushed!!

anyways SO SPECTACULAR and I LOVED IT ahhhhhhhh (!!)

— promise ring ⟢

no one would've guessed that the daughter of the town’s royal mage has a soft spot for the clumsiest fire elemental in the entire realm. but when the crown prince suddenly asks for your hand in marriage, you're forced to consider how you feel about a certain lee jung chan a lot more seriously.

★ FEATURING; chan x reader (ft. joshua x reader)

★ WORD COUNT; 21k words

★ TAGS; fantasy, royalty, childhood friends, mutual pining, love triangle, LOTS of drama, jeonghan being a menace, slow burn, angst, smut

★ NOTES; full disclosure that the plot to porn ratio is probably 80:20 so if you're simply looking for filth, i might not recommend this,,, but if you're down for 20k words of slow burn childhood friends to lovers topped with a juicy love triangle with our best boy chan, then this should be perfect for you <3

this is part of the secret garden, a svthub spring collab!

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, lots of making out, unprotected sex, touch starved chan and reader, first time, body worship, dom/sub undertones, lots of loving n endearing language during the act bc they've pined for each other long Enough, corruption kink if you squint but chan doesn't rly act on it

★ TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv

When you wake up, it’s to a strange feeling that something big is going to happen today.

You open your eyes to radiant sunlight filtering into the room through a crack in the curtains. The songbirds chirp happily by the windowsill as the rest of the town prepares to meet the day head-on. You lie in bed for a few minutes more, wondering what’s causing your chest to stir with misplaced anticipation. None of the annual festivals are drawing near and you’re certain you haven’t forgotten anyone’s birthdays either.

The sensation carries over as you head to the Academy with your father. Being from the family who founded the school several decades ago, he makes it a point to uphold the legacy your ancestors have left behind. That includes being at the school grounds an hour before any of the formal magic classes are scheduled to start, apparently.

Some students arrive much earlier than both of you, practicing spells and incantations in the small quadrangle as a means of preparing for their assessments later in the day. You giggle to yourself when you spot one of the older mages—a water elemental named Seungmin—fumble with his technique a little.

Whether intentionally or not, his friend, Changbin takes the brunt of it—his robes rendered sopping wet from the water that Seungmin had (accidentally?) blasted him with. Though it doesn’t take much to undo the damage since Changbin is easily one of the best fire elementals in the Academy. With one snap of his fingers, his clothes are instantly dry.

There are times (like this) when you envy the versatility of fire magic. But your father once told you that the gods grant each person with their respective elements for a reason. Instead of questioning their grace, you must show your gratitude by mastering what you've been blessed with instead.

Yours comes in the form of nurturing all the plants and flora you set your eyes on. It’s for this reason that you still bother to come to the Academy even if you’ve already completed its scholastic program over three years ago.

Despite your father constantly insisting for you to find a job that suits your talents in the royal capital, you prefer to impart your magical knowledge to the other students in your hometown instead.

In fact, you don’t miss the wistful look in his eyes as you part ways for the day—him to the headmaster's office and you to the greenhouse at the edge of campus.

As you direct yourself to your destination, that feeling from earlier is yet to subside. Though much more muted now that you’re surrounded by fellow mages both students and faculty alike, it still remains. Quiet yet foreboding, as if telling you not to let your guard down just yet.

So lost in your own thoughts, you startle at the sound of someone calling your name in the distance.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” One of the junior mages, Chaewon groans before bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “He’s done it again!”

A worried smile stretches across your lips. Life in your hometown is but a cycle of doing the same things over and over everyday. You don’t particularly mind the monotone of your routine—you’re at peace with it, honestly—but if Lee Jung Chan keeps accidentally burning someone’s precious plants, you’re going to have to make a few changes.

Chaewon leads you to the crime scene swiftly, explaining how your best friend set fire to the monsteras she personally grew from little seedlings with an irritated pout. While you’re completely sympathetic to Chaewon's plight—being her mentor and all—you can’t help the soft laugh that bubbles in your chest at the story.

“Why are you laughing?” she whines. “You’re not gonna let him get away with it just ‘cause you’ve been friends since you were babies, right? I worked so hard to enchant those plants with exotic flowers!”

The two of you arrive before you can issue an apology on Chan’s behalf. Not that your best friend wouldn’t have already expressed his remorse directly to Chaewon the moment the monsteras caught his flames.

You can easily spot the repentance in his posture as Chan stands awkwardly outside the greenhouse. From the looks of it, he’s currently being lectured by a school instructor who’s also named Chan, though most of the students and staff call him Chris for easier identification.

You’re certain that Chris has it all under control. Though you’re not sure how, since he’s a non-elemental mage. You can’t exactly see him putting out a fire with musical magic no matter how good he is, but you’re grateful for his intervention still.

“I know you only wanted to help out, but Chaewon isn’t the headmaster’s daughter. She’s yet to learn how to properly foolproof her handiwork against clumsy fire elementals.” Chris sighs deeply, arms crossed with a serious look before his eyes catch yours from the distance. “Speak of the devil…”

One would expect Chan to be mortified at the sight of you. After all, he did just inadvertently fuck up Chaewon’s project for her elemental assessment this month. As her mentor, you have all the right to rain hell on earth in the name of your precious student, but the thing about you is that you can never get mad at Lee Jung Chan—no matter how badly he messes up sometimes.

“Hi,” he squeaks with a small wave. “I swear I was just watering Chaewon’s plants ‘cause they were looking kind of…dry. I do it for you all the time right? But then a cat snuck inside the greenhouse and knocked over a bunch of pots from the high shelves. It scared the living daylights out of me and—”

“Chan, have you at least apologized to her?” you sigh, patting your student’s head while she shoots Chan a hard glare from where she’s hiding behind you.

“O-Of course!” he stammers, hands flying everywhere in an attempt to express his damage control better. “I even asked Chris where I can get seeds so I can replace them for her! You know I never leave any debts unpaid.”

It’s difficult to keep your mask of professionalism in place when he’s being so unintentionally adorable. Right now, you’re one of the Academy’s respected alumni as well as an instructor that many students look up to. You wouldn’t make the mistake of fawning over your best friend while he explains his not-so-innocence, but that doesn’t mean it makes keeping up appearances any easier for you .

“I told him that BamBam sells everything under the sun at his shop in the next town over,” Chris informs you with a tight-lipped smile. “Though Chan might have to be careful when talking to that guy. He’s a bit…”

“Eccentric?” you supply.

“Exactly.”

“Can he do that now?” Chaewon huffs impatiently. “I was meaning to start another experiment after I made sure this one didn’t fall through, but I guess I’m back to square one.”

You flash your student a placating stare, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Hey, your next assessment isn’t until the end of the month, right? You don’t have to rush. Besides, I’ve been thinking about teaching you how to brew your own instant growth potion.”

The enticing promise of a new technique visibly piques Chaewon’s interest. She gasps, taking your hands in hers before letting out a loud shriek. “Really?! You’re really going to teach me that? You know there are no take-backs once you say it, right?”

“Yes, I know.” You chuckle. “Now go head off to class. You have Chris here for first period, right?”

Your student groans. “Yeah… I still don’t know why I took musical theory as an elective.”

“You talk like I’m the worst instructor among the school faculty,” Chris huffs before walking back to the path leading to the main building. “Come on, Chaewon. You’ll be late.”

“How can I be late if I’m with you, though?”

“If you don’t stop being smart with me, I’ll tell BamBam to switch your monstera seeds with venus flytraps.”

As the two of them bicker all the way to the entrance, you’re left alone with your troublemaking best friend. Chan still has his shoulders set as if the guilt from his earlier actions is still fresh in his heart. You sigh, gesturing for him to follow you into the greenhouse before stepping inside the enclosure.

Out of all the projects you’ve dedicated to mastering your elemental magic, the Academy’s greenhouse is by far your most renowned feat. It started as a pipe dream during your first year of attendance and in your final year, you managed to convince the board of elder mages to build the greenhouse with the help of your father.

Of course, since he’s a royal mage—the town’s representative in the courts of the royal capital—you won’t deny that he might’ve pulled a few strings here and there to make your dreams a reality.

(If you can recall correctly, you once heard Chaewon’s friend, Yunjin jokingly whisper something about nepotism during one of the on-field classes you held.)

But whatever the means, the greenhouse proved to be an effective medium for magic of varying affinities. Both elemental and non-elemental mages often stop by to test their ideas about innovative applications of their powers.

Some water mages have tested if plants can purify contaminated samples from the upstream river. A spatial mage once tried to clone a bonsai tree by multiplying their cells in an exact mirror image.

And your best friend often tests the limits of what he can and can’t do around all the flora—given his magical constitution.

“So I’m guessing you already forgive me?” Chan asks with a sheepish smile on his face. “I promise I’ll just help out somewhere else when you’re not around. Baekho’s been inviting me to the magical combat wing a lot these days, but I need to think about it first ‘cause…you know.”

You do know. And out of every single person who knows Lee Jung Chan, you like to think that you understand his predicament better than anyone else.

Both of you started studying at the Academy at the same time, but you’re the only one who got to graduate after senior year. This made Chan ineligible for any sort of teaching position, since official employment required being an alumnus of any recognized magic school in the realm. The most he can be offered is a spot as a teaching aide and none else.

You’re well aware that because of that smudge on his track record, coupled with his clumsy tendencies, people often assume that Chan is a failure of a mage. A fire elemental who has no idea how to wield his own flames.

But what they don’t know is that in terms of raw power alone, even your father agrees that Chan surpasses every single student that’s ever had the pleasure to graduate from this school. The reason he can’t control his own flames is because of how potent they are. How powerful and all-consuming they can be if kept unchecked.

Your father once offered to bring him to one of his friends in the southern cities—someone who can help Chan tame his powers in ways he failed to guide him to. But your best friend declined, insisting that someone who can’t control their own flames doesn’t deserve the time and hospitality of anyone outside your hometown.

To this day, you still haven’t forgotten the resignation in his voice as he said the words. Like he’s so certain that all he deserves is to be some aberration kept in the shadows. You’ve always hated it whenever he sells himself short, but it’s not as if you can do anything about it if he’s so complacent with where he is now.

“Hey? You’re spacing out on me all of a sudden.”

You blink, nonplussed by Chan’s voice despite the fact that you’ve been standing with him inside the greenhouse for over five minutes. He’s posed a respectable distance away from any of the potted plants and flowers in the vicinity—standing so still, you almost find it funny.

“What made you drop by so early in the morning anyways?” you ask in an attempt at small talk. Your first class of the day doesn’t start until an hour, so you can afford to squander some time. “Don’t you usually get out of bed at noon?”

“Hey, I get out of bed at eleven!” He insists as if that’s any better. “But anyways, the reason I showed up so early is because someone made a wrong delivery to my house. Ma was so surprised to see a huge crate at our doorstep, but she was even more surprised to see it was addressed to you.”

…A delivery? For you?

“What do you mean?” you wonder, head craned with confusion. “What was inside? Did it say who it was from?”

Chan shakes his head before pointing at the far end of the greenhouse. There, you see the massive wooden crate he must be talking about. “A bunch of flowers in a plant box with no return address. Maybe it’s one of those scholars from the capital who want you to study them again? You did work on a research project about hydrangeas last month right?”

Strange flower delivery aside, you gape at him—heart fluttering at his thoughtfulness. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he says easily. “Now are you going to check out the crate so you can tell me what those flowers are or are we gonna stand in the middle of all these highly flammable plants all day?”

You don’t even bother asking how Chan managed to transfer such a huge thing from his house to the greenhouse. He must’ve asked help from Mingyu, another instructor’s aide who does a lot of heavy lifting around the school. Or maybe he even roped Baekho into this whole thing.

Either way, as soon as you open the mystery package, it’s as Chan described it: a plant box brimming with an assortment of flowers arranged in a way only professionals can put together. All the vibrant blooms are expertly placed so that one wouldn’t outshine the other and whoever sent this, they’ve certainly earned your approval.

“So which is which?” Chan wonders as he peeps inside the crate again.

“Well,” you start, hands tracing each flower delicately. “This one is called a primrose, the dark pink ones are chrysanthemums, while the dantier flowers are carnations.”

As you explain how different they are from the other, it’s hard to miss how Chan struggles to keep himself from reaching into the crate to touch them. You feel kind of bad, but you know he’s only holding himself back because he doesn’t want to unintentionally start another fire.

“What do they mean? In the language of flowers?” he wonders. “You always go on and on about how each one has its own special meaning. What about these guys?”

You ponder on it for a moment, actively recalling what you’ve been taught. “Hm. Primroses usually represent youth and optimism. Chrysanthemums are for friendship, and carnations…”

When its meaning flits to the forefront of your mind, your eyes widen as an abrupt realization hits you in the next moment. Your gaze drifts back to the flowers as Chan patiently waits for you to continue, and that’s when you notice something strange inside.

Tucked in the middle of the assortment of lush flowers is a small envelope that wasn’t there before. The flap is enclosed with a familiar wax seal: the royal family’s crest.

You’ve seen your father open enough letters from them to recognize the sigil pressed into the bright red wax, but you’ve never once received one for yourself.

“Carnations signify fascination. Love,” you continue, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But I’m sure whoever sent these doesn’t know all that. They could’ve just picked these out because they’re pretty to look at together.”

Chan looks unconvinced. “Why don’t you open the envelope? I’m just guessing here, but maybe it was made to respond to your magic specifically? It would explain why it didn’t appear when I first checked the flowers out.”

For all his foolishness, he might actually be on to something this time.

But instead of brimming curiosity, that bothersome sensation from earlier surfaces again. It cloys in your chest, stirring your heart with trepidation before sinking like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

Your hands go clammy as you inspect the envelope as if it’s hiding a beast so it could swallow you whole. The royal family hasn’t given you any reason to even be remotely wary of them, but your reluctance refuses to waver.

In the end, you choose to brush it off, picking at the seal until it detaches from the envelope. When you take out what’s inside, the familiar scent of rich red roses laces the fine parchment.

It’s fairly easy to figure out who the sender is after that.

The greenhouse falls silent as you read through the letter’s contents. You’re acutely aware of Chan’s equally engrossed stare, but with each passing second, you grow more and more cognizant of the fact that this is definitely the reason why you awoke so keyed up first thing in the morning.

“Prince Joshua, huh?” He whispers somewhat disbelievingly before turning to you with curious eyes. “I figured you were friends since your father brings you along to the royal balls so often. Didn’t think he was this into you though.”

You didn’t either. You can hardly call the prince who’s second in line to the throne your friend, much more, a romantic prospect. Sure, Joshua is always hospitable whenever he catches you nursing a drink in the ballroom before asking for a dance, but you never would’ve imagined he harbored those kinds of feelings for you.

What’s more is, though you came from a highly regarded lineage of mages, there isn’t a drop of royal blood in your veins. But here he is, asking you to be his fiancée all while giving you the prettiest flowers you’ve ever received.

“Do you think it could be a mistake?” you mumble, reading over the letter once more to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

Chan rolls his eyes. “Look, that’s clearly your name he mentioned at the top. And don’t you think that someone as important as Prince Joshua will be more careful about sending out gestures of grandeur? He can’t just give any beautiful girl flowers, you know.”

His words shouldn’t faze you as much as they do. It’s always been easy for Chan to compliment people when the chance arises and he’s called you beautiful dozens of times before. Sometimes teasingly, more often genuinely.

It’s so strange. The most sought-after man in the kingdom just asked for your hand in marriage, but here you are—heart doing somersaults all because of your best friend’s easy admission.

Oh, heavens, you muse to yourself as Chan goes off on a tangent about how you’re mandated to get him front row seats to the wedding.

This is going to be difficult.

“That’s good news!”

When you dragged Chan to your father’s office once all your classes for the day were finished, you expected him to at least mull over Joshua’s abrupt proposal a little longer. It’s not that he was strict about the men you let in your life, but he looks much too elated for someone whose daughter is on the brink of being married off to someone else.

Well. When that ‘someone else’ is Prince Joshua, you think the proposal holds more weight than it otherwise would with any other commoner.

“But I don’t understand,” you tell him, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Why does Prince Joshua want to marry me all of a sudden? He hasn’t expressed any sort of romantic interest in me before, so why…?”

Your father chuckles from behind his desk, one finger guiding the drink from his glass with magic so he can spin it around in circles. Water elementals can be so strange at times.

“If I told you the prince has felt the way he claims in his letter for a good few years now, would it help you consider the proposal better?” he asks before putting the stream of wine he’s playing with back to its proper place.

“Wait a moment,” Chan pipes up from his seat. “Are you saying he’s been in love with her for a long time now?”

“Well, I’m not sure of the specifics, but the prince informed me of his affections a few months ago to seek my approval,” your father explains before leaning back into his seat to cast you a fond stare. “But I told him that regardless of what I think about the whole ordeal, the final decision isn’t up to me at all.”

The weight of their stares suddenly falls on your form.

You swallow thickly, having known all this time that your father wouldn’t possibly push you to go through with the proposal despite how happy it made him. It’s not that you don’t think Joshua is suitable to be your husband, but…

“Isn’t he taking things a bit too fast?” you ask dryly. “He could at least court me first—”

“My sweet girl, you know the way things work at the castle are much different from how they are in this small town of ours,” your father sighs. “You’ve heard about the royal assimilation period, yes?”

You have. It’s a sort of probationary period imposed on non-royals who wish to marry into the family. You know of a few acquaintances who had to spend a full year in the castles of other kingdoms without setting foot outside the premises during its entirety. At the time, you found the idea of isolation dreadful and that you can’t ever see yourself being in their place.

Now here you are, at the brink of being tied down to a prince you barely even know.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend a chunk of your day thinking about the pros and cons of marrying into the royal family. Becoming princess consort means you’ll be given a voice in the political court of the castle. Though your father does just fine in representing your hometown as its royal mage, being part of the regency itself grants you more authority over the decisions being made for the kingdom’s sake.

The thought of being able to improve the quality of life in your hometown as well as bringing more adequate funds for the Academy makes the offer all sorts of tempting. This is the place that made you who you are today, and you’d want nothing more than to give back however you can.

Plus, the thought of being married to Prince Joshua isn’t as daunting as it was when you found his letter hidden between the flowers he’d given. Since you had the whole work day to think about it, you managed to get over the initial dread and actually consider how having him as a partner would be.

His reputation as the kingdom’s most esteemed gentleman precedes him even in other places. It was once a popular opinion that Joshua would marry and settle down much sooner than his older brother, Jeonghan simply because of how adored he is among the people. Yet he’s already halfway through his twenties without any prospective partners.

Until now.

“I think you should accept his proposal.”

It shocks you that Chan is the one who tells you that. You stare at him with glaring disbelief while your father merely raises an eyebrow with mild interest before his lips break into a grin. “See? Even Chan over here agrees. I know it’s a bit much to suddenly become the fiancée of someone so important, but you’ll get to know each other better during the assimilation period anyways.”

Chan nods in agreement. “Besides, we can still visit you every now and again, right?”

The smile on your father’s face falls. “Oh, about that… Prospective royals aren’t allowed to entertain visitors that aren’t immediate family until the assimilation period concludes. But you can send letters if you end up missing each other too much.”

Your father says the words in such a light-hearted manner, you’re sure he didn’t say them in jest. He knows how close you and Chan have been since childhood; knows how important he is to you. If you accept Joshua’s proposal and whisk yourself off to the castle, it would be the longest you’ve gone without seeing your best friend in your entire life.

With Chan added to the equation, you realize that it’s not your level of familiarity with Joshua that makes you so reluctant to go through with it, nor is it the idea of being isolated from the outside for an entire year.

It’s the fact that you won’t be able to meet Chan for its entirety.

“Well, it’s not like it’s something you have to decide on right away,” your father interjects when he senses that the atmosphere has dipped. “I’ll keep in touch with the prince about the whole thing, but I’m sure he’d like you to take your time anyways. This is a lifelong commitment we’re talking about after all.”

This is ridiculous. Well, not as ridiculous when you remember you’re now of marriageable age and the prince has been harboring feelings for you for longer than you thought.

Still…

When you look at Chan, you half-expect him to at least comment on your father’s words, but he merely grins as if he’s completely on board with the idea.

Yet you can’t help but notice how that smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You end up accepting Joshua’s proposal a week later.

From what you could tell when he responded to your letter, the prince was ecstatic. He went into great detail about how he promises to make the entire assimilation process comfortable for you and that he can’t wait to have you at the castle. What makes the entire exchange all the more endearing is the fact that he’s genuinely apologetic about the abruptness of his proposal and that he honestly didn’t expect for you to agree.

You didn’t either.

If Joshua was ecstatic, your father was over the moon. When you informed him that you’re exchanging correspondences with the prince about the entire arrangement, he was quick to put together a farewell party when the final date of your assimilation period has been set in stone.

In other words, the past month was extremely busy for you. It consisted of several back and forth trips to the royal capital so you and Joshua could get all the paperwork involved done together. He’s just as sweet and accommodating as you remember—making the whole process less intimidating than it’s supposed to be. The more time you spend with the prince and soon-to-be-fiance, the less nervous you are for what’s to come.

The anxiety finally wears off by the time your farewell party comes around. Your father made sure to invite close friends and family as well as a few of his students and yours. Chaewon was in tears at the news that another mentor is going to be assigned for her because of the circumstances, but you promised to keep in touch when you come back.

Although once you’ve had your final conversations with most of your guests, you start to feel how wary you are from interacting with so many people at once. Eyes scanning through the small venue your father rented for the occasion, you attempt to look for a single person—a pout tugging at your lips when you can’t find him amidst the crowd.

No one knows Lee Jung Chan better than you do, so you’re right on the money when you venture out to the nearby river—immediately spotting him sitting alone by the banks.

You can only guess how many stones he’s already skipped across the stream, but Chan doesn’t even flinch as you settle down beside him, pulling your legs to your chest so you can rest your chin on your knees.

“You haven’t come here in a while,” you murmur quietly. “Something on your mind?”

“Mmm.” His eyes are pulled straight forward as if still lost in thought. You sigh before opting to stew in the sound of the flowing river—gazing at the slowly setting sun in the far horizon.

It hits you at that moment just how much you’ll miss him. Quiet afternoons with your best friend have become few and far in between ever since you started teaching at the Academy. Now that you’re Joshua’s fiancée, you don’t even know if you’ll ever get to watch sunsets with him like this again. The thought fills you with that same sinking feeling that you only learned to overlook recently and it must show on your face because Chan is quick to turn to you with a curious look on his face.

“You nervous?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Then why do you look so…”

“So?”

“I don’t know…that.”

“You have to be specific, Chan.”

He huffs, taking another stone from a pile he collected at his side before skipping it across the water. “Well, you look like the way you did before your first magical assessment. Remember when the headmaster called me to sleep over because you were practically shaking with anxiety? Even if you’re literally from the best sorcerer family in the city?”

“Hey! Just because my father is good at everything doesn’t mean I am too!”

“But you don’t have to be good at everything.” Chan smiles and you’re unprepared for how your heart lurches at how breathtaking he looks. “You just have to be yourself.”

A pause hovers in the midst of the conversation and you can feel the heat starting to creep up your cheeks. If your best friend notices, he doesn’t let you know.

“I remember that you aced that assessment. Scored highest in our entire year too,” he recalls with a hint of fondness. “I think you’ll do just fine in that assimilation period. Wait, no. I know you will.”

You’ve always admired how easy it is for Chan to uplift others, despite the harsh words some people have used to put him down countless times. It’s like he soaks up the negativity in his life and lets it all out in a more productive manner.

The steady flowing stream rings in your ears as the silence sets yet again, heart threatening to beat out of your ribcage as you drink in the sight of your best friend. Rays of muted sunlight filter through the trees onto his face and it makes the kind grin on his face glow even brighter.

Chan lets out a choked up sound when you immediately pull him in for a hug. He’s speechless for a couple of seconds—wondering what on earth got into you. In the end, he lets out a defeated sigh and returns your embrace with twice as much affection.

“Sounds to me like you’re perfectly okay with marrying off your best friend to some guy,” you murmur jokingly, breathing in his scent like it’s your last. Burnt sugar and just a hint of musk.

He laughs and the sound vibrates across your skin. “Prince Joshua is not some guy. And why wouldn’t I be happy that you’ll be married to such a great person? He can give you everything, you know? Even if I used to give all the dudes who got close to you back then a lot of shit, I know the prince will make you happy.”

Happy…

That’s something you haven’t really considered ever since you and Joshua started making the preparations for your assimilation. He’s a good prince who values his people over his own interests and he’s also a gentleman that always considers your input in every step.

But not once did it ever occur to you that marrying him would equate to your own happiness.

The thought fills you with shame—especially knowing how much Joshua has done for you for the past month. You tell yourself that maybe it’s because you still don’t know him that well; that you just need a little more time before you can think of him as a person who can make you genuinely happy and not just someone who you have to marry for the sake of your town.

If there is someone who makes you feel that way without breaking a sweat, however…

Chan shoots you a puzzled look when you break away, rising back to your feet all while tugging at his arm. Still, he lets you pull him up—a determined look settling across your features.

“Follow me.”

During weekends, the Academy only grants entry to both students and faculty until mid-noon. But luckily for you, you’ve spent years sneaking into the greenhouse when you were still carefully cultivating all the plants you have on display.

Chan voices out his concern when you bring him inside, muttering something about trespassing on school territory but he tails you from behind anyway.

The plant box full of dazzling flowers he brought a month ago isn’t here anymore—having been planted safely in the garden of your house. In its place is a brand new shipment of flowers you ordered from BamBam about two weeks ago.

Chan hasn’t seen them yet since he’s made it a point to avoid the greenhouse while Chaewon is in the middle of her experiments. But the curiosity in his eyes shines when you show them to him.

“These are called forget-me-nots,” you say, a warm smile tugging at your lips. “They aren’t that rare, but…they’ve always been my favorite. The first time I saw them was in a forest near the southern cities, where Father taught me the names of all kinds of trees and flowers.”

Chan nods with an expression that tells you he doesn’t quite get it, but is happy for you nonetheless. You stifle a laugh and his face immediately reddens as he clears his throat. “Um, why’d you ask BamBam for these though? They look kind of…simple compared to everything else you already have here.”

“It’s because they’re so simple that they stood out to me, silly,” you chuckle. “That forest was teeming with the most exotic plant life I’ve seen. Flowers of all shapes and colors, trees that grew up to the clouds… Even in such an abundant forest, simple flowers like these grew unassumingly by the side—still thriving despite being considered inferior.”

When you stare at Chan, you realize how much these flowers remind you of him. And it’s for that reason that you’re about to ask him a huge favor.

“Can you take care of them for me while I’m gone?” you whisper—voice carrying a hopeful tone. “I know it’s a tall request but—”

“Are you kidding? Nothing’s ever a tall request from you.” He huffs. “Of course I’ll do it.”

Your mouth hangs slightly agape—not expecting Chan to agree to it so easily. It takes you a moment to pick up your train of thought, but when you do, you break into an even wider grin.

“Really? Notorious plant-killer Lee Jung Chan is agreeing to take care of a bunch of flowers for an entire year?” you tease.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked, so why are you suddenly questioning my credibility?” The pout on his face just makes you want to tease him even more. “I’m probably going to end up burning a few of them by accident, but I won’t be seeing you for a long time. This is the least I can do while I wait for you to come back, right?”

You are going to miss him so much, it makes your heart hurt.

Unlike earlier, Chan immediately reciprocates the hug you pull him into. You bury your face in the crook of your neck, ingraining the scent of him in your mind so that you’ll never forget your best friend even if you tried.

“I’ll come back for them in the spring,” you whisper.

Chan hums, his thumb tracing idle shapes along your shoulder blades. “Is that a promise?”

It feels like forever before you break away from him, but when you do, the desolate feeling you got from the thought of being apart from him goes up in smoke. Chan raises an eyebrow when you reach into the plant box to pluck two forget-me-nots from the soil—enchanting the blooms with your magic so the stems could morph into rings.

One for you and one for Chan.

“It’s a promise.”

“Miss, you’ve got a letter again.”

You’re in the middle of reading up on a compilation of the kingdom’s annual state of affairs when your handmaiden, Sakura, finds you in the castle gardens. She gathers her skirts with one hand while the other carries an unassuming envelope. It’s routine at this point.

“Thank you, Kkura,” you murmur before flashing her a warm smile. “Has Prince Joshua returned yet?”

She shakes her head. “The peace talks between the four kingdoms are taking much longer than anticipated. Although he and Prince Jeonghan should be back by tomorrow, if what the socialites are gossiping about in the main plaza are true.”

You stifle a soft laugh. “I bet Prince Jeonghan’s stirring up trouble in a foreign court as we speak.”

“You can say that again,” Sakura agrees with a withering sigh. “One of the reasons the king won’t easily let Prince Jeonghan take his place is because of his constant deviance. I’d bet my salary that he was just waiting for Prince Joshua to take up a wife before handing him the crown instead.”

“Kkura, the others might hear,” you scold, but there’s a chuckle wedged between the words. “Well, if a miracle happens and they arrive home earlier than expected, you know where to find me.”

“You’re very diligent about reading, aren’t you, miss?” She comments, impressed. “I know a couple of princess consorts in the making, but you’re probably the only one who cares to read about the technicalities of running a kingdom. Most of them are only in it for the chance to marry into a royal family.”

“Those waiting for me back home wouldn’t be very proud if I only leeched off my engagement with Prince Joshua,” you say a-matter-of-factly.

“You mean your father?”

There’s a pause in the conversation—one long enough for you to suddenly be cognizant of several things at once. The water running from a nearby fountain. Birds chirping before migrating into their nests for the night. In the silence, you let your eyes wander to the rings in your fingers.

A diamond engagement ring that probably costs more than what you’ve earned in your entire life on your ring finger and a bright blue forget-me-not wrapped around your pinky.

Right. Sakura doesn’t know about…

“Yes,” you tell her, but there’s hesitation in your voice that you hope she won’t hear. “He’s been very thorough about giving me advice on how to make the best decisions for a lot of people.”

“As expected of a royal mage,” she sighs, “Oh well, I’ll leave you be, miss. If your father is as thorough as you say he is, then I can only imagine what he’s written in that new letter.”

Well, she’s not exactly wrong.

After exchanging farewells, Sakura bows her head with a practiced curtsy—saying something about supper being ready in an hour or two before leaving you to your own devices. When you find yourself all alone once more, you rip open the envelope with a hint of excitement buzzing on your fingertips.

It’s been about three months since you’ve left your hometown and started your assimilation period. During those three months, you were constantly fed with a multitude of information that comes with being part of the regency. From etiquette classes to foreign relations—your teachers all expected you to take everything they told you to heart.

While the process sounds much too tedious, especially for someone who’s quite literally stuck here for another nine months, Joshua always took it upon himself to make sure you wouldn’t feel too bored with all the stringent formalities.

He’s wonderful company—never running out of stories to tell. From childhood embarrassments at the hands of his older brother to his own share of mischief that’s always overshadowed by the gravity of Jeonghan’s, Joshua kept you constantly entertained.

Your fiancé even suggested that the two of you sneak out into the city sometime just so he could show you that pub near the outskirts that he enjoys frequenting while undercover as an ordinary citizen. Of course, the offer sounded tempting at first, but you rightfully declined out of respect for both the royal family and the tradition that has kept the kingdom going for so long.

However, Joshua isn’t always here to keep you company. Being one of the most important figures in the kingdom, he and Jeonghan are regularly called in and out of the castle to attend to some business that their parents are too busy to sneak into their own schedules.

It’s during your fiancé’s bouts of absence that you look forward to your next form of entertainment—all the letters sent from home.

Just as you’ve told Sakura, your father accommodates all your questions about ruling over one’s constituents as much as he can—telling you to pay attention to the needs of the people above all else.

But aside from the detailed notes he leaves you with, there’s always another letter wedged inside the envelopes he sends to the castle every fortnight.

Hey.

How are you? Has the prince been treating you well, still? Sorry I couldn’t write to you last time. Training’s been hell and Jongkook hasn’t let me breathe for the past week. When the headmaster told me that becoming that guy’s apprentice wasn’t going to be easy, I didn’t think he was that serious. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten third degree burns from all this temperature training.

Things are a little a lot different in the southern cities compared to home. Everyone is as mean as they could be. Jongkook called it the survival of the fittest and I kind of get where he’s coming from. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see someone smiling every now and again, right? It’s a good thing I’m allowed to go home every week, or else my sanity would’ve disappeared before we could even see each other again.

About your flowers: have I told you that Chaewon’s helping me maintain them whenever I’m away? We’ve buried the hatchet and agreed to look after your forget-me-nots together! But she kind of emphasized that she’s doing this for you and not because she’s completely forgiven me for the monstera incident. But hey, progress is progress, right?

I checked them out personally when I got home today. They seemed more vibrant than usual. Almost like they’re happy to know I’m back. Seeing them made me think how I’d probably feel when your assimilation period is over. Ah, but I’m running out of parchment to write on. Sorry about that. There isn’t much going on with me anyways.

Tell me about your classes when you write back, yeah? You also mentioned a pub that Prince Joshua wanted to sneak you into last time. Did you go through with it? Did you have fun? I can’t wait to hear from you so the story better be exciting!

P.S. If the prince himself encourages you to sneak out of the castle, would you consider doing that so we can wander around the main plaza sometime?

P.P.S. That was a joke, by the way. Don’t have the royal guard arrest me.

P.P.P.S. But if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t say no.

Chan writes his letters the same way he talks in real life. You can almost hear his voice inside your head as you go through every word. You’re glad that he still has enthusiasm to spare over receiving tutelage from someone as important as Kim Jongkook, but even you can tell that his training is no walk in the park.

There were tears in your eyes when he first broke the news. You thought he’d spend his entire life without getting the proper guidance he needs to hone his powers. But a month after your departure, Chan quickly kept you up to speed about his newfound mentor with a promise that he’ll be the best fire elemental in your hometown by the time you got back.

But with how he bemoans the rigorous training in his letters, you ponder if he sometimes gets hit with the thought of quitting halfway. While his excruciating routines are a far cry from the year’s worth of assimilation classes you’re required to attend, you like to think that you and Chan have a similar threshold for the things you’ll willingly bear without complaints.

Though you’ve already accustomed yourself with your life at the castle, it’s a no-brainer to say you’d choose to leave for home in a heartbeat if given the chance. But your conscience won’t let you entertain the idea for too long, especially knowing how much you owe it to your hometown to persevere until the end.

That’s why even if you’d want nothing more than to see your best friend, you decidedly draw a fine line between your responsibilities and your heart’s desires. You want so badly to meet Chan again even if that means sneaking past the royal guards, but you’ve never really been one to bend and break the rules for selfish reasons like that.

Instead, you tuck your best friend’s letter away in the envelope beside your father’s. Nothing but the sound of the water spilling from the fountain rings in your ears.

As you stare at the pretty blue flower tied at the base of your pinky, you wonder for the hundredth time if you’ve made the right decision at all.

Prince Joshua is easy to love.

By your sixth month in the castle, you can genuinely say that you’ve at least developed a kind of attachment to the prince that borders on romantic. He’s handsome, thoughtful, kind, and many other traits that would only quantify him as a perfect husband.

Jeonghan regularly catches your gaze lingering several seconds too long on your fiancé every suppertime and it’s no surprise that the eldest prince would tease you to the ends of the earth for it. Saying something along the lines of if you’re already making moony eyes at him now, what more when you finally tie the knot?

It’s something that always flusters you no matter how many times Jeonghan brings it up. But it’s not because you’re embarrassed about what you feel for Joshua. It mostly stems from the fact that you don’t know what to feel for him.

Despite having lived under the same roof for six months, you’re still unsure of where your heart stands when it comes to Joshua. It’s a standstill of emotions that frustrates you to no end. You know nothing will be lost if you just surrender to your budding feelings, but it’s like there’s something always holding you back.

When the king hosts an overdue gala in the castle, you finally realize what it is.

It’s been more than half a year since they last held one within the premises out of respect for your ongoing assimilation. But now that you’ve passed the six-month mark, the royal court deemed it appropriate to give you more exposure to social functions such as this.

You’re understandably nervous for your first public appearance as Prince Joshua’s fiancée. Sakura has told you about how ruthless the kingdom's nobles could be when it comes to unearthing other people’s business. But your handmaiden assured you there’s nothing to worry about since you’ve done flawlessly with your classes since day one.

So there you are in front of the ballroom, arm linked with Joshua’s as the queen introduces you to every single noble in attendance. You wonder if the prince can tell just how nervous you are but you can at least hope that your smile can convince a hundred other strangers otherwise.

“Hey,” he whispers—eyes still riveted towards the crowd.

“What?”

“You don’t have to be so uptight.”

You try your best not to make a face. “Easy for you to say, Mister I’ve-been-attending-galas-since-I-was-in-the-womb.”

Joshua chuckles softly. “But you’ve been attending these frequently, too. That’s how we met, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never been the center of attention!”

“Well…” He pauses before shifting his gaze towards the crowd—his mother’s sweet voice echoing throughout the ballroom as she tells everyone how excited she is to welcome you to the family soon. “If it helps, there’s a certain someone in the crowd that’s definitely rooting for you.”

Your confusion visibly shows on your face before you follow his line of sight. You knew your father would be in attendance as is required of all royal mages, but it’s not him that you spot in the crowd.

It’s Chan.

He’s a lot different than you remember—looking much too dapper to pass as the boy you knew as your best friend. He’s donned in expensive-looking garbs, the maroon silk of his tunic hanging loosely off his frame. His hair is slicked back and styled in a way that would make anyone think he was from one of the noble houses. Even the manner he’s holding a glass of champagne looks way too sophisticated for someone you frequently teased for his lack of etiquette and—

There’s a woman hanging off his arm. A woman you don’t know, but looks just as breathtaking as any maiden inside this damn ballroom.

Who is she? Chan has never mentioned any new friends in his letters. Hell, he didn’t even tell you he was going to be here tonight. Instead of feeling at peace with the fact your best friend is finally in front of you like Joshua assumed, all it does is stir a plethora of unpleasant feelings in the pit of your stomach.

“Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way,” the queen says with a smile—snapping you out of your trance, “how about we let our stars of the night lead the first dance? I know the lot of you have missed our parties. On behalf of the royal family and your future king and queen, we hope you’ll enjoy this night of music and liquor. Have a good evening, everyone.”

Forcing yourself not to think about how the queen just referred to you and Joshua as the kingdom’s future king and queen, you let your fiancé lead you to the dancefloor. Joshua is careful as ever as he helps you down the polished marble steps—that handsome smile never leaving his face. You feel like your heart would’ve fluttered as the two of you exchange the opening bows, but your heartbeat is all over the place knowing Chan is here watching everything unfold.

“You remember what we practiced, right?” Joshua murmurs as the orchestra starts the song.

“U-Uh, yeah,” you stammer—hoping your hands aren’t sweating through your silk gloves. “I won’t step on your toes anymore. Promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

His smooth-talking is not doing you any favors, but you try to dance the same way you practiced with for weeks. The thing about Joshua is that he always makes things easier for you—be it your engagement or some opening dance his parents requested for you to do. He’s so unbelievably accommodating that your initial nervousness easily falls away as the music continues to fill the ballroom.

You only notice that the other guests have already paired up with their own partners on the dancefloor when Joshua twirls you around and hands you over to a noble gentleman you find vaguely familiar. He grins at you when he receives his next dance partner, mouthing “You can do it,” before he spins her away.

This is the part that you barely rehearsed for. Joshua simply told you to have fun and the rest will come easily. His unhelpful advice threw you off a little, since you were so accustomed to doing things by the book—to abiding by the rules that have been set.

Your current partner—Hyunjin, as he introduced himself—seems to pick up on your nervousness.

“You’re the kid of one of the royal mages, right?” he asks. “I’m the same. You’ve done this partner exchange thing before, haven’t you? I’ve seen you around a few times in the past.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, but I’m just really nervous today.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Understandable. Don’t think about it too much and just let the music guide you through it.”

Well that’s easier said than done. The noblemen in the kingdom must have some sort of dance class where they’re taught to just take it easy because that’s definitely something you can picture Joshua saying to you as well.

But as the orchestra continues to play song after song, you find your initial inhibitions ebbing away with each partner that passes. Hyunjin is right—you have done this before and you’re slowly remembering how fun it feels to dance with strangers in the middle of the castle’s ballroom.

As the last few songs start to play, there’s no trace of nervousness left to be seen on your face. You’re finally in your element.

Until you finally find yourself in the arms of the same person who amplified your anxiety in the first place.

“Hey,” Chan greets with a soft smile as he fits one hand over your waist and entwines the other with yours. “I thought I’d never be able to get to you.”

You spend a couple of seconds just gawking at him, but your body thankfully still moves to the rhythm. Chan has the gall to stifle a laugh at your reaction and you nearly step on his foot on purpose.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss as he twirls you around.

“Whoa. Don’t get so worked up. The headmaster invited me, so my presence here is completely legal,” he responds, that stupid smile never leaving his face. “Anyway, you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks, but you could’ve at least told me you’ll be here!”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

You want to snap at him and scold him for taking you by surprise like that. Part of you kind of wants to ask about his date for the night too, but past the frustration, you’re still glad to see him. It’s been too long and you know you have lots of catching up to do in person. So instead of an endless barrage of questions, you simply bask in the feel of being in your best friend��s safe hands after going so long without him.

You lose yourself to the music. At that moment, it’s as if you and Chan are the only two people in the world—contained in your own little bubble. When your gaze lands on the hand clasped with yours, your heart soars at the fact that he’s still wearing the ring you gave to him all those months ago.

A forget-me-not at the base of his pinky—much like your own.

“I’m not sure if I can steal you away for a quick chat after this so…” He purses his lips together as if he’s unsure of what to say. “You’re doing great. The queen seems enamored with you from what I could tell from her speech, so I hope you won’t put yourself down like you always do. You’ll be the best princess consort ever.

“And you seem really happy with Prince Joshua. I’m glad.”

Before you could even issue a response, he’s already turning you over to your next partner—making the words dissipate on your tongue before you can say them out loud.

Your next partner is none other than your future brother-in-law and you’re not sure if this is a good thing or not.

“Having fun?” Jeonghan asks with mirth coloring his tone.

“As much fun as someone who’s wearing heels all night can have,” you sigh as you match his careful yet precise movements. “Am I really going to have to do this all the time once Prince Joshua and I are married?”

The older man hums. “Mmm… You and Shua getting married? Not too sure about that, love.”

You furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“Ah, forgive me. I was just teasing,” Jeonghan muses with a sleazy look that’s rubbing you the wrong way. “It’s just that…I noticed you and that last partner of yours have matching rings, as well. Seems too good to be a coincidence on my end, but I could just be making the wrong assumptions.”

You don’t know why, but your chest seizes with panic—immediately explaining to Jeonghan that Chan is your best friend and nothing else. It’s not that you’re ashamed of him, but…

“Relax, little dove. I never insinuated otherwise,” Jeonghan chuckles. “But if you’re going to settle down with my brother, I suggest you do it with an unwavering heart. That’s all.”

You know you didn’t do anything remotely wrong, but Jeonghan is making it seem like he’s just caught you red handed for a crime you aren’t aware of committing. The same cheery smile lingers on his face for the entire dance, but there was an uncharacteristic seriousness in his words when he told you that last part.

A quiet voice inside your head tells you that you completely deserve the suspicion.

“Go find your fiancé for the final dance, love,” Jeonghan says with one last gentlemanly bow. “It’s only fair to properly conclude something you started together.”

Something tells you that there’s a double meaning behind his words, but even with how much time you’ve spent with Jeonghan, you still can’t easily parse what he means to say. Despite this, you do as you’re told—weaving through the crowd of visitors in search of Joshua.

You find him near the orchestra, dancing with the same woman whose arm was linked in Chan’s earlier tonight. There’s an dazzled look on her face that you’ve seen on the other ladies your fiancé has danced with and you chalk it up to the usual enchantment people are subjected to when they’re in Joshua’s company. He has that effect on people, it seems.

But she promptly snaps out of it when her eyes drift off to you—whispering something for Joshua to hear before the prince spins around with a welcoming look. He grins like he’s oh-so happy to see you and even if you know you should feel just as elated…

All that swells in your chest is guilt.

“They want us to what?”

A few days after the royal gala, Joshua pays your bedchambers a visit early in the morning. Sakura had just finished helping you into your corset and dress when the prince came knocking and despite your initial surprise, you gladly welcomed him at the doorway.

“Mother and Father want us to pay the local orphanage a visit,” Joshua reiterates the same words he just mentioned a minute ago, bemusement clear on his face. “They’ve been dispatching royal mages to hold magic classes for the young mages there lately. Jeonghan is usually the one who oversees it, but he has something more urgent to take care of today.”

Your throat bobs at the news. “But…I haven’t completed my assimilation yet.”

Joshua waves away your concerns. “About that. Since you’ve done such a remarkable job with your training thus far, and since you’ve apparently enamored dozens of guests the other day, I asked Father to reconsider the restrictions that come with the process.”

Enamored dozens of…? You shake your head, focusing on the matter at hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the assimilation period is still in effect, but we’ve decided to…rectify a few of the rules that come with it,” Joshua explains with a cheeky smile. “Once royal protégés like you have passed the half-year mark, you’ll be allowed to go in and out of the castle as you please.”

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. Is he being serious? Or is this a test?

“Come on, you’re making that face again.”

“What face?”

“Like what I’m saying is too good to be true.” Your fiancé pouts. "Don’t you want to go out? If I was stuck for six months in the castle without getting a taste of the outside, I honestly would’ve gone insane. Abiding by the one year rule is simply inhumane and it should’ve been amended a long time ago.”

…There he is again—making things easier for you like he always does.

You’ve never once thought of the castle as a prison, but… You did miss the outside. You miss early morning strolls in parks, weaving through markets to buy produce from local vendors. It’s been so long since you’ve had actual freedom that you forgot that you were quietly longing for it at all.

And Joshua went out of his way to give you just that.

“Okay,” you tell him—cautiousness still evident in your tone, but much less pronounced.

“What time do we leave?”

You have a feeling that the gods are out to smite you today.

No, really. They are. Because what sort of sick game is at play right now? Just when you thought you’ve found even more reasons to stick by Joshua until the end, they decide to throw a curveball at you in the form of…

“Oh, hello,” Chan greets with a stunned look when he appears behind the double doors to the orphanage—white marks that suspiciously look like cake batter smeared across his face. “I didn’t know that you were coming today. Prince Jeonghan said—”

“Yeah, Prince Jeonghan was busy so here we are,” you speak before Joshua could even explain, which you think is all kinds of rude, but your mouth starts running before your brain can even process the fact that your best friend is right in front of you. “Pray tell, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, princess-consort-in-the-making. What’re you doing outside the castle?” Chan laughs as he opens the door wider with an apologetic bow given to Joshua. “Forgive me, Your Highness. We’re always just this familiar with each other.”

“So I’ve been told,” Joshua chuckles before turning to you. “Didn’t your father tell you? Chan is his newly appointed aide. He’s dealing with something in your hometown right now, so he often sends him to tend to matters like this in his stead.”

No, your father did not tell you anything about this at all. Your incredulous expression shifts between your fiancé and best friend as if you’re waiting for the punchline of some joke shared between them.

It never comes.

“I-I see,” you say instead, clearing your throat before looking at Joshua again. “So is there anything I need to do?”

“Mmm, you can go meet the children with Chan while I talk to the orphanage directress,” he suggests. “You’ll be alright with that, right Chan?”

Your best friend nods. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“No need to be so formal with me. My fiancée's friends are mine as well,” the prince chuckles while he shakes his head. “I best be off to the directress’ office. I’ll come find the two of you after. Does that sound alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Chan answers. “It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Joshua grins. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the orphanage’s communal kitchen—rounding up children who might or might not hurt each other with their own play magic.

They were apparently in the middle of baking a cake for the directress when you and Joshua made your unannounced visit. From how smitten the kids are with Chan, you figure that he must’ve been spending a lot of time here lately.

Your best friend mentioned that he has a new…sideline going on, but you never imagined it to be this.

“Channie, who’s this?” Iseul—as Chan introduced—asks while he eyes you with a doe-eyed look. “Your wife?��

“Iseul,” reprimands one of the other kids. This one’s Eri, if you recall correctly. “That’s rude…”

The boy laughs nervously before fidgeting with his fingers. “O-Oh, sorry. I just thought so since she’s wearing the same ring Channie’s wearing.”

As if on cue, you and Chan both glance at your rings—two forget-me-nots stare back.

Your best friend is the first to address their curiosity. “No, she’s not my wife.”

Iseul cranes his head. “Then why’re you two wearing matching rings? The directress told me that only people who are married can do that.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” he chuckles before walking towards the brick oven in the middle of the kitchen—striking the coals with a precise shot of flame magic. A quiet ember immediately smolders beneath. “We wear rings as a symbol of a promise we made to each other. Isn’t that right?”

Trying not to look too stunned with his precise technique, you clear your throat. “Um, yes. Chan is my best friend. We make promises all the time.”

You kind of fear that the explanation might not be enough for Iseul, but surprisingly, he just nods in understanding. “Ohhh. Just like me and Eri then!”

At the mention of her name, Eri’s face goes red, but she doesn’t make any moves to deny it.

“Yup. Just like you and Eri,” Chan agrees with a laugh. “Come on. Let’s put the cake we worked so hard on in the oven. You want to give this as a gift to the directress, right?”

Ten minutes later, the other kids joined the fray as they watched the cake rise inside the oven. You and Chan watch them carefully from a distance, making sure no one comes too close to burn themselves.

“Sooo,” your best friend starts, leaning against the wooden counter. “Did the prince sneak you out or?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No. But he did negotiate with the king to overhaul the terms that come with the assimilation period. Once someone manages to last for six months, they’re allowed to go outside.”

Chan whistles. “Now that’s a guy who’ll do anything for his wife. Uh, future wife.”

If those words were uttered by someone else, you would’ve felt flattered. It’s an honor to have someone like Joshua as your fiancé. He’s done more than enough for you over the past year and you can’t even begin to comprehend how you’re supposed to pay him back for his kindness.

But when Chan says them, it fills your chest with a feeling you can’t name.

“Anyway,” you begin, “were you planning on telling me that you’re Father’s aide now or was I just going to find that out from Prince Joshua after all?”

“Hehe, sorry,” he says, sounding anything but apologetic. “I…kinda wanted to keep it a surprise until your assimilation period is over. But turns out, I could get to see you much sooner after all.”

You roll your eyes despite the smile that creeps up your face.

It’s common practice for royal mages to appoint aides that they’re training to be the next royal mage. You can only imagine how much Chan has improved over the last six months to have garnered your father’s approval like this. That man’s standards are crazy high.

But then again, you’ve always known that Chan was always cut out to be an amazing mage.

As the children’s attention shifts to Eri, who’s being egged on by Iseul to ‘do that trick with the flowers again’, you find yourself quietly observing them. With red cheeks, Eri relents—snapping her fingers once before a pretty sunflower materializes out of thin air.

That casual display even catches you off guard.

At your side, Chan stifles a laugh and you shoot him a dirty look. “You and Eri have the same elemental affinity. She doesn’t know her way around plants yet, but she can make flowers from sheer will alone.”

That’s…quite impressive, actually. You haven’t met a promising mage with an affinity for plant life since Chaewon. And Eri is barely ten years old.

“I bet she’ll grow up to be a fine mage,” you comment fondly as you keep your eyes on the kids.

Just as you say the words, Iseul claps his hands enthusiastically—lone spurts of fire jumping from his fingers. The other kids all exclaim as they avoid the flames before telling Iseul to knock it off.

“Uh, yeah. Iseul is a fire elemental,” Chan says dryly. “He’s also kinda having trouble controlling his powers. But don’t worry, that’s why I’m here.”

At that moment, you realize that a lot can change in the span of six months. Before you left your hometown, you never would’ve imagined Chan being responsible for another child’s magical progress. You were so used to hearing him putting himself down that the confidence he now exudes surprises you. In a good way.

Whatever he went through in the southern cities, you think of extending your gratitude to his mentor, Jongkook. You can only imagine what he put your best friend through for him to have this much trust in himself and his powers now.

Chan heaves a laugh that he pulls from the bottom of his stomach when one of the kids douses Iseul with a magical spray of water. It’s a sound you’ve longed to hear for months and now that his laughter is singing in your ears, you can’t help but stare at him a little too fondly.

What’s more is that he still has cake batter smeared across his cheek. You wonder if he genuinely isn’t aware it’s there or he’s just keeping it on for laughs. Still, you unconsciously lean closer—raising your hand to brush your fingers across the cream. Your best friend visibly startles at the gesture but makes no moves to shy away from your touch.

With your faces inches away, you start to realize just how close you’ve gotten. You can almost feel the hitch of his breath across your skin and…

Has Chan always been this handsome?

But those few precious moments are immediately shattered like glass when Iseul gasps and points to the entrance of the kitchen. “Look! It’s Prince Jeonghan!”

You and Chan break apart like you’ve both been burned by Iseul’s flames. Confusion races through your brain because you were told that Jeonghan was busy today, so why…?

“Common mistake, but I’m not Prince Jeonghan. I’m his brother,” Joshua clarifies as he steps into the kitchen with a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

One of the other kids gasps. “Are you a prince too?”

“He is.”

It surprises you that Chan is the one to speak up—having moved away from the counter and closer to the kids. You feel your heart twist when he leaves, but you shove down the emotion since Chan is beaming like he always is.

“He’s Prince Joshua and he’s getting married soon,” he continues before gesturing to you. “To her, actually.”

The children let out noises of awe, blinking up at you and Joshua with mouths agape like they’ve just witnessed someone do a neat trick with their magic. You can feel your face heat up at the sudden attention and you would’ve been glad to know that Joshua—for all his confidence and wit—isn’t faring so well either.

If only you weren’t so put down by the fact that your best friend just drew a fine line between the two of you. A line that he probably, definitely won’t cross.

“That’s right. If all goes well, we’re having the wedding in six months,” Joshua agrees quietly—his initial shock morphing into fondness.

“Whoa! A royal wedding?” Iseul gasps. “Are we invited too?”

The atmosphere proceeds to blur into a buzz of questions that Joshua is happy to accommodate. For children who are probably no older than twelve years old, they seem very engrossed in the relationships interspersed between the royal family.

You wonder if Jeonghan had a hand in their particular interest in the matter, but you don’t ponder on it too much because Chan eventually excuses himself from the kitchen—asking you to watch over the cake while he goes to check on the other kids playing in the backyard.

Your eyes stay riveted to the entrance even when your best friend is long gone.

You’re not sure how you’ve managed to last nine months away from home, but here you are.

As the end of your assimilation draws near, so does the royal wedding that’s been the talk of the capital for weeks now. Ever since you’ve been given freedom to go out of the castle as you please, you’ve made several friends among the elite socialites.

They’re always dying to get their hands on an inside scoop about what you and Joshua have planned for the final quarter of the process, but you often turn these requests down before convincing one of the ladies to tell you about the diamond necklace her husband got her for their anniversary.

It’s a scheme that Sakura told you in passing: if you want to get the nosy ones off your back, just trick them into talking about themselves instead.

Speaking of your handmaiden, she’s been busy booking you several trips to the most renowned boutique in the capital. With only three months left until the wedding, you’re expected to look out for the perfect dress to wear on that special day.

Despite knowing that you’re more level-headed than most marriageable women your age, you have fantasized about what you would look like in a wedding gown. Although sixteen year-old you never would’ve considered getting to sample the designs of well-known tailors across the kingdom, much more being fussed over by the royal family itself.

What you pictured was a simple wedding in your hometown—donned with a dainty white dress that didn’t boast much glamor and glitz. The only visitors would be your family, some close friends, along with your colleagues and students. A spring wedding always seemed perfect to you, and whenever you imagined yourself walking down the aisle, the person waiting for you at the altar is—

“Oh my goodness,” the seamstress behind all the stunning dresses you're trying on gasps when she lets herself inside the dressing room—eyes glittering like rhinestones. “You look absolutely stunning! I definitely like the fit of this more than the others, miss!”

You startle out of your careful reminiscing as your brain zones back in on your reflection in the mirror. This dress is as white as an angel’s wings and though she is completely right about it easily being the best you’ve tried on so far, it’s a far cry from the one you dreamed about wearing as a teen.

You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“You think so?” you murmur, pushing down those past preferences into the furthest vestiges of your mind. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Aside from wedding gowns, the queen often consults you about the venue of the wedding. You’re actually quite surprised with how much agency they’re allowing you over the necessary decisions, but she insisted that it’s only fair for her future daughter-in-law to have a say with how her own wedding is going to pan out.

“I was thinking of holding it in the castle’s courtyard for all the kingdom to see,” she tells you over afternoon tea, a kind smile settled on her face. “That’s how all royal weddings usually take place, but I thought we could use some fresh input, you know?”

“Fresh input?” you repeat. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I don’t think I can follow…”

The queen shakes her head. “Silly girl, I’m asking if you have another venue in mind! Your ideas about royal politics have always been refreshing to hear, so I figured that you must have an alternative sitting inside that pretty mind of yours.”

The moment the words leave her lips, you immediately picture the riverbanks back in your hometown. It’s not a place that could accommodate hundreds upon thousands of guests like royal weddings should. But if you were to settle with a more intimate gathering, that would be your best bet.

Of course, you tell the queen none of this.

“I think holding it at the courtyard is a splendid idea already, Your Highness,” you tell her with a smile that you don’t quite believe in. “After all, there’s no place like home.”

Another thing to consider is the guestlist. Even if this is an event that the royal family encourages the entire kingdom to look forward to, only a select few are allowed inside the castle premises.

For some reason, Jeonghan is the one saddled with the job to curate who gets to witness you being hailed both as Joshua’s wife and as princess-consort. He’s hard at work when you find him in the castle library one day, buried in stacks upon stacks of invitations with a look on his face that screams why am I even here?

Curious, you slide into one of the empty seats at the table. “I didn’t think they’d hand you a job so tedious.”

“They didn’t,” Jeonghan frames the words with a sigh. “I volunteered ‘cause I know it would make Shua happy.”

“You can make your little brother happy in other ways too,” you joke.

The older prince hums as he scribbles onto a fine sheet of parchment. “You’d know a lot about making my brother happy, now would you?”

Jeonghan has a reputation for being a scheming, sharp-tongued prince. You’re fully aware of this, but getting to live with him for almost a year made you see sides of him he doesn’t usually show to the public.

Though not as openly as Joshua does, he cares for his family and the staff in his own, quiet way. You like to think that his subtle thoughtfulness even extended to you during these fateful months in the castle.

But after that fateful encounter in the ballroom during the six-month mark of your assimilation, something told you that you no longer had the privilege of being on the receiving end of his support.

“It’s kind of ironic, really,” Jeonghan muses before dipping his pen into the inkwell. “I’m willingly overseeing this blasted guestlist despite the fact that my brother is getting married to someone who doesn’t even love him. But I suppose it’s an older brother’s job to cater to the fantasy until he sees things for how they are on his own.”

“Your Highness, forgive me but it’s rather bold of you to assume that I don’t harbor an ounce of love for my fiancé,” you tell him outright, lacing your fingers together tightly on your lap.

Right next to the lavish ring Joshua had given to you, a forget-me-not sits unassumingly by its side.

Jeonghan laughs. “Really? That’s quite amusing, since I think it’s even bolder for you to choose responsibility over the man your heart truly longs for.”

Silence rings in the room like white noise and you aren’t able to school your expression into neutrality fast enough to escape Jeonghan’s observant eyes. The complacent set of his jaw clues you in on just how much he actually knows and you aren’t certain about what to make of it.

“Whatever you think is going on with me and…that person,” you start, the address tasting like acid on your tongue, “I guarantee you that it’s long gone. He’s the one who made it clear several months before and I never once intended to go back on something I already started.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before pointing the tip of his quill at you. “You know, things would be much easier if you were just a gold-digging commoner and none else.”

Your face twists with offense. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he retaliates as he leans back in his seat. “If you were in this for money and power like every other woman out there, Shua would’ve called off the engagement much sooner. But even I know that you’re too good for that.”

Your momentary vexation with Jeonghan blurs into confusion in a matter of seconds. Is he making a jab at you or complimenting you?

When he recognizes the puzzled look on your face, he heaves a long-winded sigh before putting down his pen altogether.

“Let me put it this way: you’re objectively the best princess-consort-in-training that I’ve had the pleasure to meet. You do everything you’re told flawlessly—sticking by the book at all times if you can help it. You’d even sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of others.

“While that sense of responsibility would make for a great leader in the future…my little brother doesn’t deserve to be loved as half-heartedly as you love him.”

Your heart thumps inside your ribcage as if it was a prison it longs to break free from. Part of you knows you should refute every single thing that Jeonghan just said. It’s what a future princess-consort should do.

But every time your mind flashes back to that old spring wedding fantasy you conjured up in your hometown, Chan’s lovely smile burns itself into the back of your eyelids.

Wordlessly, Jeonghan goes back to work and you stew in the silence of the library much longer than you have to. It’s only when one of the servants calls both of your attention to have lunch in the dining hall that he speaks again.

“You still have several weeks to make up your mind, little dove,” Jeonghan whispers slowly the moment you both enter the dining hall. It doesn’t help your case when Joshua perks up in his seat at the sight of you walking inside with his older brother like he hasn’t given you an ultimatum right then and there.

“Make sure each one counts.”

You don’t really receive letters from Chan anymore.

He’s stopped sending them together after you last met him in the orphanage. Your father explained that he’s been entrusted with several tasks both in and out of the Academy and that those take up most of his time.

You want to tell him that your best friend never once missed a letter even during those hellish days he spent in the southern cities, but in the end, you decide to keep your silence.

Thoughts about letters that won’t come are the last thing on your mind when winter falls upon the kingdom. The preparations are in full swing despite the fact that there’s still a month left before the wedding itself and because you refuse to be a sitting duck that lets everyone do all the work, you decide to contribute every now and again.

But even if there’s a sense of accomplishment in being able to help around, this season has always been your least favorite.

You’re a mage who practices with plants and flowers alike, so it’s only natural for you to feel under the weather this time around. The fact that you’ve scarcely gotten to practice your magic ever since you set foot in the capital does little in contributing to your peace of mind as well.

Your hometown is teeming with plant life that you could nurture with the simplest spells. Inside the stone walls and marble floors of the royal castle, there’s barely anything that requires your constant care.

It’s a given that royals tend to avoid relying on magic for all matters concerning the regency. You were taught that cleverness and wit are the two things that will keep you alive among the foreign courts of other kingdoms and that things like magic can be entrusted to the royal mages instead.

But all it takes is a withering winter to make you realize that you don’t want your magic—the very core of who you are—to dwindle into nothingness.

It’s for that reason that you find yourself heading over to the castle gardens despite the fact that you promised Sakura that you’d start practicing for matrimonial dance with your usual instructor this afternoon. The sun has barely peeked beyond the clouds these days, but you’re convinced that you’ll at least find comfort in the flowers that grew sparsely inside.

There, you find Joshua crouched next to a shrub of carnations.

He’s dressed down today—comfortably enough to let you know that he doesn’t have any plans for the meantime. Your fiancé is examining each bloom with such rapt attention, you’re convinced he didn’t even notice your arrival.

Surely enough, as you take the first step to approach him, he rises back to his full height—turning around with a vibrant carnation in his hand.

Everyone inside the castle uses their magic so infrequently that you sometimes forget that you and Joshua share the same elemental affinity. Maybe that’s the reason it was so easy for you to get along with him for the past eleven months.

But you know better than most that there’s more to it than just that.

“You’ve been very busy lately,” Joshua comments with an easygoing smile. “I barely see you these days.”

You sigh, tucking your cardigan closer to your form. “If I’m not helping with the wedding preparations, I’m holed up in my bedchambers. I…don’t really like winters.”

“Neither do I,” he chuckles. “But my duties won’t stop just because I loathe the cold. I’m sure you understand that well.”

The quiet settles over the both of you like a blanket of snow—making you wonder how you used to deal with long winters in the past.

Then you remember a boy who’s always brought warmth in your life without even trying. Nights spent sleeping in front of the fireplace, tucked in the warmth of his body no matter how harsh the blizzards could be. Collective yearning for the day the snow finally melts and spring returns with a flowery smile.

But that’s the thing—it’s all in the past.

“Can I…ask you something?”

The hesitation in Joshua’s words makes you stare at him pensively.

He always sounds sure of himself. Attractively confident. Not in a way that others would find obnoxious, but the complete opposite. There’s a reason why Joshua is so loved in his own kingdom yet right now, you’re starting to see the cracks forming on his gentlemanly demeanor.

“What is it?” you murmur softly despite dread slowly sinking its claws into your skin.

Joshua tilts his head up to the overcast sky like he’s wondering if it’s going to snow today. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before meeting your eyes again.

“Are you certain you still want to go through with the wedding?”

This…oddly feels like the time you found Jeonghan in the library. The guilt you’ve been harboring for the longest time festers at the implications of his question and you wonder if everything you’ve worked so hard on for the past year will come crashing down today.

“Of course,” you tell him but you’re well aware Joshua knows a lie when he hears it.

“Really?”

“Is there something specific that you wish for me to say?”

He sighs—the cold starting to materialize with each breath. “No, nothing in particular.”

“It’s just that I believe it would be unfair of me to impose marriage when your heart already belongs to someone else.”

The water running from the fountain is all that plagues your ears yet Joshua’s admission doesn’t evoke the visceral reaction you had to Jeonghan telling you nearly the same thing. Hearing the words come from your fiancé’s mouth doesn’t instill you with guilt.

No… This is something much closer to acceptance.

“I once thought that your time in the castle would give enough leeway for us to get to know each other better,” he continues with a sad smile. “And it did. I’m certain that we’re much closer now than we were a year ago. But… I was a fool to think I could ever get you to love me the same way you love him.”

You’re immediately seized with the need to placate him somehow. After all, you were taught that it’s a wife’s duty to ease her husband’s troubles should he confide in her.

But you’re not Joshua’s wife.

(And from how this conversation is going, you might never be.)

All of a sudden, something that Jeonghan said to you in the library resurfaces in your mind. At the time, you were too frustrated with him to actually process the words, but suddenly all of it makes sense.

I suppose it’s an older brother’s job to cater to the fantasy until he sees things for how they are on his own.

“You’ve known all this time,” you tell him incredulously. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think that you were obligated to love me for my sake. That’s something that should never be imposed,” he murmurs, twirling the flower in his hands almost wistfully. “I assumed that…maybe if I just gave you enough time, it would come to you naturally. But sometimes things just don’t work out the way you thought and that’s okay.”

If you weren’t trembling in your shoes a minute ago, you certainly are now.

“Joshua,” you whisper. “What are you saying?”

The smile on his face never wavers even as he crosses the distance between you and pulls you into a sound embrace. It catches you off guard for a second because Joshua has never initiated this kind of contact during your entire stay.

But even with the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the fact that your mind immediately compares it to how it feels to have Chan’s heat permeating your skin…

It only means that this engagement is as good as over.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Joshua whispers back—one hand smoothing across your hair as he holds you in place. “For giving yourself the chance to love me. For being selfless enough to do everything you’ve done so far. I used to admire your self-sacrificing tendencies, but…

“Now I’m sure it’s high time that you chose yourself for a change.”

You don’t know when the tears started to fall, but you find comfort in the crook of Joshua’s neck as you sob into his arms. He doesn’t say a word as you let it out—all the years you spent looking after others, putting their wellbeing first before your own.

You’ve gotten so accustomed to taking responsibility for everyone around you that it never really occurred to you that things don’t have to be that way.

You’re allowed to choose yourself. You’re allowed to be selfish.

“Go,” Joshua murmurs against the crown of your head. “Go back home. You deserve as much.”

You look up at him, sniffling. “B-But the wedding—”

“There won’t be a wedding,” he reassures with the same sad smile that breaks your heart to see. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll explain the situation to everyone. Right now…you have to go because your father informed me that he’s leaving soon.”

As if you haven’t already been given enough to deal with in a single day, you feel like an anvil has been dropped into the pit of your stomach.

“What do you mean?”

“Lee Jung Chan was assigned to travel to another reputable magic school on the other side of the continent to build an alliance with the Academy,” Joshua explains swiftly. “He leaves tonight and won’t come back in a long, long while depending on how the initial negotiations turn out.”

An alliance…?

Is that what he’s been so preoccupied with these days? So much that he can’t even spare the time to write to you anymore?

Before the next bout of tears could spill from your eyes, Joshua calmingly tucks a loose tuft of your hair behind your ear. He looks at you with so much adoration and longing that you briefly entertain the possibility of you loving him unconditionally in another life.

You hope he’ll be happier there.

“There’s a carriage waiting for you at the gates of the capital,” Joshua says. “Leave now while you still have time.”

You want to say something. To apologize to him. To thank him. To tell him that he deserves the world and much, much more.

But all you do is slide off the diamond engagement ring from your finger, handing it to Joshua with an apologetic look before bolting to the castle entrance—not even sparing him a single word in goodbye.

Venues? Wedding gowns? Invitations? None of these mattered anymore.

Not when you're about to lose your best friend—the love of your life.

Joshua tries not to think about how your hand looked now that it was devoid of his gift; how all that remained is a promise ring that he should’ve taken as a sign to give up a long time ago.

Just as he hears the commotion stirring down the winding halls, Joshua looks up at the sky again. When he closes his eyes, he feels the first few snowflakes land on his face—cold and solitary, much like himself.

Even so...

You broke his heart in the middle of winter, yet Joshua still looks forward to the flowery smile of spring.

The moment you arrived at your hometown, you weren’t sure where to start looking. For one, the coachman who brought you here said that your father was out of town for undisclosed reasons. You couldn’t exactly march up to the headmaster’s office in the Academy to interrogate him about Chan’s whereabouts.

That’s why you opted to start with your best friend’s house openly greeted by his mother with a shocked expression as she asks what on earth you were doing so far away from the royal capital.

“Uh, it’s a long story,” you tell her sheepishly as you try not to shiver too much from the cold. “I promise I’ll keep you up to speed, but for now I really need to find Chan.”

She hesitates for a moment and you chalk it up to the fact that Chan’s mother must be thinking she’s going to have a hand in something illegal if she helps you. After all, she’s always had good instincts when either you or her son were up to no good.

But you tell yourself that this is probably the most good you’ve done for yourself in a long, long time.

In the end, she directs you to the Academy—saying something about Chan wanting to deal with a few things first before he leaves. With just half an hour until nightfall, several students can be seen walking out of the gates after a long day. Some just pass by you without a word, while others throw second glances over their shoulder—as if they couldn’t believe that you’re back either.

You recognize those kids to be some of your former students, but you can’t bring yourself to stop for a quick chat—simply hoping they’ll forgive you for your haste.

But through the thundering of your heart, you hear a familiar voice call your name in the crowd.

“You’re back!" Chaewon remarks with a delightful gasp before tackling you with a firm embrace. “Why didn’t you tell us you were visiting? Did you bring Prince Joshua with—?”

“Chaewon, where’s Chan?” you interject almost desperately.

Your old student blinks up at you, rightfully confused. “Um, he’s going on a trip for a while. Yunjin told me just now that she saw the other royal mages that gathered here leave on their horses an hour ago. Why? Did you need something from him?”

The news makes you feel like your head has been submerged in murky waters—cloying your senses until you could no longer make sense of what’s around you. Chaewon flashes you a disconcerted look, asking if everything is alright.

You want to tell her that you’re fine, but you can’t find the words. Your mouth feels cottony and your eyes are starting to sting. Instead of answering, you turn on your heel, biting down the guilt that comes with dismissing one of your favorite students as you run towards the opposite direction.

Chaewon calls out for you several times, but you don’t look back.

Maybe you should just head back to the castle and tell Joshua that this was all a mistake—a lapse in judgment that can still be taken back. You should just see your assimilation through until the end. You’ve already made it so far, after all.

But you just know, deep in your gut, that Joshua wouldn’t accept that so easily. He made it clear that he wants you to want him with no holds barred. Not because you feel responsible for his feelings. Not because the love of your life has already left. That’s just who he is as a person.

Not wanting to burst into tears for the second time today, you find yourself walking towards the greenhouse—craving that familiar solace you always get whenever you’re inside. Your father told you he was going to keep an eye on it while you were gone and you figure that he’d been telling the truth when you find the enclosure just as you’ve left it.

Several of your personal experiments seem like someone enchanted them with time suspension magic—looking the exact way they did before you left almost a year ago. Among the other plants and flora are other pieces you don’t recognize. You figure that these must be Chaewon’s work and you remind yourself to compliment her once you sort yourself out.

But when you don’t spot a certain plant box you were looking for, a frown roots itself on your face.

Did Chan move your forget-me-nots somewhere else? The vibrant blue flowers should’ve been easy to spot even amidst the lush blooms all around you, but there’s nothing like that in the vicinity.

You take your search outside for reasons unknown. Perhaps it’s the restlessness of just staying in one place when you know the very symbol of your promise with your best friend is nowhere to be found. As you make your way out, you glance at the single flower sitting at the base of your pinky—sadly wondering if Chan is even still wearing his.

But the moment you make it to the back of the greenhouse, you’re much too stunned with the sight that beholds you.

What once was a vacant patch of grasslands is now filled to the brim with forget-me-nots that glow vibrantly in comparison to the bleak gray winter. Despite the drop in temperature, the field of blue flowers stretches on until the borders of the Academy and you have to pinch yourself and make sure you’re not dreaming.

Then, as if this situation can’t get any more unbelievable, you spot someone crouched in the middle of the field of forget-me-nots.

Your best friend.

Chan doesn’t immediately notice you—seemingly lost in thought, just like the day you found him by the riverbanks a year ago. For someone that’s leaving on an indefinite trip to the other side of the continent, he surely doesn’t look dressed the part, having opted for his comfortable cotton tunic and trousers instead of the garbs royal mages and aides are required to don.

You don’t think twice. You just run.

He lets out an undignified yelp when you tackle him into the ground—palms heating up with a flare of his magic with the full intention of blasting away the intruder. But when he finds his best friend lying right on top of him amidst the forget-me-nots, he’s engulfed with a different kind of heat entirely.

“You asshole,” you hiss with teary eyes, beating your fists weakly against his chest. “You’re going away for a long time and you didn’t even bother to tell me? Am I suddenly not your best friend anymore?”

There’s nothing more that Chan hates than seeing you cry, but he loathes it even more when he’s the cause of your tears. He doesn’t even know if you’re actually here with him. You should be back at the royal castle, preparing for your wedding and not sobbing because of your best friend.

But the warmth of your body nestled on top of his own is much too real. It’s the same sensation he’s craved since you left. The same feeling he’s always longed for, for as long as he can remember.

And he’s not such a glutton for punishment that he’ll deprive himself of it any longer.

Chan cracks a barely there smile, the breath of his laughter materializing in front of him as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear. He’s not sure if your face flushes because of him or the cold, but he likes to think it’s the former.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, opting to save his many questions for later. “Dunno how you found out about the trip, but I backed out of it last minute. Told the headmaster that I’m not the best with negotiations and that I might unknowingly start a war in the process.”

He half-expects you to either laugh in his face despite the clearly distraught expression you’re wearing or fume at him for being so ridiculous. You probably made the trip from the capital to your hometown just to see him off and he’ll understand your frustration at the fact that his participation was rendered null and void.

But you do neither of these things.

Instead, you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt—pulling him up and leaning forward at the same time.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about kissing Chan at least once in your life. But you can attest to the fact that you didn’t imagine it to happen while you’re freshly broken up from a year-long engagement—snowflakes starting to fall in the field of flowers you asked him to take care of.

Those he promised to take care of.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, hands trembling from where they grip Chan’s clothes as you force your breathing to even out. “I’ve always loved you and I’m the biggest idiot in the world for not accepting that sooner.”

Chan gazes up at you in stunned silence, lips moving as if meaning to say something in return but the words evade him. But just when you’re about to emphasize your point again, Chan raises an arm to shield his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You’re lying,” he chuckles almost helplessly. “You’ve got to be messing with me.”

A scowl stretches across your lips. How could that be his first reaction? You thought he’d be elated that you came back and professed your feelings.

But then you entertain the possibility that…what if you’ve read the entire situation wrong? What if Chan never had any feelings of the romantic kind for you at all?

What if you risked everything for nothing?

“Lee Jung Chan,” you whisper threateningly. “I left the Crown Prince himself in a heartbeat when I found out you were going away. Made the entire trip from the capital to here just for the slim chance of seeing you before you left. I even kissed you outside in the middle of winter because I was so fucking glad that you’re here to stay. If that isn’t genuine enough for you, then what else do you want me to do?”

Your best friend lowers his hand and you try not to waver at the sight of his puffy red eyes. He sucks in a deep breath that almost whistles down his throat before taking one of your hands and lifting it closer to his face.

At the base of your pinky is the same ring he’s never once taken off since you gave it to him.

As night falls and the endless snow falls upon your hometown, two lone figures in a field full of flowers remain undisturbed in their lonesome.

For some, love is something you don’t give half-heartedly. For others, it should never be imposed.

For you, it’s a whirlwind of emotions that you could never quite figure out how to deal with.

Yet when it comes to Lee Jung Chan, you realize that love has always been easy.

“Chan,” you sigh into the cold air of his bedroom as your best friend peppers your neck with kisses much too heated than you expected. “S-Slow down a little.”

He breathes out a laugh that sounds much too airy for your liking. Chan detaches his lips from your skin as he flashes you a gummy smile. “Slow down? I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. I don’t think I can slow down anymore, princess.”

You have to fight the urge to hit him with his choice of words. “Act any more cheeky and I’m walking out of your house.”

“Duly noted.”

Then his mouth is back on yours.

The trip back to Chan’s house—a new, one bedroom apartment near the town square, not his mother’s house—was a bit tricky. For one, you had to walk around where virtually everyone knows you to be Prince Joshua’s fiancée, answering questions about what you’re doing back home with the wedding coming up so close.

You keep your answers curt and short—not wanting to ignite the scandal of a lifetime before Joshua can even prepare the ample damage control. That and each time someone mentions how happy they are for your engagement, you can feel Chan’s eyes boring into the back of your head.

So now you’re here, crowded beneath your best friend on his mattress as he kisses your breath away.

You’ve never done this before. The most daring thing you’ve done with Joshua, who was literally your fiancé for almost a year, was that last hug you shared before you left the castle for good. So you suppose no one can blame you for feeling so lightheaded from the feel of Chan’s lips pressed against yours alone.

It doesn’t help that, even through his desperation to leave no space between the two of you, there’s still caution weighted beneath his desire. He could probably sense the hesitation in your movements as you reciprocate his vigor—kissing back almost awkwardly despite how good his kisses are making you feel.

“Open your mouth a little for me,” he murmurs, one hand cradling your jaw as you let out a little whimper. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now. I promise you’ll like it.”

Not wanting to keep either of you waiting for much longer, you do as you’re told—opening your mouth just a tad wider right after Chan kisses you again. He easily muffles the gasp you make with his lips when you feel his tongue lick into your mouth. The sensation makes gooseflesh prickle your arms and he coaxes out another embarrassing noise from you—one too salacious for others to hear freely.

“See? What’d I tell you?” he whispers breathlessly against your lips—a strong arm coiling around your waist as he pulls you against his body. “You like it that much?”

You nod meekly. Chan laughs.

“I wanna try something. Hold on.”

Confused, you watch your best friend take a spot beside you on his bed, legs sprawled across the mattress as he tugs you closer to him. You resist his ministrations for a moment as you try to figure out what on earth he’s planning to do. But then it dawns on you.

He wants you to sit on his lap.

“Too much?” he asks with a hint of caution, to which you quickly respond with a shake of your head.

“Just…surprising,” you admit as you settle your hips across his thighs.

You kind of want to ask where he even learned about all this, but part of you doesn’t want to know the answer. Picturing Chan lying with someone else like this is enough to kill your mood, so you decide to push the thought far away until you could no longer remember it.

Despite how…strange and new this is to you, it’s much more comfortable than having his weight press you down into the mattress. Not to mention, you can just brace your hands on Chan’s shoulders as he licks further into your mouth—fingers laced behind the small of your back as you continue whimpering into his kisses.

Gods above. Will you even get out of this alive?

“You taste so sweet,” Chan murmurs before carding his fingers through your hair. “Much better than I imagined.”

You find it in you to chuckle in spite of yourself. “You’ve been imagining this?”

“Enough times to grant me admission to an asylum,” your best friend replies with a sigh as he continues combing your tresses. “I’m crazy about you, if that isn’t obvious enough. Wanted to kiss you so bad back in the orphanage when you leaned in way too close.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but looking back at it now, you definitely felt the same. Now you’re not sure whether or not you should treat Joshua’s untimely entrance in the kitchen that day as a miracle or a curse.

“I did too,” you profess with little hesitation, tracing the curve of his lips with your thumb before resting your forehead against his. “We’re so stupid. If only we admitted our feelings earlier, we wouldn’t be in such a huge mess.”

Chan hums. “You mean…if I just spoke up when you got Prince Joshua’s proposal, you would’ve rejected it?”

“Of course I would,” you nearly exclaim. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, Chan.”

“Ditto. Guess we have lots of missed time to make up for.”

When he claims your lips again, it’s charged with want so potent you can almost taste it on your tongue. Chan presses your body even closer to his, if that’s even possible and as he continues building up the fever pitch of your desire, you start to shift uncomfortably on his lap—slick beginning to pool between your thighs the deeper he kisses you.

The evidence of his own arousal pokes against your middle as well—leaving Chan a groaning mess each time you unknowingly jerk your hips to chase after the barest hint of friction. You don’t know where all this will lead nor do you know what comes after.

All that matters is that Chan is with you right here, right now.

Your clothes all come off one by one. Chan doesn’t forget to drag his lips across every inch of newly exposed skin—a quiet, unrelenting profession of his feelings. He wants to engrave himself into every part of you; to leave his mark so that you’ll remember him still even if he only gets to have you for the night.

But what Chan just doesn’t get is that your heart has already been set on him since the start.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, trailing his calloused fingers along the sensitive curve of your waist when he lays you down on your back. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t like.”

It’s so Chan of him to be this concerned about your boundaries. But you don’t know how else to say that you want nothing more than to take things all the way aside from tugging him back down for another breathtaking kiss.

“Is it going to hurt?” you ask, genuinely curious, just a tad bit afraid.

Your best friend purses his lips, the heat of his body offering you some much needed comfort as he plants another kiss on the corner of your mouth. “It will for a while. But I’ll ease you into it and make you feel good. I promise.”

Chan says the words like you have anything but trust in him. You know he needs a verbal confirmation out of you, but you’re both too embarrassed and too aroused to give him the green light out loud. Instead, you nod your head twice—leaning closer to his ear to whisper:

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Your best friend sighs out something that suspiciously sounds like gods, I love you, before burying his face in your exposed chest—lips latching onto one of the pert nipples as he massages your other breast languidly. The wet sound of his mouth getting to work makes your face flush several shades of red and your sex to leak even more slick than it already has.

There’s just something so arousing about how careful Chan is with your body. He handles you like you’re the most precious thing in the world and throws your mind into an inexplicable haze.

But then again, maybe you’re just that in love with the guy.

You visibly tense underneath his touch when you feel him start to prod his fingers along your glistening seam. You’re so sensitive that you twitch from the slightest contact and Chan sighs a laugh into your chest when he feels it.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “I can’t make you feel good if you’re too high-strung.”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff. “You’re not the one who’s about to be fucked into oblivion.”

Chan startles from how easily the words fall from your lips—mouth agape like a fish out of water. You wonder if you said something out of turn but when he kisses you for the millionth time today, you notice something else eclipsing his ready set gentleness.

Something more carnal.

“You can’t rile me up by talking so filthily like that,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m trying to be a good lover by taking things slow. Promise you won’t catch me off guard like that again?”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Chan, you know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But I'll try~”

“Fuck. Alright. I can work with that.”

When he eases a finger inside your awaiting heat, you find the sensation a little uncomfortable. It’s like having something inside you that doesn’t quite belong there. Chan analyzes your reactions in the silence as he continues prodding your entrance—looking for any signs of discomfort like a hawk as he experimentally thrusts that single digit in and out of you.

“F-Feels weird,” you mumble. “Is it supposed to feel weird?”

“I guess you’d feel that way if it was your first time,” he chuckles and your eyes narrow at the implication behind his words. “But I’ve got to loosen you up if I don’t want to hurt you.”

So this wasn’t his first after all. Though you want nothing more than to hear tales about former escapades, you decide to grill him about it later.

You’re about to question how something like this can do that before Chan robs you of your capacity to think coherently, curling his slender finger inside you until he brushes a spot that has your muscles spasming underneath him. A wicked smile finds its way to his face as he slips in another finger so easily—the pads grazing that sensitive patch of flesh to coax out the same reaction from you.

“Still weird?” he laughs.

“Good…” you whimper, grinding your hips shamelessly into his hand. “Feels so good, Chan.”

Your best friend sighs as he watches you slowly cross the threshold between awkward curiosity and the beginnings of an enjoyable time. You’re wet and wanting—just like how he hoped you’d be and the way your tight walls clench around his fingers barely tempers the raw anticipation that sizzles in his veins.

Gentle. He needs to be gentle.

He doesn’t want to lose control when he’s waited oh-so long for this moment.

But god fucking damn are you making it so hard when you’re moaning so prettily for him.

“C-Chan,” you mewl and he feels you tighten even more around his digits. “It feels weird again… Like something’s coming.”

He sucks in a sharp breath before pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. The sensation makes you buck further into his hand and Chan can only do so much to keep himself from just fucking you into the bed.

“Let go,” he tells you before flicking his thumb across your puffy clit. “Let it all go, beautiful. Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”

The newfound stimulation blindsides you in a way you didn’t expect—reducing you into a mumbling mess of arousal beneath your best friend as he continues tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub. Your first (of many) orgasms crashes over you like a tidal wave and you sigh out his name so needily, he can barely contain himself for much longer.

But he doesn’t rush you no matter how pent up he is—he won’t, he won’t, he won’t.

Besides, the sight of you so fucked out from taking his fingers alone—lips parted, chest heaving, eyes pulling in and out of focus—is a reward in and of itself.

“You still with me?” your best friend checks in with a concerned look, wiping the sweat that beads across your forehead with the back of his hand.

But the moment his skin makes contact with yours again, you absentmindedly grab his hand—pressing a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“I’ll always be with you.”

Gods above. He doesn’t deserve you.

When he’s sure you’re ready, Chan positions himself right before your entrance—carefully nudging your thighs apart as he fists the angry red erection he’s been sporting all night. The sight of his cock makes you blush, but you figure there’s no point in acting coy now that you’ve made it this far.

“You know what to do when I do something you don’t like, right?”

You nod—not really hearing the words with how transfixed you are on other things. “Y-Yes.”

Chan offers up a lazy smile. “That’s my girl.”

You take all of him inch by unbearable inch—your walls meeting the stretch that his girth offers with mild resistance. His fingers are child’s play compared to this and you force yourself to power through it despite how it burns.

Of course, Chan doesn’t miss a beat despite how hard you try to conceal your discomfort.

“I’m hurting you, aren’t I?” he asks with an apologetic smile, wiping the tears that are pooling in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Just a bit more and you’ll get used to it.”

“You promise?”

Your best friend brings an outstretched pinky close to your face—the same pinky with the ring that started all of this staring back at you. The moment you hook your own finger around his, your best friend murmurs:

“I promise.”

Chan is quite patient despite the fact that he’s balls-deep inside of you—keeping the innate desire to just ram his length into you until you’re a sobbing, crying mess for him. The Academy’s best graduate, the kingdom’s sweetheart, his perfect best friend. All reduced to tears on his cock.

“Chan,” you breathe in deeply, having finally accustomed yourself to how he stretches you out. “Y-You can move now.”

Shit. You sound so shy, so innocent.

How could he not give you what you want?

The first outward drag of his hips pulls a pretty little whimper out of you and an even prettier moan when he thrusts back in. Chan sighs as he minds the pace he’s set, cradling your face with one hand as he steadies you with the other.

“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a featherlight kiss on your nose. “More than there are stars in the sky, more than how many flowers you’ll ask me to look after while you’re gone.”

His sweet words are subverted with a harsh thrust that he does experimentally to see how you’d react to it. When Chan doesn’t see any indication of pain or dislike, he repeats it—again and again until he can feel you coating his length in the slick of your leaking arousal.

“Feels so fucking good around me,” he rasps, keeping himself from biting into your shoulder because he isn’t sure of how you feel about those kinds of marks just yet. “Perfect… You’re so, so perfect. I’ve never loved anyone else as much as I love you.”

It feels a bit worrisome, admitting all this in the heat of it all. Chan fears that you would find his words a tad disingenuous. For all he knows, you’re thinking that it’s your wonderful cunt making him say all these sweet nothings.

But you’re too far gone yourself to even think about the specifics.

“Deeper,” you beg, lacing your fingers around his neck as more tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “Need to feel you deeper, Chan.”

You’re going to be the death of him—this he’s finally sure of.

The fat head of his cock batters your poor, abused pussy with the vigor of someone who’s been waiting for you all his life. Chan babbles out a mantra of compliments and praise all strung together in a haze of pleasurable delirium as your nails start to rake across his back.

“Want you to be mine forever,” he sighs against your lips—his hot breath fanning against your face. “Can I have you? For the rest of my life?”

Even in the throes of passion, the answer comes to you so easily.

“I’m yours,” you cry out as he angles his cock just right and grazes the spot that makes you see stars. “I’m yours, Chan. Always yours. Forever yours.”

Your mind crumbles as your release crests out of nowhere—coherence draining from every recess of your mind while Chan fucks you through your high. He snaps his hips unforgivingly as he chases his own orgasm. His fingers leave red imprints on your thighs with how firmly they dig into your supple flesh and they stay there even when he finally pinpoints his release.

The two of you collapse onto the mattress with shallow breaths, sweat-slicked skin sticking to each other with how close your bodies are. When your mind finally returns to the shores of reality, you dare to crack your eyes open—only to see your best friend looking back at you with a tired smile.

This is the man who saw you cry over a stick fort that he accidentally stepped on when you were kids.

The one who thinks you’re still pretty even when your face is rife with tears and snot.

The one who skips stones with you in the river at sunset.

The one who keeps you warm by the fireplace during every winter.

The one who defended you from classmates who accused you of being a fraud that rode on her father’s coattails.

The one you’ll gladly spend the rest of your life with.

You think you should find it strange how Joshua suddenly comes to mind now that you’re finally where you want to be. But if it weren’t for him, you never would’ve gotten that final push to be selfish—to choose yourself for once and not feel any ounce of remorse for doing so.

If it weren’t for him, you never would’ve felt what true happiness feels like.

“So…” your best friend starts as he pulls a blanket over your naked bodies. “For tonight’s pillow talk, you get to decide the topic of interest.”

You snort. “Okay. What are my choices?”

“Hm. The first is: what are we going to do now that we’re together-together when the entire kingdom still thinks you’re still Prince Joshua’s fiancé? You still owe me a story about how the engagement fell through, by the way. Unless I’m actually a homewrecker…?”

Rolling your eyes, you playfully slap his chest. “What’s the second option?”

He grins at you cheekily. “What pet names can I use on you while we’re having sex because…I honestly held back the entire time ‘cause I didn’t know what you were comfortable with.”

“I don’t really mind anything,” you say. “Just…nothing too degrading?”

“Alright.” Chan nods. “What do you say about lovebug?”

The suggestion is met with a scowl, making Chan giggle underneath the covers.

“Not a fan? How about my little dew drop? My chrysalis blooming into a beautiful butterfly? My hundred year-old tree that never ceases to amaze me with your beauty? My spectacle in an endless galaxy? My—”

“Lee Jung Chan, if you don’t shut up right now, I might just march back to the capital right this moment after all.”

Chan responds to your threat with a needy whine as he cages you around his arms. Your best friend nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck with a sulky pout.

“No! You’re mine. I don’t care if everyone else thinks otherwise.” He huffs and you entertain him with a laugh before Chan eventually disentangles himself from you—the playful expression on his face morphing into something more sobering.

“I was serious about the first pillow talk suggestion, by the way,” he murmurs. “Once the news breaks out, it isn’t going to be easy for any of us.”

“I know.”

Chan raises an eyebrow at your nonchalance. “Hm? You’re usually the type to psych yourself out way too much when problems like this arise. Who are you and what did you do to my worrywart of a best friend?”

Paying his teasing no mind, you lean in to press your lips to his. The moment Chan’s shoulders sink in surrender, you smile against his mouth.

“Honestly? I don’t really care about what happens,” you admit, tracing the outline of his chest with your finger. “As long as I’m with you, I think we’ll be alright.”

Chan is quiet for a while—a loving look glazing over his eyes at the sight of you.

“Yeah.”

Your best friend presses another kiss to your temple, lacing your fingers together.

Two forget-me-nots finally find their way back to each other.

“We’ll be alright.”

⟢ end notes: and that concludes the longest oneshot i've ever written for a seventeen member :') honestly considered breaking this into parts, but decided not to in the end bcs telling their story in one go felt like the best way to go about it! shoutouts to my good buddies and pals from svthub for the constant support and pep talk they offered while i was writing this monster of a fic. freya, my bridgerton sunbae, and zeta, my favorite wonwoorideul (real), thank you tons for your lovely input <3 your silly comments on the doc always made me smile. ofc i won't forget nana who gave me an...interesting list of pet names chan would unironically use on his s/o lol that said, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy the other fics posted under the spring collab! all writers who contributed poured their hearts into each piece <3

this is part of the secret garden, a svthub spring collab!

#m:lc #g:rmce #g:angst #g:smut #royalty!au #fantasy!au #OH YEAH and the scene where reader is dancing with everyone in the galleria or ballroom (?) I LOVED THAT #but jeonghan should be punched in the face for his attractiveness #I WANT JOSH TO FIND HIS WIFE OMG i was obvs rooting for reader and chan but him alone in the snow #i was like gawd damn #girlie let me up there #i'll clone myself #the magic parts were also written super clearly and it was very interesting i hearted it #and my final note is that i loved the flowers were forget me nots cuz i loved those flowers when i was a kid :((#i rmbr my mom pointing them out to me!#they are truly so pretty i love seeing them in the summer

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chilligyu · 3 years ago

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info: hong jisoo/reader, teen+, street fighter/friends to lovers au genre: drama, romance, angst | word ct: 5k warnings: descriptions of wounds, violence, fighting, blood, unrequited love summary: once upon a time, two young children made a promise. for nearly twenty long years they kept that promise. but everyone has their breaking point. and she found hers. note: this story has been written, rewritten, edited, smooshed together, more times than I care to admit. but,,, I think I finally got it to a point that I'm really proud of. thank you to everyone who's helped me out along the way, @xfirebenderx you have been my saving grace. tysm!!

tagging: @joshuas, @moriiyun, @starlightjoong, @lavenonie and @sincerelyskye

“Please…”

A familiar voice begged her quietly from the darkness.

“Don’t leave me…”

With a shaky hand on the doorknob, she froze. She kept her back to him, unable to fully process what was happening. Trying desperately to fight the urge to run as far away from him as she could.

How did everything go so wrong? She wondered to herself, on the brink of tears. What happened to you?

The answer wasn’t so simple, but God it would’ve been easier if she left. She should’ve left months ago but she didn’t, she couldn’t. She would stay by his side and endure everything because she made him a childish promise so many years ago.

Back when they were young, she promised to never abandon him. To never turn her back, to be there for him because no one else was. And he made promises that echoed the same. They were best friends, after all. It had always been them against the world. Despite that, despite everything they had been through together, her better judgement was screaming at her to go. She wanted nothing more than to leave him behind, to finally save her battered heart from the person who kept breaking it.

From him, Hong Jisoo, the one person she promised she would never leave.

“Okay.” She whispered. “I’ll stay.”

She turned around slowly, stomaching her pride and well-being because he needed her. Inhale, exhale. She wouldn’t cry over him, not yet. He needed her, he needed something. He was laying on her couch, blood soaking the cheap upholstery, and his body was shaking from shock. There wasn’t much she could do, but she was all he had. They were all they had.

While she cleaned his wounds, she struggled to pinpoint the exact moment when he had taken things too far. For as long as she could remember, he had always toed the edge of mostly acceptable and borderline insane with a certain amount of grace. That’s what set him apart from everyone else, apart from his extremely deep sense of justice, overwhelming selflessness, and eagerness to do whatever he could to help people in need. Often at the expense of his own wellbeing.

From chasing purse snatchers to sneaking into abandoned warehouses that weren’t actually abandoned just to save pit bulls from dog fights, Jisoo made it painfully clear that he lacked the minimum amount of self-preservation. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get in way over his head, but she would always be there to help him out. He was a bit of a troublemaker, that much was obvious. Not that she ever cared. Because no matter how much trouble he got into, there was always a good reason. He promised her that a long time ago.

That was a promise he didn’t need to make because she knew full well that Jisoo was, and still is, a good person. Everything he did, every crazy endeavor, was to help people. She had seen it firsthand enough times in her life. That was how they met back in nursery school, after a particularly nasty classmate put gum in her hair Jisoo leapt into action. He tackled the kid to the ground with ease and taught him a thing or two. That was also the first time she saw him get into a fight, and it wouldn’t be the last.

What she couldn’t understand, what she couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around, was why he got into street fighting of all things? Because that wasn’t somewhere in the grey area between acceptable and insane, that was insane. That was way past insane. Not to mention it was against everything Jisoo stood for. How did her capeless hero go from selflessly protecting others to actively hurting people? What changed? What was the reason? And how on earth did she get caught up in this mess?

The answer was simple, and she didn’t like it one bit. All he had to do to convince her was ask. He asked a simple question, one wrapped up in the pact they made as children.

“Remember how you said you’d always be there for me?” He started nervously one afternoon while she was studying in the library. “I have a favor to ask…”

Honestly, she couldn’t remember exactly how he worded it, but she got the gist of it. Her best friend wanted to become a street fighter, to hurt people for money, and he wanted her to come with him. He said he didn’t want to worry his roommates by coming home late at night when he could crash at her place. That way if he got hurt, she could patch him up like she always did, and no one would be the wiser. He discussed all of this with her like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like getting beat up regularly was no big deal at all.

Part of her wanted to scream at him, to berate him for making such reckless decisions, to take him by the ear and drag him home to his parents so they could give him a piece of their mind—

Then, he smiled at her. The very same smile that could melt the coldest of hearts and her mind went completely blank. She couldn’t remember much of the specifics after that because he had effectively hypnotized her with his infectious smile. She didn’t even make a fuss which wasn’t typical of her in the slightest. Not that she could ever imagine saying no to him, nor did she even plan to. He needed her, he’s always needed her.

Still, she desperately wanted it all to be a bad dream. Even as she stood on the sidelines for the very first time watching her best friend get punched, kicked, tackled and more, she prayed that it wasn’t real. She did her best to ignore how he grunted in pain, how the crowd turned ravenous over the sight of spilled blood, and how he looked eerily similar to the caged dogs he used to save from that same fate. Seeing him like that made her heart ache in ways she never knew it could.

How she missed the days when the worst thing Jisoo got involved in was under the table delivery jobs and falling out of trees trying to save stray kittens. Because when she looked at the man standing in the ring wearing her best friend's face, grinning triumphantly with his hands in the air, she could hardly recognize him. He looked nothing like the kid who protected others no matter what. Not with all that blood on his face.

Who are you and what have you done with Jisoo? She worried to herself as she toweled off his brow. Why are you doing this to yourself? What could possibly be worth all of this?

Still, she attended every fight and acted as his personal medic. She promised him that much. And for a short period of time, it went pretty well. For several weeks he was on a winning streak, no one could beat him. Much to the dismay of the people placing bets against him. See, while Jisoo didn’t look like much of a fighter, or the type of guy to even get into a fight, he was really good at it. That’s why she never worried about him being outmatched in the ring, he could handle himself. Not only that, before every match, he made her a promise.

“For good luck?” He asked sheepishly with his pinky finger extended. “I can’t do this without you.”

Looking at his finger, she thought back to all the times they made each other a promise over the tiniest things. It started when they were young. When he was going into a test or a school competition she made him promise to do well, kick ass, and various other things. It seemed silly to her back then, but it always worked out. Because Jisoo always swore up and down that if it was a promise to her, he would follow through without fail. And she believed it, even when the odds were stacked against him. She had to because it was the only way she could sleep at night.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” She said calmly, locking pinky’s with him.

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll be smart.”

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll win.” She finished with a weak smile.

He nodded, grinning ear to ear. “I promise.”

Right before he turned away, fully prepared for the violent show he was about to put on, she pulled him back in for a reassuring hug. As much as she didn’t want to see him get hurt, even though she couldn’t stand the thought of watching him helplessly from the sideline, a promise was a promise.

“Be careful out there.” She whispered in his ear.

He held her close for a brief moment. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”

If I don’t then who will?

They lingered a bit longer than either intended. Eventually Jisoo headed out into the crowd with his hands raised proudly over his head, and she pretended to be happy for him. The crowd cheered on the newest contender while her stomach did backflips. Everything seemed fine until his opponent landed a blow that sent Jisoo to his knees. In truth, she almost gave up right then and there.

I think I’m going to be sick...

Why she didn’t draw the line at street fighting back then, the one thing she couldn’t support, was beyond her. Or why she thought it would be a good idea to stand there and constantly watch her best friend get beaten senseless time and time again. She swore that she had absolutely no clue way she let him get away with everything, why she didn’t try to make him see reason long ago—

But she did.

Because I’m hopelessly in love. She sighed, wringing out the blood soaked towel. I’m in love with a man I can never abandon, no matter how much it hurts.

Maybe if she wasn’t, she would’ve had the courage to leave and never look back.

She had accepted that being in love with her best friend was going to be hard, even when she was just silently pining from a distance. In hindsight she didn’t realize how easy it was back then compared to how it is now. Watching the man she loved throw himself into dangerous situations with reckless abandon or never knowing when he would appear on her doorstep in dire need of help did not bode well for her sanity. Because loving Hong Jisoo was the equivalent to getting her heart broken every single day. She had to be ready to lose track of him for several days, she had to be willing to drive to the ER at three in the morning, and she lived every day wondering if today was the day. The day that he happily followed his moral compass off a cliff simply because it pointed him there.

The moment that Jisoo stopped being a misguided rescuer and became a selfless martyr wasn’t one she could name. When they were in school, everything seemed so innocent. He was always trying to save the lost souls of the world, even the ones who didn’t want saving. He would only date girls who needed fixing, doted on friends that needed his help, and everyday he tried to save people from themselves.

Surprisingly, she didn’t fit into any of those categories. She was the type to save herself. Throughout their lives she never asked him for anything, and perhaps that’s why they were such good friends. The last thing she wanted to be was another one of his projects, a hopeless cause he refused to give up on. If anything—he was hers. Over the years she stood by him, desperately hoping that he would eventually get a grip on reality. That maybe he would see the light and stop being so—good. She hated herself for thinking about it that way, but it was the truth. She knew better than anyone that if he didn’t find some sort of balance he would run himself to the ground.

Much like he was actively doing.

“Not going to wish me good luck today?” He teased her as he wrapped his fists.

She rolled her eyes. “You need a lot more than luck, Jisoo.”

“Ouch.” He winced unconvincingly. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break tradition, I don’t know how I’ll make it without you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She muttered.

“I didn’t realize that my concern for safety was ridiculous!” He laughed, clearly unable to read the room. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. I need you.”

And I need you to stop hurting yourself.

Despite her thoughts, she raised her pinky finger towards him with a sigh. “Promise me.”

She made him promise to be quick on his feet, to be smart out there, and to win. While the words spilled out of her mouth she had a sinking feeling in her stomach, heavy and all consuming. Dread. And as he ran out to start his fight the feeling only got worse. Something was about to go terribly wrong and she knew it.

Her mind wandered back to their days in school, when Jisoo was the beautiful contradiction of a perfect student with a shady background. People saw him running deliveries late at night, dealing a lot in cash and thought the worst. She knew the truth, she knew that his neighbour had injured himself and couldn’t afford to hire anyone to take care of deliveries. So instead of watching from the sideline, Jisoo did what he did best. He helped the old man secretly and accepted what little payment he could offer.

How she missed those days of innocence and promise. How she missed the memories of Jisoo’s selfless actions, ones that were slowly being lost beneath the sea of blood.

It turns out she was right to be worried. It was the first time Hong Jisoo ever broke a promise to her. He was carried out of the makeshift arena by two other fighters, barely able to stand on his own. They threw him at her feet and left without a word because he had lost. Before shock had a chance to set in she scrambled to his side with a wet rag, instinctively wiping off the blood that covered him while she did her best to keep her dinner down. He looked—he looked terrible. She had a hard time recalling a worse sight in her entire life.

He was barely recognizable.

“I’m sorry…” He said weakly, his good eye pleading with her. “I broke my promise…”

“Shut up.” She instructed him. “Don’t even think of that right now, let’s just get you home.”

It was a struggle getting him back to her apartment. He wasn’t a big guy but he wasn’t tiny either. Luckily her roommates were nowhere to be seen so they wouldn’t have to explain anything to them. Only a few people knew the truth of Jisoo and she had a feeling that the list was getting shorter. After lugging him up the stairs she got him onto her couch, not even bothering to try and keep it clean, and pulled the med kit out of her bag.

Since he started fighting she had no shortage of rags to clean him up with, they had become somewhat of a necessity. Still, she somehow dirtied every single one trying to get him clean. It would’ve been easier to sit him in a hot shower and let modern technology work its magic, but he couldn’t sit up on his own let alone stand. Not only that, he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. She didn’t want to risk him falling.

Eventually he was clean and everything seemed to be—okay. Or as okay as he could be after that. Just looking at him had her on the brink of tears. She couldn’t stand seeing him like that, a mere shadow of the man she had loved for so long. His right eye was swollen shut, his nose most definitely had been broken, and the smile that melted her heart had been cut through. She didn’t even dare to look at the rest of him, at the bruises peering out from underneath his tank top and the open wounds that seeped through his jeans.

I need to be strong. She decided. For him.

Except that was only an hour ago.

And she had no strength left.

Once he fell asleep her resolve finally broke. She promised herself when this all began that she would never let him know how much the whole ordeal hurt her deep down inside. No matter what, she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t be someone he had to worry about, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. But enough was enough. Whether she wanted to or not, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. She wept freely over someone she cared for, admired, and loved despite everything he put her through. Because he swore that even if every bone in his body was broken, he would never break a promise to her.

But he did, and she couldn’t trust him anymore.

“Please…” He begged quietly. “Don’t cry…”

She didn’t stir at the sound of his voice, or the reassuring hand on hers. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Jisoo? What is worth all of this pain? Can you at least tell me that much?”

Silence descended upon them in response to the one question that he refused to answer. It drove her crazy, that he was doing this to himself and wouldn’t even tell her why. Why he suddenly transitioned from an angelic rebel without a cause to a ruthless brawler in the streets. She felt like the little boy that chased away bullies was slipping from her grasp, the Jisoo that was laying in front of her—she could hardly recognize.

And she decided that night that she wouldn’t have a part in it anymore.

The next time he called her to meet him for a fight, she didn’t respond. Nor did she respond to any message he left after that. For weeks she had absolutely nothing to do with Hong Jisoo. He left her a dozen voicemails, a hundred messages, and she told herself that she didn’t care. He broke a promise to her so she broke one to him. She couldn’t stand there and let him break her heart over and over again without consequence. Street fighting—she wasn’t going to support that any longer.

That didn’t mean her heart didn’t ache for him anymore. She wasn’t sure if that would ever be the case. She made some acquaintances while she attended Jisoo’s fights so she was able to keep tabs on him, forever fearing the moment when he was going to take it too far. When, not if, the next call she got from him came from a hospital. Sometimes the news was good, sometimes it was bad. She felt equally terrible each time.

In fact she felt terrible consistently, regardless of Jisoo fighting or not. As the days passed the sensation only seemed to get worse. She left him to stop feeling so horrible, to let her heart heal in some way. Apparently leaving him wasn’t as easy as she hoped. She still longed to see him, to make sure he was okay, to be there for the one person who had always been there for her. The one who asked her to stand by him, and the one she left behind.

After not speaking to him for almost a month she showed up at his apartment with kiwi ice cream as an apology. It wasn’t much, but that’s all she needed in the past so at least it would be a good start if he was still mad at her—if he had ever been mad at her at all. They had never really fought before, not to a point where she refused to talk to him. It was new territory for both of them. She had to keep reminding herself that things would never be the same and she would have to accept it. This was his life now, and maybe it could be hers.

When he opened the door though, her heart stopped.

Jisoo was basically bandaged from head to toe, his arm was held precariously in a sling and what little skin she could see was beaten black and blue. Butterfly bandaids kept open wounds together, injuries she had already taken care of had scarred, and her heart shattered into a million pieces all over again.

“Hey.” He greeted, ignoring her devastated expression. “Long time no see.”

“Jisoo…” She gasped. “You—you’re—”

“I’m fine.” He tried to reassure her. “I know it looks bad but I’m—”

“If you say I’m fine one more time I’m going to snap.” She hissed through her teeth. “You’re not fine, you look like absolute hell. You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

He laughed, quite unconvincingly. “This is nothing, I promise you I’m—“

“Enough of your stupid promises!” She screamed at him. “I’m fucking sick of them!”

“I know I broke my promise to you,” He started with a sigh, “but we both knew that just because I promised you something, didn’t mean that I—”

He stopped when he saw the tears falling from her eyes.

“Oh please don’t cry.” He begged. “You can yell at me, you can hate me, but please, please, don’t cry.”

“I won’t stop.” She informed him. “If you’re going to keep going out and fighting for no goddamn reason and coming back looking like this then I’m not going to stop worrying about you!”

Shaking his head, he headed back into his apartment. “And if I have a reason?”

“Then tell me!” She begged as she finally unraveled. “Jisoo—if you’re not going to tell me why you’re doing this then I can’t be your friend anymore. I can’t stand here and watch you get beaten up for money. And I hate that you even asked me in the first place! I’ve been through enough for you and have asked for anything, not a damn thing except for an explanation! After everything I’ve endured for you I’m pretty fucking sure I’m owed that much!”

As he turned back around she could see the hurt in his eyes. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—it’ll get better, I’ll prepare more, I—”

“You’re completely missing the point!” She cried. “I’m not watching the person I love get beat within an inch of his life every other night! I can’t do this anymore! I’m sick of worrying about you every time you’re out of my sight. It’s not fair, it’s not healthy! And you’re honestly an asshole if you think I’m going to stand by you while you do this for a minute longer!”

When she turned to leave, her confession laid out at his feet, broken and bloody like her heart, Jisoo reached out for her one last time.

“What did you just say?” He whispered, sorrow in his eyes. “Did you just—”

“Yes.” She confirmed. “I love you Jisoo and I always have, but I won’t put myself through this anymore. Since you’re not going to stop then this is goodbye. I can’t love a man who doesn’t even care that he’s broken my heart more times than I can count.”

He didn’t let go of her.

“Please, let me explain.” He pleaded with her. “Don’t leave like this.”

“So now you’re going to tell me?” She spat, turning and yanking her arm from his grasp. “After I’ve just confessed to you now you’re going to tell me everything? I didn’t realize the truth came with a price. You’re an ass that’s got everyone fooled. Even me.”

“I know, I am.” He agreed, running his good hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to bother you with my reasons, I didn’t want to get you involved. But it wasn’t fair of me to keep you in the dark like that. I never should’ve done that to you.”

Crossing her arms, she waited.

“You remember that old man I helped out as a kid?” He started. “The shop owner?”

She nodded.

“A car crashed into his shop a few months ago.” He continued. “The damage was too much for insurance to cover and he didn’t have the money to get it fixed on his own so I offered to help. My usual side jobs weren’t paying me enough, so my boss told me about the underground fights and how lucrative they can be…”

“Jisoo—” She exasperated. “Please tell me you haven’t been—”

“I have.” He admitted sheepishly. “I’ve been—I’ve been giving him the winnings from my fights. To help him out. I just wanted him to—”

“You’re telling me that this has just been another one of your selfless missions?” She questioned in disbelief. “Have you told him where the money’s coming from? Does he know that you’re risking your life for him? Do you think that’s what he wants? Do you think that anyone with any ounce of decency would ever want this?”

Jisoo pursed his lips. “Well, no, but that’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—don’t—want him to know. It would break his heart—”

“So it’s okay to break my heart but not his?” She laughed bitterly. “You know what, fine. I’m done. You’ve shown me that you only care about the well-being of others. I’m obviously nothing to you. I don’t even care why you’re doing this anymore. I’m leaving, and you—”

He interrupted her tirade with a kiss. Forceful and desperate, trying to cling to whatever relationship they had. One that had been mangled and shredded to a point where she wasn’t sure there was anything left to save. Mustering her strength, she pushed him away. She might’ve loved him but that wasn’t what she wanted.

“You’re right.” He finally admitted. “Losing you isn’t worth all of this, I’ll stop. Promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me.” She said vehemently, tears springing from her eyes in anger. “What’s to say you won’t break this one too?”

“Because I love you.” He whispered. “And I know now that everything I’ve put your through hasn’t been right or fair but I promise—I swear that this will be different. No more fighting, that all stops now.”

She wasn’t convinced. “And what about tomorrow when someone asks you for a loan? Or when some stranger needs your fucking kidney? What’re you going to do then? I love that you’re so needlessly kind and generous but what you’re doing isn’t kindness anymore. It’s martyrdom and I’m scared of what you’re going to do next! At what point do you finally say no?”

For a long time there was silence.

“I’m sorry.” He returned quietly. “I’m sorry that I don’t know when to stop and I’m sorry that you always get dragged into these things. I’m sorry that I’ve just become so accustomed to your support that I expect it regardless of how stupid I’m being. I’m sorry that I didn’t know how much I was hurting you, I’m sorry that I’m in love with you just like you’re in love with me. I’m sorry I’m probably the hardest person in the world to love. But I promise you that things will be different now.”

She wanted to believe him, she really did. She wanted to run into his arms, never let him go, and have everything return to normal. She wanted to go back to when they were teenagers hiding a stray dog in his garage so his parents didn’t find out, back to when the only calls she got in the middle of the night were about new adventures and childish discoveries. Back when loving Jisoo didn’t hurt. Not like this.

She wasn’t sure that existed anymore.

“Jisoo I don’t—” She started, chewing on her lower lip. “I don’t know if I can forget these past couple months, let alone forgive them. You proved to me that I barely know you anymore and I don’t know how to move past that.”

He nodded in understanding, he knew it was going to take a lot more than an apology to win her back. “Alright, what do you want to do then?”

A hysterical laugh spilled past her lips. “Now that I really don’t know. Just—I don’t think I can trust you as a friend so I definitely won’t trust you as anything more. I love you but—but love isn’t always enough. It’s going to take more than a guilt ridden apology to help me move on.”

“What about a promise?” He offered with a soft smile. “A promise to you.”

“Jisoo…” She sighed. “A broken promise brought us here in the first place.”

“I’m not asking you to make me promise, I’m making a promise to you.” He clarified. “No pinky promises required.”

That caught her off guard.

“I promise to never get into another paid fight.” He began confidently. “I promise to never let anything like this ever happen again. I promise not to put myself in harm's way unless I’m protecting someone. I promise to take my well-being into consideration. I promise to do everything in my power to make it up to you. And I promise to be your friend no matter what.”

While he said no pinky promises required, they locked their little fingers almost reflexively. At that realization she started sobbing, letting that small promise make her feel happy and safe for the first time in a long while. She was unsure of where they would go from there, but she had a good feeling that everything would be okay if given enough time. Because Jisoo made her a promise, and as much as she protested their childish tradition, he always made it a point to keep his promises.

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jeonginify · 4 years ago

Text

j:mixtape/heart_drive — han jisung. ·˚ ༘♡

↝ pairing: han jisung x reader ↝ genre: humor, angst, fake dating au, soundcloud rapper au ↝ word count: 24k ↝ warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit language, jisung is dumb... like actually an idiot. this is the idiots to lovers that you didn’t know you needed. some good ol’ slow burn, which i’m sure is obvious because this is a fucking beast but it must be noted, so i’m going on the record here... yes this did take me an entire year to write, no i am not proud of it but here we are. i hope you enjoy?

↝ description: for the past year, you’ve had a big fat crush on the (very) oblivious han jisung. you’ve dreamt about dating him… you just never imagined that when it finally happened, you would be the last to find out. or, jisung, in all his glorious idiocy, decides that the two of you faking a relationship is the solution to all his problems. (he, of course, conveniently forgets to let you know about it.)

At 10:30am on a Saturday morning, halfway through midterm season, you find yourself studying hopelessly at home by candle light.

You know how it sounds—studying, on a Saturday, in the morning? Just because you’re a struggling college student doesn’t mean you don’t have standards.

Except, at this point in the semester, you’re getting desperate, and all your standards are quickly going out the window. With exams and deadlines piling up, you’re barely hanging on, and it’s all you can do to not drown under the sheer amount of work you have to complete within the next week.

If you’re being honest, you’ve probably been wearing the same hoodie and leggings for the past three days, and you can’t quite remember the last time you had a proper meal—you know, one that consists of more than hot cheetos and gatorade. For the last week, you’ve bounced back and forth between your apartment, the library, and your classes like a ball inside a pinball machine, and you can feel your will to live slowly disintegrating as time passes.

As an anthropology major at a university renowned for their liberal arts programs, your curriculum is challenging—and although it is undeniable that you love what you’re studying, sometimes it can get a bit much.

It’s usually around this time in the semester, actually, that you begin to regret your life choices.

Choices like deciding it would be a good idea to study by candlelight.

In your defense, though, you don’t really have many options. Not since the storm last night that knocked out the power in your building, anyways. Your landlord promised it would all be up again by tomorrow, but you need to study (like, today) and well... Let’s just say the tiny windows in your apartment make a jail cell look like a resort.

You’re pouring over your archaeology textbook miserably when your phone chimes, startling you out of your reverie.

You fumble for your phone, eagerly dropping the pen you had been previously holding, and your best friend’s name flashes across the screen as you unlock it.

[10:37am] hyunjin: y/n r u up yet [10:37am] hyunjin: wait, dumb question. ofc u are

You almost groan when you read the messages, blinking blue across your LED screen.

You love Hyunjin, you really do. As his best friend, you don’t really have much of a choice in that manner actually. But you can’t help the dread that washes over you at his message.

Because the thing about Hyunjin is that he has a knack for coming up with harebrained ideas and half baked schemes, and always—always, no matter how hard you try—manages to rope you into them too, regardless of whether or not you have more important things to be doing.

[10:45am] hyunjin: i can see u reading the msgs!! respond to me!!!!

[10:45am] you: fuck [10:45am] you: i thought i had my read receipts off??

[10:46am] hyunjin: u did [10:46am] hyunjin: i turned them back on 😌

[10:48am] you: bitch

[10:48am] hyunjin: mayb if u answered my texts i wouldn’t have to turn them on huh

[10:49am] you: wtvr 🙄 [10:49am] you: what do u want?

[10:50am] hyunjin: come over

[10:52am] you: look i know i’m hot and all but

[10:52am] hyunjin: what [10:52am] hyunjin: OH EW NO

[10:53am] hyunjin: why would u ever say that 🤢 [10:53am] hyunjin: i’m out of ur league pls

[10:54am] you: u mean I’M out of UR league

[10:54am] hyunjin: no i said what i said

[10:55am] hyunjin: but NO this is not why i texted u [10:55am] hyunjin: some of the guys r coming over so u should come 2

[10:56am] you: can’t, have 2 study

[10:57am] hyunjin: it wasn’t a question

[10:58am] hyunjin: cmoooon y/n you’ve literally been killing urself over midterms [10:58am] hyunjin: pls. i haven’t seen u in like a week :(

[10:59am] you: yea cuz unlike u i actually want to PASS [10:59am] you: shouldn’t u be studying too??????

[11:00am] hyunjin: pfft, studying is for losers [11:00am] hyunjin: when was the last time u left ur apartment anyways

[11:01am] hyunjin: ur brain is gonna liquefy soon!!!!! [11:01am] hyunjin: pls :((((( i think u can take a break for an hour at least :(

[11:03am] you: srry can’t hear u over the sound of archeomagnetism and dendrochronology

[11:04am] hyunjin: did i mention jisung is gonna be home

At the mention of his roommate, you tense up.

Because here’s the thing—his roommate, Han Jisung? You’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known Hyunjin, and there are a few undeniable facts about him.

Like how he’s really loud, kind of annoying, maybe even a little bit of an idiot. But if he’s an idiot, you must be an even bigger one, because you’ve had a big fat crush on him for a long time.

A really long time.

On the upper side of 2 years kind of long time. And the thing is, you aren’t even the kind of person who’s good at hiding these kinds of things. You think the only reason he hasn’t figured out is because of how oblivious he is, because you aren’t very discreet. Hyunjin caught on over a year ago, and he never fails to use it as emotional blackmail.

But you’re not so whipped that you would drop everything at the chance to see him, okay... You’re not!

Still, your heart beats a little faster as you fumble to type out a response.

[11:08am] you: okay, and?

[11:09am] hyunjin: oh, nothing~

You can hear his teasing singsong in your ear, like a tick you can’t shake off, and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him over the head or kick him in the shin more—probably both.

[11:11am] hyunjin: listen, i know ur stressed over this archaeology midterm [11:11am] hyunjin: but i need my weekly y/n fix sooo

[11:13am] hyunjin: if ur not here in half an hour i’m gonna beat ur ass

[11:16am] you: u think that scares me? [11:16am] you: i’d like to see u TRY

[11:18am] hyunjin: well if ur not coming... i guess i’ll just... [11:18am] hyunjin: tell jisung all ur embarrassing secrets

[11:19am] hyunjin: maybe i’ll start with the waffle house incident from freshman year?

[11:20am] hyunjin: pls come over :((( we can play mario kart :((( [11:20am] hyunjin: i’ll even play toad h- 🤢toad harbo- 🤢

[11:21am] you: Mrssage read at 11:21am ✓

[11:22am] hyunjin: BITCH IS THAT A TYPO [11:22am] hyunjin: TOAD HARBOR IS DISGUSTING I’M WILLING TO SACRIFICE A LOT 4 U

[11:24am] you: Message read at 11:21am ✓

[11:25am] hyunjin: ITS NOT EVEN 11:21 ANYMORE???

[11:27am] you: Message read at 11:27am ✓

In the end, though, it doesn’t take much for you to cave.

You would like to make it expressly clear that your decision to take a break has absolutely nothing to do with Han Jisung, and instead has more to do with the fact that Hyunjin (as infuriatingly annoying as he is) was right when he said your brain would liquefy soon if you don’t leave the house.

After all, you have been studying your ass off for the past two weeks, and maybe a little break would give you a chance to refocus. And, although you aren’t going over in the hopes of seeing Jisung... Well, it couldn’t hurt, right?

So, with the intent to stay for two hours, max (you do have a little self control, after all), you find yourself at Hyunjin’s building.

The building that he lives in has thin walls, and the moment you step onto the landing of their floor, you can hear the faint sound of the Mario Kart theme and some very aggressive yelling echo down the hall.

It gets louder as you round the corner, and you can vaguely make out someone telling Hyunjin to “suck it, frogface!” by the time you arrive at his door. Shaking your head slightly, you lift your hand to knock, but before you get too far, the door swings open.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin exclaims brightly, the grin on his face faltering as he looks you up and down.

“Wow. You look...”

“Amazing?” You respond dryly. “I know.”

He raises a brow. “I was going to say like you haven’t showered in a week or slept in two, but okay.”

You narrow your eyes and then punch him—because, yeah, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean he should say it anyways.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” you grumble. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you take in his appearance: clean and fresh and like he’s actually slept in a bed recently.

You and Hyunjin are both anthropology majors—it’s how you met, actually. Freshman year and he was one of the only people you could stand, mostly because of your shared love for dinosaur bones and aversion to large groups of people.

And yet, despite carrying the same course load for the past two years, he always seemed to manage it better than you ever could.

You don’t really understand it, like... At all. It’s like one of the mysteries of the modern world—how Hwang Hyunjin manages to ace his classes with flying colors while simultaneously not knowing the difference between Paris, France and Paris Hilton.

“Are you going to let me in?” You ask pointedly and he opens his mouth, probably to say something snarky back, but promptly shuts it when you shoot a glare at him.

Wordlessly, he holds the door open for you, and you step into the apartment.

“Guys,” he calls out and your eyes land on Jisung and your two mutual friends, Felix and Seungmin, as you walk into the living room. “Guess who finally decided to show up!”

“Hey Y/N,” Seungmin smiles slightly as you flop onto the couch next to him with a sigh. Felix and Jisung both grunt in your general direction, but they seem too consumed with what looks like an intense game of Mario Kart to do much more.

“Hyunjin threatened you into coming over too?” You ask as you shrug off your sweater, and Seungmin snorts.

“Yeah, something like that,” he says back lightly. “Were you studying?”

“Yes,” you wallow, “but... Here I am despite my better judgement. What about you?”

“I don’t really have much work this weekend,” Seungmin replies. “Other than, you know...”

He holds up the worn book in his hands and you groan.

“Lucky... I wish I was a literature major.”

“Jisung, did you just red shell me?!” Felix exclaims, aghast, and your attention shifts to the TV.

“And if I did?” Jisung responds smugly, his eyes trained on the illuminated screen.

Felix narrows his eyes. “I mean, that’s what this blue shell is for, I guess.”

“Fuck,” Jisung curses as he—playing as baby Peach—gets bombed, and Felix (baby Daisy) speeds past.

“Language!” You chide instinctively. “There are children here...”

“Sorry!” Jisung spares a glance at you, a cheesy and apologetic grin stretched across his face, and your heart skips a beat.

Your cheeks heat up and he tilts his head curiously to the side, as if he’s about to say something more—and then the moment passes as Hyunjin chimes from the kitchen, “don’t talk about Felix like that.”

You turn in his direction and try your best to deadpan, but your face still feels warm and the words almost catch in your throat.

“I was talking about you,” you childishly stick out your tongue, and felix reaches over for a quick high five without looking away from the screen.

“Y/N,” Jisung complains distractedly. “You can’t take Felix’s side. You were my friend first!”

“Sorry,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “Maybe if you were winning, but...”

“You’re not,” Hyunjin pipes up helpfully as he slouches down in between you and Seungmin, and you nod in agreement.

“What he said.”

Jisung sticks up his middle finger at the two of you. You and Hyunjin, ignoring him, fist bump.

It takes a few more minutes (precisely three more courses, including Moo Moo Farm and Yoshi Falls—seriously, who gets 12th in Yoshi Falls?) before Jisung throws down the controller in defeat, a groan leaving his lips.

“You’re cheating anyways,” he scoffs, crossing his arms as he turns away from Felix stubbornly.

He looks like a child, and you and Hyunjin burst into laughter as Felix ignores him, breaking out into a very... interesting victory dance as he chants “I beat you!” over and over again.

Seungmin rolls his eyes at their childish antics and Hyunjin keels over, almost falling off the couch as Felix begins doing something reminiscent of the chicken dance. You pull out your phone with no hesitation and open Snapchat, unwilling to pass up the opportunity for blackmail material.

“I won,” Felix crows, and Jisung waves him off, annoyed.

“Yeah, we know.”

Felix jumps back on the cushions next to him and looks at him expectantly. “So, ‘fess up. What have you been hiding from us?”

“What, did he feed Minho’s cats fish food again?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, that was one time,” Jisung complains immediately, “and you know how confusing the label is! Both of them have pictures of fishes on them, how was I supposed to know the difference between the cat food and the fish food?”

He pouts, and you look away quickly—even when he’s upset, he still looks cute.

“By reading the label,” Hyunjin says plainly. “You know, like an actual functioning adult.”

“Bold of you to assume he’s functioning. Or an adult,” Seungmin pipes up.

“Okay,” Jisung scoffs. “Is it, like, national bully Han Jisung day?”

“It doesn’t have to be when you make it so easy,” Felix shrugs.

Jisung looks around helplessly, and when his eyes meet yours, you just purse your lips.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s right,” you begin,” but if the shoe fits...”

He pouts again, and you cough as your breath gets caught in your throat.

“Okay, but seriously—“ you begin, desperate to change the topic before he does something even more adorable and you just spontaneously combust on the spot.

“—What are you hiding? If it’s a dead body, I can help, but you’ll have to give me a few hours.”

“It’s not,” Jisung shudders, “but the fact that you are so prepared for that possibility makes me absolutely terrified.

You grin at him sweetly. “As you should be.”

“Y/N, please don’t kill anyone,” Hyunjin begs. “Please, not again.”

“Again?” Jisung coughs, aghast. The four of you collectively ignore him.

“Okay, so if it’s not the fish food thing, or a dead body, then what did he do?” You ask Felix.

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be?” Felix says sarcastically, turning to pointedly stare at Jisung. “Would you like to, I don’t know, share with the group?”

“Share? W-What?” Jisung asks, suddenly nervous. HIs ears are flushed, and you can see the sweat forming on his brow. “I have nothing to hide!”

Any semblance of conviction vanishes when his voice cracks on the last word, and you snort.

“Well, now we definitely believe you,” Seungmin says dryly.

Felix rolls his eyes. “According to Yuna, that’s not true.”

“Yuna?” You interrupt, slightly confused. “Like... Yuna, my roommate Yuna? Changbin’s cousin, Yuna?”

“Yes, Y/N,” Felix sighs. “Do we know any other Yuna?”

“Oh.” You pause for a moment. “I suppose not. Well, you can continue.”

“W-who’s Yuna?” Jisung stutters and his voice pitches upwards. Much to your chagrin, you can’t help but note once again how cute he looks...

“Jisung, you’ve literally been friends with Yuna since you were kids,” Hyunjin deadpans.

“...I don’t have friends!”

“You won’t after this...” Felix sighs again, exasperated as he turns to you.

“Y/N, you said something about knowing how to hide a dead body?”

You raise a brow. “Are you doubting me?”

“...No.”

“That’s what I thought,” you nod smugly.

“Whatever Yuna told you, she’s lying,” Jisung declares finally, after a moment of silence.

Felix scoffs.

“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell Yuna about some secret girlfriend you have, that you conveniently forget to tell any of us about?”

You must be really tired from all the studying earlier, you think to yourself,, because if you didn’t know any better, you would swear you just heard him say Jisung and girlfriend in the same sentence, unironically...

Jisung, the idiot who after a year and a half of pining, still hasn’t realized how you feel about him. Jisung, the thick headed dummy who literally can never take a hint, and somehow has the worst track record with girls despite how attractive and funny he is.

Hyunjin snorts, voicing your thoughts. “Girlfriend? Who would date Jisung?”

Well, you would, but you’re not about to say that out loud...

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out!” Felix hisses as he turns to glare at Hyunjin, who’s jaw drops open in response.

“Wait, you’re being serious?”

There’s a strange feeling that starts to rise in your throat. It’s almost like a bitterness—but the kind that burns, and a knot tightens in the pit of your stomach. Your body feels hot, almost as if fire is coursing through your veins.

Is he being serious?

“Yes, Hyunjin, obviously,” Felix groans.

His words are like a knife in your stomach, and you almost forget how to breathe.

“Well... I mean...” Jisung begins slowly, his eyes flitting around the room, and Felix punches him.

“I will call Yuna right now.”

That shuts Jisung up, and he sits that, pouting like a wounded baby.

But he doesn’t deny it, and your throat tightens. Your body feels like its overheating and you think you might vomit—is this what jealousy feels like? You swallow, and your tongue scrapes against the roof of your mouth like sandpaper.

“So Yuna doesn’t know who it is?” Hyunjin asks skeptically.

“No,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “because there is no one. She must have heard wrong.”

And he sounds convincing—partly because his voice stays steady as he says it, but also because you want it to be true. But you know Yuna. She’s blunt and straightforward and sometimes a little mean, but as long as you have known her, she’s never told a lie. SHe hates bullshit, so you know Felix is telling the truth.

“How could she have heard wrong?” Felix cries. “Nothing rhymes with ‘I have a girlfriend!’“

“Not nothing,” Jisung reasons, but he’s quickly shut up by the pillow Hyunjin snatches from your grasp to throw at him.

“We’re going to find out one way or another,” Seungmin reasons, “so you might as well tell us now.”

“Well—I mean, there’s not—“ Jisung splutters, and you can feel how frantic he is. How much he doesn’t want to talk about this.

Well, that makes two of you.

Felix opens his mouth, looking like he is about to protest, but you can’t take it anymore—you have to change the topic, and quick.

“Okay ladies,” you clap your hands together dramatically and all attention turns to you temporarily, the words dying on Felix’s tongue. “This has been fun and all, but can we wrap this up? If he says he’s not dating anyone, then he isn’t. Plus, I have 30 minutes left of my break, and I believe someone promised me some Toad Harbor action.”

“Are you challenging me?” Hyunjin quirks a brow, and any thoughts of Jisung and his mysterious girlfriend are forgotten.

Bless boys and their short attention spans...

“And if I am?” You throw back half-heartedly.

He scoffs, flexing his fingers. “Oh, you’re on.”

“Well, would you look at the time!” Jisung glances down at his bare wrist, tapping it as if a watch is there. “I should be going now...”

Felix scowls at him. “What do you mea—”

Jisung catches your gaze, mouthing a quick “thank you,” before he jumps up from where he is sitting and makes a break for his room. He manages to get inside and slam the door shut before Felix gets the chance to wedge his way in, and there is a distinct click of a lock as Felix bangs on the door angrily.

“Han Jisung, this is not over,” he says murderously.

Jisung doesn’t respond, and Felix, glowering, slinks back to the couch.

Hyunjin, who seems to not give a fuck about it, throws you the spare controller and willingly selects Toad Harbor (the worst course, in his opinion, but his opinions are often wrong.) You finish the race in first place—obviously—but the entire game, your head swims with thoughts of Jisung and his mystery girlfriend.

You’re not sure when or why you started liking Han Jisung. Your feelings for him weren’t something you expected—there wasn’t one grand gesture that captured your heart or one particular instance you can remember that decided it for you.

It’s just, one day you started to notice the little things—like, how when he laughs, he has a habit of hitting whoever is nearest to him because he laughs so hard. How when he tells a joke, he tells it with his whole body: his words, his hands, his face. How when he’s out eating with anybody, he always makes sure everyone else has started eating before he does. How he’s not the best at putting his emotions into words, but while he might be boisterous and loud, when it comes down to it, he’s a really good listener.

And then, you started to realize other things too. Like how you unconsciously look for him everywhere you go—how your heart beats a little bit faster when he’s around, and when he’s not, an unshakeable pit of disappointment weighs your stomach down.

That’s when you knew you were absolutely and totally fucked.

Developing feelings for Jisung wasn’t very memorable, but meeting him for the first time... That’s a different story.

It happened a little more than halfway through the first semester of your freshman year, on one fine Wednesday night when Hyunjin happened to forget his lab notebook in his dorm (like the absolute dolt he is) twenty minutes before said lab began.

He calls you, panicked, begging you to get it for him. He doesn’t have time to make it to his dorm and back in time, and his TA is an ass who’s policy is that every lab session you show up late to, your grade drops a letter. He’s near tears on the phone, blubbering on and on about how much he’ll owe you if you do this one thing for him—so of course, out of the kindness of your heart, you begrudgingly agree to bring his notebook to him.

“Yes, Hyunjin,” you sigh into the phone that is wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you pull your sneakers onto your feet. “I know where your room is. Yes, I know from the—I don’t know, hundreds of times I’ve come over?”

You pause.

“Yes, I heard you. The blue one. Yes, okay, I got it. Can you stop stressing? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”

He starts to say something more, but knowing him, it’s probably just more complaining, so you hang up before he can give himself another panic attack. The line disconnects with a beep and you step out of your room, heading towards the nearest stairwell.

Hyunjin is just lucky that you both happen to live in the same dorm building, you think to yourself wryly as you begin to hike up from the 2nd floor to the 5th, where he lives.

It’s only 3 floors, but you’re still winded by the time you make it up, and you take a moment to catch your breath and curse your weak lungs before you continue down the hall towards Hyunjin’s room.

The two of you are so close that you spend almost every waking moment together, but despite it, you never really spend much time in Hyunjin’s dorm. It’s a combination of the facts that he has a bit of a cleanliness problem, and that your dorm happens to be less stairs to climb—which sounds like an absurd excuse, but when you consider that the elevators seem to be out of service every other week, actually makes quite a bit of sense.

As such, you haven’t met his roommate yet. You’ve heard stories of the elusive Han Jisung from Hyunjin, as well as your other mutual friends Seungmin and Changbin, but he might as well be a ghost for how many times you’ve actually seen him.

When you arrive at room #5014, decorated with cute little postcards by Hyunjin’s endearing RA, Chan, you don’t hesitate before grabbing the handle and swinging the door open. You might not spend much time in his room, but you’ve definitely visited on enough occasions to know that (despite your best efforts) Hyunjin has a bad habit of leaving his door unlocked.

You can’t count how many times you’ve scolded him for it, but his reasoning is that nobody wants to steal from a broke college student and, well, you can’t really argue with that.

You’ve barely taken a step into the room before a high pitched shriek pierces your ears, and you jump in fright when you see a tall and very blond figure cowering on in the left corner of the room.

It’s only when your eyes meet his wide and terrified gaze that you match his scream.

“Who are you?!” You demand immediately, your hands fisted and thrown out defensively in front of you. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to steal from Hyunjin? He doesn’t have anything worth stealing, if that’s what you’re trying to do!”

“Who am I? Who are you?! And why would I want to steal from Hyunjin?”

“Why should I answer you?” You challenge. “You’re the one trying to steal from a poor, unsuspecting college student!”

He gapes at you.

“He doesn’t have anything worth stealing, anyways! Just... this?” You trail off, confused as you pick up a small metal frying pan from the mess of his desk.

“I—“ The boy begins, but you thrust the frying pan in his direction threateningly.

“Who are you?” You repeat. “And before you answer, you should know I have pepper spray and I am not afraid to use it.”

“Woah there, Rapunzel!” He throws his arms up in surrender. “I’m Jisung! Hyunjin’s roommate.”

You pause, slowly lowering your arms.

“Oh.” Then, as realization hits you: “Oh.”

A wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you clear your throat as you try to play off your fighting stance as a really, really awkward hair tuck—which turns out to be even more challenging than you anticipated, considering the fucking frying pan in your hands.

“Yes. Well, that would make sense.”

He stares at you, his eyes narrowed, and you roll your bottom lip anxiously between your teeth.

“Well. Um, I’m Y/N.” You offer awkwardly as you try to set the frying pan down as inconspicuously as you can.

Even as you do, his bewildered gaze never leaves you, and you wince at the loud clang the pan makes as you set it down.

“Oh,” he says a bit lately, and you see recognition flash across his face. “Y/N, you’re Hyunjin’s archaeology friend. Right?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the p and immediately regretting it afterwards. “That’s me.”

His mouth forms a small, soundless ‘o’ but doesn’t say anything more, which you take as your cue to continue.

“I, um, didn’t mean to barge in like this. I just thought, you know, that you wouldn’t be here... I swear I don’t just randomly barge into people’s rooms! Hyunjin just left his lab notebook, and he needed someone to get it for him, so... here I am,” you ramble.

“Of course he would forget to mention that his roommate would be here,” you mutter to yourself.

“Huh?” He asks, confused, and you perk up.

“I was just saying that again, I’m really sorry for barging in on you like this.”

You pause.

“Oh, and, um, for accusing you of being a thief...”

“It’s alright?” He says awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. “I mean, it’s not the first time someone has come in randomly, so I guess... Don’t worry about it.”

You nod and another moment passes. The discomfort is palpable.

“So...”

“So!” You repeat, wincing as your voice comes out a little too loud.

You aren’t sure what to do in this painfully uncomfortable situation.

“Um,” your gaze flits around the room as you search for something—anything to say and break the tense silence. When your eyes land on his desk, you light up.

“Oh, are you into music production?” You ask, genuinely curious as you take notice of the mic and synthesizer he has set up and plugged into his laptop.

“Huh?” Jisung splutters for a moment, his eyes wide as his composure slips. “W-What would give you that idea?”

His eyes flit nervously around.

“D-Did Hyunjin say something to you? Because, I mean, wh-whatever he said, it was just a joke!”

You give him a weird look and he flushes to his ears.

“Um, no, Hyunjin didn’t say anything.” An awkward pause.

“I just was asking because of all... that.” You motion at his desk.

“O-oh,” Jisung winces.

“W-Well, the thing is...” he stutters, grasping for words that don’t seem to be there. “It just an, um—“

You don’t give him the opportunity to explain.

“No, it’s okay!” You exclaim hastily. He looks even more flustered than earlier, and you can’t help but feel bad. This—whatever it must be—seems to be a touchy subject.

“I didn’t mean to pry!” You say quickly. “Hyunjin keeps telling me I have a problem with running my mouth and butting my head into other people’s business, so really, you don’t have to explain! Just... Forget I said anything, actually!”

You walk as you talk, blabbering as your head towards Hyunjin’s mess of a desk. His blue lab notebook is glaring at you from on top of a stack of miscellaneous assignments, and you waste no time as you snatch it up.

Jisung just watches you wordlessly, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Um,” you hesitate for a moment as you turn around to face him. “Well, again, sorry for... literally everything that just happened. I’ll—I think it would be good if I left now...”

It’s so awkward that you half-wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, and your only consolation is that it seems Jisung feels the same way too.

You grab the doorknob and twist, speed walking out of the room and down the hallway without another word.

It’s only once you’ve rounded the corner that you pause, barely refraining from banging your head on the wall in frustration. That was a fucking disaster.

Oh, you are definitely kicking Hyunjin’s ass for this later.

With a deep breath, you make it to the stairwell and take the steps two by two until you reach the ground floor. You’re only slightly winded as you pull out your phone to check the time. There are still thirteen minutes until Hyunjin’s lab begins, and yet you’re not surprised to see eight unread text messages from him.

[7:40pm] hyunjin: it’s the blue one!!! pls get the right one omg

[7:41pm] hyunjin: y/n are u getting it [7:41pm] hyunjin: my dorm is unlocked u know that right

[7:43pm] hyunjin: y/n [7:43pm] hyunjin: y/n why aren’t u reading my msgs

[7:45pm] hyunjin: y/n!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[7:46pm] hyunjin: o yeah i forgot to mention.... jisung might be in the room

[7:46pm] hyunjin: oops

You quickly type out a message

[7:47pm] you: yeah thanks for the heads up 😐 [7:47pm] you: i’ll be there soon now stop bothering me

Four minutes and a very furious scooter ride across campus later, you are met with a very frantic Hyunjin outside the life sciences building, who tackles you the second you prop the kickstand of the scooter and step off of it.

“Y/N!” He throws his arms around you and squeezes you so tightly that you choke. “Oh my god, thank you. Have I mentioned I love you? Because I do. I love you so much!”

“Yeah,” you flip your hair over your shoulder as you hand him his notebook. “I know.”

“You literally have saved my life tonight,” Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with tears and you roll your eyes. Why is he so overdramatic?

“It’s what I do,” you shrug in response. “You owe me dinner though. Friday night, no excuses! I want sushi. That expensive place we always pass on the way to the convenience store.”

“Anything for you,” he says seriously and you grin.

“I met your roommate, by the way,” you tell him.

“You did?” Hyunjin glances up. “And?”

“And?” You parrot, glaring at him. “And I’m going to kill you! I can’t believe you never told me he was hot, and now I’m pretty sure he hates me!”

“What did you do to him?” He asks wearily.

“Nothing!” You exclaim quickly. “I swear. I mean, I might have accused him of trying to steal from you, and also maybe, um, embarrassed him when I asked about his whole music set up, but...”

“He told you about 3racha?” Hyunjin gapes.

“No.”

A moment passes.

“Wait, 3racha?” You backtrack, baffled. “You mean, the rappers that you’re always playing that are, like, internet famous? That is what your roommate does? I thought he was just an audio engineering major like Chan!”

You watch as an expression that clearly reads oh shit passes over Hyunjin’s face before he tries to hide it and fake confusion.

“What? Noooo...” He says nervously. “W-What are you talking about?”

“No wonder he was super weird when I asked about it. But 3racha’s stuff is like, really good.”

A moment passes. “Does this mean your roommate is famous?”

“W-What?” He stutters. You glare at him, and a moment later, he lets out a heavy sigh.

“...Yeah.”

“Does this mean you’re friends with the rest of 3racha, too?” You ask.

“Well...” He says slowly. His eyes are too guilty, so you know it must be true.

Then, you gasp and your knees start wobbling as something clicks in your head.

“Chan?!”

He breaks.

“Okay, yeah, Chan, and Changbin too.”

This time your knees really do almost give out.

“Seo Changbin?” You choke. “And he enver told me?”

“Yeah, well, you can’t tell anyone,” Hyunjin grumbles. “Technically, I’m not even supposed to talk about it. Nobody knows except me, Chan’s roommate, and you know.”

“Nobody?” You gape. “Not even Yuna?”

“Especially not Yuna,” Hyunjin says solemnly. “It’s a really sensitive topic for Jisung... His one condition for joining Chan and Changbin was keeping a low profile, and well... People really eat up the whole secret identity thing.”

“Oh.” A moment passes. “Okay.”

He looks at you expectantly.

“Oh, yeah, I promise I won’t tell anybody. My mouth is shut,” you mime a zipping motion over your lips and Hyunjin lets out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, good.”

He glances down at his watch and lets out a wheeze.

“Oh shit, I have to go!” His eyes widen comically and he doesn’t waste a moment before turning on his heels and running towards the science building.

“Okay, bye sweetie! Have fun in class. I’ll come pick you up after soccer practice!” You call out like the obnoxious friend you are.

Predictably, he flips you off, and you laugh.

A week after that Saturday that you find out that Jisung has a girlfriend finds you finally through with all your exams. You are stuck in the library, struggling through your last essay before you’re finished with this midterm period, and the freedom tastes so sweet that you are having a hard time focusing.

But, somehow, by some magical stroke of luck, you make it through your essay. You’re putting the finishing touches on your argument against big pharma when Hyunjin comes barrelling through the bookshelves, nearly slamming into the table you’re sitting at in his haste to reach you.

Surprised, you look up to find your best friend keeled over at the waist, panting loudly as he tries to catch his breath.

“Hyunjin?” You whisper, confused. He has class right now, and you’re not sure why he’s here in the library instead of in the liberal arts building halfway across campus.

“What are you—”

He takes a deep breath, before screeching out, “you bitch!”

You can’t count how many heads turn at his exclamation and you narrow your eyes and yank him down into the seat next to you before he can say anything else.

“Not that I don’t love to be greeted this way,” you whisper, “but can you keep your voice down? We’re on the quiet floor.”

“Keep my voice down?!” You think you see a vein bulge in his forehead and his eyes almost pop out of his face, but he listens and lowers his voice to a very aggressive whisper-shout.

“Still too loud,” you pinch his ear. He winces but doesn’t say anything but before he can say anything, you pin him with a look that shuts him up immediately.

“Now. Why aren’t you in class?”

“Oh, sorry,” He mutters sarcastically. “I seem to have forgotten about it because of bigger things on my mind. Like, I don’t know, my best friend keeping a secret from me!”

You deadpan. “What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin scoffs.

“What are you talking about?” He mocks, his face twisting up. “Stop acting like you don’t know! You’ve been outed, okay, and I just found out from Changbin.”

“I have no idea what your talking about,” you tell him honestly, then pause.

“Wait... Is this about the time Changbin and I went out for ice cream without you? Because in my defense, you were passed the fuck out on the couch after those six shots and Chan said he would take care of you.”

He gasps, outraged. “You went to get ice cream without me?”

“Maybe don’t black out during the pregame next time,” you shrug.

“We’ll get back to the ice cream thing later,” Hyunjin promises you seriously, “but that is not what I’m talking about.”

“Okay,” you say mildly and he glares at you.

“I mean really,” Hyunjin pouts now. “How are you going to let me find out you have a boyfriend from Changbin, of all people?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then you snort, turning back to your essay.

“Yeah, okay. You had me for a moment there.”

He narrows his eyes and kicks you rather meanly under the table.

“Wait, are you being serious?” You double take, but his eyebrows are drawn together, and there isn’t a hint of humor on his face.

“Y-You think I’m in a relationship?” You ask in disbelief, and he nods resolutely.

“I know you are.”

“And pray tell,” you say, trying to stifle the laugh that bubbles up in the back of your throat. “Who exactly am I dating?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says simply, and you swear—your heart stops beating in that moment.

“Who?!” You splutter as blood rushes to your face, and now you are the one loud enough to draw the attention of everyone within a 10 foot radius.

He just scoffs.

“And you really thought the two of you could hide it from me, too. Your best friend. Honestly, the audacity!” he rants, but you’re still unable to contain your shock.

Your mouth opens, then closes, opens, then closes again as you search for words that aren’t there.

“O-okay, you can stop joking around now,” you blubber nervously. “What is this really about?”

Hyunjin just stares at you, unimpressed.

“That’s not going to work on me, Y/N. I can see right through you.”

“T-Then Changbin must be pulling your leg,” you mutter as you start drumming your fingers against the table nervously, “because I am most definitely not dating your roommate.”

You say it, and you know it's the truth—it’s so painfully the truth, but by now your cheeks are flushed and warm, and your eyes are shifty. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that Hyunjin thinks you’re lying to him.

And you aren’t, but he’s so stubborn that you know he won’t believe you no matter what you say.

But—you aren’t dating Han Jisung. You’re pretty sure you would know if you were, and you definitely wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, much less from your best friend.

“He’s not,” Hyunjin says, exasperated.

“A-And how do you know that?” You ask him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Because Jisung is the one who told Changbin about your relationship.”

“He did what?” You shriek. You’re so loud that you are probably two minutes away from being kicked out, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You feel like you’re in an alternate universe, one where things don’t make sense and everything is opposite of what is should be. You must be, right? Or maybe you’re dreaming. Yes, that would make so much more sense.

“I mean, I don’t care that the two of you are dating,” Hyunjin sniffs, “but you could’ve at least told me. I mean, my best friend and my roommate. Hiding it from me! I can’t believe…”

He keeps rambling on, but the blood rushing through your ears muffles his voice, and you take two fingers and pinch yourself—hard. This fever dream must be because of all the coffee you drank yesterday, you think.

Except when you pinch, you actually feel it.

“What?” You mutter yourself, your heart beating a mile a minute as your brain struggles to comprehend the fact that you are, in fact, awake. Which would mean…

“Hyunjin,” you interrupt him, feeling a little bit crazed. “You’re saying that Jisung told Changbin that his secret girlfriend, the one he’s keeping from all of us, is… me?”

Your best friend scoffs. “Yes, Y/N, obviously. We all know now!”

You look at him, your head swimming with many thoughts (none of which make sense) and he stares right back.

And then—you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Y-Y/N?” Hyunjin asks uncertainly, concerned when your cackling starts to border on maniacal.

Your chest hurts and you reach a hand up to wipe away a tear—it’s just that funny. It’s funny that Hyunjin thinks you’re dating anyone, let alone Han fucking Jisung, the guy you’ve had a big fat crush on for who knows how long. It’s just funny.

It takes a moment for your laughter to subside, but you can’t shake the crazy grin that seems to have taken up residence on your face. You’re more than aware how fucking mental you must look, but—well, you feel like your brain might melt into goo soon, so you can’t really help it.

Hyunjin looks more than a bit frightened, but you pay no mind as you close your laptop (probably a bit more forcefully than you should have) and then shove it into your bag.

“Where Jisung is right now?” You ask him with a sweet smile, but your tone is cutting and sharp, and he shrinks back into his seat a little.

“He’s a-at Banana Tree,” Hyunjin stutters out, mentioning the local café on the outskirts of campus, and you jump up from your seat.

“Great. I’ll see you later.” And before he can process it, you’re gone.

It’s a ten minute walk from the library to Banana Tree, but with the amount of adrenaline rushing through your veins, you manage to make it there in six.

The café is cute and quaint and is like a little slice of heaven for you. It’s been your favorite place on campus since you discovered it your second semester of freshman year, and you can’t count how many times you’ve been since. It’s so adorable and—most importantly—affordable, which is why you’re a bit surprised to find that it isn’t as crowded as it usually is.

On most days, the line is long and winding and it’s more than a little difficult to find a place to sit, but today you find that the line is considerably short and only a few people are scattered throughout the coffee shop.

Usually, you would be ecstatic; the short line means instant gratification for your coffee addiction, but today—you don’t hesitate before breezing past the cashier and heading straight towards the back, where you immediately spot Jisung hunched over his laptop in the corner.

His eyebrows drawn together in concentration beneath his wire-rimmed glasses, and he’s looking good in his hoodie and skinny jeans, but you’re here on a mission and you refuse to let the way your heart skips a beat distract you from it.

“Wha—Oh!” Jisung yelps, looking up and almost falling out of his seat in surprise as you slide into the empty chair opposite of him.

“Y/N! Jesus, you gave me a heart attack,” he breathes out, as he clutches his chest, and you raise an eyebrow.

“You’re still alive,” you say mildly. “I think you’ll be fine,”

“Well,” he clears his throat as he straightens up in his chair. “Yes, but…”

He isn’t sure what it is, but the way you’re eyeing him, like you’re trying to figure out the best way to kill him, makes him nervous.

Which is funny, because in your head, you actually are running through places you could hide his body without being caught…

You know, just in case.

“So…” He says slowly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” you respond conversationally as you snatch his iced coffee away from him before he can protest and take a nice, long sip.

You watch as the frothy liquid travels up the straw as you try to convince yourself not to stare at him, because you know the longer you look at him, the quicker your anger will escape you.

Even now, looking half-scared and half-confused, he still manages to look good. With those glasses, he’s giving off those “hot TA that you might hook up with at a frat party” kind of vibe, and you know if you stare too long, you’ll forget why you’re here in the first place.

“What’s up with you, boyfriend?”

That one word is almost like an arrow with how sharp you throw it out, and from the way Jisung’s expression slowly melts from one of confusion to one of grim understanding and dread, you can tell that it hits right on the bullseye.

“Look,” he says quickly, his face heating up. “I can explain, I promise!”

“Well,” you drawl. “By all means, go ahead.”

You’re shorter than Jisung, but from the way he seems to shrink under your gaze, you might as well be towering over him.

A moment passes, then another, almost as if he’s trying to figure out how to begin, and then:

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

You wrinkle your nose at the unexpected question.

“Well, actually I’d rather like to forget the whole accusing you of being a thief part, but yes.”

“Yeah, understandable,” he nods. “It was really awkward.”

That is an understatement.

“But I’m not talking about you threatening me with a frying pan,” he continues.

“You said you forgave me for that!” You protest, and he deadpans.

“I lied.”

You open your mouth, not sure whether or not you’re going to insult him or just kick him under the table.

Instead, you opt for saying, “well then, which part are you talking about?”

“The, um, well,” he looks around, suddenly awkward as his voice lowers to a mumble that is so soft you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“What?” You ask, your ears straining.

“Well, you know… When you found out about, um,” he gesticulates randomly in the air, and you squint.

“Jisung, I have absolutely no idea what you’re trying to say,” you tell him exasperatedly. “Can you use your words?”

“3racha!” He finally explodes. “You found out about it when we first met.”

You stare at him, confused. “Okay?”

“And, it’s just that… You know how it’s a secret right? The whole ‘nobody knows who they are’ kind of thing. I mean, now it’s really big all over campus and people like the whole mystery… Say it’s part of the listening experience or whatever… But even from the beginning, I never really wanted people to know it was me,” he rambles on, and it’s like a dam has broken. The words pour out of his mouth and he can’t seem to stop them.

“Which is why it’s kind of ironic that, like, the entire time you’ve known me, you’ve also known my biggest secret. Actually, it’s a bit unnerving, if I’m being honest. I’m surprised Hyunjin managed to not tell you even before you met me, actually but it’s just that—” He takes a deep breath, cutting off his tirade when he notices the glare you have focused on him.

“—Well, what I’m trying to say is, you know, the reason we don’t go public isn’t because we think we’re above it all.”

You stare blankly at him.

“Yeah, I understand that,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and he balks at you.

“What I don’t understand,” you continue on, “is what exactly 3racha and your underground rapping career have to do with the fact that our closest friends now seem to think we’re in a relationship.”

“Well,” he begins sheepishly. “It’s actually kind of a funny story.”

You glare at him.

“Okay!” He’s quick to say. “Well, basically, Yuna might have suspected I was hiding something from her, and when she was, like, two seconds away from figuring out about 3racha, it might have just… slipped out?”

Jisung pauses and the air is thick with anticipation, as if he thinks you might smack him right then and there.

“Slipped out,” you echo in disbelief. “That you have a secret girlfriend, and that girlfriend is me?”

“Yes,” his voice is small.

“But… Why me?” You ask after a moment, lost.

“I-I mean, you were the first person to come to mind,” he mutters as his shifty eyes avoid yours. “You know about 3racha, and I panicked, and then I had already said your name and it was too late...”

You narrow your eyes and he lets out a sigh.

“Look,” he begins solemnly. “I know it’s out of the blue, but you know how Yuna is… Well, actually, you know how all of our friends are. They don’t give up easily, and I swear it wasn’t my intention to drag you into this, so I’m really sorry.”

Jisung hesitates.

“And I’m really sorry to have to ask you this, too, but…Would you mind going along with it? Just for a little while! I know it’s a lot to ask, but you would be saving my life.”

He looks you dead in the eye. “Like, literally saving my life. I think Yuna and Felix might murder me if they find out the truth.”

A moment passes, then another as you scramble to find words. You’re not sure what so say, how to respond to… that, and the longer you wait, the more worried he becomes.

“Wait, you don’t have a boyfriend right now, do you?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

Your reaction is instantaneous and you scoff a little. “No, I definitely do not.”

Jisung sags in relief, but his eyes stay trained on you, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous. The earnesty of his gaze is piercing, and it makes you flush.

“So, you actually want to do this?” You ask him for confirmation. “Lie to our friends and pretend like we’re dating?”

“Yes?” He winces.

You look at him for a moment, watching as he braces himself as if he’s expecting the worst, but the truth is—you already know your answer. Hell, he could ask you to jump off a cliff and you would probably say yes to that too.

“Okay.”

“Wait—really?” He asks in disbelief, and you nod.

“Yeah, I mean… I wouldn’t want you to have to tell everyone about 3racha because of me, so… I guess there’s not much of a choice, anyways.”

“Oh, thank God,” He blurts out, looking like he’s only seconds away from bowing down to you and kissing your feet. “Thank you so much. I really owe you.”

“I just have one question,” you say after a moment.

“Yeah?” Jisung replies, distracted, as if nothing could bring his mood down.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“What?” He cocks his head to the side.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why didn’t you just ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I would have said yes.”

“Oh.” He pauses, and a look of realization passing over his face.

“You know… I didn’t even think of that.”

You have to refrain from smacking yourself in the head. Of course you had to go and fall for an idiot.

Of course.

You are spiraling.

“Jisung, I don’t think I can do this.”

You are spiraling, and there is literally nothing anyone can do about it because, oh my god, you are an idiot for agreeing to a plan so idiotic that it has already started to fall apart.

It’s currently two days after you agreed to lie to all of your friends and fake date Jisung, and the two of you have been sitting in the student activity center for the past thirty minutes working through the details of your “relationship,” because like the idiots you are, you both managed to forget you had to figure these things out if you hoped to convince anyone that you are in love.

Great.

Except—when you wake up this morning, the day starts off bad, and only continues to get worse. It’s almost as if Murphy’s law chooses you as it’s sole victim today, because anything that can go wrong is most definitely going wrong right now.

First, you almost sleep through your British literature lecture in the morning when you’re alarm decided to conveniently stop working (and by stop working, you mean completely fall apart, most likely because of the way Hyunjin had thrown it at the wall last Thursday when the two of you decided to unwind with a bottle of wine... Each.)

After stumbling into the giant lecture hall still in your pajamas, you manage to make it to you next class—Stats—on time. Until you realize you somehow managed to forget about the quiz that your TA sent fifty emails out about.

Then, after that ordeal, you show up at the sandwich shop right next to the Maths building in hopes of grabbing a quick bite to eat, only to find the line winding and out the door.

It’s as you are about to scream violently into the void because of how crappy the day has been going that you get a text message from Jisung, who asks if the two of you can meet at the student activity center. With a sigh, you quickly type out a reply before dragging your feet up the hill and towards said building…

…Where you proceed to wait for who knows how long because, in true Jisung fashion, he shows up late to a meeting he himself set up.

And then, after you eat half a bowl of soup, he finally shows up, frantic and apologetic—which leads you to now.

“Y/N?” Jisung asks uncertainly, waving his hand in front of your face.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually managed to talk me into this,” you breathe out, rocking back and forth slightly in your chair.

The weight of what you are about to do—lie to your friends, pretend to date the guy you have feelings for, all of the above?—hits you like a freight train.

“Like, seriously?” You turn your frantic gaze to Jisung’s face. “You really want to do this? There is no other excuse we can use? Maybe they’ll believe us if we tell them it was just a joke?”

“Um…” He says meekly, but you are on a rant and you barely even hear him as you continue on.

“I can’t believe that out of all the people in the world, it had to be my name that you thought of first... I mean, I don’t even know if I should be flattered or just angry, because oh my god, Jisung I really can’t do this. Hyunjin is my best friend! How am I supposed to lie to him? I don’t think I can lie to him. Like, physically, I think it’s impossible. And then I’m going to have to lie to Yuna, and Changbin too? I live with Yuna, she’s going to see right through me! Who’s going to believe the two of us are dating? Oh my god, I think I’m going to pass out. Why would you—“

“Okay, Y/N,” Jisung interjects, grabbing you by the shoulders gently. “I’m going to need you to stop for a moment and just breathe. Can you breathe for me?”

You look at him, bewildered, as if you’ve never heard of the concept of breathing. Right now, it actually feels like you haven’t. You’re all hot and panicky, and you’re not sure your lungs are functioning correctly—if they are at all. It’s like all eyes are on you, and if you were a little bit less crazed, you would know that’s not true, but right now—right now, all you can think about is how nice it would be if you just dropped dead right here.

“Breathe,” he nods encouragingly. “Yeah, in and out, can you do it with me?”

A moment passes, but he’s looking at you so expectantly, and even ten seconds away from a panic attack you’re still whipped for him, so hesitantly, you nod in agreement.

“Alright, that’s great,” he beams at you.

“Just in,” he breathes in and you shakily follow suit. “And out.”

You repeat once, and then twice, and by the third time you can feel yourself calming down.

“Oh. Okay, yeah,” you shake your arms out. “It’s all good, right…”

Jisung grins and your heart skips a beat—but this kind of nervousness, well, you’re used to it by now. The familiar butterflies in your stomach are almost grounding, and it only takes a few moments before you’re completely calm.

“So,” you clear your throat, embarrassed. “It’s all fine. Lying to our mutual best friends is fine, right. What were we talking about, anyways?”

“Oh!” Jisung starts. “I think we were on what our first date was.”

“First date?” You wrinkle your nose. “Can’t you decide?”

“Hey, I already decided how I asked you out. Our first date is yours to decide.”

You groan, thinking about how Jisung—after a lot of thinking—had come to the executive decision that he asked you out two months ago, after he ended up taking care of you at some frat party you both went to while Hyunjin was home visiting his parents.

The truth is, that weekend you were abysmally sick and could barely get out of bed, and Jisung was studying for the four midterms he had the following week, so neither of you went to that party—but... Nobody needs to know the truth, right?

“Fine,” you say finally. “We’ll just say our first date was the movies and dinner.”

“No, that’s too boring,” Jisung protests, and you glare at him.

“Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “I would never plan a date as boring as the movies and dinner.

It has to be at least a little realistic, right?”

You glare at him.

“Then, pray tell, what kind of date would you plan?”

“Well,” Jisung begins matter-of-factly. “To start off with, dinner is so overrated. I think a brunch picnic is much more fun, especially because breakfast food is like, ten thousand times better.”

“That’s just because you have an unhealthy obsession with french toast…” You mutter.

“French toast is a superior food group!” He tells you adamantly.

“Not a food group,” you sigh. “But fine. A brunch picnic, is that all?”

“Well, the brunch picnic would be at that park next to the Han river, and while we’re there, we would feed the ducks there because they are so cute,” Jisung continues. “And then, I would take you go karting—but I would let you win, because I’m good first date material.”

“Go karting?” You raise an eyebrow and he sticks his tongue out.

“I mean, you’re so competitive…”

A moment passes as you think about it, and then you nod.

“Okay,” you shrug. “But—let’s get one thing straight. I would win because I’m better, not because you let me.”

Jisung scoffs. “As if.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wonder who it is that can’t even win Mario Kart, then?”

“First of all,” he is quick to protest. “That’s just a video game!”

“Sucks that you can’t win at go kart even digitally,” you respond, disappointed.

“Well—“

“Anyways!” You exclaim, pretending you don’t hear his cries of protests. “We’ve figured out how we met, when and where our first date was, how long we’ve been dating… What about why we’ve been keeping this a secret?”

“Oh,” Jisung pales. “That one is easy.”

You furrow your brow in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Um…” He trails off. “Well, hypothetically… Hyunjin and Changbin might have threatened to, you know, hypothetically kill me if I ever tried to make a move on you?”

You narrow your eyes. “They did what?”

Jisung winces, as if bracing for you to yell at him, but after a moment, you just sigh.

“Whatever…” You mutter under your breath, even as you plot. “I’ll deal with them later…”

He lets out a sigh of relief and visibly relaxes, which only makes you want to smack him because—you can’t be that scary, right?

Instead of asking, you clear your throat. “Anyways, is there anything else?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Jisung scratches his head as he thinks.

“Well then,” you say. “We should be fine. I mean, we’ll have to tell our friends soon, but with a few more days to prepare, I think we might be able to pull it off…”

You reach up to gnaw on your nail nervously, and it’s as you’re running through the various ways you might actually be able to convince your best friends that the two of you have been secretly dating, Jisung gets a text message.

“It might be rough,” you mutter once again, although this time it’s more to yourself than to him. “But, well, Hyunjin is kind of unobservant, so with our luck, he might just glaze right over it anyways…”

“U-um… About that,” Jisung starts nervously, and you look up at him.

“Yes?” You ask, taking a long sip from your water bottle.

“Hyunjin just texted me that he’s going to meet us here in, like… 5 minutes?”

You choke on the water, barely stopping yourself from spewing it everywhere—and just like that, your hysteria from earlier comes crashing down on you.

“I’m sorry, what?!” You balk, your fists clenched so tight you can feel the crescent-shaped nail marks forming on your palm.

“Okay, in my defense,” Jisung protests immediately when you threateningly wield your blue mechanical pencil in his direction. “I told him not to come, but he has my location on and he said he’s coming here anyways!”

You inhale sharply, and a moment passes.

“Give me your phone.”

“W-What?” There’s a hint of fear in Jisung’s eyes, but you don’t even care as you try to calm yourself.

“Did I stutter?” You ask, your gaze murderous, and he sinks back into his seat.

“N-Now, Y/N, let’s just think about this logically…”

He looks like he’s going to say more, but you’re already up and out of your seat, reaching over the table you are both sat at for his phone. Jisung, a step ahead of you, snatches it out of your grasp.

“Give me your phone, Jisung,” you say stubbornly.

“If I give it to you, are you going to throw it across the room?” He asks.

“…Maybe.”

He pauses, as if he’s actually thinking about it, before telling you plainly: “Mmm, in that case… No.”

“Jisung,” you whine. “Give it to me! All I want to do is turn off your location sharing, okay? I promise I won’t do anything to your phone… Mostly.”

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak something over your shoulder catches his attention. You’re still halfway out of your seat, pouting at him.

“Y/N—“ He tries to interrupt, but you ignore him and continue on.

“I mean, first you decide to go around and tell all of our friends that the two of us are dating without even consulting me first, and then you let me find out from Hwang Hyunjin of all people, before finally coercing me into a fake rel—mmph!”

Panic flashes across Jisung’s face and his eyes widen as he stares at something directly behind you. And then, before you can process it, he’s grabbing your face with both his hands—his left one on your cheek and his right one awkwardly placed half on your chin, half over your mouth.

Then, he yanks you close to him and plants an over-exaggerated kiss on top of the hand that is covering your lips.

“Oh, hi Hyunjin,” Jisung says loudly when he pulls away. “Didn’t see you there!”

Your face is so red and you’re so surprised that you can’t move, not even when Hyunjin lets out a strangled gagging noise as he comes to a skidding halt next to the table you and Jisung are sitting at.

“Were you guys just—kissing?” Hyunjin asks, his face contorted in disgust.

“What?” Jisung says, almost defensively. “Nooo…”

“—You know what… Nevermind.” Hyunjin shakes his head, as if that might remove the image he just saw.

“I guess you two really are dating…” He mutters to himself, repulsed.

“Anyways,” Jisung clears his throat a moment later as you continue to stare, unblinking and stone faced off into the distance. “Why are you here, Hyunjin?”

“What?” He asks. “I can’t visit my best friend and roommate on this random Wednesday afternoon after they kept their secret relationship from me?”

“Um…” Jisung trails off. “Honestly, I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

Hyunjin huffs. “Well, if you must know, my ecology lecture was cancelled, and I have nothing better to do, so I came here.”

You’re only half listening, and your best friend looks at you weirdly.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asks Jisung, waving his hand in front of your face. “Was kissing you really that emotionally scarring?”

Jisung scowls and kicks Hyunjin under the table, and you still don’t respond.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin calls out. “Y/N?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, his voice registers, but it’s like your brain has shut down and your synapses have stopped firing, because all you can do is stare.

“Y/N,” your best friend sighs exasperatedly, and then reaches out and smacks you across the face.

“Ouch!” You squeal, effectively knocked out of whatever stupor you had been in.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin? That hurt!”

“That hurt?” He mocks.

“You know what really hurts? My best friends hiding their relationship from me for—“

He stops.

“—Wait, how long have you guys been dating for?”

“Two months,” you grumble.

“Two months?!” Hyunjin shrieks. “You imbeciles hid this from me for two months?”

“Yes,” you glare at him.

“Sorry?” Jisung adds helpfully.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Hyunjin cries out and you roll your eyes.

“Nobody is paying you for this, dummy.”

He pouts. “Well, someone should.”

“Pay you? For doing nothing? This is exactly why the institution of capitalism is detrimental to the function of society as a whole,” you scoff, and Jisung and Hyunjin look at you weirdly.

“What?” You say defensively. “I’m taking a course on communism versus capitalism, and I have a paper due today.”

“Okay…” The weird look doesn’t leave either of their faces.

“Wait,” you start. “My paper! What time is it?”

“It’s 4:24—“ Hyunjin tells you.

“Fuck!” You exclaim. “I have to turn in my paper to my TA by 4:30!”

You waste no time in grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder, and then getting up and practically running out of the student activity center.

“Good luck!” Jisung calls out, but you’re already gone.

“Do you think she heard me?” He asks Hyunjin.

“No.”

A few days later, you’re walking out of your music appreciation class when you get a frantic text from Jisung.

Technically, you aren’t even meant to be taking music appreciation this semester. But when you were registering for classes last semester, the ethnoarchaeology course you wanted to get into was full, and this was your only other option.

It turned out fine, though, because it’s a blow off class, an easy A that gets your fine arts core credit out of the way, so it’s a win win.

[7:01pm] jisung: HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[7:02pm] you: what’s up?

[7:02pm] jisung: OUR COVER IS ABOUT TO BE BLOWN!!!! [7:02pm] jisung: YOU’RE IN THE MUSIC BUILDING RN RIGHT????

[7:03pm] you: yes??? [7:03pm] you: what do you mean our cover is abt to be blown???

[7:05pm] you: jisung????

[7:05pm] jisung: was doing 3racha stuff [7:05pm] jisung: now yuna is coming to visit cb

[7:06pm] jisung: HELP?!

[7:06pm] you: oh lmao [7:06pm] you: u had me worried.. just hide somewhere until she leaves

[7:07pm] jisung: no y/n [7:07pm] jisung: i told her we were hanging out 2nite [7:07pm] jisung: y/n she has my location on

[7:08pm] you: oh [7:08pm] you: oh fuck [7:08pm] you: where r u??? i’ll come 2 u [7:08pm] you: outside practice room #4

You find yourself breaking out into a brisk jog right when you receive the message, turning down the hallway until you find the stairwell and then taking the steps two by two. Three flights later, you come out on the 2nd floor, and it doesn’t take long for you to spot Jisung pacing nervously in the corridor lined with practice rooms.

“Jisung,” you hiss as you approach, looking both ways down the hall to make sure Yuna isn’t here yet.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathes out in unadulterated relief when he sees you.

“Why did you tell Yuna we were hanging out tonight?” You ask, your eyes narrowed.

He shrugs helplessly. “Changbin, Chan, and I had plans tonight, but she knows Changbin is a part of 3racha, and—I don’t know, I panicked!”

You let out a deep sigh, and then square your shoulders.

“Okay, first of all—we need to have a talk about having your location on for all of our friends, because this really keeps fucking us over,” you tell him sternly.

He nods miserably. “I know.”

“Second of all,” you continue, relaxing slightly. “This actually isn’t that bad… If Yuna asks what you were doing here, you can just tell her you came to pick me up from class. It’s the perfect cover.”

“Really?” He asks dubiously, but you can see the weight ease up on his shoulders slightly.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “It’s believable, and she’ll have no reason to suspect otherwise.”

“Okay…” Jisung relaxes. “So, how was your—mmph!”

And then, before he can finish his thought, you’re yanking him by the wrist and all but shoving him through the first door you find.

Which, of course, with your luck, just so happens to be a broom closet.

“What the fuck?”

“Yuna was coming down the hallway,” you hiss. “Now be quiet!”

“Oh,” he mumbles, and silence falls over the two of you.

You’re hyperaware of how close you are to Jisung—the closet is small and dimly lit, and there’s virtually no where to stand with all the space the mops and buckets, and you’re almost chest to chest. He’s staring awkwardly off into the space behind your left ear, and your furrowing your eyebrows as you strain to hear out in the hallway while simultaneously pretending this isn’t the worst situation. Ever.

As you listen, you hear the clicking of heels grow closer—which you assume is Yuna, if her obsession with strappy heels is anything to go by. The rhythmic clacking becomes louder as she gets closer, and then, it suddenly comes to a stop.

“Yuna,” you hear Changbin’s voice, close to the closet you’re currently hiding in. “What’s up?”

“Changbin!” She exclaims. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“W-What did I do?” You can hear the fear in his voice, and if you weren’t scared shitless that your roommate might find you and turn that anger onto you, you would probably find it hilarious.

“Chan told me everything,” you can practically hear the way her eyes narrow murderously, and you and Jisung share a mutually horrified look.

Being on Yuna’s bad side is something you never wanted to experience.

“H-He did?”

“Yes, you fool! I know that you were passed out last Saturday after going to that Sigma party when I specifically told you that you couldn’t go because we were having brunch with your mom.”

Jisung lets out a snort, and you elbow him in the ribcage.

“What?” he mutters. “I was there. He downed like eight shots in fifteen minutes and blacked after that.”

“Be quiet,” you glare. “They’ll hear us.”

Changbin and Yuna’s conversation continues on, escalating into what seems to be an argument, but Jisung is grinning, his eyes bright, and it takes your breath away to the point that you can’t even hear what they’re saying above the rush of blood in your ears.

Now you’re the one staring off behind his head awkwardly, your palms sweaty as you try to think about anything except how cute he is and how nervous that makes you.

A moment passes, with Changbin and Yuna still talking outside the closet you’re in, and Jisung clears his throat awkwardly.

“So…” He whispers a second later. “Do you come here often?”

You stare at him full on.

“What the fuck?”

He shrugs. “I’m trying out new pick up lines. What do you think?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “That wasn’t even a pick up line. That was like… I don’t even know, but it definitely wasn’t a pick up line.”

“Really?” He raises a brow. “Then what is?”

You scoff. “As if I’d ever use my lines on you.”

“No, now I’m interested.”

“Well that’s too bad,” you stick out your tongue.

“Please?” He asks, and you open your mouth to say no—until you see his wide puppy dog eyes, pleading with you, and you melt.

“Mmm,” you press your lips into a tight line.

Yuna’s voice rises outside, and you turn away from Jisung as you mumble out, “I dunno, something like... Are you a greenhouse gas? Because you’re hot enough to cause global warming... Or something.”

There’s a moment of silence and you cringe at how embarrassing it is, and then Jisung barely manages to stifle a laugh.

“Maybe I should just stick to being straightforward,” he says, pursing his lips to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Because it seems you have the witty pick up lines covered.”

“Personally,” You wrinkle your nose. “I think you should stick to saying nothing…”

“What?” He pouts. “The classic ‘let me take you out on a date’ never fails.”

“Mmm,” you grimace. “I give it a 5 out of 10 for getting to the point, but 2 out of 10 for creativity.”

“Wow okay,” he says. “I guess I can’t do anything to impress you, huh?”

“Not really.”

He grins. “What a mean thing to say to your boyfriend.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the way your jaw drops when he says that. Because—it’s one thing to fake a relationship. It’s another thing to actually hear him call himself your boyfriend.

You cough slightly, barely managing to clear your throat before glaring at him.

“Fake boyfriend.”

Jisung chuckles, and he’s so close to you that if you think about it hard enough, you can convince yourself that you can feel his laugh. His breath is minty and warm, and ghosts across your cheek. You think you might melt into a puddle if you spend another moment in this closet with him.

“What?” He says playfully. “Am I not real boyfriend material?”

You deadpan.

“Jisung, I’ve seen you pick your nose.” You snort. “The day I date you is the day you dye your hair blue.”

“Well, I mean—“ He begins, but it’s at that moment that you realize you can no longer hear Changbin and Yuna arguing on the other side of the door.

“Shh!” You hold your finger up towards him, pressing your ear against the door.

A moment passes, and then another, and you still don’t hear anything.

“I think the coast is clear,” you say hushed to Jisung.

Then, you open the door slightly—only enough for you to see out into the hallway through the sliver of space between the hinges of the door.

The hallway is empty, and with a sigh of relief, you swing the door open all the way.

“Oh thank god,” you exhale, and for the first time in the past 10 minutes, you feel like you can breathe again.

“Well,” Jisung says awkwardly, following you out of the broom closet. “Sorry about this… I really didn’t think Yuna would be coming here tonight.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s no big deal. You’re just lucky I actually decided to go to class today.”

“Well,” he says. “Thanks anyways. Can I treat you to dinner to show my appreciation?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Free food?”

“I mean,” Jisung mutters. “It’ll be cheap food, but yeah. I’ll pay.”

You grin. As a broke and nearly starving college student, the cardinal rule is never turn down free food.

“Lead the way!”

The next night, Jisung finds himself at Chan’s apartment in an attempt to complete the song the 3 of them had been working on the night before.

After spending the past three hours mixing and remixing sounds and still being dissatisfied with the product, Chan had decided they needed a little bit of a break from it all—which leads them to now, sitting in the living room around the dingy coffee table that only has 3 functional legs, eating spicy ramyeon like their lives depend on it.

“So,” Jisung starts in between slurps, chewing obnoxiously as he talks. “What d’you think of the new lyrics? I know the old ones were a bit… eh, but I really feel like these might be the one!”

Naruto is playing in the background, and as Jisung goes to take another bite, Chan and Changbin exchange a look.

“Well…” Chan starts wearily, but Jisung—consumed in his food—doesn’t notice his tone.

“Jisung,” Changbin interrupts, shooting a pointed glare at Chan. “We need to talk.”

“We are talking…?”

“We need to talk… About you and Y/N,” Chan clarifies, and Jisung freezes.

There’s a noodle hanging out of his mouth, which is agape, and ice floods his veins as anxiety washes over him.

Y/N? Why do they need to talk about you?

They stare at him, expressions deadpan, and then it hits him.

Oh god, Changbin and Chan found out that you’re not really dating and you’ve been lying to all of them. The ruse is up, the two of you have been found out.

“W-Well,” He sets his chopsticks down hesitantly, his hands shaking slightly as he goes. “I mean, we don’t n-need to…”

“Um,” Changbin gives him a weird look. “Yeah, I think we do. This is kind of a big deal, Jisung.”

“Mmm, no,” Jisung’s voice pitches upwards and he clears his throat. “It’s nothing! Whatever you’ve heard, it’s not like that!”

Chan furrows his brow.

“No, I’m pretty sure it is like that.”

Dread builds up in the back of Jisung’s throat, and he realizes—his death is close. Because if Chan and Changbin have found out his lie… It’s only a matter of time until Hyunjin discovers the truth, and then the rest of their friends…

…Including Yuna.

The thought is so scary that Jisung has to frantically take a large gulp of water to calm himself down.

“Jisung…?” Changbin questions, concerned as he watches the younger boy down his entire water bottle in ten seconds flat.

“Okay,” he sighs, squaring his shoulders as if he’s preparing to fight someone.

“Look, I know it looks bad, but I have a reason okay!” Jisung blurts out.

Chan clears his throat. “Well, yeah, of course you have a reason… But that doesn’t mean you should have done it anyways…”

He shudders and Changbin nods.

“Yeah, dude,” he says, disappointed. “Like come on. I thought you were better than this.”

Jisung runs a hand through his hair.

“Listen, guys, I’m really sorry! It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, I swear…”

Chan sighs heavily. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should write love songs.”

“Yuna just cornered me, and—wait, what?!” Jisung cuts off when he realizes what Chan has just said.

Chan winces. “Yeah… your new lyrics aren’t, um, bad, but…”

“Please, no more sappy love songs?” Changbin adds helpfully. “Like, you and Y/N are dating, which is kind of cool… gross, mostly… But please. We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Huh?” Jisung continues to just stare at his friends, openmouthed and confused.

Changbin rolls his eyes. “What will people think if the mysterious and elusive 3racha suddenly start writing love songs?”

“Um—I, um, imagine that… Wouldn’t be cool?”

“Exactly,” Changbin nods. “So, we have an understanding?”

Jisung stares, helplessly. “I guess?”

“Great,” Chan affirms. “Now, about that bridge, I was thinking…”

The next few weeks pass in a weird sort of limbo, where you find yourself spending more time with Jisung than you thought you ever would.

After he treats you to cheap diner food that Thursday you almost get caught by Yuna, you two make it a habit of grabbing dinner together every week after your music appreciation class. Jisung somehow manages to convince Changbin and Chan that spending their Thursday nights in the music building is a good idea just so that your schedules can match, and you think it’s kind of cute that he’s that dedicated to keeping up your fake dating ruse.

Soon after that, you end up seeing him everywhere you go.

Like when he shows up with coffee for you after your Tuesday tutoring sessions in the student activity center, or when he saves a seat for you in the library on Wednesday nights because he knows you have weekly quizzes on Thursday to study for.

You soon find that if you aren’t on campus for classes or back at your apartment, you’re usually at Hyunjin and Jisung’s place. You spend so much time there—which you didn’t think was possible, considering your friendship with Hyunjin—to the point that they end up telling you where they hide the spare key.

You’ve known where it was for the past year (under the doormat, because they aren’t very creative) but you let them think that it’s news to you.

It’s weird, because in the span of a few weeks, Jisung becomes so commonplace in your life that sometimes, even though you don’t mean to, you forget it’s all fake.

Okay, well—obviously the friendship part isn’t, because the two of you have been friends (or, at the very least, friendly) for the better part of two years.

But when Jisung casually slips his hand into yours as the two of you walk down the street together, or when he greets you with a hug that makes you feel so warm inside while your friends are watching, it’s easy to pretend—even if only for a second—that this is for real.

When you let yourself believe that (which, you’re ashamed to say is far more often than you’d like it to be) you’re left feeling even worse afterwards, when you come down from whatever cloud 9 he has pushed you up onto and reality sets in.

When you remember that none of it is real, that you’re just friends and you’re a fool for thinking otherwise, well… Let’s just say, it’s not the nicest feeling.

Which, as one can imagine, leaves you feeling increasingly confused. You spend so much time with Jisung that you never get a reprieve from him, which—a few months ago would have been a dream, but now, it just feels like torture.

You end up spending more and more time obsessing over your complicated feelings for him, and sometimes (most of the time) you just want to scream because of how frustrating it is.

You almost do, actually, when you walk into their apartment after your classes end, and Jisung greets you with a tiny kiss on the cheek—something that he’s done before, usually when your friends are around, but still continues to catch you off guard.

“Hey,” he says easily with a grin, and you kind of want to punch the stupid smile off of his stupid face. “How were your classes today?”

You clear your throat, fighting off the heat rising to your cheeks.

“They were fine… Yours?”

“All good,” he responds before frowning. “Although, Professor Moon was kind of a dick today…”

“Well,” you begin as you set your bag down and flop onto his couch. “You’re only taking his class for credit, right?”

He nods.

“Then you shouldn’t stress yourself out about it like you did last time. He’ll always be a dick, no matter how long you spend worrying about his class.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, melting into the seat next to you. “I guess you’re right.”

You scoff. “Of course I am. I’m always right.”

He raises his arms in mock surrender. “Oh, my bad for forgetting, your Holiness.”

You flip him off and he laughs.

“Anyways…” You continue, your eyes roaming across the living room, which looks different than it usually does today. “What is this all for?”

You motion to where there are streamers hanging across one empty wall, and then to a banner underneath that reads simply ‘HAPP’ in big bubble letters.

“Oh,” Jisung’s eyes land on the decorations, and he shrugs. “We’re kind of having a part tonight. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Um.” You stare. “No?”

“Oops,” he mutters. “Well, we’re having a party?”

“Thanks for the heads up,” you roll your eyes sarcastically, and he grins.

“Well, now that you know… Are you going to come tonight?”

You purse your lips. “When you say party, do you mean like, a party?”

“…Maybe?”

You raise a brow. “And what’s the occasion?”

“Nothing big,” Jisung mumbles. “Just, you know, my birthday…”

You choke.

“Your birthday?!”

He winces. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Jisung!” You gasp, punching him in the arm. “It’s your birthday today?”

“Yes?” He says it like a question and you smack him again.

“How did you manage to not tell me that?” You exclaim.

He pouts. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Jisung,” you deadpan. “We’re literally faking a relationship. Of course it’s important!”

“Oh, yeah,” he says a moment later, as if he’s forgotten completely about it, and you want to give him one of slap, just for good measure.

God, when did you get so violent?

“Well… I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” you gripe at him. “I don’t even have a present for you…”

“Oh, I don’t need any presents,” he says bashfully, and you glare at him.

“Now everyone is going to think I’m a bad girlfriend!”

“No they won’t,” Jisung placates, and you let out a groan.

“Well,” you sigh forlornly. “I guess this means I’ll be here tonight…”

“Yay!” He claps excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever…” You mutter under your breath.

At that moment, Jisung’s phone buzzes, and his smile melts into a frown when he checks the message.

“What’s up?” You ask, curious.

“Oh, Changbin just messaged saying there’s been a mix up with the drinks for tonight,” he tells you slowly. “He needs my help.”

“Are you going now?”

“Yeah,” he gets up, grabbing his coat from the chair across from you. “I’ll be back in like, 30, okay? Don’t destroy my apartment while I’m gone!”

You scoff. “You’re the messy one.”

“I’ve seen you in the kitchen, Y/N,” he calls out, hopping a little to put his shoes on.

“Okay, first of all—“ You splutter, but he’s already out the door with a wink in your direction, and you’re left alone.

“—Whatever…” you finally mutter to yourself, a pout on your face.

Without hesitation, you kick off the house slippers you are wearing and curl your feet underneath you, grabbing a blanket and the remote to the TV as you settle in on the couch and make yourself more comfortable.

That’s how Hyunjin finds you fifteen minutes later, when he arrives with an unholy amount of party decorations in his grasp.

“Y/N?” He asks, his arms overflowing with plastic bags.

“Hey,” you say distractedly, not bothering to look away from the TV as you greet him.

“O… kay…” He says to himself after a moment, setting the stuff down onto the counter.

“Where did Jisung go?” He asks as he grabs scissors from a drawer and begins cutting open the bags of decorations.

“He said something about Changbin… drinks… I’m not really sure, actually,” you reply back.

Hyunjin sighs. “That’s so helpful. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you snark back.

“So…” He trails off. “Are you going to help me set up, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Do I look like I want to help you set up?”

Hyunjin glares at you.

“You look like someone I’m about to kick out of my apartment.”

With a loud, overdramatic sigh, you pause the show you are watching and then haul yourself up off of the couch so you can join Hyunjin in the kitchen.

“Well… I guess I can help,” you say begrudgingly.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin says blandly. “You can start by finishing the sign.”

He motions to the ‘HAPP’ hanging sadly on the wall, and you snort.

“What, you’re telling me it isn’t supposed to look like that?”

Hyunjin looks like he’s about to smack you, but instead says, “Y/N, can you just do it?”

“Yeah, whatever…” You snatch up the bag of bubble letters and grab a roll of tape before heading to the living room.

It isn’t too difficult to finish the sign, and you’re finishing sticking up the last two letters when Hyunjin joins you with—surprise!—even more streamers.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says slowly as you finish the sign and step back to admire your handiwork.

“Yes?” You ask, grinning at your best friend.

“…Why does that sign say ‘Happy Birthday Bitch!’?”

You bat your eyelashes innocently.

“What?” You ask. “Am I wrong?”

He sighs. “No… But it’s Jisung birthday. Don’t you think we should be a little nice to him today?”

You pout. “Well…”

He glares at you.

“Fine, whatever! I’ll change it… You’re lame anyways…”

It takes you another ten minutes to take down the sign and replace it with the much more appropriate, and much less fun ‘Happy Birthday Jisung!’ but you do it, and right as you move on to helping Hyunjin hang streamers—because God forbid there be anything less than the hundreds of them already lining the walls—Jisung arrives back, with Changbin and Felix in tow.

Changbin and Jisung are both carrying cases of beer in their hands, and Felix follows with a large tote bag that you assume is full of various bottles of hard liquor, although you can’t see inside the bag because of how big it is.

“Hey, Y/N,” Changbin smiles at you as he passes, and Felix perks up when he notices you.

“Y/N!” He exclaims. “Do you—“

You cut him off before he can finish.

“—And that is my cue to leave.”

Felix scowls. “You don’t even know what I was going to say…”

“You were going to ask me to help you with something,” you scoff. “I’ve already reached my manual labor limit for the day, but nice try.”

The blond boy sulks his way into the kitchen, just as Jisung comes out after setting down the boxes he had been carrying.

“You’re going already?” Jisung pouts.

You pat him on the cheek sweetly.

“I mean… yeah,” you tell him.

“What, do you expect me to stay for a party dressed like this?”

You motion down to your expertly coordinated ensemble of sweats and a ratty t-shirt that you think might be Hyunjin’s.

“Well,” Jisung says reluctantly. “I mean, I think it’s cute, but…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” you threaten as you dig an elbow into his side. “Anyways, I’ll be back by 9, okay?”

“Okay…” He mutters sadly.

“Finally,” Hyunjin says at the same time. “She’s leaving!”

You stick your middle finger up in his direction as you grab your bag and shove your feet back into your shoes.

“Bye, bitches!”

And then you’re out the door.

Your apartment isn’t far from theirs—just around the block, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re climbing the stairs up to the 4th floor, where you live.

When you unlock the door, you’re greeted by a dark room, and you’re a little surprised to find that Yuna isn’t home right now.

You flick the light switch on and kick off your shoes, walking into the kitchen to find a post it note stuck to the fridge.

Out buying Jisung a present, it reads. See u tonight! xoxo Yuna

You crumble the note in your palm before dunking it into the trash, NBA style, and you scowl when you miss.

Yuna’s note reminds you again that Jisung didn’t give you any notice about his birthday, and you can’t help the annoyance that rises inside of you—especially because you didn’t have the chance to do the bare minimum and scrape together a present for him.

With a sigh, you drop your school bag on the floor of your room as you head towards your closet, rummaging through your clothes as yo search for something appropriate.

You’re looking for an outfit that says “it’s my (fake) boyfriend’s birthday today and he totally did not just tell me about it 3 hours ago!”

It’s uncertain whether the cropped top and black jeans combo that you finally settle on gives off that vibe, but you think it looks decent (at least, better than your sweatpants…) and so you go with it.

You spend the next hour and a half around the apartment, cleaning up and taking care of small tasks here and there as you try not to think about the party tonight.

There’s a sort of anxiety weighing down on you about it—you’re not sure why, either. You’ve never really had a problem with partying and letting loose before, but you have a sneaking suspicion that the weight in your gut has something to do with Jisung.

It’s as you finish sweeping the living room that you come to the startling realization that its now nearly 9, and you lost track of time as you were cleaning.

You haven’t even started your makeup—because you didn’t want to sweat it off while stress cleaning—and you practically trip over yourself in your haste to get to your room. In a panic, you quickly swipe some concealer and mascara on, before finishing with a little lip gloss, and although it is the simplest makeup routine you could have come up with, it’s already past 9 when you stumble out of your room, hopping a little as you try to shove your sneakers on.

You take a deep breath as you shove your keys in your pocket, and then—just for good measure—you open a kitchen cabinet and pour yourself a shot of vodka from Yuna’s not-so-secret stash.

You down it quickly and it burns your throat, leaving an acrid taste in your mouth and a weird warm sensation in your chest and your head—most likely because you overestimated the amount when you poured it out, courtesy of the Disney mug you’re using as a shot glass.

Go figure.

You find yourself gripping your keys and pepper spray tightly as you make the short trek to Jisung and Hyunjin’s apartment, and by the time you end up outside their door, it’s well past 9:30pm.

The pounding bass of whatever music is playing inside thrums out into the hallway, and you’re not sure if knocking is the right way to go—frankly, you’re not sure they’ll even hear you if you do.

Not even a moment later, the door swings wide open as a drunk couple comes stumbling out, so entangled in each other that they barely notice you or the door that they leave open behind them.

“O…kay…” You mutter. “Kind of early for that, but…”

Shaking your head, you walk in to find the festivities in full swing. It catches you momentarily off guard just how many people have managed to fit inside the small apartment, and the disco strobe lights are disorienting as you search around for a familiar face.

I mean, you knew it was a party, but honestly, you don’t even know half the people here.

Finally, after what feels like forever, your eyes land on Jisung, and you’re so relieved that you sigh.

And then, you notice the giant grin on his face, and the very attractive girl he’s talking to. You watch as he says something, gesticulating with his hands as his eyebrows raise, and your mood sours instantly. The girl lets out a giggle, smacking his arm lightly before tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear flirtatiously, and your eyes narrow.

Something ugly twists in your gut, particularly when you notice just how close they are standing, and your teeth clench.

You know you have no right to feel jealous—you aren’t actually dating Jisung, after all—and yet the ugly pit of emotionsin the depths of your stomach that blazes despite the fact.

A boy with dark hair walks by you at that moment, obscuring your vision—he’s friends with Hyunjin, you think, his name might be Jeongin?—and you zero in on the solo cup in his hand, filled halfway with a dark liquid.

“hey,” you clear your throat, catching him before he manages to walk away. “Where did you get that?”

“Hmm?” He says, his gaze slightly unfocused and a lopsided grin on his face. “Oh, drinks are in the kitchen.”

“Thanks…” You mutter out, barely waiting for a reply before you are stalking off in that direction.

You waste no time in grabbing a cup from the stack next to the drink station that has been set up, most likely by Changbin based on the color coding. The first bottle you see is a giant thing of rum, and you don’t even hesitate before pouring a generous amount into your cup and then topping it off with some Coke.

You take a large swig, still a little astounding by the amount of people here that you don’t know.

Honestly though, you are content hovering in the kitchen and avoiding human interaction for the rest of the night—until you spot Felix a few feet away, heading towards you.

Your eyes widen, and without a second thought, you’re ducking out of the kitchen and back into the crowded living room, pushing through sweaty bodies to get away from him.

The thing is—you don’t have a problem with Felix. Really, you don’t. In fact, he can be kind of funny to be around, most of the time. Except for when he’s drunk—he goes absolutely nuts when intoxicated, and you do not want to be the one taking care of that tonight.

The last time you did… Well, let’s just say you’ll never look at limes or white bedsheets the same again.

Unfortunately for you, it seems you can only avoid one person at a time tonight, because when you finally manage to shake Felix off of your tail by hiding in a back corner where you’re obscured from the view of most people, you find yourself with the perfect view of Jisung.

You find that he’s now surrounded by a gaggle of girls and a couple of guys, and he seems to be telling a very animated story based on his facial expressions.

He looks good tonight, you realize—with his hair slicked back like that, and those dumb black vinyl pants you bought him as a joke because they make his ass look fantastic.

You never thought he would wear them out in public, because he was so embarrassed when you made him try them on, but now—well, you definitely regret that purchase.

It’s almost depressing, watching him from across the room like a lovestruck girl, when it seems just about every other girl in the room is ten times more attractive than you and checking him out too.

It’s unfair, because—really? Jisung, the dork who can barely look a girl in the eye without saying something stupid is the center of attention at this party? You think he must be at least a little tipsy, from the way he seems to actually be able to hold a normal conversation with those girls, and you’re kind of mad that it’s not you over there flirting with him.

Which is stupid. You’re his girlfriend after all—well, fake girlfriend. Whatever, same thing. You’re not sure why you are over here, pouting in the corner, instead of over there by his side. In fact, you’re not even sure why you didn’t just go up to him when you first got here, like a normal person.

Because no, of course you had to be weird and overthink things way more than you should.

“He’s hot,” a voice interrupts your trail of thoughts, and your gaze snaps from Jisung to your right, where you find an attractive guy standing and observing.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

He looks vaguely familiar, and it’s only after a few more seconds of staring that you realize who he is—Minho, the guy that Jisung occasionally cat sits for.

“I’m—huh?” You splutter, coughing slightly.

He leans against the wall casually, a smirk dancing across his lips, and he nods towards Jisung.

“Well, I just don’t understand why you’re moping here in the corner instead of just going over there. He won’t bite… Probably.”

“I-I’m not moping!” You protest.

“A-And besides,” you continue, your voice still lacking conviction. “He’s actually—well, you know—we’re… dating.”

Minho raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his cup.

“So you’re Y/N?”

“…Yes?” You say back hesitantly.

“You don’t sound very sure about that.”

“W-Well, I am!” You say indignantly.

He tsks you. “Okay… Well, all I’m saying is, that is not the face of someone dating the man of their dreams.”

You turn to look at Jisung, for only a second.

“How… How do you know he’s the man of my dreams?”

He scoffs. “Honey, he’s the man of everyone’s dreams.”

You tilt your head to the side, thinking about it.

“Okay, fair.” You admit.

He grins wickedly, before extending his hand.

“I’m Minho,” he introduces himself finally.

“I know,” you reply back, taking a sip of your now almost empty drink instead of shaking his hand.

He retracts it back with a smirk, not even slightly offended.

Your still watching Jisung intently, and it’s only when one of the girls he’s talking to wraps her hand around his arm and pulls him closer to her that it gets too much for you.

Abruptly, you turn to Minho.

“You want to do shots with me?” You ask, suddenly.

“Shots?” Minho perks up, interest piqued. “Hell yeah.”

“Great.” You down the remaining contents of your cup before setting it down on a side table. Then, you grab him by his wrist and all but drag him with you to the kitchen.

You waste no time in setting up tiny red plastic cups the size of shot glasses—2 for Minho, and 2 for you—and then you’re grabbing the tequila and pouring it into them.

“Tequila?” he asks, surprised. “So you really want to feel something, huh?”

You glare at him. “Shut up and drink.”

He grins at you but complies, and the two of you throw back the shots together.

“Oh, that is absolutely foul,” you say, barely able to stop yourself from gagging. Belatedly, you grab a quarter of a lime and suck on it.

“Want to do more?”

“You’re kind of crazy,” Minho winces as he swallows. “…I like it.”

You shrug, already feeling tipsy, and you waste no time in refilling the cups.

You lose count of how many shots the two of you have taken—five? maybe six?—but it doesn’t matter, because after the 3rd one, your head is already fuzzy and any thoughts of Jisung have successfully been pushed to the back of your mind.

The two of you have been arguing about various things (most of which you forget by the time you move on to the next topic), and you find that you are actually enjoying yourself.

And then, whoever is in charge of the music decides to change things up, and suddenly 3racha is blaring through the apartment and you find yourself thinking about Jisung once again.

You frown, taking a sip from a cup—just Sprite, now, because Minho decided to cut you off a few minutes ago while you could still speak in full sentences.

“Do you like 3racha?” You yell at him over the music, and he nods eagerly.

“Oh, definitely! Their stuff is really good, and it’s so cool that they go to school with us!”

Minho takes a swig from his cup, which likewise, is Sprite.

“Okay, I have a question,” you shout into his ear to be heard over all the noise. “This could make or break our friendship, so you better answer correctly!”

Minho nods solemnly.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“From 3racha?” Minho asks, pondering.

You nod, and his brow furrows as he thinks.

“Hmm… I think they’re all great, but I would probably have to go with CB97.”

“CB97?” You exclaim, aghast.

“I’m sorry, I think…” You say slowly. “I think this is the end of our friendship.”

“What?” Minho pouts. “No! Who’s your favorite, then?”

“Uh, J.One, of course,” you say it like it’s obvious. “That’s the only correct answer.”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah J.One is pretty cool, but CB97 is just unbeatable.”

You scoff.

“Sure, CB97 is fine, but J.One is obviously the best!”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth—you’re so heated, you aren’t even sure how long the two of you have been arguing.

And that’s how Jisung finds you: drunk and angry and defending his honor.

“J.One carries the group!” You shout as he enters the kitchen. “I think you should get your hearing re-evaluated. You might be in danger of going deaf.”

Minho opens his mouth, his response ready, but before he can bite back, Jisung has already interrupted.

“Y/N!” He exclaims, barely able to hold back his laugh as he sees you, red in the face with your brow drawn taut as you glare at Minho.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

At the sound of his voice, you come up short, and a confused look comes over your face as you turn to look at him.

“Jisung?” You ask, bewildered.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins. “How much have you had to drink? And how long have you been here?”

“I had 5… 5 shots?” You tell him, holding up 8 fingers, and he narrows his eyes. “And also some rum and coke!”

You pick up your cup of Sprite to take a sip, but Jisung takes it from you gently.

“I don’t think you should drink anymore,” he tells you. “Otherwise, you’ll wake up with a killer hangover tomorrow.”

“Huh?” You say, staring at the cup. “Oh! It’s just Sprite.”

Jisung takes a sniff to confirm, before handing it back to you, embarrassed.

“Oh, sorry…” He mutters.

“It’s okay!” You grin cheesily. “Minho told me I should stop drinking, too…”

You point to where Minho is standing, and he gives Jisung a little wave.

“Did you know tequila is kind of gross?” You whisper, leaning in close to his ear.

“Yeah,” he tells you with a laugh.

“Now,” you declare. “Can you please settle this and tell Minho that J.One is obviously the best in 3racha?”

He raises an eyebrow, amused.

“You think J.One is the best?”

You frown. “Yeah, obviously. I have to stay loyal, after all. I can’t just change my mind mid argument, can I?”

Jisung lets out a laugh, and Minho’s eyes flit between the two of you.

“Well—I’m just going to get something else to drink from, um, over there,” he motions vaguely off to the right, before giving you a long meaningful look that you don’t quite understand.

“See you later!” And then he’s gone, leaving the two of you in the kitchen alone.

“So I’m guessing you’ve been here for a while,” Jisung says a second later, and your gaze snaps to his face.

“Hmm?” You hum distractedly. “Oh. Yeah, probably? I think so…”

“Why didn’t you come find me?” He says, his brow furrowed as he looks you in the eye.

The music is thrumming, the lights are dim, and all you can think about is how hot you feel. Why is it so hot in here?

“What?” You ask, still a little disoriented.

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, and you find yourself staring at him. The top to buttons of his shirt are undone, and you can see his collarbones peeking out as he pushes his hair back. You find yourself mesmerized.

“I-I mean,” Jisung says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “I was waiting for you…”

You’re so blatantly checking him out that you don’t notice how embarrassed he looks at the confession, and you barely manage to catch what he says.

“Oh,” you murmur, your eyes now focused on his hand. “Well, I mean, you looked busy when I got here and I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.

You stare, thinking it’s obvious enough.

“Well, first it was that really tall girl, with the highlights,” you begin listing, counting on your fingers as you go. “Then it was that guy in the muscle tee… And then it was the other girl, in your econ class. I just didn’t want to interrupt…”

“You wouldn’t have been interrupting,” Jisung mutters. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend,” you chime helpfully.

His expression falls, almost imperceptibly.

“Right. Of course…”

You’re oblivious to it all, too intoxicated to notice the slight shift in his mood.

“So, how has your party been so far, birthday boy?” You grin, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“It’s been nice,” He responds distractedly.

“Did Hyunjin make you do shots with him?” You ask curiously. “He was, like, really excited about making you do that.”

Jisung wrinkles his nose.

“Ugh, yeah,” he groans. “That was not fun. My liver is going to be gone before I even graduate.”

“Boo, don’t be such a wimp!” You exclaim. “Shots are fun.”

Jisung opens his mouth, about to bite back a response, but before he can—someone comes barreling in your direction, tackling him in a hug that leaves him stumbling a few steps back.

“Jisung!” It takes him a moment to realize the person who’s hugging the life out of him is Yuna.

“Yuna,” he chokes out, startled with his hands hanging by his side awkwardly.

“So?” She says, grinning as she pulls back. “How’s your day been? Excited to finally turn five?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “If I’m five, that must mean you’re four, huh?”

“Touché.” She throws back. “But seriously, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” he says back, almost shyly.

“Yuna!” You exclaim belatedly, finally realizing who she is.

She turns to look at you, and Jisung swears her eyes light up as she launches herself at you.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you! I missed you,” she says as she wraps her arms lovingly around you—very unlike the anaconda chokehold she had held Jisung in only a few moments before.

“I missed you too,” you pout as you return the hug.

Jisung’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“Don’t you guys live together?”

Yuna waves him off. “Yeah. Your point is?”

“…Nevermind,” he mutters wisely after a few moments.

“So,” Yuna says, raising an eyebrow. “how have the two of you been?”

“Good!” You say cheerfully, your voice pitching up a little bit higher than you mean for it to.

Yuna’s gaze is one that can kill, and the way she’s looking at the two of you—a mischievous smirk on her face… It makes Jisung uncomfortable.

“Y-Yeah,” Jisung stutters, his hand finding yours and gripping it tightly. “You know… Doing couples stuff, being a couple… All of that.”

Your roommate raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely,” you nod seriously, and she lets out a short laugh.

“You two really are perfect for each other,” Yuna says, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe it took you both this long to realize it.”

You frown at the implication of her words, focusing so hard on the part where she says the two of you are perfect for each other, that you miss the way Jisung clears his throat awkwardly and stares daggers at Yuna.

“I guess…” you say slowly, your brows knit together.

“Well!” Yuna exclaims, clasping her hands together. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, but there’s a dance floor that is calling my name. Hyunjin bet me that I couldn’t out dance him, and you know I never back down. I’ll see you guys later!”

She waves as she goes, and the two of you watch even as she disappears into the crowd.

“So…” Jisung begins jokingly a few moments later.

“I guess we’re just perfect for each other, huh?”

You’re drunk enough that you can’t tell whether he meant for his words to come out sounding so bitter, and if you had been more sober, you probably would have questioned it.

But you’re not, and so your mind passes over it onto the next thought: namely, the one that has been running through your mind the entire night—how attractive Jisung looks right now.

You don’t know why, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from staring. Granted, you aren’t really trying all that hard.

And, if you’re being honest, it’s his fault for looking so good…

“Y/N?” Jisung waves his hand in front of your face when you don’t answer.

And then, against your will, your mind flashes to all the pretty girls he was talking to tonight—first, the one he was talking to when you walked in at the beginning, who he was grinning at like she was the funniest girl in the world. And then, later, when he was surrounded by a whole harem of them, all flirting with him.

At those thoughts, something ugly rears its head inside your heart. You didn’t really think you were the type to get jealous before tonight. Frankly, you don’t even have a reason to be jealous.

He’s not actually your boyfriend, what right do you have to care about who he talks to and flirts with?

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, concerned as you stare off into space.

And then another thought occurs to you—why is he so dense? For two years, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and not once has Jisung noticed. You’ve been pining after him hopelessly, and when he finally makes a romantic advance—it’s to fake a relationship for his convenience?

“Y/N?” He repeats your name once more, and this time, your gaze snaps to his face.

You’re not sure what it is that spurs you into action. Jealousy, exasperation, maybe even just plain anger at him and the circumstances he’s put you in.

Although, if you’re being honest, it’s probably mostly the alcohol that’s rushing through your blood that makes you do it, but before you can second guess yourself, your hands go to cup Jisung’s face, and then you’re yanking him down to your height and pressing your lips firmly against him.

At first, you meant for it to be chaste and short. Just a simple and impulsive peck that is meant for—closure, maybe? You aren’t really sure. It’s not supposed to be anything more than a small playground peck, mostly because he’s so infuriating and you can’t focus on anything but his lips, and you just need to get it out of your system.

But then, you’re close enough to feel his breath, hot and light against your lips. He smells like cotton and lemon with a hint of vodka, and his eyes—when you look into them, they are dark and confused and even a little concerned too, and before you know it, you’re throwing all caution to the wind and kissing him.

You’re really, truly kissing him, the way you’ve dreamt of so many times.

It’s frenzied and sloppy, and really not that great because you are both too drunk to focus on accuracy, but your hands snake around the nape of his neck and you find yourself lacing your fingers through his hair as your eyes slide shut. You hate yourself a little bit, because you enjoy it so much.

But the worst part of it?

The worst part is that Jisung kisses you back. It takes him a few seconds to react, but then his hands are on your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you closer and melts into your lips. You don’t even know how long the two of you stand there, completely absorbed in each other.

Even as you break the kiss, your hands stay wrapped around his neck, just as his hands stay firmly on your waist. Your foreheads are pressed together, and there is this dumb little grin stretched across his face.

It takes you both a moment to process. But then, Jisung is whispering to you, almost breathless, “what was that for?”

You look up into his eyes to find them wide and curious, anticipating your response.

It’s then that you realize what you’ve just done.

“Um,” you breathe other a moment later, your voice thick and your head swimming with confusion. “Happy birthday?”

“Thanks,” he grins a little, but then his expression drops when he sees the panic in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say awkwardly, stepping back from him even as your throat closes up.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, you just kissed him.

“I’m—I have to go pee,” you say dumbly.

“Okay,” Jisung tells you softly.

And then you walk out of the kitchen, to the bathroom—where you pause for a moment, before continuing past it, to the door and out of the apartment.

You don’t stop until you get home.

You spend the next week avoiding Jisung.

It’s not easy, mind you—but you still manage to do it. In between the texts and phone calls from not only him but various members of your friend group, you somehow are able to hide, almost as if you don’t exist at all.

That’s not the hard part though. No, the hard part is avoiding Yuna. You leave for your classes early in the morning and come home late at night in a desperate grab at not running into her. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting on your phone is permanently set to on, and you go out of your way to study only in the archaeology library, despite how far away it is from your apartment.

You’re like a ghost in the wind, the way that you make yourself scarce, and the only person you speak to is Hyunjin—mostly because he’s the one person you can’t seem to avoid.

He is your best friend, after all, and when the two of you share almost every class, it makes it impossible to avoid him.

But, to your surprise, you find that he doesn’t press you at all. Over the course of the week, not once does he bring up Jisung or the party on Friday, and you would think that he hasn’t noticed anything out of the blue if it wasn’t for the way he strategically avoids mentioning any of your friends.

You can’t help but love him for it. He doesn’t ask for answers, even once, and you are reminded once again why he’s your best friend.

You are a wreck for so many reasons that you can’t help but wrap your head around, and the only thing that keeps you together is that Hyunjin continues to joke about the stupidest things as if you both don’t know that you are seconds away from falling apart.

But, come Friday, it seems your luck has run out.

When you arrive home in the early evening, you find Yuna sitting in the living room, her arms crossed as if she’s waiting. Well, obviously you know that logically, she’s waiting for you. But hey… It could be something else, right?

Wrong, if the pointed glare she pins you with is anything to go off of.

“Sit,” she says shortly.

Timidly, you listen. Really, all you want to do is run back into your room and lock the door but—well, she’s scary and you think she might bust down your door right off its hinges if you do that.

“S-So…” You stammer awkwardly. “What’s up?”

You wince right as the words leave your mouth. Why are you like this? It’s like recently, you can’t do anything right. With school, with your friends… With Jisung.

She stares at you pointedly.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing up with me,” you say, trying to keep your face blank as your head turns downward and you pick at the loose thread hanging from the hem of your shirt.

“Really?” Yuna asks, an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t sound convinced at all, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Nope,” you respond again. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah, actually,” she says calmly. “It’s just that there is this girl I know who seems to be avoiding all her friends and her boyfriend without any explanation, and nobody can figure out what’s wrong.”

“Oh? Well, maybe she’s fine and doesn’t need anyone to worry about her. She could be just a little tired after a long week, don’t you think?”

“Tired doesn’t mean ignoring everyone she knows,” Yuna points out.

You look down, examining your fingernails. They are short, bitten stubs—a product of your recent spike in anxiety. You pick at a hangnail on your thumb before you answer.

“Maybe tired to her means socializing less to conserve energy.”

A moment passes, and you can feel her glare burning into the side of your head, but you don’t look up.

“Y/N.” She says finally, breaking the silence. “Please. Talk to me.”

“I am talking,” you say shortly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Yuna emphasizes firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is,” you repeat. “Everything is fine and dandy. I’m doing great. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

She sighs heavily.

“What happened with you and Jisung?”

You still.

“Jisung?” Your voice wobbles—barely, but you know it’s enough for Yuna to notice. “Why would you think something happened with Jisung?”

“Because he’s been a wreck since his birthday, and you’ve been avoiding everyone, and there is something weird about it all.”

Your breath catches in your throat when she says that. The first thought that pops into your head is, is he okay?

It’s followed quickly by why is he a wreck? and did I fuck up so badly that I broke him?

“Hasn’t he said what’s wrong with him?” You ask, trying to be nonchalant even as you can feel the panic rising in your throat. “Because I think he’s the only one with an issue right now. Not me. Definitely not me.”

“Y/N,” Yuna sighs again. “He’s your boyfriend, and there’s something up with both of you. Did he do something? Please, tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

Boyfriend. The word echoes in your head, bouncing around until it threatens to engulf you completely. It’s parasitic, the way it burns through you.

A moment passes, and you’re frozen.

Then,

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Your voice is heartbreakingly soft, and Yuna is surprised to find that when you look up and your eyes finally meet hers, they are glassy with unshed tears.

“What?”

“I said,” you choke out. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

And then you’re crying.

“Oh, Y/N,” Yuna says soothingly, pulling you closer and wrapping her arms around you.

You turn, burying your face into her shoulder as hot, scalding tears run down your face. She runs a hand down your head, smoothing your hair in a calming and repetitive movement, and you let go of the emotions you have been holding back for the past 7 days.

You cry and you cry and you cry until you feel like you have nothing left to give, and then you just let Yuna hold you for a moment.

And then, you pull back after what seems like forever, and tell her about everything.

Okay, so—not everything. You definitely don’t tell her about Jisung and 3racha, but you tell her everything else. How you’ve had a crush on him for forever, and how you both ended up somehow faking a relationship, and how you’re feelings for him only continued to grow throughout it, and then you tell her about the party, and how you kissed him and fucked everything up, because there is no way he feels anything for you—especially because he’s been avoiding you the same way you have been avoiding him.

Yuna listens attentively and doesn’t interrupt once, and when you finish speaking finally, your tears have mostly dried.

“You don’t hate me… Do you?” Your voice is small and vulnerable.

“No,” she says decidedly. “I could never hate you for something like this.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, a watery smile barely present on your face as she hugs you again.

“Do you… Do you think I fucked it all up?”

Yuna shakes her head firmly. “No. I know you didn’t.”

You aren’t too sure if you believe her, but the words are comforting either way.

“You know what?” Yuna says determinedly after a moment. “I think you need something to get your mind off of this all. To clear your head, you know? It’ll make you feel better.”

You look at her skeptically, your eyes already beginning to puff up.

“Yes,” she nods excitedly to herself. “Tomorrow, I’m taking you on a date so you can stop thinking about him!”

“Oh, Yuna, I don’t—“ You sniffle but she cuts you off.

“Nope! I’ve decided already! You’re heartsick, and this is just what the doctor ordered.”

“…Okay?”

“Great!” She grins at you. “Now, why don’t you take a shower and go to sleep? You look like you’re about to pass out any minute.”

“Yeah,” you say faintly as she drags you up from the couch and pushes you in the direction of your bedroom. “Okay.”

After a quick, scalding shower, you lay in bed and fall asleep quickly. You sleep fitfully and contently the entire night through, and when you wake up the next morning, it is to Yuna packing up a wicker basket in the kitchen.

“You’re awake!” She exclaims when she notices you come out of your room.

“Get dressed,” Yuna singsongs, folding a giant gingham sheet. “We’re going on a picnic! I put a lot of effort into this so you better put on something cute or I’ll murder you.”

You find that, against all odds, you somehow feel better than you did last night, even if only marginally.

Crying it out of your system will do that to you, you suppose as you head back into your room to pick out an outfit that will pass Yuna’s inspection.

It doesn’t take long for you to settle in a simple white cotton dress. You tie your hair back with a matching ribbon, and put on a bit of concealer under your eyes to hide any evidence of what happened last night.

When you emerge from your room, you find Yuna waiting eagerly at the door, a giant floppy straw hat on her head.

“Let’s go!” She says excitedly. Despite yourself, you find a small smile creeping onto your face. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, after all.

You don’t really know where you are going, because Yuna has planned it all out to the tee, but she chats the whole bus ride there, and for the first time all week, you feel like you can breathe.

30 minutes later, the two of you find yourselves on the banks of the Han river, spreading out a blanket to sit upon.

Then, you’re reaching into the wicker basket Yuna has brought along, pulling out small boxes full of comfort food—rice cakes, fried rice, noodles… Your heart warms as you think of her in the kitchen, cooking all of this food for you.

You really love your friends.

“Rice, japchae, beef…” Yuna mutters to herself, doing a tally of everything that has been laid out.

“Is there nothing else in the basket?” She turns to you, hopeful. You look inside, and then shake your head.

“No, it’s empty.”

“Fuck, I forgot water…”

Then, her eyes light up.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to the convenience store to get something to drink.”

“Okay,” you nod to her.

And then she’s running off, her hat wobbling in a hilarious way as she goes.

You pull your knees into your chest and observe around you as you wait for her to come back. A small toddler runs past you, with his mother close behind, begging him to slow down. A few feet away, 3 middle school boys are riding their bikes and eating ice pops as they go. An elderly couple are resting on a bench that overlooks the river.

Then, your eyes fall onto the ducks. You light up immediately, searching the wide picnic spread until you find what you were looking for—bread.

You’re overly excited as you grab the bag of bread and practically skip over to the ducks. They watch you curiously as you bend down a few feet away from them. You start to break off small pieces of the bread and throw them down in between you and the ducks, and they happily swarm the food you offer.

You giggle as you watch a mother duck push her chick towards a small piece of bread that you have thrown out. The baby ducks are always the cutest, you can’t help but think.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” A familiar voice says from behind you, and you freeze. Your blood turns ice cold, and your head snaps around.

And there he is, in the flesh—Han Jisung, standing awkwardly only a few feet away from you.

You stare. He’s dressed casually, in a loose white shirt and black jeans, and it’s crazy how he looks the same as you’ve always seem him, and yet so different at the same time. His hair is brushed back, and to your surprise—a deep, berry blue, but what shocks you the most is the timid, almost unsure expression on his face.

A moment passes, and then—you’re pushing yourself up and briskly walking past him without a word, trying to get as far away as possible.

“Wait, Y/N—wait!” He calls out, but you ignore him.

“Y/N,” he jogs, and it doesn’t take long before he’s in front of you, effectively cutting off your escape route.

You stop in your tracks, but continue to stare off behind his head, as if you can’t see him at all.

“Can we talk?” He asks.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you say stiffly.

“Um, I think we have a lot to talk about,” he disagrees, his brow furrowing.

You think it’s cute—at least, you would, if you were looking at him. But you’re not, and so you don’t.

“Well I don’t have anything to talk to you about,” you say, tone short and sharp.

“That’s fine,” Jisung sighs. “That’s fine, because I can do the talking. But will you listen?”

You stare off in the direction Yuna had run off in, desperately hoping for her to appear. Predictably, she doesn’t, and so instead of answering, you continue to stare pointedly at anything but the boy in front of you.

He takes that as a yes.

“Look,” he looks a little exasperated as he runs a hand through his hair. “I know that we started this whole thing so we could, I dunno, keep up a lie that I got us wrapped up into. And I know you got all freaked out last week when—well, when that thing happened, which is why I’ve been giving you space…”

You still refuse to look at him, but your eyes trail from a giant light pole behind him to where a family of four are sitting under the shade of a giant tree.

“I mean,” Jisung continues on. “I thought space is what you needed, for a bit. But you’re still ignoring me and freaking out, which is why I’m here to tell you that—well, to tell you that I like you.”

He says it so sincerely that it’s enough for you to finally look at him.

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically, finally speaking. “That’s funny. Now, are you done? I’m kind of busy right now.”

“What?” His nose scrunches in confusion, and your heart skips a beat, which you promptly ignore.

“No, Y/N. I like you. A lot.”

The familiar feeling of panic starts to well up in your stomach, and your gaze hardens.

“You like me?” You say, your face twisting cruelly as you look at his earnest, pleading eyes.

“Yes,” he says solemnly. “I do. I have for a long time, actually…”

Your throat burns. “Jisung, stop it.”

“Why?” He asks, bewildered.

“Because!” You hiss. “I know you’re doing this for 3racha and to keep it a secret, which is fine, I know you are. It’s what we’ve been doing since the beginning, of course I know you are, but… But you’re being mean right now.”

“How?” His frustration bleeds into his words. “Y/N, I’m telling you that I like you! This has nothing to do with 3racha.”

You scoff.

“You don’t believe me?” Jisung demands. “I’m serious. I’ve already told Yuna everything! I literally have nothing to lose,” he laughs, and it borders on maniacal.

“Except you, of course, because my feelings for you are so real it’s kind of starting to hurt!”

“What did you say?” You whisper faintly.

He sighs. “On Monday, when it became obvious you were avoiding me, I went to Yuna, and—well I told her about 3racha, and what you were doing to help me keep that secret, because I wanted her advice on how to…”

He trails off, suddenly nervous. You stare foggily at him, half unsure if you’re breathing still.

“How to what?” You ask after a moment.

“How to ask you out, for real.”

“You told Yuna?”

He nods. “That’s why I’m here... I asked her to set this up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Oh.”

A moment passes. You feel warm all over. He told Yuna the truth… Does that mean…? He’s telling the truth?

“So,” you start. “Let me get this straight. You told Yuna the truth about your biggest secret, and… You like me?”

“I do, like you. A lot. A lot a lot.”

His eyes bore into yours.

“Okay,” you say weakly.

“Okay?” He asks. “I was… Kind of hoping for something more than okay.”

Instead of responding to that, you find yourself staring at his hair.

“It’s very blue,” you tell him, reaching out to touch it.

“What?” Jisung says, as if he’s forgotten. “Oh, yeah. It is.”

“You look like a blueberry,” you murmur, still entranced by how soft his hair is. “Why did you dye it?”

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he looks away quickly as he murmurs something inaudibly.

“What? I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Well,” he begins bashfully, his entire face red at this point. “You had said… The day you date me is the day I dye my hair blue, so…”

You retract your hand, your mind going back to that Thursday in the closet, when the two of you had been hiding from Yuna.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” You muse.

He nods.

“So?” You ask, expectantly.

“What?” Jisung is quick to get defensive.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out?”

“B-But,” he begins cluelessly. “You don’t… Like me back, do you?”

It takes a moment to process the words, and your jaw drops open slightly. You don’t know how to react to that—you don’t know what to do, or what to say. A flurry of emotions overcome you, but it’s easiest to pick out anger, and so you do the first thing that comes to mind.

You punch him.

“Ow!” Jisung yelps, pouting as he rubs his shoulder.

“You absolute buffoon!” You explode in anger. “Who initiated that kiss on your birthday? Was it you? No, I don’t think it was. Of course I like you! I’ve liked you since I met you, you fucking idiot! Why would you think I don’t like you? You are quite possibly the stupidest person to exist. It takes a special kind of person to be so oblivious you don't notice someone crushing on you for two years! I was so obvious too!”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

Now it’s his turn to parrot you. “You like… me?”

You glare at him.

“Ask me,” you demand.

“Do you like me?” He repeats, and your eyes narrow.

“Wrong question,” you grit out.

His eyes widen as his mouth forms a silent ‘o.’’

“Do you…” He begins.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jisung asks finally, voice soft as he stares at you in wonder.

“Yes, you dummy!” You yell.

You want to smack him for being stupid, but you decide to kiss him instead—and this time, you find it’s everything you remember it to be and so much more.

“For the record,” Jisung says when the two of you break away, a stupid grin on his face as he slips his hand into yours. “I’ve liked you since I met you, too.”

“Really?” You look at him weirdly. “I threatened you with a frying pan.”

“Yeah, you looked kind of crazy,” he nods. “But it was hot, like, in a psycho kind of way.”

A look of disgust passes over your face, and you push him away.

“You’re disturbed,” you tell him. “I don’t think I want to date you anymore.”

“Hey!” He protests. “It hasn’t even been five minutes!”

“I didn’t know you were so weird, though,” you mimic vomiting, but don’t resist when he grabs your hand again.

The two of you head back to the picnic blanket you had been at before, only to find Yuna sitting there with at least ten water bottles surrounding her.

Her eyes flit to your linked hands as the two of you approach.

“So,” she says mischievously. “What did I miss?”

“Jisung,” you sigh. “Just show me the picture. I’ll see it sooner or later!”

He pouts as he holds his phone away from you. “No, I look bad.”

It’s currently a Saturday afternoon, with winter break just around the corner, and you and your friends are hanging out at Jisung and Hyunjin’s apartment.

“Babe,” you soothe him. “I promise, you don’t look bad.”

“Yes I do.”

“Han Jisung, give me the phone.” You frown.

“No,” he says stubbornly, shaking his head, and you grab his ear.

“Ow, ow!” He yelps, but you just twist ruthlessly.

“You’ve seen my ugly baby pictures,” you tell him, “so show me yours.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” He relents, and you let go of his ear, satisfied.

“But… You have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise,” you say solemnly, and a moment later, he’s handing his phone to you hesitantly.

Excited, you snatch it from his hand, and he buries his face in your shoulder, embarrassed.

You’ve barely even glanced at the photo before you have to resist the urge to snort, but Jisung feels the vibration in your chest, and he lifts his head up to glare at you.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”

“And I didn’t,” you clear your throat, pressing your lips together to suppress the smile from creeping onto your face.

“I told you I look bad, I shouldn’t have even let you see,” he whines and tries to snatch his phone back from you, but you hold it away from him.

“No!” You tell him. “I think it’s… cute.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, and you can’t resist cupping his cheek with your free hand. He always looks so cute when he pouts.

“Well…” You say slyly. “I’ve always had a think for you in glasses.”

He groans, flopping backwards onto the couch, and you finally let out a laugh.

“It’s not that bad, Jisung, I promise!” You coo. “I think you’re adorable, even as an awkward preteen with a really bad haircut.”

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbles, his words muffled as a result of being smushed face-first into the couch, and you continue to fawn over him.

Opposite to the two of you, Hyunjin and Yuna watch on in a sort of disgusted fascination, absolutely appalled by the romantic display and yet wholly unable to look away as you give Jisung a smooch on the cheek.

“This is so gross…” Hyunjin whispers to Yuna.

“Maybe it was better when they weren’t dating…” Yuna mutters back.

You’re now scrolling through Jisung’s camera roll as he tries to take his phone back from you, and Hyunjin can’t help but nod in agreement.

“You know… If you think about it, this is all kind of thanks to you,” he says to Yuna, and she snorts.

“Kind of?” She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m definitely taking credit for this.”

“What?”

“You think all of this just happened by chance?” She gestures to you and Jisung. “I mean, I didn’t think Jisung would take it this far, but… Well, let’s just say he’s never been good at hiding things.”

She smirks. “His feelings for Y/N… Or his identity as J.One.”

Hyunjin gapes.

“Jisung has a habit of leaving his SoundCloud logged in when he lends me his laptop,” she explains.

“…Please, remind me to never keep secrets from you,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, only slightly terrified.

On the couch across from them, Jisung has finally managed to take his phone back from you. You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest as you let out a sigh.

Lazily, his arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer, his nose in your hair.

“What?” He mumbles, the words muffled by your head.

“Mm, s’nothing,” you say.

A moment of silence passes, and muted voices from the TV echo. Your face warms, and impulsively, your arms tighten around his torso as if trying to snuggle further into him.

“What is it?” He asks again, his tone playful.

There’s a beat of silence. You turn your face away from his so he can’t see you, and then:

“You’re so skinny.”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically back. “I know. You’re always calling me a noodle boy, after all.”

You grin.

“Yeah, but you’re my noodle boy,” you say affectionately, and Yuna almost gags.

“Okay,” Hyunjin announces, horrified. “That’s enough PDA for one day!”

You stick out your tongue at him, and Jisung shows him his middle finger.

“You’re just jealous,” you tease.

“It’s okay, Hyunjin,” Jisung says solemnly. “Maybe one day someone will get past your annoying personality and catch feelings for you, too.”

Hyunjin lets out a strangled groan.

“Can we leave? Please?” He begs Yuna.