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1kook · 3 years ago

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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yaomomvs · 4 years ago

Text

TAKE OUR HAND

seijoh x manager!reader

in which aoba johsai vbc just wants you to take their hand, just as the many times they have reached for yours when they needed it

pls i’m sorry i just wrote this for comfort, in having a terrible week and so, i just really need my seijoh boys to comfort me even if it’s just in my head and just so you know, and as i’ve been trying to convince myself, things always get better

tuesday, [15:56 pm]

“nice kill yahaba senpai!” kindaichi congratulates his upperclassman.

his voice makes you react, it scared you. still holding your pen and the notebook you always carry around even on normal practice days, your hand threatens you in the most scary way possible.

fuck no, just... breathe.

you are quick to leave aside the notes, and so, you look around to the boys, who just after the coach’s whistle sounds they are quick to approach your spot.

you take the water bottles as quickly as you can.

“oh y/n-san, i know we are irresistible but you can’t just slack off admiring us!” makki teases you laughing.

“if our dear manager is admiring someone is obviously me” oikawa says, before taking a sip of his bottle, slightly making you blush even more.

“i don’t think she likes idiots who still watch youtube conspiracy videos at 3am”

“iwa!”

“weren’t you the one with a secret obsession for romance manga, iwaizumi?” it’s mattsun time to expose his friend. iwai mi doesn’t hesitate and he runs directly to matsukawa, while kunimi brings out his phone to start recording the chaos in the gym.

you don’t listen.

your head hurts, and then, you once again feel this weird thing in you stomach. you have been feeling like this for the past week, and you try to ignore it . but sometimes, you just want the world to stop.

you can’-

“y/n senpai?” watari calls your name, and you notice his furrowed brows looking at you, worried. you blink and correct your posture. you had just zooned out. “is everything ok?”

“ah yes watari kun!” you force your self to sound relaxed because you feel the sudden gaze of the entire team “i was just thinking in a smart way to insult oikawa, but i’m worried he won’t understand tho”

“hey! you said i was your favorite”

you fake laugh once again assuring everyone that you were just fine. the day goes on, and somehow is becomes more difficult to just stay down not worrying about anything.

and they notice.

you don’t walk home with the guys today. instead you run to the bus not before excusing yourself with an ‘urgent family thing’

“just please don’t let makki eat so much ramen today!” you giggle as you run to the bus “i’m not in the mood to dealing with diarrea!”

“that was a secret between us darling!” the pink haired guy screams cheeks blushing.

and maybe you were just too distracted, but before you face them away some of them notice how quick your smile fades.

“you know guys” yahaba is quick to say “call me crazy but, why did she lie?”

—

wednesday, [10:22 am]

when was the last time you actually enjoyed school? not practice, but school itself. seeing numbers everyday in the board that you don’t understand is frustrating. your throat hurts, there’s has been a not there since the begging of the day.

swallow it, y/n, dammit

you decided to take this class, don’t blame the world, blame yourself. isn’t it supposed to be simple? why isn’t it being simple? is that...

"Square root of 57 is equal to Xo, miss"

"alright!"

it is not like it’s a race, you want to say. why was the teacher obsessed with speed?, it’s unfair. your time is not the same as that of others.

you drop the pencil and you recline in your chair, why couldn’t you do operations and analysis as fast as they could? you take a look around and the eyes of others look frightening. you see ambition, you see security, you see admiration.

the bell rings and you just want to run, and well in a way you end up doing it. leaving your homeroom, you tell your friends that for today you want to be alone, the halls of aoba johsai are big, for your fortune or misfortune. you go to the vending machine and when your drink falls, the minimum noise makes you startle, lately it’s like that, small noises or actions affect you way too much.

and iwaizumi notices it.

you don’t make a single move, it’s just the cold drink resting on your hands. and before iwaizumi could stop mattsun, he was already putting his hand on your shoulder.

“y/n!”

the orange juice spills and once again fear takes hold of you.

you see them both, you’re not stupid and you know hajime stares at you weirdly, and now mattsun, you hide your fear it a bit worse than yesterday, but you do anyways.

"someday, Matsukawa-san, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME! and what will you do without me?" you try to say cheerful, wanting to take away the suspicion, for a moment it works.

"flunk history, that leads me to..."

"no, sweeheart, i won’t give you my homework"

you walk and both guys follow you, one faster than another, very naive of the situation. "I begin to believe you hate me," says Mattsun, as the three sit on a bench near the school cafeteria casually encountering kunimi who quickly joins you, patting the folds of your skirt as you sit down, you rest on the table and admire his needy expression and as the tantrum of mattsun grows.

minutes go by, your chest pain grows, but somehow you know how to let it go.

with your hands supporting your face, lunch passes between you and kunimi, you try to talk, you really try.

but still, your eyes just glow, and kunimi notices how it’s not the glow you always have.

—

thursday [12:03]

your head is spinning, you can feel the cold sweat. will this be the time? why do you feel so small? why can’t you say it?

it’s familiar, you recognize this feeling, an ocean, you’re floating, you know you can swim, but, you’re in the middle of nowhere, you look down. Out of nowhere the intimidating depth of the ocean is beneath you. And then, you sink. You feel like you’re drowning, you feel like you’re fighting the tide, but you just can’t do it.

i just need...

no, it’s not time yet, it’s still training. the boys... you’re the one who should take care of them, you’re the one who has to be be fine. they had no time to lose, they had a goal and for the moment that was the most important thing.

On that bench, your gaze is absent, you know it is so.

and through the window that overlooks your classroom, oikawa notices it too

“y/n...” he mumbled.

of course he’d noticed. at first it was not so clear, but now he remembers.

when kindaichi pinned your dark circles to him, while admiring you by fitting volleyballs in a way not of your own.

makki watches oikawa from your side, you don’t even know the pink-haired guy is there, unaware that he’s sitting next to you. but he notices. he’s been noticing for days that your eyes are threatening to close in the middle of class.

hanamaki catches your attention and instantly that mask you’ve been wearing for weeks appears again.

"hanamaki, i’m fine"

it doesn’t convince them. they both look out the window and nod.

oikawa notices, and god, he wished he had no reason to.

—

friday [14:00 pm]

breathe.

please just... breathe.

you’re fed up. the feeling of guilt and discomfort is still there, can’t you be calm? people don’t need to know, but why do you want to shout it?

the dressing room is alone, the girls from the soccer team are out and it’s your only chance.

the team needs you, hold on a little.

your footsteps are heard in the hallway once again, a symphony you’re tired of listening to.

your chest hurts, your heart is aching, but you just need a little more. hands are shaking, the cold in your body, you need to stop.

you have to make them stop.

but when you walk into the gym, even with your eyes down, all you feel is warm. and it’s because, the boys were standing, aligned begging for you.

no, they beg for your sake.

and everything stops.

one hand from him on your neck, and one hand around your shoulders.

because oikawa, without warning, now has you in his arms.

and then, only then, you break.

tears don’t take long to come out, along with desperate sobs. your legs fail and out of nowhere, you and oikawa are on your knees.

with an alarmed look, the whole club runs towards both, surrounding you as sensibly as possible.

"i’m sorry, i’m sorry I’M SORRY" is heard from you, between hiccups.

“love, listen...” iwaizumi approaches you,somehow he managed to catch up with you, somehow he managed to hold your hand.

"i promise i didn’t want to, but i can’t, i can’t anymore, why can’t i? i try and i try and i keep trying but it’s never enough! IM TIRED OF SEEING SOMETHING AND NOT BEING ABLE TO PROCESS IT LIKE THE OTHERS. I’M TIREDD OF NEVER FULFILLING WHAT I SHOULD”

yahaba’s heart aches, and just as most of the team, is shocked.

your hands, oh your adorable hands, those hands that bandage his in the middle of an important game, he sees them shaking horribly between iwaizumi’s.

“AND I’M SCARED, WHAT IF I LOSE YOU BECAUSE OF THAT BECAUSE OF ME? BECAUSE OF HOW I AM I-“

watari is quick to place your hair gently behind your ear, a kunimi covers you with his jacket.

“I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND I DONT RECOGNIZE MYSELF” you lower your voice, its cracked now “oikawa I don’t recognize myself, I want to be me again" you whisper, and a knot appears in the captain’s throat, and he puts a hand on your cheek "please... just let me be me again" your throat burns, your eyes get redder.

the gym goes silent, your words still echoing in everyone’s head.

“why didn’t you-“

“i just couldn’t” you blame yourself cutting oikawa off “look at us! we are waisting time on me when we should be- i’m the one who has to- im you support not-“

“hey hey, love...” iwaizumi whispers his voice is filled with sweetness, letting you sit correctly and softly rubbing his thumb in your hands “how many times have you been there for us? y/n your hand is always there”

“that’s true” kyotani says, finally saying something, emotions overwhelmed him a lot, but he genuinely wanted to help you.

“there’s something about you, there’s light” kindaichi follows up.

“no matter where, or how bad we are, somehow you always are helping us stand up” mattsun also tries to carefully approach you, he wants nothing more for you to feel safe.

and oikawa’s arms were still around you. he never stopped.

“we have reached your hand so many times, so now it’s time for you to please take ours” oikawa holds you face, and you see the sincerity and kindness behind his brown eyes, it feels like home.

mattsun does a sign asking the coach for a day off, both of them smile tenderly at you and give the green flag. iwa and makki are next to hold you carefully helping you stand up. they help you stop shaking but it’s mad dog the one who wipes your tears away with a tissue watari handled him. still not knowing if he did it the right way. you still feel kunimi’s scent. you still see kindaichi holding your school bag making sure nothing is missing. yahaba is the one bringing you water. and oikawa still refuses to let you go.

all of them feel like home.

“thank you”

and that’s how you know everything is going to feel fine.

because this club was yours and you were theirs.

this was home.

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nsheetee · 4 years ago

Text

109 Steps To You

this is a part of the “almost” collaboration hosted by @hyucksie

Pairing: Haechan x Reader Genre: romance, fluff, angst, mature content, soulmate!AU, college!AU Length: 19k Summary: Everyone is born with two marks on their body: one that is identical to your soulmate’s, and one that is identical to the person who will cause you immense pain. No one knows which mark means what until they live out their life and meet the people destined to bring them love and hurt. However, you were only born with one mark. Out of all the places you thought you would meet the person with the mark identical to yours, you never thought it would be on your first day of college. Warnings/Details: female reader, mentions of other nct members (and yuqi from g-idle), explicit sex (unprotected + the consequences that come with it), mentions of a dysfunctional family, swearing

— read epilogue here

a/n: if you’re a minor: beware! there is explicit and mature content in this fic.

“I want to thank you guys, again, for helping me out today.” You shyly announce to the table, swirling your spoon through your froyo and glancing back and forth between the other people sitting before you.

“Oh, it’s no problem, we weren’t doing anything today anyway.” Xiaojun softly knocks his elbow into yours, sending a reassuring smile your way. If it wasn’t for Xiaojun, an old childhood friend, you weren’t sure how moving into your dorm room and getting settled into campus would’ve gone; you would probably still be a mess right now.

“He’s right. Plus, I really wanted to meet the girl Jun kept raving about, he wouldn’t stop talking about how much we would like you-” Mark’s comment is quickly cut off, a thud under the table and a pained look on Mark’s face giving away that Xiaojun just kicked him.

“I just hope I lived up to the hype.” You laugh at their antics.

“Oh, definitely,” Yuqi quickly buts in before Mark can retaliate back at Xiaojun, “And I live a few floors below you, so just let me know if you need anything at all.” She adds on, her warm deposition and all around friendliness from today making you let out a small sigh of relief, some stress falling off your shoulders when you realize just how many people around you are here to help you out.

“I appreciate it so much, really.” You lean away from Xiaojun and Mark, closer to Yuqi and Lucas who are sitting on the other side of the table, “By the way, I love your guys’ marks. They look so good on both of you.”

At your comment, Lucas puts down his phone and gently grabs Yuqi’s hand, their matching chamomile flower marks touching as their fingers intertwine. You almost didn’t notice their matching marks earlier today when they were helping you set up your dorm room, but when you did, you couldn’t help but stop what you were doing and stare at their hands. Such a simple mark has never looked so pretty to you, maybe it’s because Lucas and Yuqi made such a good pair that their fated marks looked so right for them.

“I still wish I got a cool dragon mark down my back, but I’ll let Jun be the one to deal with that in this life.” Lucas smirks at Xiaojun, who just rolls his eyes at Lucas’ fake jealousy. “Yours looks good, too.” He finishes and glances down at your left hand. There, a dragonfly mark stains your skin, the long tail trailing over your thumb and the wings spreading out over the back of your hand and your wrist.

“Thank you.” Your reply is genuine, however you can’t help but remember the solemn fact that surrounds your mark, your voice inadvertently dipping down as your eyes trace over the wings of your dragonfly.

“So, what kind of classes are you taking this semester?” Xiaojun changes the subject, no doubt hearing the lament in your voice.

“Oh, just some required classes. Nothing for my major, really, except Intro to Ethics for my humanities credit.” You reply as casually as you can to bring the mood at the table back up, but your comment makes Yuqi gasp and all four pairs of eyes at the table turn to you. You slouch in your seat at their sudden attention on you.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Do you know your advisor's email? Let’s send them a message right now to get you out-”

“Stop.” You shake your head, laughing a bit at the overreaction from your new friends, “What’s wrong with Ethics?”

“It’s in the Hauss building.” Xiaojun says as if you should already know what that means. You roll your lips in and shake your head; you do not know what that means at all.

“It’s the building all the way on top of the big hill on the west side of campus, by the auditorium.” Xiaojun explains more.

“They only teach three classes over there: Ethics and Music Theory 3 and 4.” Mark sets down his melted froyo, not realizing he has some sticking to his upper lip.

“I’m failing to see what’s so horrible about that?”

“When Xiaojun says it’s a big hill, he means it’s a really big hill-”

“Didn’t someone count the steps once and it came out to be, like, close to 100?” Lucas asks, one hand still tangled with Yuqi’s and the other now rapidly slurping his triple chocolate froyo.

“That was me, and it’s 109 steps.” Mark shutters, “I took Music Theory 3 last year and I ended up skipping half of the time because I couldn’t find the energy to climb up and down those steps three times a week.”

“Why 109? Aren’t groups of steps usually in even numbers? That’s not very architecturally smart.” Yuqi purses her lips and her eyebrows screw together.

“Screw architecture. Are you telling me I’ll have to climb up and down 109 stairs three times a week just to go to Ethics?” You can already feel a headache growing at the back of your head when you think about the complications of dealing with this big staircase. You needed that class for your major, and you thought it was going to be a class that you could pass with flying colors, but it seems like it might just be a nuisance to you more than an easy A.

“Talk to your advisor. Try to drop out and take a different class. Trust me, 109 steps don’t seem like much until you actually have to climb them.” Mark gives you his piece of advice, sticking his spoon filled with froyo into his mouth and then immediately scrunching his eyes and mumbling about brain freeze.

You’ll have to send an e-mail to your advisor real quick, but for your first day of classes tomorrow, you’ll just have to deal with those 109 steps.

The walk to your ethics class the next morning is very calming, the university’s nice landscaping and the warm weather calming your nerves down for your first day of classes. When you round the corner of the stonewall you had been following, you’re met with the infamous set of steps.

You have to crane your neck to look up at the top of the staircase, your jaw slightly dropping at how steep of a hill the stairs were built on. There are other students around you walking up and down the staircase, their headphones shoved in their ears and their heads down as they make the climb to and from class.

The stonewall you had been following all the way here continues up the staircase on your right and on the left is a thick wall of trees, their branches hanging over the stairs and giving protection from the sunlight to the students below. You begin to count every step on your way up; four regular steps, the fifth one a bit longer than the rest, and then repeat. It’s not that you don’t trust Mark’s words when he said there’s 109 steps, you just want to count for yourself.

You hear some rowdy boys coming down the stairs, but the noise is not enough to pull your head up from the ground or to stop you from counting, until you’re forcefully pushed into the stone wall on your right. Breathing in through your teeth sharply, your left hand clutches your collarbones where the pain is the worst.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.” The guy laughs through his words, a high-pitched and almost squeaky laugh, making him sound not as sincere as he probably meant to be. When you turn to face him, the first thing you notice are his eyes. Chocolate colored and almond shaped, some laugh lines showing from the remnants of his shenanigans with his friends.

Looking back, you realize you fell in love with his eyes first. How they don’t hold back from showing any emotion, and the mischievousness they hold no matter what.

Even when his smile falls, his face looks pretty; long hair hanging down over his forehead and ears, and plump lips spreading into an ‘o’ shape as he looks at your dragonfly. Every line and detail is just the same as his own, as if fate spent a little more time with you two to make sure you know you’re each other’s soulmate the moment you meet.

“Your mark…” The man points at your hand, and that’s when you realize who you’ve just met. His brilliant eyes fill with excitement and he starts to breath harder, taking a step back from sheer surprise that you’re here. His soulmate. His one and only for the rest of this life.

However it all fades away the moment you drop your hand from your collarbones, stepping past him to continue up the staircase.

“Next time, watch where you’re going.” The first words you ever say to him are filled with so much indifference that Haechan can only follow your back with his eyes, his jaw slack and his hand still reaching out for you.

“Hey, wait-” Haechan is about to run after you, but he’s held back by Renjun, his best friend and the one who pushed Haechan into you in the first place.

“Was that-” Renjun begins, holding onto his friend’s elbow as he also watches you walk up the rest of the 109 steps.

“Yeah… Why did she ignore me like that? She saw that I have the same mark. We’re soulmates!” Haechan almost cries out in confusion, his heart and mind in a mess. Can you blame him? He’s been waiting to meet his soulmate since he knew what the dragonfly on his hand meant. Haechan has never been a patient person, and even waiting several years for you to come to him was testing him. Now that you’re here, he isn’t going to let you go easily.

As Haechan begins to walk back up the staircase to follow you, not caring about his Literature class in 15 minutes, Renjun’s grip on him tightens and pulls him back.

“You can’t just go harass her about this.”

“I’m not going to harass her. I just want to talk.” Haechan tries to pull out of Renjun’s grip again, but the little man has the sturdiness of a boulder and pulls his friend back.

“Maybe she doesn’t want a soulmate?” Renjun and Haechan stop their tug of war at Jaemin’s words. He had been leaning against the handrail by the trees the whole time while watching the scene unfold in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest and his baseball cap covering his eyes. “It’s not that uncommon these days.”

Haechan and Renjun let go of each other at their friend’s words. Jaemin sends them a bitter smile and all three of them recall the incident that happened last year when Jaemin met his own soulmate:

A rejection.

Jaemin took it hard; if it hadn’t been for his best friends, he doesn’t know where he would be in life right now. Jaemin can’t help but let the memories surface as he continues to walk down the stairs, slower than before, his head bowed and his hands shoved into his pant pockets. Renjun sends Haechan a look that tells him to not push the situation further, following Jaemin down the stairs.

Haechan sends your retreating figure one last look, watching you reach the top of the staircase and walk into the Hauss building. He retreats and follows his friends dejectedly, the promise of you showing up on this staircase at the same time on Wednesday being the only thing that lets his legs follow his friends down the stairs.

“Hey, ___, come in.” Mark smiles brightly when he recognizes you at the door, stepping aside to let you into the dorm room. “Xiaojun is in the shower still… Will you be okay by yourself if I leave?” He looks unsure as you set your backpack down on Xiaojun’s desk chair.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. You do whatever you need to.” You state and then plop down onto your friend’s bed. You hear Mark laugh and say something about how all the first years look tired at the end of their first day and then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. You lay sprawled out on the bed, the only sounds surrounding you is the water from the shower and the ticking of the analog clock on the wall.

Even though the whole ordeal happened several hours ago, you haven’t been able to get the moment you met your soulmate out of your mind. It was almost impossible for you to turn around and walk away. Even now, your feet still itch to go back to that staircase and find the sweet looking guy who you no doubt left confused.

However, you can’t do that— you won’t let yourself do that. And that’s partially why you’re in Xiaojun’s dorm room after your last class today: so that he can knock some sense into you.

The shower turns off and a few moments later, the bathroom door opens and Xiaojun steps out. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one on his shoulders to catch the droplets from his hair; when he sees you laying on his bed, he jumps in fright.

“Good, God,” He sighs and clutches his bare chest with one hand, the other protectively going to the towel around his waist. “Can you say something the next time you come over? I almost had a heart attack because of you.” He walks over to his closet on the other side of the room, rummaging through some clothes as you sit up.

“Sorry, I thought you heard the door open…” You trail off, getting distracted by Xiaojun’s mark. The dragon on his back is huge, taking up most of the area and spreading to his shoulders and upper arms, too. However, that’s not the mark that caught your attention. Right on his ankle sits a three-leaf clover, so small and such a stark difference from the monster drawn on his back.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when Xiaojun turns around and walks back into the bathroom, this time leaving the door open, “So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, well, it was okay…” You trail off, speaking a bit louder so that he could hear you from the other room. You stand up and start pacing in the space between Mark’s and Xiaojun’s beds, a nervous habit of yours.

“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ somewhere.” Xiaojun replies.

“Well, something happened…” You trail off, not sure how to make the words leave your mouth yet.

“What is it?” You swallow at the question, your throat dry and hands clammy. You must’ve been taking a long time to answer because Xiaojun walks out of the bathroom, now fully clothed, and stares at your pacing form. “What’s wrong, ___.”

“I met him.” You say simply, hoping Xiaojun gets what you mean, but he doesn’t. You sigh and sink down to the floor slowly, catching yourself on Xiaojun’s bed. The action makes his eyes widen in fear and he crosses the room in a few short strides, kneeling down next to you and searching your eyes for the answer.

“What? What is it?”

“The person with the same mark as me. I met him.”

“... Oh.”

Xiaojun slowly slides down onto his butt in front of you, folding his legs. He’s not sure what to say, or how to comfort you in anyway. He didn’t expect to be the only person around that you trust when something like this happens. He sees the lost look in your eyes and slides towards you to pull you into a hug.

Unlike Xiaojun, and most people in the world, you do not have two marks.

Xiaojun’s dragon and clover match with two different people in this world; one who will be his soulmate and the other who will bring him immense pain. Everyone has two marks— except you; it even states it on your birth certificate, your parents can testify that they’ve never seen a second mark on you, just the lonely dragonfly that spreads its wings over your left hand.

When you were younger, you were curious about what it meant to only have one mark. The people around you always had two marks, the people on the TV shows you liked to watch always had two marks, even anatomy books have depictions of humans with two marks. Why were you different? What did it mean?

After gathering up the guts to type the question into the Google search engine, you found your answers, and it changed your thoughts on your one and only mark forever. The people in the world who only had one mark testified to the same story online: the person who’s mark matched theirs were both their soulmate and the person who hurt them the most.

After learning about that, you promised yourself that if you ever met the person with the same mark as you, you would not meddle with them in any way if they were only destined to bring you pain in the end.

If you knew jumping off a bridge would definitely kill you, you wouldn’t jump, right?

Xiaojun is the only person, other than your parents, who knows about the situation. Which is why when he hugs you, you lean into him and accept his comfort.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about. You must have so many questions.” He mumbles into your hair.

“Not questions. I’m just curious about what I am to him.” You reply, whispering into Xiaojun’s shoulder.

“About what you are to him?”

“I know he’ll be the person I’m meant to love the most, and also the person who will hurt me the most. But am I the one that’s supposed to love him or the one that’s supposed to hurt him?”

“Lots of people say that they can feel it when they meet. Like Lucas, he said he instantly knew Yuqi was supposed to be his soulmate.” Xiaojun thinks back to all the people who have told him the exact same thing, even his parents.

“The guy… he kept calling me his soulmate. He sounded so sure about it, too.” You lean away from Xiaojun to look into his big and curious eyes.

“What about you? What did you feel?” He asks.

“It felt… like I left a part of myself with him.” Xiaojun’s eyes widened at that, “Is that crazy? I was only around him for a minute, maybe less, and I can’t stop thinking about how I never wanted to leave. It was so hard to walk away from him..” You trail off, feeling tears suddenly gather at the edges of your eyes.

“Xiaojun…” The edge in your voice makes him grab a hold on your hands, “I don’t want him to hurt me. I’m not ready for it.”

“Hey, hey…” Xiaojun squeezes your hands before gently guiding your face to his, meeting his eyes with your own, “He’ll hurt you eventually, yeah, but he’ll also be the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally. The person who is going to know you so well, better than yourself. Maybe you should see where he takes you in life? Destiny still wanted you to meet each other no matter what the end game is going to be… Are you really going to tell fate to fuck off?”

“Can’t I?” Your response makes Xiaojun laugh, which he apologises for laughing in a serious situation right after, but the mood is already broken and you laugh at yourself a bit as well.

“C’mon, let’s order something to eat and get your mind off of this, even if it’s just for a few hours.” Xiaojun pulls you off of the floor and reaches for his phone, trying to find the phone number to his favorite delivery place.

You sit on his bed once again, your hands limp in your lap and so much appreciation for Xiaojun in your chest. You probably would’ve gone insane if he wasn’t here for you. His suggestion on giving the guy you met today a chance plays like a record in your head, but the record scratches when you remember the promise you made to yourself a long time ago.

Don’t mess with him. He will only bring you pain in the end.

On Wednesday, Haechan is the first one out of his seat in his Music Theory 3 class, not even waiting for the slow Renjun and even slower Jaemin before sprinting out of the classroom and outside, waiting at the top of the staircase for your figure to appear at the bottom.

Students float up and down the stairs, but he doesn’t see you anywhere amongst them. Eventually, Renjun and Jaemin catch up to him, standing behind him and also staring down the long staircase.

“C’mon, Haechan, we need to go to our next class.” Renjun is the first one to step down, followed by Jaemin. Haechan takes a good look at everyone’s faces on his way down, getting some weird looks sent his way for staring, but he doesn’t care.

“Haechan.” Jaemin suddenly calls out, making his friend turn suddenly to look at him. Jaemin only nods his head to the bottom of the stairs where you just turned the corner. Despite his hurry from before, Haechan stops at the sight of you. His usual confidence is lost when he sees you climb the stairs. Now, he’s not sure if he should approach you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Renjun nudges Haechan, but the younger only turns around to look at his friend.

“I don’t know what to say to her. What do I say to make her see I’m her soulmate?” Haechan asks, helplessness seeping into his words.

Renjun rolls his eyes; whenever his best friend needs to be the usual confident man he is, that’s when the confidence is most likely to drain out of him. Renjun shakes Haechan’s shoulders with a tight grip on his jacket, making some more people send the two of them some weird looks.

“She’s your soulmate, right? Fate already gave you everything you need to know about how to talk to her.” Renjun then pushes his friend towards your direction, “But for the love of god, don’t harass her.” Renjun ends with a pointed look and continues walking with Jaemin down the stairs.

Haechan slowly makes his way to you, crossing over to the middle of the staircase and stopping you in your tracks. You look up to inspect who it is that just stopped in front of you, and your surprise fades when you realize it’s the same guy from Monday.

“Hi.” He says simply. You only nod your head, lips pursed, and then move around him to continue walking to class.

“Wait…” Haechan calls after you, but you don’t stop this time. So Haechan keeps walking after you, only one step behind, “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’re my soulmate. I’ve been waiting for you for so long—” You sharply turn to face him, making Haechan cut off and tilt his head up to look at you.

“How do you know I’m your soulmate? What if I’m not?” You ask. Haechan shakes his head softly at that, his golden hair moving over his sun-kissed skin as he does.

“That’s not possible.”

“How do you know?” You ask. Haechan loves how curiosity burns in your eyes. He takes longer than normal to speak only so that he can look over your features and memorize them to the best of his ability. Last night, he tried to recall your face but the image came out so blurry since he only saw you for a moment on Monday. He wants to clearly remember what you look like.

“How about I take you somewhere, and then I’ll tell you?” The proposition stuns you, and your burning curiosity makes you want to say yes. However, going anywhere with him would be breaking your promise to yourself, so you decide to forget it.

“Nevermind…” You mumble, turning around to walk up the stairs again.

“You seem like you really want to know how I’m sure we’re soulmates… Aren’t you curious?” Haechan asks, making you stop in your tracks again. This man has only known you for a day, only talked to you for a few moments, yet he already knows how to get you to do something. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and I’m not lying either.”

You take a moment to think about the proposition. You’re really curious about how he’s so sure that you’re soulmates. Sure, you know you’re soulmates, but why is he so sure you aren’t the person who’s supposed to hurt him? You consider taking up the offer, but can you stay strong to your own promise while being close to him?

Curiosity wins, and you turn back around to face him, nodding and making him smile widely. There’s that crinkle in his eyes again, that sparkle against the sun that makes saying yes to him so much more worth it.

“My friends call me Haechan, but you can call me Donghyuck. That’s my real name.” He sticks out his hand for you to shake. You once heard that physical touch brings soulmates together quicker; you’re not sure if that’s true, but you don’t want to test it.

“I’m ___.” You nod at him and grip onto your backpack straps instead of accepting his handshake.

“Haechan, hurry up or we’ll be late!” You both hear Renjun shout out from the bottom of the stairs, “And on our second day, too.” You hear him groan.

“Okay, ___, I’ll see you here at 7pm tomorrow night.” Haechan turns around to run back to his friends, sending you one last wave goodbye and almost tripping down the stairs as he does.

You take a deep breath and turn around to walk up the rest of the steps. You’re unsure if you did the right thing by agreeing to see him tomorrow night, but the deed is now done, and you can only wait for Donghyuck to quench your curiosity.

As promised, you meet Donghyuck at 7 o’clock sharp the next day. He’s already waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

“So, where are you taking me?” You ask after saying your hello’s.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles and nods his head to make you follow him. He leads you through parts of campus you haven’t seen yet, the buildings looking older and older the further down the path you walk. Soon, Donghyuck takes a sharp turn into what looks like the middle of the forest but is really just a small, hidden extension of the trail.

Under a canopy of tall trees that wave with the wind to you and Donghyuck, there is a skinny trail that leads to glimmering water. It draws you in, your curiosity struck and your feet now moving on their own accord. Bushes tickle your ankles and the smell of some sort of flower you cannot identify floods your senses, but you can only keep walking towards the sparkling water.

The scene in front of you takes your breath away, a crisp gasp that you have no control over leaves your lips. The pond before you is big, stretching further than what you can see. The water is blue and the setting sun’s light reflects off of it to create rippling sparkles. There are some lily pads floating around, their flowers gone due to the temperature dropping recently.

You didn’t even notice that you stopped walking, your eyes wide as you take in the scenery before you. You almost forget who you’re with and why you came, but Donghyuck doesn’t let that happen. You snap out of it when he continues to walk along the trail that leads around the pond. You walk alongside Donghyuck, a few feet away with your hands awkwardly tucked into your pockets.

“C’mon, let’s sit.” He motions to a weeping willow tree. It’s tall and the branches sway pleasantly in the wind, completely unaware and indifferent to the years of history in the area. Underneath the tree is a sturdy bench, you sit on the left side while Donghyuck sits on the right side. Then, you both take a few moments to stare at the mesmerizing water that led you all the way to this seemingly magical place.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask after a bit.

“Do you not like it?” Donghyuck asks back.

“No.” You quickly reply, looking over his side profile before turning back to the water, “I’m just curious.”

“Something in me knew you would like this place, that’s all.” Donghyuck replies while trying to hide his proud smile, looking down at the grass. “You’re curious about a lot of things, huh?”

“Yeah, I can’t help it. There’s just so much I want to know.” It’s easy to talk to him, a bit too easy. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re supposed to have your guard up in front of him, but it’s proving harder than you thought it would be.

“Like how I’m sure that you’re my soulmate and not the person who is supposed to hurt me?” Donghyuck leans his weight away from you, his eyebrow cocked in a question. You nod your head lightly, playing with your hands on your lap.

“It’s because I’ve already met the person who’s supposed to bring me pain. I’ve already been hurt.” At his words, surprise fills you up and you turn your head to look him straight in the eye.

For some reason, you always thought that when people meet the person who brings them the largest amount of pain to their life, they couldn’t be the same ever again. How does one get hurt so badly, and still live on?

There are so many ways to hurt someone. Some people become bankrupt, some people lose all of their belongings, some people are even physically hurt by the person who has the same mark as them. How does a person go through any of that and still be themselves afterwards? More importantly, how did Donghyuck go through immense pain and still be able to smile at you like he is right here, right now?

“Here.” He begins to explain, pushing his pants around until you can see his second mark through one of the holes in his jeans, a sunflower on his knee, “My dad had the same mark as me.”

“Your…. Dad?” You ask, still confused.

“Mhmm,” He nods, now tracing the petals of the sunflower mark absentmindedly, “My parents immediately knew something was wrong when I was born. Why would a son and dad have the same mark? When I was growing up, he worked a lot, so I spent lots of time with my mom and grew closer to her. I don’t remember much from that time, but I do remember we were happy. We didn’t have a lot, but we had each other; that kind of feeling.” He looks over at you to see if you’re keeping up with the story. To Donghyuck’s surprise, you already have tears lining your eyes.

“Then one day, Dad comes home and tells us he lost his job. I remember my parents fought a lot the few weeks after that happened, mostly about how to raise me if they had no income. Dad would go out and look for work, but always came back with no luck. So eventually, my mom started working. For a while, the reason we could keep living was because of her.” Donghyuck swallows and pauses for a moment before continuing.

“And then one night, dad came home and told us he gambled. Everything, he gambled everything away. Even the little that we had, it wasn’t ours anymore. That night, my dad told me I was a mistake. My parents never meant to have me, and he said…” Donghyuck purses his lips for a moment. It had been a while since he thought about this. The scar on his heart still hurts when he picks at it. “... He said that he wished I had never been born. Then, we wouldn’t have been in that mess.”

“How old were you?” You speak up after a moment.

“Seven? Or eight.” He nods and sniffs his nose, looking down at his knee. The whole day, Donghyuck was preparing himself to tell you this story. He felt that the only way to get close to you was to open up like this first, to show you that he isn’t someone scary or bad. To Donghyuck’s surprise, telling this story hurts less now than it did earlier in this life. Maybe that means time is working, and his heart is being mended bit by bit.

Donghyuck leans his elbows against his knees, looking at the water once again while waiting for you to say anything. Are you still curious? What do you think of him now?

He was in no way prepared to feel your arms wrap around his waist in a hug, your head resting against his shoulder and your chest pressed against his side. He freezes for a moment, and then melts into your embrace completely. He’s overcome with lovesick softness for you, lightly griping the part of your arm that’s across his chest as his head turns to the side to press a kiss to the top of your head. It’s so quick that you don’t even have time to move away or to react. You just let it happen, as it’s supposed to be.

“You said that something in you knew I would like this place,” You mumble against him. He hears your voice straining with emotion, “Well, something in me knows that you need this right now.”

You and Donghyuck sit there until the sparkling water is no longer fueled by the sun’s light, but by the moon’s. It seems as though now you’ve touched Donghyuck, you never wanted to stop. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that it’s because of the soulmate bond, and a part of you nags at yourself for already chipping away at the promise you made to yourself when you were younger.

However, younger you never knew what it would be like to have a person sit in front of you and share a part of his past with you in an act of confidence and security. Your younger self never knew what it would be like to feel the same pain as someone else, and the pull you felt to touch him after sensing that physical affection would help ease that pain away.

Your younger self had no idea it was this easy to fall into a person, especially when you know they’ll catch you.

“God, I’m so sick and tired of Accounting. ___, I’m quitting school.” Xiaojun gravely tells you, his eyes not wavering from his computer screen.

“Shut up and do your homework, Jun.” You mumble, your eyes not leaving your own computer screen as you type up your Ethics essay. Three weeks into school and you’re already fully emerged in your classes. The newness of college has faded and now it’s time to start the next four years of studying endlessly for the future.

“Are you guys… okay? You haven’t moved over there in a few hours.” Mark asks from the other side of the room where he’s doing his own homework. He eyes you and your best friend from where you’re sitting on his bed, “Are you even comfortable?”

You and Xiaojun are sharing a blanket, he’s leaning against his headboard and you’re leaning against the wall. Your legs are thrown over his and several textbooks are scattered over the blanket. You’re not even sure which of these books are yours or his, or which papers laying in messy stacks belong to who.

“Yeah, I think we’re okay. We’ve been studying like this since high school.” Xiaojun answers, his fingers moving along his keyboard at the same time. You nod at Mark and he shakes his head, not understanding you two but accepting the answer.

You’re over at the guys’ dorm room enough that Mark is not surprised to see you here anymore, hanging out with Xiaojun or waiting for him to come back from class. It’s not that you don’t like your own dorm room, but it’s always so quiet in there since your roommate always studies at the library. You only hear her come into the room late at night when you’re on the verge of sleep, and when she leaves early in the morning before your alarm rings. Weekends are the same. You don’t really care, but you’ve started to hate the quiet, so you’re glad that Mark and Xiaojun don’t mind you chilling here.

“Argh,” Mark yawns and stretches after a few minutes, throwing his computer to the side and standing up, “I’m getting some snacks from the vending machine. You guys want anything?”

After you and Xiaojun answer with simultaneous shakes of your heads, which creeps Mark out, he leaves the room to get food. The room is silent for a few more moments until Xiaojun angles the lid of his laptop down to look at you.

“So… How’s the guy?”

“What guy?” You ask, still preoccupied with your essay.

“Your soulmate, ___, what other guy is there?” Xiaojun answers exasperatedly, “You never told me his name, so I don’t know what to call him. Actually, I haven’t heard you talk about him since the first day of classes. I was hoping you’d tell me what happened with him, but I guess I have to go digging up your dirt myself.” He rolls his eyes.

“His name is Haechan.” You answer, moving your computer to the side, “And I haven’t said anything to you about him because… I haven’t seen him in weeks.” You admit quietly.

“Huh? Didn’t you say you were meeting up so he could tell you why he’s sure you’re his soulmate?” You nod your head at the question, “So, what happened after that?”

“Well… I kinda, maybe, sort of…. have been avoiding him.” You answer quietly, stealing a glance at your best friend to see him staring at you blankly. When he sighs and reaches for his pillow, your eyes widen and you hold up your hands in front of you, spewing pleas and ‘wait’s. Xiaojun doesn’t care, though, flinging his pillow from behind him and into your face.

“Ow?” You whine after the pillow makes contact with your head and forces you to turn to face the other way, “Was that necessary?” You rub your nose, the part of your face that hurts worse from his attack. You’re used to Xiaojun doing this to you whenever you did something that both of you know you shouldn’t have so that you can “get some sense knocked into you, hopefully.”

“You’re so dumb. So, so dumb. Why would you avoid him.” It’s not a question, more of a confused statement to the general air. “You realize people would kill to meet their soulmate, right? People would do anything to be in your position, but you just hide away?”

“People would do anything to meet their soulmate, but people would also do anything to stay away from the person who shares their other mark.” You retaliate, “You don’t understand. To me, Haechan is both of those people.”

“There you go again, worrying about the future when you’re not even sure about what is going to happen. When will you stop worrying about something you can’t control and start thinking about today?” Xiaojun sounds so tired talking about this topic, a conversation you’ve had many times in your friendship. You wonder if he’s so tired of it, why he keeps bringing it up himself.

Before you can answer, the door to the room opens and Mark walks in, several snacks in his arms, “Hey, everyone, I hope it’s okay I brought a friend. He’s in the same major as me, just a year younger—”

“___?” Mark stops talking when his friend speaks, surprised that he already knows one of the people in the room. Your eyes widen, jaw slackening as you’re unable to even let out a peep from your mouth.

“You know each other?” Mark asks, looking between his two friends.

“Yeah, you could say I know my soulmate.” Donghyuck replies, making both Xiaojun and Mark’s eyes widen. You suddenly realize the situation you’re in: under a blanket with Xiaojun, your pajamas on, and your soulmate in front of you after you ghosted him for weeks. For the first time in a while, your eyes meet.

Donghyuck is mad. You can tell by how his fists are clenched and his jaw is tightened. Slowly getting out of the bed, you try to form some words, but Donghyuck snaps and walks over to you quickly. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you out of the room and down the hallway until you get to the lounge area. When you reach the empty room, that’s when you come to your senses.

“Donghyuck,” You pull your arm out of his, making him turn to face you, “I’m not even wearing shoes.” You hiss, pointing down to your feet as if to prove some point.

“What was all that?” He disregards your comment and hisses back at you, stepping closer so that you’re barely a few inches apart. “You were under a blanket. With some guy. Don’t you feel wrong doing that?” He asks, his hands now on his hips. You feel slightly like you’re being lectured to.

“That guy is my best friend.” You spit out.

“So, do you go around and do that to all of your guy friends?” Donghyuck chuckles vehemently, you can tell he’s angry and jealous, and that those emotions are clouding his brain at the moment. That doesn’t mean his words don’t hurt, though.

“Xiaojun and I have been best friends since we were in diapers. I’ve known you for three weeks, barely. I’m more comfortable around him than I am with you. You think just because I’m your soulmate, I’ll automatically trust you and we’ll all of a sudden be a happy couple? It doesn’t work like that, Donghyuck. I don’t even know you.” You can tell you hurt him by your last words because he turns silent, his shoulders slouching and his anger subsiding.

You can tell you hurt him, hard, because you feel the hurt, too.

It makes you realize how scary the bond between soulmates is. Even though you and Donghyuck haven’t spent that much time together to strengthen your bond, it’s still strong enough to allow you to feel his emotions. It makes you wonder if Donghyuck will be able to feel your pain in the future when he hurts you, like he’s destined to.

“Have you even tried to get to know me? You’ve been avoiding me ever since I took you to the pond.” At his comment, you fold your arms over your chest and look away, not ready to answer that question.

“I’m… just scared, is all.” You manage to reply. Although not the complete truth, it’s not a total lie. Donghyuck completely softens at your words, his close proximity to you feels less threatening and turns into something more gentle. His hand softly slips into yours, but this time with a lighter touch than before.

“You don’t have to be scared, not around me. I’m new to this too, so I don’t know how it all works yet, but this is something we can figure out together. That’s what we were fated to do.” Donghyuck can feel his words pulling you closer to him, he can feel you on the edge and he’s ready to catch you with his arms wide open.

But in the last second, you take a step back and slip your hand out of his, making his drop limply to his sides. You send him a look, something he can’t read, and then turn around and walk back to the dorm he pulled you out of.

He almost had you, almost.

When midterms come around, you use your upcoming tests and projects as a way to dive deep into your work so that you don’t have to think about Donghyuck. It’s a good plan overall, however your friends quickly start worrying for you and your health. Staying up late several nights in a row and not even being able to remember when the last time you ate is where Xiaojun pulled the plug on your bad studying habits. He confiscated your backpack and dropped you off in front of your dorm building with the promise that you’ll have all of your things back tomorrow morning only if you rest for tonight.

On your way to the elevator, you run into Yuqi, both of your facial expressions brightening when you recognize each other.

“Oh, ___, Hi!” You stop in the middle of the hallway to greet her, a smile pulling at your lips due to her bright hello. “How are you?”

“Midterms are kicking my ass, but other than that I’m fine.” She laughs at your answer, throwing her head back and letting her new short hair ruffle her shoulders.

“I wish I could tell you it gets better, but that would be a lie.” You nod your head in solemn understanding, “Listen, I can’t talk for long since I have a night class, but promise to text me when things slow down, yeah?”

“Of course, I promise.” You nod, just the thought of spending some time with a good friend already pushes away your stress. You wave bye to Yuqi as she begins to turn around but after a loud “oh!” leaves her lips, she turns back to face you.

“Your roommate, her name is Mya, right?” At her random question, you tilt your head in confusion, “She has really long, black hair and big glasses, right? I think I saw her when I was helping you move in?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” You nod, “Why?”

“She found her soulmate today.” You would’ve been more interested in the news if you knew Mya beyond when she goes to class and when she gets back to the dorm, but you feign surprise and nod your head absentmindedly.

“Lucas managed to get a video. It was a whole performance in the quad today, you’d think someone was getting married. I’ll send it to you later.” And with that, she says her last goodbye and runs off. You slowly turn and continue walking in a slow pace up to your dorm room, taking the stairs just so you can have some time to think and be away from people you could potentially run into if you use the elevator.

You’re genuinely happy for Mya, even if you barely know a single thing about her. However, something about a person close to you finding their soulmate makes you sad, considering the situation with your own soulmate. You can’t help but feel a little jealous that there are people who can meet their soulmate and fall into each other’s lives easily.

In times like these, you crave for Donghyuck.

You crave his touch and his words, you crave that comfortable feeling of belonging somewhere you get when he’s around. It’s insane that you haven’t spent much time together, yet you can yearn for someone to the extent that it hurts. It’s been like this ever since Donghyuck pulled you out of Xiaojun’s dorm and you rejected him.

Turning away from him all those weeks ago still haunts you. When you’re struggling to fall asleep, your mind goes to that night. When you let your mind wander, it wanders to that night. You constantly think about stepping away from him, but you’re not sure if you keep remembering the moment out of guilt or shame. One of the questions you keep asking yourself is if you did the right thing. You still do not have an answer.

When you walk into your dorm room, you kick off your shoes and turn on your bedside lamp, falling onto your bed with a deep sigh. You close your eyes for a second, but the peace and quiet of your room is ruined when your phone dings with a notification.

Yuqi’s message pops up, and when you swipe your phone open you can see she sent a video. You click on it and turn the volume up. This was no doubt taken earlier today in the quad, the sun shining and lots of professors and students walking in the background. Under the huge clock tower stand two people, one of them holding a large bouquet of roses. When the clock strikes noon, the bells on top of the tower begin to ring a familiar melody that can be heard all over your big campus. You see the exchange of the bouquet and the two people hug, and then applause rises from the people walking by. You smile when you hear Lucas’ whooping and hollering from behind the phone.

You’ve heard about the tradition of soulmates meeting under the clock tower at your university. Yuqi told you about it when she was giving you a tour around campus at the beginning of the semester. You remember her telling you that it’s really romantic, probably due to the history of so many people getting together in the exact same spot.

Although the idea is rather plain, you do feel your heart strings tug at the beautiful display, glad you could see something like this through a video. Then, as the camera gets closer to the couple, your smile fades and you pause the video, zooming in to get a better view. Mya is no doubt the one who received the flowers, but you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as you recognize her soulmate.

It’s one of Donghyuck’s friends.

Not the quiet one with black hair that hangs around on the outside of their group, but the shorter one who seemed to simultaneously love and hate Donghyuck, or at least that’s what you gathered from seeing him a few times.

After the realization, you drop your phone to the side and stare up at your ceiling in defeat. Is this fate? If you didn’t meet Donghyuck on those steps two months ago, would you eventually meet him through your roommate and her soulmate? Or is this all just one big coincidence?

In this world, coincidences are harder to find than the work of fate.

Your train of thought is quickly cut off by the opening on the door, you quickly sit up to watch a huge red bouquet of flowers enter the room, followed by your roommate. You’ve only seen her face a few times this semester, but never have her features looked so bright and happy. She also looks startled when she notices you’re in the room, but her happiness doesn’t fade.

“Oh? You’re here?” She asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You both chuckle awkwardly, “Congrats, by the way. For finding your soulmate.” You motion to the flowers in her hand.

“Thank you! To be honest, Renjun wasn’t at all what I expected in a soulmate, but I think I love him already.” The sweetness drips from her eyes and words, and you nod and smile, remembering that Donghyuck’s friend’s name is Renjun. Her phone begins to ring and she shuffles the flowers in her hand to look at the screen, “Oh, it’s him.”

She answers the call, speaking quietly as she walks over to her side of the room. You weigh out the options of sneaking out of your dorm and finding a place to chill until your roommate falls asleep. You're not sure if you can talk to her about soulmate stuff and keep up this happy look on your face.

However, all thoughts of those plans leave your mind when Mya turns to you and holds out the phone, “It’s for you?” She says it more like a question, but you’re sure you’re the one who’s more confused.

“Hello?” You ask into the phone, awkwardly looking around the room.

“___? Oh, thank god. It’s Renjun, Haechan’s friend. I need your help.” He talks quickly and shallowly, like he’s out of breath and currently moving somewhere.

“How did you know I’m Mya’s roommate?” You ask, disregarding his cry for help.

“It’s a long story, I promise I’ll explain later, but can you please come to the auditorium? The back entrance.” You hear more voices in the background of the call, but you can’t make out what they're saying. One of them is definitely Donghyuck.

“What’s going on?” At the sound of your soulmate’s unique tenor, you suddenly become more aware of what might be happening. Is Donghyuck safe? Did he get in trouble?

“Donghyuck drank too much and he won’t go home, he keeps asking for you.” At that, you hand the phone back to Mya, who takes it from you with an unsure look. By the time Mya says her worried goodbyes and hangs up, she turns back to an empty dorm room, your phone snatched from your bed and your scattered shoes gone.

You must’ve made it to the auditorium in record time, not even the climb up the 109 steps could slow you down. When you reach the auditorium, you can hear Donghyuck and his friends conversing loudly and you follow their voices, which eventually leads you to the dingy backside of the auditorium. Donghyuck is sitting on the ground with the hood of his coat pulled up and covering his eye sight, arms crossed over his chest and his lips in a pout. His two friends, Renjun and the black-haired kid, stand above him. The quiet one is shivering in his spot while Renjun practically yells at Donghyuck on the ground, who doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.

“Hi, ___.” The quiet one notices you first and then all three guys turn to look at you.

“___…” Donghyuck whines out your name and tries to stand up but Renjun gently pushes him back down.

“What happened?” You ask, sniffing your nose when the harsh, cold air nips at it.

“He said he wanted to unwind before his midterms tomorrow but then he went out and had some drinks, a few too many as you can see.” Renjun explains, “We followed him here, he said he won’t go anywhere unless it’s with you.”

“It’s strange. Haechan is a good drinker, I didn’t think he would get drunk so quickly… Oh, I’m Jaemin, by the way.” He introduces himself with a bright smile, as if you weren’t just discussing the drunken state of his friend.

“I’m Renjun, I called you earlier. I promise I have a good explanation for how I know you’re Mya’s roommate, I just don’t think right now is the best time to talk about it.” Renjun explains, his hands pointing towards Donghyuck.

“Right, about him… I think you guys should leave.” Both sober men widen their eyes, looking at each other and then back at you.

“Are you sure you want to handle this yourself? He looks small, but Haechan is kind of heavy.” Jaemin warns.

“Hey!” Donghyuck speaks up, but even his verbalization sounds slurred. When he points an accusing finger at Jaemin, he sways and misses Jaemin’s figure by a whole foot, “Don’t say that kind of stuff to my girlfriend.”

At his use of the word, Jaemin and Renjun stand straight with awkwardness and you sigh, white puffs of air leaving your mouth, “Yeah, you guys should go.”

Renjun and Jaemin give you an unsure look, but turn around and leave the area anyway. Renjun sends one last look over his shoulder with a wave of his hand. You look at Donghyuck after they turn the corner, kicking his shoe gently.

“Hey, get up. How much did you drink?” You’re not actually curious about how much alcohol he consumed, you just want to know if he can even respond to simple questions.

“Babe!” He exclaims when he looks up, “Oh, not much. I could go for another round right now, actually.” His words slur together and he sways in his sitting position against the brick wall of the auditorium.

“You’re not going for another round, you’re going home. C’mon.” You grab onto the sleeve of his puffer jacket, pulling him up so that he’s standing. He immediately falls onto you, his arms around your waist and his legs spread wide so that his head is hidden in your neck.

“Hyuck, you have to walk. Get up.” You pull him up once again, putting one of his arms around your shoulders and giving him more support around his waist. Slowly, you begin to walk away from the auditorium with Donghyuck’s drunk mumbling filling the cool air. His legs barely work underneath him, and he turns his head and leans into your ear every once in a while to sing some random lyric that pops into his mind at that second, like a small concert that he allows only you to hear.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, you stop and take a long look down to the bottom, “Why did you have to come all the way up here? How are we getting down the stairs?” If you start to climb down, Donghyuck could fall and hurt himself. You’re not that strong to begin with and your shoulders are already feeling sore from carrying most of Donghyuck’s weight.

“We can ride this.” He giggles and breaks away from you, one of his legs swinging over the handrail so that he’s straddling it.

“No, no, no.” You pull him off, but his shoe gets caught against the rail and he comes falling down onto you, both of you landing on the top step of the staircase. You wince in pain at how your back hits the concrete, but you don’t think about it much as you push Donghyuck off of you and into the space next to you on the top stair.

“Oh, no. Are we stuck up here?” He asks as you brush your hands together to get rid of the little pieces of concrete in your skin.

“Yes, and it’s all your fault. What are you gonna do about it?” You reply, so sarcastically that even Donghyuck’s drunk brain registers the joke. Your heart almost leaps out of your throat when he grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him, gently picking out each little ball of cement in your palms.

“I’m sorry I keep hurting you.” He apologizes. This close, you can smell the alcohol in his breath, mixed with his shampoo and cologne. He smells warm in this cold weather, and you feel like falling into him and drinking up his scent, not even minding the alcohol stench.

“Keep hurting me?” You ask.

“Yeah, that must be why you don’t want to be with me. I have to be doing something wrong for you to hate me.” He sighs, sniffling and enclosing your hands in his, his glassy eyes looking up at you and his long hair hangs down over his forehead and tickles his eyelashes. “I’m a bad soulmate.”

The way he says it makes your heart break. It makes you feel regret 1000 times worse than what you’ve been feeling these past few weeks; as if all of the worry and sadness hit you all at once, you feel like crying.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one who hurts you? Why does it feel like you’re the only one doing the hurting?

“You’re not a bad soulmate,” It’s not Donghyuck’s fault that he got stuck with you, or that things will turn out the way that they’re destined to, “And I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” He looks up into the night sky and sways a bit as he thinks, “Then why won’t you be with me? Hm?” He tilts his head, his lips pouting as he thinks. You desperately want to find an answer that’ll soothe him, but nothing you can come up with will give you that result, the truth included.

“It’s complicated…” You trail off, and your answer makes Donghyuck snort.

“How? I’m your soulmate, you’re mine. What else matters?” He laughs incredulously.

“What if you’re not just my soulmate?” You ask him, surprising yourself with how easily you can ask the question, probably because the influence of alcohol over him has you more at ease, “What if something happens in the future? I’m just… looking out for me, and for you.” You explain, trying to sound as vague as possible.

When you glance at Donghyuck, he looks dead serious. You think that maybe he has suddenly sobered up with how deep and calculating his eyes look. One of his hands tighten around yours while the other slowly raises to your hair, pacing himself along the way, and pausing before he touches you. When you don’t stop him, he gently caresses your hair and moves it away from your face, his nimble fingers sliding to your jaw. He moves your face so that your eyes meet his.

“I know I’m drunk, but I can make this promise again when I’m sober. I’ll make this promise every single day for the rest of my life, only if it means you can be there with me to fulfill it.” The severeness in his tone is like a wake up call about how serious this is for him.

“What promise?” You whisper back.

“It’s not just a ‘you’ or just a ‘me’ now. It’s an ‘us.’ And I will do everything I can to not hurt us.”

He says it with so much conviction that you somehow believe him. You finally fall into him and rest your tired head on his shoulder as he welcomes you into his warm arms. Maybe it’s foolish of you to think you two can go against fate’s words, but with him by your side, you feel like you can conquer the whole universe.

“Stop smiling like that, you’re making it very obvious that you got laid for the first time.” Donghyuck peers over his laptop screen to Renjun, where he has had a permanent smile on his face ever since he, Donghyuck, and Jaemin met up today to study in the lounge center of their dorm building.

“You know, Haechan, I’m not even mad at that. It’s more than what I can say to you.” Renjun tries to hide his widening smile while looking down at his own laptop, but that paired with Jaemin’s quiet laughter leaves Donghyuck bitter. “Didn’t you and ___ make up?” Renjun asks.

“They were fighting? I thought they just weren’t talking to each other?” Jaemin asks.

“Isn’t that fighting?”

“Kids.” Haechan cuts them off, “Not that it’s any of your business, but we were not fighting and we did make up.”

“That makes no sense.” Jaemin mutters and squints his eyes at Donghyuck.

“I’m older than you.” Renjun retaliates, but Donghyuck pretends like he doesn’t hear.

“We’re just… taking it slow.” Donghyuck ends his explanation with a firm nod of his head, and Renjun shuts his laptop and turns to his friend.

“Can you take it slow during the Fair this weekend? I’m planning to go with Mya and accidentally bought two pairs of tickets. I’ll give you the other pair.” Renjun leans into his friend’s side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“At what cost?” Haechan leans in as well and raises an eyebrow.

“Help me with my English project.”

“No way,” Haechan leans back and focuses on his own laptop screen again, “I haven’t even started mine, I don’t have time to help you with yours.”

“Please,” Renjun draws out the word, grabbing Donghyuck’s sleeve and tugging at it so hard that he can’t properly type, “I suck at English, and unfortunately it’s the only thing that you’re better at than me.”

“The only thing?” Donghyuck glares at Renjun. “Now I’m definitely not helping you.” When Renjun whines at that Donghyuck gets a devilish idea, and it shows by the smirk on his face, “... Unless, you’d like to show us how you really need help.”

At Donghyuck’s proposition, he leans back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest while Jaemin mirrors his actions, his own goofy smile on his face as he waits for Renjun to either accept or deny the proposition, but he hopes he’ll accept it.

Renjun looks between his two friends and sighs, dropping his head down as he mentally prepares himself. When he lifts his head, he looks at Donghyuck with his lips pursed, his pointer finger over them and makes a “kyu” sound that is way higher than his original speaking voice. Jaemin and Haechan immediately burst into as quiet of laughter as they can, Jaemin reaching over the table to poke Renjun’s cheek at his cuteness.

“I never said to act cute, I just wanted you to say please again.” Donghyuck jokes through his snickering, and Renjun immediately stands up from his chair to take a fistful of Haechan’s jacket and pull back his other fist, all cuteness gone from his facial features in a split second.

“Okay, okay, sorry, sorry.” Haechan tries to pull away, his voice rising as Renjun holds onto his jacket tighter and threateningly leans in.

“Hey, quiet down.” Someone whisper-shouts from a few tables away, and it makes Renjun let go of Donghyuck and slowly sit back down. “This isn’t even a library, why are they shushing me.” He grumbles.

“You guys have fun on your date,” Jaemin sighs as he begins to put away his things, satisfied with the study session and with his friends' mischief, “I would go too, but I don’t feel like being a fifth wheel.”

Once your classes end on the day of the Fair, you and your roommate meet up with Donghyuck and Renjun outside of the Fair grounds. You and Donghyuck walk side by side, a bit behind the other couple as they lead the way, practically in their own little bubble. Your hands are shoved in your pockets to keep them from turning numb from the cold and you try to shove your head as far into your jacket as you can to keep your face and neck protected from the wind. Other than the chilly weather, it’s a perfect day for a Fair.

You don’t seem to notice Donghyuck’s predicament right beside you; he’s trying to find a way to hold your hand, but you don’t move them out of your pockets. Actually, Donghyuck is sure you’re doing this on purpose, since he has been trying to touch you the moment you met up with him tonight.

“So, what do you wanna ride first?” He asks you. After looking around the area, your eyes land on a tea cup ride, where the large cups move in circles and also spin in their spots.

“That.” You point to it. Before you can move, Donghyuck latches into your hand that was pointing into the air and pulls you to the ride, a smug smile on his face at how he succeeded in finally sharing some skin to skin contact.

The ride was, to say the least, nauseating. Not that it was disgusting, but Donghyuck wouldn’t stop spinning your individual cup around in fast circles, and you were so sure that you would fling off any second due to the strong velocity those tiny cups have when they go at full speed. However, walking off of the ride with wobbly legs and not being able to see straight was funnier than you thought it would be.

Donghyuck was actually still pretty dizzy when he tried to win a stuffed octopus for you with a dart game. However, he ended up losing $15 while trying to win the game, and you’re sure he would’ve spent more if you didn’t pull him away. After eating some good food and refilling your energy, the sun begins to set on the horizon in a colorful display of red, orange and pink, and people start to make their way to the ferris wheel.

“C’mon,” You hear Mya say from behind you, “We need to get in line first or else we’ll be waiting for half of the night.” She pulls Renjun by his sleeve and passes you and Donghyuck, practically running to the end of the growing line for the Ferris Wheel. When you see where she’s running to, you stop in your tracks which in turn makes Donghyuck stop. Your intertwined fingers pull you back to each other as he looks at you with a puzzled look.

“I’m… not good with heights.” You confess and look towards the top of the ferris wheel, shivering just at the thought of going that far up into the sky in a metal contraption, “Or small spaces…” You add on.

“That’s okay,” Donghyuck gently reassures, smiling lightly at your sudden timidness about your fears. Honestly, he’s just happy you now trust him a bit more to even tell him what you’re afraid of. “We don’t have to go. We can do something else.”

“Like what?” You ask. Donghyuck purses his lips and looks around, until a set of stairs on the edge of the fairgrounds catches his eye.

“I know a place where we can still get a good view of the sunset without going too far up.” He replies and tugs you along with him towards the set of stairs. They lead down to the park that’s nestled in the middle of your University, which eventually leads to a pedestrian bridge that crosses over a river that runs through your town.

The river isn’t that big, nor is the bridge, but it’s big enough to have your head tilting up in wonder as you gaze at the lights adorning the sides of it, lighting up not only the bridge itself by the sky as well. You’ve seen this bridge from your dorm room, but you’ve never once stood on it, and it looks remarkable from this close up.

Donghyuck continues to lead you over the pedestrian bridge onto the other side, where an outdoor museum that was constructed by art students a few years ago holds several different abstract paintings. His hand in yours, which has been it’s resting place all night, keeps yours warm. You try not to think about how your hands fit into each other like the gears of a hand-crafted watch. The lines on your palms connect with the lines on his; it’s painfully obvious he was made for you and you were made for him.

When you reach the end of the outdoor museum, you turn west and face the sunset just as it’s setting over the skyline. Even though some tall buildings obstruct the view, the colors of the sky stretch overhead and make both you and Donghyuck stand still and appreciate the artwork in the sky.

“You like these kinds of things, huh? Sunsets, and ponds, and that kind of stuff?” He suddenly asks, not talking his eyes off of the sky. You, however, turn to look at him. He has his eyes screwed as he tries to look at the sunset, obviously not liking the bright sunlight.

“You don’t?” You ask back.

“I think... there are more enjoyable things.” Donghyuck takes a while to make up his mind about what he wants, obviously trying not to make the things you enjoy sound bad to him.

“Then we should go.” You turn around, but he pulls you back to your original spot.

“We walked all this way, we’re watching this sunset even if my feet freeze to the ground.” He tightens his grip on your hand and speaks through his teeth, making you sputter out a laugh and hit his shoulder with your own lightly.

“Sometimes, I wonder why fate put us together.” You ask, watching as the sun moves bit by bit, leaving behind trails of light and the beginnings of stars and the vast universe on the other side of the sky. “We’re different. I don’t know about you, but you are not who I imagined my soulmate would be.” You speak truthfully.

Even though there are some strings attached to Donghyuck’s relationship with you, it didn’t stop you from thinking about what kind of person he’d be— what kind of person fate would pick to be your perfect fit. Maybe they would have some sort of major flaw, like an anger problem or a lack of common sense. Maybe they would be an alcoholic or someone who commits crimes.

When it came to your soulmate, you always thought of something bad considering that they were also going to hurt you in some way. You never thought that your soulmate would be someone as unique and fun as Donghyuck. Fate made it way too easy to be with him, and you’re not sure whether to feel bitter or thankful.

“Well,” He blows some air through his nose, “You’re exactly what I thought my soulmate would be like” Your heart jumps into your throat and beats irregularly when Donghyuck says that, struck with the feeling of surprise once again.

“Mark tells me you’re smart and get good grades, and I know it was you who ordered that soup for me the morning after you took me home when I got drunk. Not to mention, you went out when it was dark to take me home in the first place.” Donghyuck explains, his hand that’s still interlocked with yours waving around as he does so, “You’re willing to help others, you have a good head on your shoulders, and not to mention you guard your heart to the very end.”

“Guarding my heart… That’s an admirable quality? If I remember correctly, it caused you some pain in the past few months.” By now, the last rays of the sun are disappearing over the horizon and night begins to blanket the sky. You turn to your soulmate when he takes more than a moment to answer, watching the way his face reacts to the thoughts turning in his head.

“Yeah, it is a great quality. I think if you completely trusted me the moment you saw me on those stairs, we wouldn’t end up here now. You wouldn’t be the perfect fit for me if you loved me so easily.” He turns to you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Your interlocked fingers are basically frozen together at this point and maybe your feet really have stuck to the ground, but his words warm you up from the inside out.

“I think I would’ve fallen in love with you even if we weren’t destined to be together.”

Somehow, he manages to remind you of one very important fact that you’ve set aside since the moment you met him. You’ve always put the fact that he’s supposed to hurt you first, and the fact that he’s your soulmate second. However, he is a human and so are you, and you’re both given the opportunity to love one another wholly and truly. People die to have this type of moment. People live their whole lives without experiencing this type of emotion.

It’s time to remember that Donghyuck is your soulmate, first and foremost. He is deserving of love, and you’re now willing to give it to him.

When you pull Donghyuck into you, he feels like it may be a hallucination. Surely your lips can’t be that close to his own. But when he smells the cinnamon on your lips from that churro you had and your fingers sliding up his arm to grip his jacket, he becomes scared that this might actually be a hallucination.

You slowly lean in, almost painfully slow, but Donghyuck doesn’t dare rush you. When your lips do meet, both of you feel complete. The feeling of finishing a lifetime’s worth of work with one gentle kiss is the most delicious feeling ever, different from anything that either of you have ever experienced.

It’s slow and careful, but passionate and full of true love. No matter what happens in the future, it will always be your memory to savor and remember for the rest of your lives.

“___!” You hear Mark’s voice from your right, turning your head quickly to see him stick his hand up in the air and begin to make his way through the throngs of people between you two. You move towards him, attempting to meet in the middle, but somehow he ends up behind you, and you laugh as you attempt to meet again.

“Hey, Mark,” You look over him, noting how well he manages to pull off the choir robe that everyone else seems to look like a sack of potatoes in, “I didn’t know your concerts could get this packed. You guys could start your own group and make it big.” You look around while adjusting the flowers in your hand so they don’t get squished against your chest.

“Nah, it’s mostly just families that come to these concerts. Since there are a lot of vocal majors, there are a lot of families that show up.” He explains.

“So, what does that make me?” You joke, but Mark doesn’t seem to get it and tilts his head to the side.

“You’re Donghyuck’s girlfriend. That makes you family, right?” At the mention of your relationship, you glance down at the flowers in your hand, the flowers that are meant for the aforementioned boy. You nod, mumbling something like a ‘I guess’ before Mark looks down at his watch and sucks a breath through his teeth.

“Okay, I have to go warm up. Make sure you get a seat in the middle, that’s where it sounds best.” He gives you a quick wave as he walks away, and you manage to send one back. Before you know it, the doors to the auditorium open and people flood in to grab the best seat they can.

You barely manage to snag a seat in the middle, an older lady to your right and a grandpa to your left who seem to be unrelated and didn’t mind you sitting between them. You shrug off your coat as you look around, feeling anxiety build up in your chest. You know you don’t have anything to be anxious for, so you deduct that it’s probably Donghyuck.

He invited you to the concert today. For him, it’s part of his final grade for his vocal class and for you, it’s a chance to see him sing on stage. Strangely, he has talked about how much he loves to perform but never wants to sing in front of you. When he told you he auditioned for a solo in one of the songs, and ended up getting the part, you knew you absolutely had to come today.

Pulling out your phone, you send Donghyuck a text saying that you’re seated and that you wish him to break a leg. You see the read receipt pop up next to your text, and although he doesn’t text anything back, the anxious feeling in your chest subsides and you smile to yourself.

“Those are pretty flowers.” Turning your head to the lady on your right, you glance down at the bouquet of black-eyed susans on your lap.

“Oh, thank you.” You put your phone on silent and slip it into your pocket.

“They’re my mom’s favorite.” Your attention turns to a kid who sits on the other side of the woman. He can’t be any older than ten, and his feet don’t touch the ground as he swings them back and forth and looks up at his mother.

“Oh?” You ask, turning back to the older woman, “Would you like some?”

The woman seems to be stunned by your question, obviously not expecting you to hand over flowers at such a comment from her son. She looks almost flustered as she shakes her head at you.

“No, it’s okay. I bet those are for someone special?” She asks while nodding towards the stage.

“They’re for my… boyfriend.” You mumble, still not used to the words leaving your tongue, even though it has been more than a few weeks now.

“Then you should save them for him.” She nods and you smile back.

“But I want one.” The woman’s son pouts, and the mother nudges her foot against his leg. You laugh a bit, using your right hand to hold down the bouquet and your left to pull out a flower. Carefully, you hand it over to the little boy and he grasps it, his pout turning into a smile while he sings a ‘thank you’ and counts the petals on the flower.

The woman gives you a nod, and you all turn to face forward where the students are beginning to walk onto the stage.

The concert went well; you weren’t familiar with any of the pieces of music the choir performed, and many of them were in different languages, but you still enjoyed the performance by the many music students from your university. You managed to catch sight of Donghyuck fairly quickly, and Mark was just a few rows behind him.

Donghyuck’s solo fit his voice perfectly. Maybe you’re biased, but you think no one would be able to match his tone and technique to fit the song as perfectly as he did. Since it was the first time you heard him sing, you were a bit taken back by how amazing his voice sounds and how much control he has of it. It didn’t look like he struggled to hit the notes, and he looked like he was in his element on stage.

After the concert, you wait on the staircase outside of the auditorium building where you agreed to meet up with Donghyuck. You roll on your feet, jumping up and down slightly to keep warm. You clutch the flowers to you, scared that the cold weather might cause them to bend and begin to wilt quicker.

“Oh, it’s the flower lady!” You hear a familiar voice call out, and you turn your head to see the little boy and his mom from earlier… walking with Donghyuck? He has his choir robe hanging from one arm and his other hand intertwined with the little kid.

“Do you guys know each other?” Donghyuck asks, looking between the three of you with confusion.

“We happened to sit next to each other during the concert.” The woman explains, a grin growing on her face as she looks between you two. “This is your soulmate.” She doesn’t say it like a question, she says it plainly and nods her head in content.

“I’m sorry, did you already know who I was when we met?” You ask her.

“No, until I saw the mark on your left hand. I would recognize my own son’s mark anywhere.” Son? This is Donghyuck’s mother?! Your eyebrows must be up to your hairline and you think your mouth might be open, but you can only focus on remembering every little thing you said to her before the concert started to recall if you said anything dumb.

“Let me introduce you properly. This is ___, my soulmate and my girlfriend. ___, this is my mom, Sara, and my half-brother, Hyunjin.” Donghyuck gently takes your elbow and pulls you closer to him.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet them as if it’s the first time ever.

“Well, I like her. She gave me a flower.” Hyunjin exclaims.

“Back off, she’s mine.” Donghyuck jokes with the kid. “Thank you guys for coming today, by the way.” He continues, “I appreciate my favorite people being here for my first college performance.”

Donghyuck goes to hug his mom as she sets a kiss to his cheek that makes him cringe away slightly. However, you’re still struck to your spot from being included into Donghyuck’s group of favorite people. There’s a warm feeling in your chest at being included into something so special so early on in your relationship. There’s also some anxiety that comes with it, since promises that are made too early hurt the most, but you push the feeling away and soak in Donghyuck’s unconditional love.

After you all bid farewell to each other, and Sara and Hyunjin leave, you turn to Donghyuck with a deadpan expression, “You didn’t tell me I’d be meeting your family today.”

“Would you believe me when I say that I forgot they were coming?” He asks and you roll your eyes, not believing his words at all.

“These are for you.” You push the flowers into his chest and dig your hands into your pockets so that they can finally get warm, “Your solo was… interesting to listen to.” You say with annoyance dripping from every word.

“Thank you,” He replies cutely, not affected by your irritation. You roll your eyes again, but a smile tugs at your lips as well. “What kind of flowers are these? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them?” He asks while digging his nose into the bouquet.

“Black-eyed susans.” You reply, and Donghyuck gives you a weird look.

“That’s such a random flower.”

“They attract dragonflies.” You explain, nudging his side with your elbow. When you glance over to him, he has a smile playing on his lips.

“Should I be giving these to you, then?” He hands them over, but you push them back at him.

“No way. I’m already attracted to you.” You state, turning around to walk back down the staircase. When you don’t hear any footsteps following you, you turn around to find Donghyuck kneeling over with the flowers clutched close to him.

“Are you okay?” Alarm rises in your chest, especially when he shakes his head at your question.

“No, you just made my heart beat really fast and I’m afraid I’m gonna have a heart attack.” You would roll your eyes again, but you’re afraid they might roll out of your head at this point. You climb back up the stairs and yank on his sleeve jacket to make him walk alongside you.

“___, feel my heart. I swear it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“No, seriously, I think we should go to the hospital.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, Donghyuck loves to wake up next to you. He has always been a spread-out type of sleeper; arms to the side, legs open, laying diagonally across the bed. Once you two moved out of your dorms and moved into an apartment together during your second year of college, Donghyuck’s way of sleeping changed dramatically.

Now, he can’t help but snuggle in, wrap his arms around you, tangle his legs in with yours, and do everything he can to sleep as close as he can to you. Maybe that’s why he suddenly woke up. The absence of you next to him made him shuffle awake, missing the frame of your body next to his like how it usually fits.

He groggily opens his eyes and immediately shivers, catching the open windows in the bedroom letting in fresh, cool, morning air. Donghyuck shivers once again, blindly reaching for the blanket and wrapping it around his head and shoulders, then making his way out of the bedroom in search of you.

He checks the kitchen, but you’re not there. Then he goes to the living room, and he sees your figure outside on the balcony, the curtains that are supposed to be hanging up in your bedroom moving with the wind as they hang next to you. He tightens the blanket around him and opens the glass door. Even though you definitely heard him come outside, you don’t turn around. You have a cup of something warm next to you and you’re leaning against the balcony while staring out into the city skyline, watching the sun rise into the sky to welcome the new day.

“Good morning.” Donghyuck mumbles as softly as he can. When you mumble back a reply, he opens the front of the blanket so he can swallow you into his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder and tries to guess exactly what you’re looking at, but when he lifts his head to look at your face, your eyes are closed.

“So, do you want to tell me why our curtains are out here and not on our windows like they should be?” He rests his head against yours, also closing his eyes.

“I woke up and suddenly felt the urge to clean them, I don’t know.” You laugh a bit, making both of you move with the movement of your chest. Donghyuck smiles at your reason; one of the things he learned about you when you moved in together is that your work ethic comes in random bursts of energy, rather than carefully planned out schedules to follow. You always have a small goal for every day, and sometimes you don’t even know what it is until it randomly pops into your head. Although he doesn’t really understand how you’re able to work like that, he loves this little quirk anyway.

“Did I wake you up?” You whisper and nudge your head into Donghyuck’s, nuzzling back into him when a particularly strong gust of wind blows over the balcony.

“Not technically, no. You not being next to me woke me up.” He replies.

“Well, I’m here now. How about we sleep some more?” You ask, leaning back against him and looking at his face.

“Best thing I’ve heard today.” He sighs. Without letting you out of his blanket trap, he walks you both back into the apartment and into your bedroom, both of you beginning to giggle at one point when you almost trip over the blanket and crash into the ground.

Thankfully, you both made it back safely to the bed, falling into the soft mattress. Immediately, Donghyuck gathers you in his arms and cuddles you to him, almost like he’s latching onto you. You wrap your arms around him slowly and lean into his shoulder, placing a kiss against his collarbone. You were going to stop there, but when he lets out a whimper at the small press of your lips to his skin, you continue moving up his neck.

When you reach the space underneath his ear, he twitches at how you suck on the sensitive skin, not expecting you to pay closer attention there. His hand slides over your back, between your shoulder blades, and back down, pressing you to him as he caresses you and silently hopes you don’t stop what you’ve started.

You don’t seem to have any intention to do that when you lean back, looking up at Donghyuck’s big, round eyes as they stare down hazily at you and quickly connecting your lips. He kisses back slowly, as if taking his sweet, sweet time in loving you.

“I thought we were supposed to sleep?” You ask between kisses.

“We can sleep later…” He trails off, grabbing your hand and pulling you on top of him so that you’re straddling his hips. “... If you’re really tired we don’t have to.” He suddenly pulls away, his hand comfortably resting over your waist.

“No way. It’s too late for that.” You answer, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the other side of the bed. A chill runs through you at the cold temperature in the room, goosebumps forming over your arms and your nipples hardening. Donghyuck wraps his arms around your middle and presses a kiss in the valley of your chest, moving over until he reaches your left nipple and taking it into his mouth.

Biting your lip, your hands find his hair and tug on the long strands. Donghyuck’s hands squeeze your sides and his fingers draw random, little lines over your bare skin as he sucks and plays with your nipples, switching between each one.

“Hyuck…” You whine, giving a particularly sharp tug to his hair when he bites down onto your right nipple. “Please…” You trail off.

“Hmm? Please what? What do you want.” He leans back and looks up at you. You comb your fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his face and behind his ears. His eyes are clouded and hooded over by the thoughts of you that are speeding through his mind.

“Please, make love to me.” You say it shyly, your eyes looking over his face but not meeting his own. He can’t help but smile at your timidness. You act like it’s the first time those words came out of your mouth. He can’t help but find it endearing how you ask him to make love to you every single time you find yourselves in this position.

“Of course, anything for you.” He connects your lips again, keeping the slow and steady pace from before. He shifts around as he moves his boxers away. Breaking the kiss, you move his hands away and pump his shaft, glancing up at him as he leans back with his weight on his hands and his head leaning back.

He lets out whines every time you twist your wrist, and you almost want to take a moment and stay this way, loving the sounds coming from Donghyuck’s mouth and how he looks as he pants beneath you. However, the tension growing between your legs makes you stop and sit up, pulling off your own pajama bottoms and underwear, throwing them somewhere along with your shirt.

Donghyuck grips your hips with one hand, the other pressing his middle finger to your slick folds, watching you squirm from above as he slides his finger through slowly.

“Just— Can you just do something already?” You almost whine out, grabbing onto his arm hard enough that you leave crescent moons in his skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” With your permission, Donghyuck positions himself at your entrance and slowly brings your hips down, watching your reaction throughout it all. The way your jaw slacks and drops open to the way you swallow when your hips meet with his, closing your eyes in pleasure at how he manages to fit inside you so perfectly. When everyone says your soulmate is made specifically for you, they really do mean in every way possible.

You sit like that for a moment, before opening your eyes and looking at your lover. He helps you move your hips up and back down, you let out a gsap at the sparks that fly up your spine. Your hips start to move in unison, yours grinding down and his moving up to meet yours in a steady rhythm, like a dance to music only you two can hear.

Your nails hurt when they move over his shoulders and chest, leaving temporary marks, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind. Actually, he loves it when you tug on his hair and scratch up his back, his whines turning into full out groans when you lean in and attach your lips to the side of his neck, pressing hot kisses down to his collarbone and biting down gently in the same place this whole situation started.

“H-Hyuck, I—” Before you know it, you’re so close to your orgasm, it’s basically right in front of you to reach out and accept.

“I know, baby, I know. You can come, I got you.” He answers back messily, using the last of his energy to keep your hips in place and drive himself into you. You let out a shriek at the sudden pleasure, only a few more deep thrusts into your hole and you’re falling over him as your orgasm spreads to every crevice of your body.

Donghyuck loves the way your muscles seize and flutter around him, making him pant and his thrusts become sloppy as he comes as well, his warm seed filling you up as he rides through his high. You both fall into the mattress below, you on top of Donghyuck, too tired to roll over and opting to just rest on his sweaty chest.

“I think that was way better than sleeping.” He says, his chest rumbling underneath you as he speaks.

“What a good way to tire ourselves out.” You yawn.

In the last few moments before your tired bodies fall asleep, you find Donghyuck’s hand and intertwine your fingers together, happily and contently falling asleep with the fresh air coming through the window and the sunlight now fully streaming into the room.

In the late summer before your and Donghyuck’s last year of university, you attend a wedding. Not just any wedding: Yuqi and Lucas’ wedding.

Although the ceremony is held outside, there’s a nice breeze that keeps the guests from getting too hot and sweaty in the summer sun. The whole wedding is held in a botanical garden and the place is decorated in white and purple, lilacs and daisies filling vases everywhere you go and freshening the air with their scent.

You and Donghyuck walk into the room inside the administrative building that’s designated for the bride. Yuqi is there, her face shining brightly with happiness and a glow that can’t be stolen from her today.

When you walk in, you let out a sound of delight at how pretty your college friend looks in her wedding dress, taking note of the chamomile flowers that adorn her hairpiece.

“Ah, I can’t believe you’re here.” She all but shrieks, embracing you tightly with her small bouquet still in her hands. After she gives Donghyuck a small, welcoming hug, she backs away to look at both of you.

“You look amazing today, I can’t believe you’re actually getting married. Congratulations.” You say sincerely.

“I can’t believe it either, actually. I feel like we’ve been planning this for forever, and now the day is finally here.” She recalls, a blissful look in her eyes even though you’re aware of how much stress she has had during the past few months over this one day.

“Are you nervous?” Donghyuck asks and you nudge his side and send him a look for asking a question like that.

“No, I’m not,” Yuqi laughs, “I feel one hundred percent happy. Like I’m starting the next part of my life with the one I love.”

“I’m glad you can spend the rest of your life with your soulmate, you’re definitely luckier than most.” You muse, and she suddenly softens her expression and takes your hand in hers, gently holding onto you.

“I’m not marrying my soulmate. I’m marrying the one I love. It just happens to be the same person.”

After bidding your farewells and good lucks, you and Donghyuck walk out of the room and head to where the ceremony will be held. He pulls out of sunglasses, propping them on the edge of his nose, and then grabbing your hand and strolling through the exhibits on the way to the ceremony grounds.

Yuqi’s words ring in your head throughout the peaceful walk, specifically how happy she looked to be marrying the one she loves. Somehow, you never thought about separating soulmate from lover; those two people have always been one in your head. You always thought that there can’t be a soulmate without a lover, and there can’t be a lover without a soulmate.

But the moment with Yuqi reminded you of the first time Donghyuck properly confessed to you, the words you can still hear floating through your head whenever your mind wanders off and thinks about him.

“I think I would’ve fallen in love with you even if we weren’t destined to be together.”

Maybe Donghyuck has been wiser than you this whole time. Not that you’d ever admit that to his face, unless you’d like to hear about it at least three times a week for the rest of your life.

Every memory— every year that has passed by with Donghyuck has only grown the idea of soulmate and lover further apart in your mind, and it took the matrimony of your close friends to realize it. You don’t think it’s a bad thing; in fact, you’re lucky that you can call your lover and your soulmate the same person.

You feel something tugging at your hand, and when you look over at your lover, he looks at you expectedly.

“Huh?” You say, dumbfounded since you’ve been in your own little world for who knows how long. Donghyuck laughs, bending over a bit at the funny, bewildered look on your face before straightening up and looking over to you again.

“I said, what colors should we do for our wedding? I personally think I look good in red, but I’m sure we can figure out something less contrasting.” He explains nonchalantly, you realize he’s kicking a random pebble around as you walk. Looking around, confused out of your mind, you turn back to him.

“Are we getting married?”

“Well, yeah,” He does something between a laugh and a scoff before leaning next to you, a serious look that permeates through the shade of his sunglasses, “You do want to marry me, right?”

Your brain is in a complete fritz. If you had a whole day to think about this you could maybe make up a sentence that resembles a sophisticated answer, but you can only shrug.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Donghyuck stops walking, “I just asked you if you want to get married, and you reply with ‘uh, yeah, I guess.’” He mocks your tone and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“This is the first time we’ve ever talked about this and I got nervous.” You explain, making him relax and stand in front of you with his hands leisurely resting in his pockets. “Of course, someday I would like to marry you. I guess you’re… tolerable.” Donghyuck pushes you away from him and quickly walks down the path, twice as fast as he was walking before. You laugh and follow him, running slightly to catch up.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you like to leave a wish for the happy couple?” A sudden voice stops you, making you turn back around. A man stands with a camera, looking at you expectedly.

“Uh, how?” You look from the camera and back up to him.

“I’ll take your picture. You can write a wish on it and hang it up over there.” He points to the dozens of polaroids already hung up a few feet away, random people posing in the photographs with different color writing on every picture.

“Let’s do it.” Donghyuck comes up behind you, no doubt catching the last part of what the photographer said and pushing you lightly over to where there’s better lighting while taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt. The photographer asks you to pose, and you and Donghyuck smile for the camera, your eyes slightly shut due to the sun beating down on top of you.

“Great, how about one more for yourselves?” The photographer asks as he waits for the photograph to develop and you agree. This time, Donghyuck wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer so that your back is against his chest. You feel him rest his cheek on your head and drape his other arm around your front. You grab onto his forearm, not knowing what to do with your hands, and then suddenly the picture is taken and the photographer hands over both of the developed photos.

You take the second picture out of Donghyuck’s hands, not being able to look away. The sun seems to hit both of you just right, and the slight candidness of the photo adds another layer of reality to the picture. Donghyuck has a small smile while his cheek is slightly squished against your head, but he still looks as handsome as ever.

“What wish should we leave them?” He asks, picking up a golden sharpie from the table nearby, somehow already having his sunglasses back on.

“Maybe just… Congratulations on getting married?” You suggest.

“And a million other people will have the same thing. We need to be memorable.” He stresses and taps the end of the sharpie against his head. “What do you wish for Lucas and Yuqi?”

“I wish…” You think about it for a moment, “For them to have a lifetime of memories that they can share until the very end.” You nod.

“Oh?” Donghyuck looks at you, “When did you become a poet?” He asks as he writes that down at the bottom of the first picture.

“I’ve always been like this. I’m glad you just now figured it out.” You reply sarcastically, to which Donghyuck replies back with his own sarcastic laugh. He hangs up your picture close to where Mark and Xiaojun hung up their’s, and then turns back around.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” He pushes up his sunglasses with his ring finger and thumb, walking with swagger towards the ceremony and grabbing your hand while he’s passing by.

“If you’re going to be like this at our wedding, maybe I’ll have to change my mind…”

For one today being one of the most awaited days of your life, it started out pretty regularly.

You wake up from the ringing of your alarm, get ready, and go to your classes for the day. You had breakfast before you left, and lunch right before your last class of the day. Even work was boring as usual, but nothing beat going to the store afterwards.

When you got to the aisle filled with shoes, you were first puzzled by how many options there are. So many colors and styles, you didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed and accidentally spent almost an hour just looking at every individual pair. This had to be perfect. This was going to be a memory that you thought about for the rest of your life.

You call Donghyuck when you approach your front door, he answers almost immediately.

“Hey, love, what’s up?” He yawns through the words, and you can’t help but smile as you look down at the bag in your hands.

“Oh, I was just wondering when you’ll be home.” You open the front door and shut it behind you, taking off your shoes.

“I’m right outside of our building. Did you just get home?” He asks, no doubt hearing the front door from your side of the line.

“I’ll talk to you when you get up here then, see you.” You send a kiss through the phone and abruptly end the call. If Donghyuck is right outside of the building he’ll be up to your apartment in just a few minutes.

You drop the rest of your things down at the front door and hurry into the kitchen, setting down the small white bag with a lace bow on top in the middle of the kitchen table, clearing the table of anything else. You slide into a seat at the table, fixing your clothes nervously as you hear the front door open. Not even a few seconds later, Donghyuck walks into the kitchen, his eyes moving from you to the white bag and back to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, dead serious. Your nerves and anxiety, and maybe even some fear, must be strong enough for him to feel. You shake your head and pat the chair next to you. Donghyuck takes a seat, he came through the door so quickly that he didn’t even take his shoes or his jacket off yet.

“Open the bag.” You can’t help the excited smile and small clap of your hands as he reaches out and holds the bag. He gives you a quizzical look, but you only nod to encourage him.

Donghyuck unties the lace ribbon, looking down into the bag for a few moments. You can’t read his face and you can’t feel any emotions from him, and your anxiety grows tenfold. He reaches in and pulls out the little shoes, a light blue color with white stitching. They’re so small, they can sit in Donghuck’s hand perfectly.

“What are these?” He asks, still looking at the shoes in his hand.

“Well, they’re shoes… For babies. For our baby.”

At your reply, he does nothing. He doesn’t react at all, which only worsens your nerves and makes your leg twitch up and down as you wait for him to say something. He swallows and sets the shoes on the table, still looking at then with a blank expression.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah…” You reply, reaching out to put a hand over Donghyuck’s, “Say something.”

“I’m not sure what to say, this is very… sudden.” He tilts his head. Your stomach drops at the lack of emotion in his voice. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was not this stoic expression in his face. Whatever traces of a smile that you had on your lips vanishes and you grip his hand tighter.

“I know this is not what we had planned. I know this is kind of… not good timing, since we’re still in school and not married, yet. But this is what fate had planned for us, I guess?” You’re not sure if you’re trying to console him or convince him, but the icky feeling in your stomach tells you Donghyuck’s reaction to the situation is not good.

“Yeah, fate did us real good.” Donghyuck replies sarcastically and you drop your hands from his, resting them in your lap. You can see the tears forming in his eyes even when he tries to look away from you, and you can feel the fear that’s boiling and overflowing inside him.

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too. But we can get through this to—” You’re suddenly cut off by Donghyuck standing up abruptly.

“I’m not scared. I’m worried.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I’m worried that I won’t be able to support this kid. I’m worried I won’t be able to be here for you through it all. I’m so worried I’m going to end up like my father that I feel like it’s going to eat me alive.” He runs his hands through his hair, pulling his head back as he looks at the ceiling and paces around the kitchen.

“I never knew your father, but from what you told me, you’re nothing like him.” You stand up too, your legs feeling like jello.

“No, you don’t understand. What if I say something wrong and ruin this kid’s life like my father did to me? What if I can’t find a job after we graduate? Are you going to support all three of us? I can’t let you live like my mom did, it was too hard to watch back then and it’ll be even harder to watch now.” He suddenly stops, not giving you a chance to speak as he looks from you, to the little shoes, and back to you. “I can’t.”

“You… can’t what?” There’s panic rising in your voice as he shakes his head and backs away.

“I can’t be here, not around you or this baby. I won’t be a good father.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving you standing dumbfounded with tears brimming in your eyes. You move to the front door, watching at Donghyuck’s shaking hands pick up his keys and wallet.

“Are you leaving me? Right now?” He doesn’t look at you and he doesn’t answer, opening the door, “Wait!” You cry out. He stops, his shoulders tense and his hand clenching the doorknob.

“What about that promise you made me? Huh? You said that it’s not just a ‘you’ or a ‘me’ now. It’s an ‘us.’ You said you’ll do everything you can to not hurt us.” You ask, recalling the promise Donghyuck made back when you two were young college students, and a promise he has repeated and vowed to you over and over again every time your relationship got into a rough patch.

“I think… that what I’m doing is what’s best for us. It’ll be better if I wasn’t here. ___...” He looks back at your teary eyed figure with one last look of regret, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” And with that, he closes the door, leaving you all alone in your cold and dark apartment.

You jumped off of the bridge. You jumped off a while ago, actually, but the fall took longer than you expected. You thought Donghyuck would be there to catch you at the bottom, but he’s nowhere to be seen now. The fall was peaceful and enjoyable, a soft limbo between making the hardest decision in your life and the ultimate consequence of that decision. The fall was long and made you feel faux comfort, so when you reached the very end, it ended up hurting a lot worse. You knew jumping off of a bridge would kill you, so why did you jump?

You’re not sure how long you stand by the front door, but it’s long enough that the sun sets outside and the room turns dark. You stare at the door, waiting for Donghyuck to come back. You wait for the door to open and for him to run through, hugging you and whispering that he’ll be here for you. You can only walk up to the door and slide down onto your knees, your forehead pressed against the cool wood as you wait.

Tears run down your cheeks silently, your eyes red and your head hurts. You keep your forehead pressed against the door for the whole night, waiting for him to come back. You wait, and wait, and wait. Donghyuck never comes back.

Your heart rips open from pain, it feels like it’s bleeding onto the floor in front of you. Your mind is numb from any other emotion, your body is cold from sitting on the floor, but you can’t get yourself to stand up. That’s when you realize, this is it. This is how Donghyuck hurts you.

What a sick and twisted way for fate to finally serve up her plan. You almost forgot who Donghyuck is supposed to be; the one who loves you, and the one who hurts you the most.

— read epilogue here

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shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years ago

Text

Can’t Get You Out of my Head

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: Bakugo seemed to hate you. With the way you'd just keep on talking, filling his ears with nonsense for hours on end, you thought he must, especially with the way he always yells at you. The truth was, Bakugo couldn’t keep you out of his mind. Like a virus, you plagued his thoughts 24/7. Fuck, sometimes he wishes you’d just shut up and stop hanging around him, because maybe then he could finally forget about you. But no, you just have to be around every corner, waiting for him like a puppy with the rest of his friend group.

Cw: Slight degradation

Word Count: 2k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“Hey guys! Did you wanna head down to the new coffee shop later? I know Kiri likes iced coffee, and Denki likes the seasonal drinks, probably the peppermint mocha this time, and Katsuki, don’t you like-”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up? ‘So fuckin’ annoying.” He spat back at you in his usual angry tone. You were used to it, but no matter how many times he talked back to you, it still hurt.

The truth was, Bakugo couldn’t keep you out of his mind. Like a virus, you plagued his thoughts 24/7. He didn’t even know what it was about you, either. Your stupid skills you pull out of your ass, the way you just keep on talking with that sweet, quiet tone.. Fuck, sometimes he wishes you’d just shut up and stop hanging around him, because maybe then he could finally forget about you. But no, you just have to be around every corner, waiting for him like a puppy with the rest of his friend group.

“C’mon Bakugo, Y/N and us were going to the mall later, you should come with!” Kirishima beamed happily.

“Did she tell you to come ask because she knows I’d say yes?”

“No, why? I just want you to come, you never do anything fun with us!”

“Well if she’s going, no fucking way,” Bakugo replied, “can’t stand her bratty fucking voice anyways.”

“Hey, C’mon man, she’s your friend, don’t say stuff like that!”

“She ain’t my fuckin’ friend, shitty hair. She’s just an extra who follows me around.” He tsks. When Kirishima came back empty handed, you were a bit disappointed. You really thought Bakugo would be joining you guys this time.

“Hold on, lemme go ask.” You say, shying away from the group to find Bakugo slumped on the couch.

“Hey, Katsuki!” You say.

“What?”

“I know Kirishima already asked, but do you want to come to the mall with us?”

“You already know my fucking answer. You think you askin’ll make it any different?”

“S-Sorry, I just wanted to ask again..” you tilt your head down, trying to hide your hurt expression.

“Wipe that goddamn look off your face, ‘makes you look even uglier.” You wiped your face of any emotion and looked back at the group.

“Okay well, just thought I’d ask…” you say in that quiet, shy voice he loves so much.

“I think I’m just gunna stay home today, sorry for bailing right before our plans..” you say once heading back over to the group. They know it’s because of something Bakugo said, but they didn’t fight you on it. You head back to your room and sit in front of your mirror. Did he really think you were ugly? It’s not like his opinions mattered to you, but his words just hurt- cut through you like a knife. You wiped the lonesome tear rolling down your cheek away, collecting yourself with a deep breath. Maybe staying in your room for the night would be better anyways. You had some projects to finish, so you could busy yourself.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was bored as hell, and like usual, the only thing coming to his mind was you. You just listened to him and obeyed his orders like a dog. The look you had when he degraded you made his cock throb. Why was he feeling like this? He didn’t have time to fall in love with some fucking extra. Still, your face was clouding his mind. He can’t keep going if this was going to keep being a problem.

You hear a knock on your door and you hoped it was the others returning from the mall. You opened the door to see Bakugo, though, and you immediately shifted your vision to the ground.

“Did you need something, Katsuki?”

“You gunna let me in or keep bein’ rude?” he huffs. You stand aside and let him slip past. He sprawls himself out on your bed, ignorant to the papers you had laid out on there.

“D-Did you need something?” you repeat.

“C’mere,” Bakugo pats his lap.

“Huh?” There it was again, that deer- in the headlights look you always gave him.

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” He barked, looking down on you with furrowed brows. You shuffled to the bed and hesitantly took a seat on his lap.

“Damn, you’re heavy; lucky I’m so strong or else you would’ve broken a bone.” He sighs.

“Listen Katsuki, if you just came here to make fun of me, please leave. I can’t deal with it today..” You say, biting your lip to hold back tears. He just couldn't wait anymore, he had to have you. Bakugo tossed you down on the bed and straddled you, arms at your side pinning you in.

“K-Katsuki?” Your breath was shallow.

“Oh just shut up,” he said, ending his words with a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. He bit your bottom lip, pulling at it and you opened your mouth. His tongue darted in, dominating the space inside. He only let you up for air when he heard a tiny whimper come from you. You gasped, gulping in as much air as you could. He chuckled at you, finding it oh so cute how your demeanor changed so quickly. His face was inches away from yours, examining your soft features up close. Everything was happening so fat, you didn’t have time to think. Just a few hours ago he was yelling at you and being rude, and now he’s kissing you like he was your lover. It made you confused, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt, how natural it felt.

“Katsuki, more..” you begged, tugging at his shirt while leaning up into his face for another kiss. Were you trying to make him devour you? Because it was working. Bakugo’s hand found the back of your head, keeping you trapped in his kiss. You could feel the smirk plastered across his face, the one that always made you roll your eyes when he wasn’t looking. His kiss was rough in contrast to his soft lips; you felt like you were melting every time they connected with your own. Tiny groans left you as the kiss intensified. You weren’t used to seeing this side of him- no one was. He was softer, but still intimidating and dominant. Bakugo could feel how stiff he was becoming in his pants, but tried controlling himself so as to not scare you. He moved down to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot and earning the prettiest mewl, taking mental note of it. Admiring his work, his tongue trailed over the dark purple hickey forming, leaving a small string of saliva when he backed up.

“Such a fuckin’ pretty slut, eh?” He says, brushing the hair away from your face.

“But you said earlier that I was ugly..”

“Tch, can’t have you gettin’ full of yourself now, can we?” He replied, pinching your cheek. He straddled your lap, hands roaming your plush body, gripping at any bit of you he could. He hoped you didn’t sense how desperate he was to sink his cock into you, but his poker face was letting up the more he touched you. “Fuck, I shoulda done this way sooner,” he huffs under his breath as he ripped your shirt up above your head. With calloused hands, he squeezed your boobs, thumbs rolling over your pebbled nipples. You let out a breathy whine, back slightly arching at the sensation. You were still confused as to why he was doing all of this- in your eyes, he hated you, but that couldn’t be the case, not when his cock was digging into your thigh. Bakugo latched on to one of your nipples and you grabbed his hair, brushing your fingers through the tangled blonde with shut eyes.

The more Bakugo grinded into your leg, the more desperate you were getting, squeezing your thighs together for some sort of relief.

“You gettin’ needy, slut?” he laughs, crimson eyes locked onto yours. All you could manage was a weak nod, pushing at his arm to travel further down. He gets the hint, his large land cupping your sex and feeling your wetness. “Such a whore- Y’ feel how wet you are for me? Pathetic.” Bakugo shifts down, prying your pants off and legs open. He pulls his own down just enough for his cock to spring free, rubbing it along your folds. “Need me to prep ya?”

“N-No ,just want it now.. Please..” You say softly, cheeks turning a bright pink from embarrassment.

“Good.” He says. Bakugo lined himself up to your needy hole and plunged in, giving you a second to collect yourself. You immediately clenched around him, his cock hitting deep enough to hit against your sensitive spot without even moving. When your breath calmed is when his hips began thrusting at an unruly pace, knocking the wind from the both of you.

“So good, keep going ‘Suki,” you cry. His hand wraps around your throat, “whores don’t ask for more- they take what’s given to them. Be a good whore for me, ‘kay pretty girl?” He says, demanding more than a question. Your hands wrap around his arm that’s cutting off airflow weakly, and your noises are reduced to tiny squeaks.

“That’s fucking hot..” Bakugo mutters as he leans down to kiss you. The slight position change gives him a better angle to slam into your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix. The roll of his hips had you mind fogging over, clouded with new sensations that you’d surely be thinking about for weeks. He moaned into your mouth when he felt you tighten around him more. He couldn’t get enough of your pussy, it’s like it was made for him and him only.

“I bet you’ve thought about this before, haven’t you? Your little bully wrecking your insides, havin’ you moan like a hooker?” he teased, to which all you could do was nod. Your legs hooked around his hips, his broad chest pinning you underneath him.

“Katsuki, mmf, M’ close!” you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you focused on that feeling bubbling to the surface.

“Look at me.” he said, lust coating his words as he gripped your chin. You shyly opened your eyes to stare back at him, getting lost in them as you came undone. Bakugo groaned when your walls fluttered and gushed around him, sucking him in even more as he continued fucking you through your orgasm.

You didn’t have time to calm down before the next one was hitting you, and the only warning your gave him was a faint, “‘Suki,, again, m’ cumm-”

“Shh sh,” he hushed you, cupping your face with both hands, “Cum for me again, princess, I know you can.” His whole strong demeanor was washed away by how soft you were, how sweet your pussy was to him, begging for more even after you just came. He wondered how many times he could pull this sultry reaction out of you. The second time you came, you moaned even louder than the first, and he was sure the others in the dorms could hear what was going on. The thought brought Bakugo over the edge. He pulled out, jerking himself a few times before cumming all over your chest that was heaving up and down from the pleasure you hadn’t felt in ages.

“Such a pretty mess, all for me,” he hums, massaging his cum into your tits, making an absolute mess of you. You muttered out a quiet ‘thank you’ after the both of you cooled off. He slumped down beside you and pulled you closer.

“We should probably get cleaned up, Katsuki, the others will probably be coming back soon, too.”

“Why get cleaned up? You didn’t think I’d be satisfied with you only cummin’ twice, right?”

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #Bakugo x y/n #Katsuki Bakugo #cw: degradation #bakugo smut #bakguo thirst #mha #bnha #katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki thirst

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rcksmith · 4 years ago

Text

I want to do bad things with you — Five Hargreeves

Request: “6 from fluff and 4 and 8 from smut list for five hargreeves?”

Fluff Prompts:

6. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

Smut Prompts;

4. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

8. “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope it got close to what you wanted. ❤️ This is a heavy smut, I was in a bad mood, sorry jsnsjsnsjsn.

Guys, I really understand who doesn't feel comfortable reading or writing Five's smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words and bad smuut.

— — — — —

Five Hargreeves were many adjectives. Genius, superhero, handsome, dangerous, sinic, arrogant, born leader, among other things. His energy was intense and mysterious, and looking him for too long was like facing the stormy sea: dangerous and risky, but extremely fascinating.

He carried many adjectives on his back, is truth, and domineering was one of them. His life was a constant line of stress, problems and exasperation, Five felt irritated most of the time, so relieving all that stress in sex was... it was fucking good.

Normally, his emotions were always on a tight leash, under iron control. Five was composed, controlled, taking everything rationally. Even in sex, when he vented all his anger, he was conscious. Until you show up.

You were a little, sweet, lyrical little thing and... fuck, you had an angel face that made Five clench his jaw as soon as he laid eyes on you. And then controlling yourself became a much more difficult task. You had a cunning, catlike look, but an face so pure that it hooked Five into the his soul.

He couldn't get involved with you, he repeated that every fucking day. Five could barely look in your direction without wanting to hold your angel face and kiss you with the fury of hell. Five wanted to fold you in front of him, slap your ass until you blush and hear you whimpering his name. He wanted to do all the dark things in his mind to break your doll energy.

Five Hargreeves was many things, but the irony of all was how they swayed when he fell in love with you. It was inevitable. Over the months, while trying to control his thoughts, he found himself admiring your intelligence and sense of humor. He started to notice how you loved sweet tea and had headaches when you had coffee, which is why he started to leave a migraine medicine in the kitchen if you needed to.

With the days, Five now hid his smile when you laughed at something stupid and admired how the world seemed sweeter when you were happy.

And that's when he kissed you. And his whole view changed. When he held your face between his hands and tasted your lips, Five felt like he was touching Egyptian crystal, and then the urge to protect you was born. He didn't want anything or anyone to hurt you, anyway. Five touched you so delicately and made sure that nothing bothered you.

So that's when you two slept together. Fuck, it was so fucking hard for him. Extraordinarily difficult because Five wanted to make you scream and fuck you so hard. It was difficult as hell because he wanted to hit your ass and thigh so hard that he could see the marks tomorrow. And... son of a bitch, even though you moaned and squirmed, you looked like a fucking angel. And the desire to desecrate something so pure became even bigger.

And that was why he avoided touching you during those hours. He kept his hands on the mattress, on the headboard, on the walls or on the pillows, avoided touching you as much as possible. Because Five knew... it was already too hard not to fuck you rough, hard and intense, if he touched you... it would be the end. He didn't even want to kiss you too much, or suck on your skin, because one thing would lead to another and... God, you fucked his mind!

It was after a few months that he realized he loved you. And your relationship will become even more serious.

"I love you so much.” You whispered on his lips one day, with the cold and rain falling outside, and you curled in him up like a pet.

Five nodded, him lips on you forehead, brushing them there as appreciated what that phrase did to him. You two had already said that a few months ago, but you loved to keep repeating it and Five appreciated how right the universe felt when you said that.

“I'm going to marry you one day.” He sighed through your hair, lowering lips to yours before receiving your ecstatic and passionate screams.

But the more love grew in you two, the more hunger, lust and sin grew within Five too. Was like a wild beast, hitting the bars of the cage, almost breaking what kept under control. And controlle herself started to be physically painful. So he tried to put out that blazing fire.

Seeing you naked has become excruciating torture. Five fidgeted uneasily whenever you changed in front of him, took off the towel after a shower. But the worst was when you two had sex. Fucking you, feeling you pulsing, squirming, totally submissive to his whims, made Five have to acquire phenomenal self-control. Although Five exhibited a cold, arrogant and confident personality, everything inside him became a boiling volcano when you appeared.

“Baby…” That was when Five heard you purring, you had just come out of the shower, a short white towel covering your body.

When Five looked at you, and saw you walking towards him, he pulse reached alarming levels. Normally, Five always managed to keep his impulses under control, even though it was an overwhelming endeavor. But not today.

Oh, he was far from being in control. Your doe eyes looked at him docilely and Five felt again the overwhelming appetite to take you so badly.

God, he needed to break you…

You didn't make it easy for Five either. Oblivious to the internal battle within him, you sat on his lap, supporting your legs on either side of his hips, with the towel rising to the top of your thighs and your bare skin sitting on his already pulsating member.

Five snarled softly, hands tightly squeezing the bed sheet, your body pulsing beneath his. He felt hot as if were in the Sahara desert.

“You are so tense.” Your voice was velvety, soft, and you brought your lips to his neck. And that was too much.

“Y/N..” Was a warning.

“Something wrong?” You pulled your face back enough to look at him.

Five shook his head, hands still clutching the sheets. You followed that gesture with your eyes, and started connecting the pieces second by second.

It was no longer today that your felt him controlling himself. Moments he didn't want to touch you at all while he fucked you, like you were a hot iron. Days when he forced a little more force into the way he kissed you and then completely backed down.

“I've been noticing a few things lately...” You commented, the left index finger playing with his uniform “I noticed that you have ... controlled yourself, as if you were holding something.”

And then you looked into his eyes, and what you saw in the green sockets was a lust so fervent that you felt yourself losing breath.

“Y/N...” the voice was still hoarse, a ring signaling his warning as well “I ... I won't be able to talk about this with you.”

“Why not?” You didn't know exactly what the problem was, how deep it went, but you knew something was going on. “I did something? Or are you more stressed? ”

“You did not do anything.” He assured you, and as he saw in your eyes that you would not let the matter pass, because you were determined as hell, Five sighed deeply. “It with me. It has nothing to do with you, I just... I like to do more... rough things. "

You were watching him closely, the direction of the conversation was pleasing to you... It wasn't today that you knew your own tastes, and something brutalized and stronger was exactly what you liked. But Five was always so controlled, so reserved, that you were still looking for an opening to bring it up.

Five must have noticed that your eyes took on a different glow, and he looked at you as if he suspected.

“Why that look?” His little corner smile made you smile too.

“ I didn't know you liked things like that.” Five raised an eyebrow at you, the little smile still on his face. “Is that why you have been controlling yourself?”

Five had to take a deep breath, hands going to your waist under the towel, in a soft, controlled touch. But his hands were stiff, you felt it.

“I do not want to hurt you.” He was succinct “I have more aggressive, brutal desires, and I don't want to take it out on you.”

Oh, you were really enjoying the conversation.

You let out a low chuckle, playing with your index finger on the lapel of his uniform.

“Like ... hit me and stuff?” Then you felt his grip tighten on your waist, his jaw tighten.

Five looked at you with a clear warning that you were walking in rough waters. That it was better for you to stop here. He could barely cope with his own thoughts about it, let alone hear you say those things with that fucking angelic voice of yours.

"What if I wanted to?” Now your eyes were bright with amusement and anticipation.

“You can't tell me these things” His grip got stronger, his eyes more fierce, the energy more irritable “Even more naked in my lap.”

Five might be covered in clothes, but he could feel your hot pussy under him, the soft skin of your thighs around his waist, your breasts a touch away... Damn, it was too much for him!

“I mean it.” You ran your fingers through his hair, resting your hands behind the back of his neck. “I like something hard too, if you are willing to try this on me, I would like us to do it. You are always so focused... I would love to see you more out of control. ”

Five kept his eyes on you, as if he were looking for some hesitation in you. But he found none. Just shared desire.

God help him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.” He wanted to warn you, he wanted you to know it was a path of no return. Five could destroy you and him wanted you to know that.

“Yes.” You agreed “I want it so much.”

Suddenly, something in the air seemed to change. Everything became rarer, more caustic and crackling. Five's intensity had reached extremely high levels and he looked at you as if you were the prey on a night hunt. Five pulled harder on your towel, freeing your naked body. He gasped, his eyes fixed on you.

“Say red when you want me to stop.”

You were going to say something, but he didn't give you a chance. His hungry lips stuck to yours. It was a controlling kiss, drowning out you surprised moan. Five stood with you on his lap and threw you on your back on the mattress. You gasped, your naked body exposed on his bed, given over to all the profane fantasies he had in mind. Seeing you there, submissive, destroyed all the control he had.

Oh he was going to destroy you.

Five remained standing, pulled your legs over the edge of the bed and opened them aggressively. You let out a heavy breath, the core pulsing. God, seeing that made him rock hard.

Five leaned over your body, pressing his lips in you before moving to your breasts, sucking on aching nipple, squeezing the other in a heavy touch. His hands left you for a second before him straightened up and removed he blazer and sweater from the academy, his nimble hands pulled the tie knot fiercely, tearing the piece of silk from his neck.

“Be quiet for me, dear.” Five put your hands together, tying your fists with the tie and tying the tie to the headboard.

You bit your lip, your body fidgeting for him, the core throbbing. Five had barely touched you and you were already pulsing for him.

“You are so needy.”

Without warning, he was leaning over you, him lips on yours, his hands roaming your body in a rough touch, his mouth pinching your lips. And everything started to get heavy after that point. Five closed his mouth on your neck, leaving a trail of purple hickeys as he brought two fingers to your mouth.

You took them in, sucking without waiting for an order. But his fingers on your mouth seemed to have an even more exciting effect for you. You legs closed, wanting to seek any friction, but Five slapped your left thigh roughly, brutally separating them with his free hand.

“Did I tell you to close your legs?!” You whimpered, and he gave you another slap “Answer!”

“N-no...” You did your best to speak with his fingers in your mouth.

“No what?!” Another slap. Now you could feel the flesh throbbing. You pulled on your fists, trying to control yourself not to close your thighs again.

“N-didn't”

Now his free hand went to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“It's ‘No, Daddy’!”

“No, Daddy!”

“Good Girl.”

Five withdrew his hand from your mouth, bringing it down and melting it into your pussy. You moaned louder, forcing the tie, shifting your hips. He didn't give you time to breathe before he buried his fingers in you, hitting your walls.

You screeched muffled by his lips on your, as his hand pushed against you frantically, slamming inside you at a brutal pace.

“F-fi...”

Another slap. Stronger, more aggressive.

“What did fucking you say?!”

“Daddy! I mean Daddy! I’m so sorry.”

He accelerated his hand even more, and you started frantically pulling on the tie, trying to get rid of or gain more of that ardor. You were starting to feel close to orgasms when Five pulled away, slapping your bare breast as he rose again. You whimpered in protest, your hips still making some movements in search of some ghost friction.

“Look at you, so desperate and I haven't even fucked you yet.” Five began to unbutton his white shirt, stripping off his clothes and leaving the belt beside you.

You excitement went to extremely high levels when you saw his cock jump out. Pulsating, molasses with pre-cum and dashed with thick veins. Your core throbbed, dripping your liquid while you whimpered.

Five smirked when he noticed where your attention was, and he leaned you, but now bringing the belt with him and placing it around your neck.

God, he was going to fuck you so hard.

Five gave a tug, testing the accuracy, and when you groaned needy, Five appeased his own excitement by sinking his bruised lips into yours.

He stood up again, pulling your legs closer to the edge as he brushed your pussy with the throbbing head of the stick, watching you squirm. It was torture for him too, but the sight of you struggling for contact was a fucking reward.

“Please d-Daddy!” You whimpered, rummaging in despair, wanting more of anything he give you.

“Please, what? ‘Please, daddy, fuck me hard’ or ‘please, daddy, use me’ ?”

You were begging, with tears in the corners of your eyes as he played with you, by sinking the head of the stick inside you. It was driving you crazy. Five held the base of him penis while he sank just another inch into you, then pulled and rubbed your clitoris.

“Fuck me h-hard, Daddy!”

Suddenly, Five entered you brutally to the bottom, leaving you speechless in a loud and silent groan. He pulled you by the belt, not giving you time to get used to the size, he established strong and aggressive blows.

“Do you want hard?! I will give you hard!”

Then Five untied the tie from the headboard, turned you brutally on you stomach and pulled your hips up. He pulled his hand back and unloaded it on your ass, and you screamed, staggering forward. Five pulled you by the hips, dissatisfied with your distance.

“Be good girl for me, dear." It was an order.

You obeyed, crying out loudly when Five pushed the stick inside you aggressively, pulling on your neck with the belt. He held you by the belt and the waist while he fucked you. Hard, fast, without any abandonment.

His hand hit the flesh of your ass from second to second, and you can't help but moan for it. He gave no respite, the sound of his bodies colliding flooded the room, perhaps the entire mansion.

Five has never felt so hardcore in life, so hungry, so lust. He wanted to break you, hurt you, squeeze your flesh so hard that you would be left with marks for months. He groaned, trying to concentrate on mistreating the walls of your pussy, pounding with brutality, harder and cruel.

“D-d-daddy!”

Tears streamed into your eyes as you dug your nails into the pillow hard, unable to contain the moans and the tremor in your thighs. Your belly vibrated, hummed with hyperstimulation, that was paradise and sin at the same time and you felt that you could fall apart at any moment.

Five pulled the belt tight, bringing you up and sticking your back to his chest. He put his free arm around your waist, bringing the thrusts in slow, hard rhythms, making you feel every inch of him.

You hands went to him arm around your waist, the new position reaching the most sensitive places, making your pussy throb. You bit your lip to try to control your moans, because you were afraid they would be too loud.

“Without trapping those sounds for me!” This time the slap came down on your left breast, followed by a deeper thrust, and you begged for excuses while looking for air “Let everyone hear who's making you feel so good! Who does this slutt belong.”

That pushed you further into the abyss. Five sucked on the skin on your neck, pouring out a strong hickey while you could only scream and whimper for him, unable to do anything else. . He entered you deeply, taking whatever inch you had and forcing you to take it deeper.

Five did not allow you to move an inch away, your hips clinging to his, held by his arm, him fucking you hard without you can moving your hips. He could feel you blinking on his dick, making your honey drip down your thighs. His hunger had given no respite, and when he looked at you, and he saw your angel face in an expression of pleasure, pain and dirty with tears, it further fueled Five's hunger.

"That, little slutt!"

You were close, pulsing on his dick, sweat running down your body, your broken moans. Five loved how you were a mess for him, your whole body scarred because of him. He never fell your owner as much as he does now. You begged for something you didn't know what it was, but Five did. And he would give it to you. But he felt your pussy squeeze him, swallowing him in a broken way.

“You can't come until I let you!”

“Da-daddy!” You moaned louder “Please! Please! I need... I need it! ”

“I don’t care how good it feels, you’d better not cum until I tell you to!”

Five came out of you, turning you brutally on the bed once again, removing the belt from your neck. He climbed on top of you, now sticking your body to his, placing his mouth on yours in a gasping kiss. The skin-to-skin sensation was maddening, you were both hot, sweating, and Five squeezed your thigh tightly before slapping it down again. Your wrists were still tied, and you could only press them against his broad chest.

Your thighs were shaking and Five was delighted by this, he traced hickeys all over your breasts, and sank into you again when he sucked on your left sore beak.

Five held you while he fucked you in that position. Strong, cruel and hard. His hands were glued to your flesh, marking your skin with purple from his digits, holding his own moans. And you watched him with your mouth open by the screams and the sight. He was beautiful like that. Wild, his skin all sweaty, his teeth closed on his lip to keep from groaning, his black hair stuck to his forehead.

It was too much torture, too much stimulation, and you were already letting the tears flow while you were begging for something.

“Come to me, my good girl.”

Five didn't have to say it twice. You came intensely, your pussy sucking all of his cock and receiving the hot, thick liquid of his as a reward. You threw your head back in abandonment, feeling him it sink into you deeper, making sure you got all his sperm.

“Such a good girl for me.” Five whispered as he gave you a reward kiss you.

2K notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years ago

Text

BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

#bnha 326 #all might #yagi toshinori #stain (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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wincore · 4 years ago

Text

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

kimvvantae · 4 years ago

Text

puzzle; 8 (FINAL)

➜ you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex

rating: 18+

word count: 16k

A/N: finally the last chapter! i am actually feeling very emotional right now. i enjoyed writing puzzle so much and it received so much love since the beginning! your feedback always kept me motivated to write. thank you so much to everyone that followed these two dorks and waited patiently for every update. i hope we can meet again in future works!

hmmm, a little rec?? but i listened to sweet night by taehyung as i wrote this chapter. maybe listening to it will enhance your experience too!

enjoy!

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

You don’t know how long it has been until Taehyung finds you.

It’s cold. The tears have finally come to a halt, but you’re still sobbing and sniffling. You should probably get up and go home. It’s late. Not safe to be alone on the street like this. You should probably call an uber or something.

Yet, every time you think of Jungkook’s tears, it seems that your own eyes well up with tears all over again.

What makes you snap back into reality is the sound of shoes walking down the stairs.

You get up in a jump, feeling your legs ache in the process, and turn around to see the person you least expected to see right now. Taehyung stops some steps ahead. The light pole behind him marks his silhouette with a halo.

“I finally found you,” he says after a few seconds. He sounds hesitant but somehow relieved.

It makes your heart clench even more.

You make an immense effort to speak, as if words ran over inside your throat and made it stuck. Well, they did, in a sense.

“Taehyung, w-what…?” is all you can stutter. You don’t really need to finish the sentence. What are you doing here? Why did you come after me even though I hurt you?

He looks down and caresses the back of his neck. You notice that he’s nervously fiddling with his car keys on the other hand. Oh. He probably didn’t want to be around you, either.

“Well, you ran away down the street like that. I got worried.”

You shouldn’t.

“It’s… not safe to be by yourself on the street like this. I’m taking you home.”

Please, don’t be kind to me.

It will be much harder if you’re being kind to me.

“Taehyung, I…” you feel yourself squeezing your purse against you, just as nervous as he is. You don’t want to bother him with your presence anymore. “I was about to call an uber. You don’t need to…”

“It’s alright. I’m already here anyway.” He starts to walk up the stairs again without looking back. Without giving you a chance to disagree. “Let’s go.”

It seems that your legs forgot how to walk as you watch him. You don’t want to get inside his car. You don’t want to face him, not right now.

When Taehyung reaches the top of the stair alley, he finally looks back at you in silence.

That’s when you realize that you have to face him. You were never one to run away from the consequences of your actions.

The newest consequence is staring back at you in quiet sadness.

You inhale deeply before going after him.

An awful silence hovers in the air during the entire ride home.

You can’t help but shrink on the passenger’s seat, hugging your own arms tight, your head leaning on the window. Taehyung does not make any attempt to engage a conversation. His presence is suffocating.

Something cold sets in your stomach when he parks the car in front of your apartment’s building. There’s nothing out there to distract you anymore. Nowhere else to run to.

You inhale again.

“Thank you.” you say softly.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything as he rests his hands on his lap. You watch him intently as he gulps, his eyes glued in something ahead.

“So.” He starts, his voice as low as yours. This is painful. It was never your intention to put him in that situation, never. “I don’t want to take a drunk man seriously.”

It’s your turn to gulp. You really really don’t want to explain everything to him in detail. “Mike is a son of a bitch. He got it all wrong.”

“It seems that he got one thing right, though. Judging by Jungkook’s reaction.”

It’s getting difficult to breathe again.

Taehyung turns his head slowly to look at you.

“Are you guys…?”

You honestly feel like jumping out the window, but your feelings for Taehyung make you stay still. He’s a kind friend. He deserves to hear it clearly.

So you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Jungkook and I, we… we were never a real thing. Not really.” It hurts to say this out loud. It seems that you can still hear his broken voice…

There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.

“B-But recently I realized that I have feelings for him.”

Taehyung nods slowly and sinks on the driver's seat. He rests his chin on his hand, letting a shaky deep breath out.

“Why did you call me today, then?”

“To tell you the truth.”

He gasps softly and shakes his head again. Taehyung has completely broken eye contact with you and his body language looks protective - building an almost visible wall between you and him in seconds.

“Wow. It seems that I was the one who got it all wrong.”

You feel like touching him to give him even a little bit of comfort, yet you know that you’re his main discomfort in the moment. You turn your body in his direction, pleading.

“Taehyung, it wasn’t meant to happen this way. I didn’t want to hurt you, not at all. I know that an apology won't be enough...”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He cuts you. His voice sounds strange, so different from how he has ever talked to you. He’s very quiet, but you can feel the anger and hurt lying underneath. “We never had anything anyway. I was the delusional one here.”

No, not again. You don’t think you can take more guilt for one night. You didn’t just delude him going on that date; you deluded him every time you talked, every time you texted each other. Taehyung saw something more when there was nothing at all - he felt something more, and you were too confused with your own feelings for Jungkook to notice what you were doing.

“Taehyung…”

“I’m feeling very ashamed right now.” He admits with a shaky exhale. “Could you…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know very well what he meant. Leave.

You nod and open the door into the cold night. You still stand there on the sidewalk hesitantly for a few seconds before whispering a shy “I’m sorry”. Taehyung doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.

When you shut the door, you know very well that from now on, your friendship with Taehyung is also shut.

You’ll miss him really bad.

It feels like you can barely carry the weight of your own body as you slowly make your way to your apartment - which is weird, because you feel empty right now.

Your apartment isn’t as empty as you expected when you open the door, though. Seulgi is standing on the kitchen counter and she smiles wide when she sees you. She looks excited in a way she hasn’t been in months; it seems that she’s about to say something.

Her smile dies as she sees your puffy face and your red nose and eyes.

“Y/N, what happened…?”

For some reason, when you look at her, you start crying again.

Seulgi wides her eyes and runs to where you’re standing, shocked and confused - probably because you have never cried in front of her yet. Never.

“Oh my God, Y/N! What happened?!”

You can’t answer because the sobs won’t let you. You can just rest your face on Seulgi’s shoulder as she hugs you, patting your back. She is so confused that she can’t really think of anything else to do.

After a few minutes of restless crying, Seulgi manages to lead you to sit on the couch and runs back to the kitchen to take a glass of water. She sits by your side and hands you the glass, caressing your hair sweetly.

“Can you talk now, babe? What happened?” She asks again quietly as you try to drink a little bit of water.

You wipe the tears away once again and sniff. This place reminds you of him way too much. It feels that he belongs here, even though it’s not his home. And maybe… maybe he won’t ever step inside, ever again.

“I-It’s J-Jungkook.” it’s hard to speak between the sobs.

“Did you guys fight?” You nod weakly. “Was it that bad?”

Yes. Yes, it was.

After months of pretending, you finally open up to Seulgi. There’s no reason to keep this from her anymore. After Mike’s scandal, that’s probably everything the whole campus will be talking about in the next few days (you saw a lot of familiar faces at the bar).

It seems that Seulgi’s eyes will pop out of her face as you speak.

She stares at you, jaw dropped in pure shock.

“You and Jungkook what?!” is the first thing she exclaims. “Since when?!”

You rest your back on the couch and gaze at the ceiling. The sobs have finally stopped, at least. “Do you remember when I broke up with Mike? When we went to that club?”

“Yes, and you spent the night out…” Seulgi trails off as realization hits her. She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “That guy you were talking about was Jungkook?!”

You just nod.

Seulgi gasps and rests her back on the couch right by your side, your arms touching. She’s speechless for a while.

“But, like… how many times?”

“I don’t know.” She gasps again.

“That many times?”

You nod. “It was almost daily at some point.”

It seems that she can’t close her jaw anymore. “Where?”

“Here. His apartment. His car.” You frown. “Sometimes a cheap hotel downtown, when you and Jimin were both home.”

Seulgi stays quiet for a little longer.

You side eye her. “You didn’t suspect?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I thought you guys were acting strange for a while now, but I never thought this was going on.” She looks back at you. “Did someone know?”

“Jimin caught us once.” you decide to omit where he caught you. It’s embarrassing to say that you fucked inside Joy’s bathroom out loud and it makes you feel even worse. “But he promised to not tell anyone."

Back to silence. You can almost hear the engines inside Seulgi’s brain trying to process everything you just told her.

“But why did you guys fight?”

You take a deep breath before telling her the rest. Taehyung, Joy, Mike, Yeri. It’s quite painful to explain, but it’s also relieving.

If you thought Seulgi looked shocked before, now it looks like she just found out that Santa is real.

She completely turns her body in your direction, eyes super wide. “Do you like Jungkook?”

You nod softly, staring at your own fingers.

“It’s more than just liking him.” You admit sheepishly.

Then she’s quiet for a long, long time. You decide to finally look up at her.

Now you’re surprised.

“Why the hell are you smiling?”

Seulgi hides her mouth with both hands - as if this wouldn’t let you see the big ass grin on her lips. “I’m sorry. It’s… it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you quirk one eyebrow. “My suffering is cute to you?”

“That’s not what I mean.” she waves her hand dismissively. “I always kind of shipped you two, okay? It’s just that you two looked really good together and you always had such good chemistry and all. But I tried to stop thinking this because, you know, I thought it was wrong to assume that a man and a woman can’t be just friends… and it never looked like you had feelings for him, not at all.”

You stare at her as if she has a second head growing now. “You shipped us?”

“You can’t judge me.”

You cross your arms and sink on the couch even more. This is kind of shocking. “You never thought I liked him?”

Seulgi shakes her head. “Never. Jungkook, though…”

You turn your head to look at her so fast that your neck almost breaks. “What about him?”

She hesitates a little bit before speaking. “Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.”

There it is again. The fast beating of your heart. It’s ridiculous that, even though you’re this miserable, you still feel this spark of happiness inside of you.

For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you!

You press your lips tight in an attempt to hold back the uninvited smile. It’s not appropriate to feel happy now; it feels that you don’t even have the right to feel happy at all. But his confession is hitting you just now. Hitting you like a truck.

God, if only you could go back in time. If only you could just make him shut the fuck up and listen to you. Why did he have to be so damn dramatic?

I love you too, dumbass! Now stop being a cry baby and kiss me!

What if Jungkook never gives you a chance to explain yourself? He can be hard-headed when he wants to. What if Jungkook never lets you get close to him again, what if your intimacy finally dies, what if you get so distant that when you’re in the same room you can’t bear each other’s presence anymore? What if from now on, there won’t be any Jungkook to steal your fries when you’re not looking, or to let you steal his clothes even though he pretends he doesn’t know you’re taking them, or to help you understand a difficult assignment, or to annoy you because he’s bored at 4AM, or to tell you the things no one else would be brave enough to tell you or to just be there when you needed someone the most?

Your brain can’t even comprehend what life without Jungkook is.

A mix of despair and hurry makes you get up in a jump.

“I’m going to his apartment.” Your breath is irregular, adrenaline taking control of your actions. “I-I need to talk to him now.”

“Hey, hey!” Seulgi gets up in a jump and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to stop. “Y/N, you’re not okay. And you said Jungkook is drunk. Do you really think you’ll manage to have a civilized conversation right now? He’s probably still angry, maybe he won’t even listen to you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll shout on his door until he listens to me.”

Seulgi holds you in place again when you try to free yourself from her grip. “This is not a good idea and you know it.” She looks at you very seriously. “Take a shower, Y/N. Go to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll both be cold-headed and able to talk.”

“B-But,” you feel the tears coming back. Fuck. You hold Seulgi’s arms weakly. “But he needs to know the truth. He needs to know I like him back.”

The black-haired girl frowns. “Like him back…?”

You nod and look down. “He… he said that he’s in love with me.”

“Really?!” Seulgi huffs and taps your forehead lightly. “Then why are you so desperate?! He loves you back, dummy!”

“But I’m scared, Seulgi.” You sniff.

She rolls her eyes and pushes you into another hug. “Everything will be okay, Y/N. There’s no need to be worried. You already know the most important. Tomorrow you go talk to him, alright?” She chuckles softly. “Never thought I’d see you acting like this.”

You sniff again. “Now you understand how it is to deal with a stupid lovesick roommate.”

“Ouch.” You notice how she pats your back a bit aggressively. “But for real, Y/N… I’ll always be thankful for what you did today to me and Irene. Even though it was none of your business. And I’ll probably beat you up if you ever intervene in my life like that again-”

“Wow, I really see how you’re thankful, Seul.” She chuckles again.

"And I'm kind of offended that you hid this from me for so long."

"We promised we wouldn't tell anyone about this!"

"Alright, alright." She sighs. “I love you so much, you crackhead. And Jungkook loves you, too. You don’t need to be sad anymore, okay? Just take a shower and go to sleep now.”

You nod weakly.

Maybe she’s right. You’ll have enough time to talk to him tomorrow.

But you don’t think you’ll get any sleep right now.

***

[you]: jungkook

[you]: can we talk?

[you]: we really really need to talk

[you]: can i go to your place?

[you]: please

[you]: i know you’re reading

[you]: stop ignoring me

[you]: jungkook

[you]: JUNGKOOK

You sigh heavily. This is so frustrating. He didn’t even leave you on read - you’re sure he’s just reading the texts on the notifications and swiping them away. He didn’t block your number, which is a good sign, but this is already getting on your nerves. You’ve been texting since early in the morning (because you couldn’t sleep) and it’s already 5PM.

“He’s ignoring my texts.” You whine to Seulgi as you enter the living room.

“You said he had things to do today, right? Maybe he’s actually busy.” She says as she checks her makeup on the mirror. It’s been a long time since you saw her getting all pretty like this; she did her nails, made curls on her hair, put on that green skirt she bought months ago but never wore it. This is what being happy and in love looks like. Pretty, well-dressed, nice hair, healthy skin and all.

Meanwhile, your hair looks like a bird nest, you’re wearing the ugly Naruto t-shirt you have since middle school, your entire face is swollen and you have bags under your eyes. This is also what being in love looks like, unfortunately.

“Why don’t you just go to his apartment already?”

“You told me not to do it.”

“I told you not to do it yesterday. Today he’s not drunk anymore.”

You cross your arms. “I’m… I’m still kind of nervous.”

Seulgi turns around and looks at you and quirks her eyebrow. There’s the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I never thought I’d see you nervous because of anyone. You look like a teenager…”

"I swear to God, if you say that you think I look cute one more time I'll fucking kill you."

Seulgi laughs and runs to you again, putting her hands on your shoulders. "Y/N, do you remember how you were always telling me that I was complicating simple things?"

"Yes."

She lifts her eyebrows. "So."

You roll your eyes and huff. "But it's not that easy!"

"Now you understand how I felt, huh?" Her eyes soften again. "For real, though. If you show up at his door he won't ignore you, I'm sure. Just go."

You sigh again and nod. "You're right. Just… let me build some courage, okay?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She looks a bit worried. "I could go out with Irene another day."

"No, no. Go on your date." You wave your hands. "I'm not gonna die. Also, your pussy must be dusty after so long-"

She smacks your shoulder a bit too strongly as you let yourself laugh for the first time today.

When Seulgi leaves, you still stand in the middle of the living room for a good while. Like a Sim whose action has just been cancelled.

Whoever is playing you is really evil for putting all the wrong people in the wrong places past night.

You know that you’re not being rational. You should have gone to his house a long time ago… but something holds you back. Perhaps because now there’s no turning back. You know what you feel for Jungkook and you know what he feels for you - your relationship got completely out of its comfort zone, and now you can’t even pretend anymore. Things won’t ever be the same.

Maybe Jungkook is ignoring you because he’s embarrassed of what Mike did. He basically exposed you two in front of his friends. Sure, that’s none of no one’s business, but still… Jungkook didn’t want anyone to know about it in the first place.

You stare at your phone for a good while. Your reflection on the phone’s screen stares back at you in disgust.

For the hundredth time today, you unlock it and open Jungkook’s number. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard hesitantly.

[you]: jungkook i know youre mad at me and you have all the rights to be but

You frown and delete the text. It doesn’t sound good.

[you]: can you stop being dramatic and just text me back already?

You feel tempted to send this one, but if Jungkook’s angry, this will only make the situation worse. You sigh and try again one more time

[you]: i just really want to talk. you didnt let me speak last night. i know youre probably busy but please. i wont take much of your time

This one sounds about right. You tap the send button.

Then, your fingers mindlessly type one more text. It makes your heart beat fast just looking at it.

[you]: i love you too

You want to send this one so bad.

But you don’t.

Because this isn’t something to be told by text.

Coward! the angry voice of your consciousness yells in your mind. Stop being a coward! You’re an evolved human being, not a stupid teenager! Get this ass up the couch and go meet him!

You get up in a jump.

“I’m not a coward!” you say out loud. If you weren’t this out of your mind, you would have noticed how stupid it was to scream encouraging words by yourself in the living room.

But you don’t care right now.

You don’t care that your face is all puffy and the dark circles around your eyes make you look like a raccoon. You don’t care that you’re wearing your ulgy Naruto t-shirt with old ketchup stains, and you don’t care that you’re wearing the sweatpants that fall down your butt as you walk, and you don’t care that your hair looks like a living animal.

You just straight out leave your home and march to his. Flip flops and all.

Your heart beats at a stupid race as you walk, the sun already disappearing behind the buildings. The anxious part of your brain keeps reminding you that you don’t know what to say when you meet him and you don’t know what his reaction will be, but you shut this whiny voice up. Being with Jungkook always meant that you didn’t have to think a lot in the first place. Being with him is natural, it takes no effort. When you see him you’ll know what to say. You’re sure.

Yet, you can’t help but feel more and more nervous as you enter his apartment building (you never needed to ask permission to enter). You close your hands in fists, gulp multiple times, your heartbeat sounds like drums on your ears.

Your hand hovers over the door.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. It’s real. It’s happening. Come on. Don’t be a coward.

After taking one more deep breath, you finally knock on the door.

There’s noise inside. Steps. Fuck, you’re shaking.

You hear the sound of the door unlocking and you hold your breath ready to face him-

Jimin.

He widens his eyes and blinks.

“Oh. Hi, Jimin.” you say awkwardly. Why is he looking at you this way? “Hm, is Jungkook home?”

Jimin looks hesitant for a moment.

“No.”

It’s your turn to widen your eyes. So that’s why he isn't texting you back. This makes you a bit relieved.

“Is… is he working?” You can’t hide your disappointment.

“Not yet. He starts tomorrow.”

You put your hands on your waist and walk from side to side as Jimin just watches you in silence.

“Jimin, at what time he’ll be home tomorrow? Do you think it’ll be too late in the night? I really need to talk to him, but that fucker keeps ignoring my texts.”

You don’t like the face Jimin is making now.

You really don’t like it.

He scratches the back of his neck and frowns. “He… he didn’t tell you?”

This makes you stop.

“Tell me what?”

Jimin exhales and gulps.

“He told you that he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, right? That director.”

“Yes.” Each word of his makes you more and more worried.

“So… this project he’s involved in…” Jimin licks his lips before continuing. “It’s overseas.”

You stare at him in silence as this information sinks in.

“Overseas?! Are you telling me he fucking left the country?!”

“Yes.”

You can’t believe what you just heard.

“B-But- yesterday Jungkook and I were planning to go out! This makes no sense!”

“Well,” Jimin looks hesitant again. “In fact, his flight is tomorrow morning, but he left earlier because we kind of had an argument.” He sends you an apologetic gaze. “He was drunk yesterday and all and I was trying to calm him down and I might have accidentally let it slip that I knew about you two, and this kinda pissed him off even more because, well, he was drunk and you know how Jungkook gets stupid when he’s drunk, so I think he left to his parent’s house and he’ll head to the airport tomo- wait, are you crying?!”

You sniff and hide your face behind your hands.

“Oh my God,” Jimin sounds confused and borderline panicked as he watches you start sobbing again. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“B-Because h-he-!” you can’t fucking speak anymore.

Jimin puts a hand on your back and guides you to sit on the couch. He brings some tissues and pats your back awkwardly as you cry and sob like stupid.

“W-Why didn’t he tell me he was l-leaving?” you ask yourself.

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, it’s not like he’s leaving forever. It’s just for this project. He’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“B-But he would’ve told me something so important!” You blow your nose. Jimin frowns. “I didn’t know this project was so huge! What, is it a movie or something?”

“It’s a music video.” You stare at Jimin in disbelief. “Jungkook has been around the recording studio with Namjoon and Yoongi a lot. He ended up meeting Mr. Choi, who has been directing some music videos for Big Hit Records’ artists. He liked Jungkook’s work and invited him to work as an assistant… I mean, the assistant of the assistant, as Jungkook himself said.”

You exhale, feeling your shoulders drop. “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

Jimin’s eyes soften. “Your friendship hasn’t been in the best shape these days, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

You rest your elbows on your legs and hide your face behind your hands again. You didn’t want to be crying this bad again, yet you just can’t stop. You don’t even know why you’re crying anymore. Jimin just caresses your back in silence as your sobs start quieting down.

“You were right,” you say at some point.

“What?”

“When you told me not to hurt him. I was hurting him and I didn’t even realize. I’m so stupid.”

Jimin tilts his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Y/N. You were both stupid.” You side eye him.

“Jungkook said that he’s in love with me.” This makes him quirk his eyebrows.

“Oh.”

“You don’t look very surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Did… did he tell you?”

“No.”

“Was it that obvious?”

Jimin presses his lips together hesitantly. “Do you want me to comfort you or do you want me to be honest?”

“Be honest.”

“It was pretty fucking obvious that he’s in love with you. At least for me.”

You exhale and swipe your hands over your face. “I’m so stupid!” you repeat.

“Look, Y/N, to be honest, I think Jungkook is the most stupid. He was torturing himself with this fuck buddies thing, you know? He agreed to it in the first place. Everyone knows that this type of thing shouldn’t involve feelings, but he was the one to throw himself into it while he already had feelings.”

“It’s not like he’s the only one, though.”

Jimin seems about to say something, but he stops and stares at you, jaw-dropped.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

You rest your back on the couch. “I mean that I was also stupid enough to throw myself into it while having feelings.”

He’s quiet for a few more seconds.

“Do you mean that you like him back?”

You don’t answer.

Much like Seulgi, it looks like Jimin just discovered something world-shocking. “Since when? Have you liked him since the beginning?”

You sigh sadly.

“No, I haven’t. To me, it was just fun. Until I realized that he was getting too far from my reach and- and I realized that Jungkook has never been too far, never, and I don’t know what to do when he’s not around.” You sniff. You’re not talking to Jimin anymore at this point; you’re talking to yourself. “Y-You know, now that I think about it, I… I guess I understand why it was always so good. Not just because he fucks good or because of his big dick-”

“I don’t need to hear this, do I?” Jimin whines in disgust.

“-but because it was him.” One more tear rolls down your cheek. “It was good because it was with him.”

The way you always felt comfortable to be naked in front of him. How it was always lighthearted and fun and exciting. You had good sex with other people before, but never like this. Maybe because these other people didn’t have Jungkook’s handsome smile or because their eyes didn’t gleam with excitement the way his does or because they didn't smell like baby powder. Or maybe because it was never scary to be exposed in front of him because he already knew everything about you - there wasn’t really anything else to expose.

Jungkook felt like home.

Now, you feel homeless.

You wipe the tears away once more and look at Jimin-

“Why are you smiling?”

Doesn’t this scene look familiar?

“I’m sorry, it’s just that- wow, I don’t even know what to say.” Jimin doesn’t even try to hide his smile. “I’ve been waiting so long for this. Like, I kind of suspected that you had feelings for him, but I couldn’t be sure because you’re a hard bitch to read. To be honest, when I saw what you two were doing I wanted to kill you because you couldn’t be this blind to not realize how he feels about you-”

“Can you stop being honest for a moment?”

“Oh.” Jimin gulps, but he can’t stop smiling. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh again and cross your arms. “What if he never lets me explain myself, Jimin?”

“Stop the drama.” Jimin’s voice hardens suddenly. “You two are very similar in this sense, you know? I’m sure that Jungkook will listen to whatever you have to say. And he’ll be away for just four days! It’s not like he’s leaving forever.”

You sit there in silence for some moments. You’re sure that if you tell that you’re scared to talk to Jungkook, he will probably beat you up. He never had that much patience.

Jimin exhales heavily and gets up. “Wait a minute.” You watch as he walks into Jungkook’s empty bedroom, frowning. He stays there for a little while. When he comes back to the living room, he stops in front of you and hands you something.

“Jungkook’s gonna kill me when he finds out, but I don’t care.”

“What is this-?”

“Just take it already. And watch it when you’re back home. It’s so personal that I got uncomfortable the first time I watched it.”

“Then why are you giving it to me-?”

“Just fucking take it, Y/N!”

You take the small device before Jimin makes you swallow it.

He smiles sweetly.

“Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t worry. I’m always right.”

You stare at the small black pen drive in between your fingers.

This time, you genuinely hope he’s right.

You had honestly forgotten how it feels to get drunk.

At the same time that the dizziness feels familiar, it's also hitting you like a truck. Your friends didn't believe you when you said that you'd stop drinking, yet you've been loyal to your word. Of course, it's not like you didn't drink anything in all those months, but a single beer isn't the same as a pack of beer.

The way your body's responding to the alcohol in your system isn't right. Your stomach is already tangling around itself, you can't walk a straight line from the couch to the kitchen counter without feeling that there's holes opening on the floor, and your thoughts are more incomprehensible than usual. You'd usually not get drunk so fast - and surely not with just beer. You're the girl that was still very sober after many tequila shots that time a random date of yours was trying to get you drunk - he ended up drunk after a few shots, of course, and you left the son of a bitch alone while he vomited on himself.

Being in love sure has changed you a lot.

Look, it's not the first time you drink to forget about your problems. You've been doing that since high school and you're tired of hearing Jungkook say how this behavior is unhealthy (he's right, as usual). This time, though, you're not forgetting about your problems, you're just thinking about them more.

It doesn't help that you're listening to Seulgi's playlist on Spotify called "i miss you irene." You laughed your ass off when you found out she really made a heartbreak playlist and named it like that. "You're torturing yourself, Seulgi," you told her. I mean, why would someone sad listen to songs that will only make them more sad?

Well.

Here you are now, laying on the carpet as Spending my Time by Roxette is blasting on the speakers.

People really knew how to write heartbreak songs back in the 90s.

"Fuck you, Jungkook." you mumble, staring at the ceiling. "I'm shoving alcohol up my ass. You can't tell me what to do."

Jungkook, that fucker. Why didn’t he listen to you? Why didn’t you shut him up? If there was a way to go back in time you’d do it. You wouldn’t have kissed Taehyung, you wouldn’t let him get the wrong impression. You wouldn’t have encouraged Jungkook to be with Joy. Fuck, if you could go back in time you would have woken up that first morning in Jungkook’s bed and said that it meant a lot to sleep with him, that you were willing to not be just friends anymore.

(Of course, back then you didn’t feel that way, but you’re drunk and sad. Give yourself a break.)

Now, you can’t tell him what you feel because he’s somewhere overseas. He probably bought new clothes for such an important occasion. You imagine him being in a real set for the first time, his eyes gleaming as he watches the staff working, him trying to hold his excited smile back because he’s supposed to look professional and-

You sniff. You have a stuffy nose. Fuck.

You're so drunk that you can't really control your actions anymore. If Seulgi were here, she would probably stop you. But she's not here. She's somewhere with Irene.

So you take your phone, tap the Instagram app and start typing.

[@you]: hell o 😅😂🤣😊

[@you]: its been a log time how u doing???

[@you]: what if we meeet????

And unfortunately, she replies.

[@yerimiese]: hi 🤗

[@yerimiese]: yeah, sure!

[@yerimiese]: when can we meet?

It’s the back pain that makes you wake up the next day because you slept on the floor. You’re dizzy and confused, your poor brain trying to understand what’s happening, why you’re on the floor, why there’s so many empty beer cans around you and why your phone is flashing with notifications from last night.

When your sight finally adjusts to the light your phone screen produces, your eyes widen and you stand up in a jump, making your back ache even more.

Did you seriously DM Yeri and she seriously agreed to meet you?!

It’s currently 11:40 AM - and you agreed to meet at noon.

You run to your bedroom so fast that it makes you dizzy and you end up hitting your hip against the doorframe and it feels like you fucking broke it. You just have time to wear the first clean clothes you see laying around, tie your hair up and run to take the first bus you see.

You could’ve just told Yeri that you weren’t going anymore, of course, even though she agreed to meet you and it would’ve been kind of rude. You know it’s going to be the most awkward moment ever to see her after so long, especially now that you have feelings for her ex. Gosh - you’re already feeling so much embarrassment that you feel like jumping out of the bus and running back home. Why the fuck do you always end up doing stupid things when you’re drunk?!

But again - it’s that same chaotic side of you that makes you stay inside the bus and meet her. This chaotic side takes a good portion of your personality, it just gets more outgoing when you’re drunk. The same chaotic side that made you start some friends with benefits bullshit with your best friend just because you liked the idea of not being caught and the same chaotic side that made you passive aggressively flirt with Taehyung when you didn’t really want anything with him-

How the fuck did your friends even stand you?!

You’re forced to stop the existential crisis when you see that you arrived at the park. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

Yeri is sitting on the bus stop.

She looks prettier than you remember; her hair is short and blonde now, which makes her look more mature. Yeri was always one to walk around well dressed, but right now it feels almost humiliating that she's all pretty when you literally look like a scarecrow.

She smiles awkwardly and gets up. You didn't even say anything yet and it already feels awkward.

"I’m so sorry, Yeri,” is the first thing you say as you approach each other. “Did I make you wait too long?”

“No! It’s alright. I also got a little bit late.” She says, smiling prettily. Pretty is a word that overall describes her very well. “So, how you’re doing?”

“I’m doing fine!” You’re doing anything but fine at the moment. “What about you?”

“I’m fine, too.”

Silence.

My good Lord.

You start to regret all of your life choices right here and right now. You don’t see this girl in almost a year, you’re not close anymore, you know nothing about her life. Why the fuck did you even come anyway?! The awkwardness is so big that you can almost touch it.

There’s also a small and annoying thought that grows as you watch her - a thought you try very hard to ignore, but you can’t - that this is the girl Jungkook used to fuck before he started fucking you, that he used to go down on her and that he used to be inside of her and that those pretty lips of her once were around his cock and for some reason you start getting really angry-

“Do you wanna have a drink?” Yeri suddenly says.

You blink. “Hm… it’s 12PM.”

“And?” She quirks an eyebrow.

She’s perceptive, this one. Nothing’s better to break the ice than alcohol.

You don’t even know what you’re doing here anyway, so who cares?

“Sure. I know a bar nearby.”

Yeri slams the empty glass on the counter and stares at you, shocked.

“Mike did what?!”

You nod and swallow one more shot. Your tastebuds are so used (even calloused) from this bitter taste that you don’t even scowl as the drink slides down your throat. “Yeah. It seems that he was cheating on me for a while with that bitch. I caught them inside the lab.”

Yeri stares ahead. She looks speechless. “I will be honest… I heard that he was cheating on you, but I never thought this happened.” She shakes her head slowly. “Why the fuck were they inside a lab anyways? Are they stupid?”

“The lab was deactivated. That part of the science building was being renovated.” You sigh. Reviving those memories is kind of painful right now, especially after what Mike did to you some nights ago. Honestly, he could die and you wouldn’t care. “I was looking for him. His friends told me he went in that direction… well, kinda weird that they snitched on him like that. Maybe they really didn’t know. Anyways, I still don’t know how they got the key to the lab.”

Yeri nods. “Wow… I am really, really shocked. You guys were a pretty couple.” She gesticulates with her hand. “One more shot, please.”

“Me too, please.” You say.

The bartender looks at you two with visible worry. There’s no one else in the bar - who the fuck drinks so much this early? Wait, why is this bar even opened this early? - so he’s obviously hearing your whole conversation. You wonder what’s his opinion on your fucked up love life.

“Are you sure, girls? Shouldn’t you slow down a little bit?” He asks hesitantly.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Nah, we’re good.” You’re still not dizzy, just a little talkative. Getting drunk yesterday seemed to awaken all of your high tolerance superpowers. Pretty Yeri also isn’t one to get drunk that easily.

“We’re strong girls.” She reassures. The bartender shrugs as he prepares two more shots. “You seemed to like him a lot.”

“I did.” You admit.

“And he seemed to like you, too. I never expected that. Well… to be honest, Jungkook sometimes told me that he didn’t like Mike and that he was sure that he wasn’t a good guy.”

The sudden mention of his name makes you freeze. You realize that Yeri freezes, too. It seems that she’s also surprised for bringing him up like this. Yeri looks down at the new shot the bartender just placed in front of you two.

“It seems that he was right. As usual.” She finishes in a much lower voice, drinking her shot in one go.

This single sentence makes you realize that “Jungkook” is still a delicate topic for her. Of course it’d be - you don’t know much about their break up, but you sure know it was anything but friendly. Jungkook got pretty fucked up for a few weeks after their break up - and the fact that he refuses to talk about it to this day is enough of an indication.

Shit.

“Anyways, it didn’t stop there.” You decide to go back to your suffering for now, so she can get distracted. “The day before yesterday I bumped into him. He was drunk and made a scandal. Called me a bitch in front of everyone.”

Yeri gasps and looks at you wide eyed. “What? Please, tell me someone punched the fuck out of him!”

“Yeah, my friend did before I could.” You’re not telling her which friend, of course. “It was satisfying. Still made me feel really bad, though.”

“You shouldn’t. You did nothing wrong, Y/N. He’s the son of a bitch here.” Yeri reassures.

You nod and drink. “But enough of talking about my depressing love life. What about you?”

Yeri sighs, holding the small cup with both hands. “I’m doing fine, I guess. Didn’t really get serious with anyone yet. I’m seeing a guy, though. I don’t think I like him yet, but he’s about right. Who knows?” She says, shrugging.

You nod slowly. We’re getting into dangerous waters now. “I’m glad we’re both moving on, I guess.”

Yeri goes quiet for a while.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

A deep silence settles after this. You stare at the empty cup blankly, feeling the tension building up.

"I… have to be honest." Yeri starts quietly. "It was surprising that you called me after so long." She taps her nails on the counter slowly. "And I have the feeling that you called me for a very specific reason."

You nod slowly. She's not stupid. "You're right."

Yeri hesitates for a second. "You didn't… Jungkook didn't ask you to come here to talk to me, right?"

You almost gasp. Jungkook doesn't even dream that you're with her right now. "No, no. He didn't. You know I'm kinda nosy, but I have my limits too."

Yeri quirks her eyebrows and nods. You really hope that this tiny thing you saw deep in her eyes wasn't disappointment. You really hope that deep down Yeri doesn't still like him.

"So… why did you call me, then?"

You sigh. She came all this way just to meet you, so you have to at least be honest right now.

"I was drunk yesterday when I texted you."

"Oh." Yeri widens her eyes. "I thought there was something wrong with you by the way you were texting."

You chuckle. "But… I did call you because of Jungkook, somehow." You say carefully, She stiffens. "I know it's kinda cruel to do this. If you want to simply leave or if you want to slap me, I won't judge you. But… we had a really ugly fight these days and I don't know what to do. I was hoping that maybe… maybe you could help me understand him."

Yeri goes very, very quiet after this.

"Did you guys fight because of me?" She asks after a while.

"No and yes." Yeri was one of the things that got you overthinking anyways. "I… I really need to know. Again, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. But… why did you guys break up?"

Yeri turns her head slowly to look at you. There's something very serious and hardened on her eyes.

"He never told you." It wasn't a question. You shake your head. "Well, I figured he wouldn't." She looks back to the cup between her hands; you can see she's thinking hard. "Y/N, I always admired your friendship with him. What you have is something truly special. Maybe you won't want to know why. Maybe I don't want to tell you because I don't want to destroy your friendship."

"My relationship with Jungkook won't ever go back to what it used to be anyways. I don't care."

Yeri looks surprised. She still hesitates for some moments - what makes your blood boil in expectation - but finally sighs and nods.

"Alright, then." She crosses her arms. "I broke up with him because of you."

You stare at her, jaw dropped.

"What? What did I do?" You ask, genuinely confused.

"You did nothing." She chuckles drily. "That's why I couldn't hate you, you know. And I tried to hate you really hard."

You don't know what to say. Some girls Jungkook had some sort of relationship with were very jealous of you, you knew, but Yeri was different. "Were you… were you jealous of me and him? But Yeri- you know we weren't like that."

This is not a lie. You weren't like that while they still dated. You were too stupidly in love with Mike to notice the person that was standing right by your side all along.

"I know." She nods. "I know you didn't. But Jungkook did."

You freeze.

"What?"

Yeri finally looks at you again - clear sadness on her eyes.

"Jungkook loves you. Not in a way a friend does."

You’re absolutely speechless.

Your heart is beating so fast that you think you’re about to faint. Your brain malfunctions and it seems that you lost the ability to speak for a few moments. This shouldn’t shock you - Jungkook confessed his feelings himself not long ago, and Jimin also said how he knew about Jungkook’s feelings - goddamn, even Seulgi noticed it a little bit. But back then? When he was still dating Yeri?

“B-But Yeri-” you hate the way you’re stuttering and you hate how Yeri is telling you something she obviously doesn’t like, but you still feel so fucking happy and fuzzy inside. “Jungkook was in love with you. I’m sure.��

“I thought so, too. And he thought he was in love with me.” Yeri stares ahead again, and in this moment you realize that yes, it still hurts her. “You know… Jungkook was too much like a dream.” She chuckles to herself, as if she can’t believe in what she’s saying. “He was perfect in every sense. His good looks, the way he was always so sweet… God, even the way he’s in bed.” Yes, he’s unbeatable in bed, you want to agree. “Too perfect to be true.”

Yeri goes quiet again for a while. She stares at the cup as if it’s showing her something important she can’t look away from.

“I started to realize why it was so perfect.” Her voice sounds painfully fragile. “He was trying too hard. Always trying his best. At first I thought that it was a good thing… We all want someone that’s always trying their best for you, right? But then… then, I started to watch how he acted when he was around you. Y-You know what’s worst in all this? It’s not like you two gave me actual reason to be jealous. You were never touchy around each other. You were even dating back then, and you two avoided going out together because Mike and Jungkook never got along well. I know it.” She sounds like she wants to cry. It makes you feel really, really bad.

“But… fuck, it was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around. With you, he wasn’t trying anything. He didn’t need to try. I saw how he was so comfortable around you and… well, I didn’t need to be a genius to understand that he was so stupidly in love with you that it got him blind.” Yeri inhales and exhales deeply. “Jungkook was too much like a dream. But everyone has to wake up sometime, and I didn’t want to be there when he woke up from his. So I left him before I could get any more hurt.”

You can just stare at her, jaw dropped, adrenaline making your breathing shaky.

“Yeri, I never… I didn’t…” you stupidly stutter.

“I know you didn’t.” She nods. “I even pitied Jungkook, you know. Because he didn’t want to see what he really felt, and because you obviously didn’t feel the same.” Yeri chuckles. “That’s why I can’t hate you. That’s also what gave me some sense of revenge. At least he’s suffering a little bit.”

You’re both very, very quiet for some time.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. She doesn’t know you’re apologizing for putting her under the torture of telling those memories that are still painful for her. You weren’t expecting that Yeri still felt so affected by her past relationship even after so long.

“You don’t need to apologize.” She shakes her head slowly. “It wasn’t meant to be. That’s all. We would both keep suffering like that.” Yeri exhales again and looks at you. “Well… I guess I’m going now. I really hope I didn’t completely kill your relationship with him.”

She didn’t.

She quite helped to save it, actually.

Yeri takes some money from her purse and puts it over the counter, paying for her drinks. As she gets up from the stool, you say:

“Thank you for telling me, Yeri. I really wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

The blonde girl opens a small smile. You see why Jungkook fell - well, at least thought he fell - for her. Maybe Yeri doesn’t know it, but she also looks like a dream. You just hope she’ll find someone that will wake her up to see the most beautiful, warm and lovely reality.

“Thanks. See you around.”

She leaves.

You just sit there, all alone, staring at the counter.

Well- not exactly alone.

The bartender is furiously side-eyeing you.

“What?” You ask drily.

He presses his lips together. “I don’t think I should say anything…”

You tilt your head. “Go ahead. You heard everything anyway.”

The bartender stops in front of you. There’s something wise about him. That’s probably the result of hearing hundreds and hundreds of love stories every night - day, in your case.

“That dude you guys were talking about,” he says. “Your friend. You like him, right?”

You stare at him seriously. “Why would you think that?”

“Because your eyes lit up so much as she talked that I thought you were going to explode.”

Fuck. You can’t even pretend anymore. You avoid his gaze, embarrassed, and nod. “I do.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Then, and excuse my intrusive ass, what the fuck are you waiting for?” He almost looks annoyed, as if he’s having to explain something painfully obvious. “Go after him, woman!”

You stare at him.

He’s right.

What the fuck are you waiting for?

Oh, right. You’re waiting until he comes back, because he’s fucking overseas.

It makes you so, so angry. After everything you just heard, after everything you’re feeling right now, you wanted nothing more but to run to him and make him listen to you. You want to see him, to hug him, to make him understand that he’s your most important person in the world, that you can’t see yourself in a world where he isn’t around.

But guess what - you’ll have to wait three days to meet him.

You look so grumpy on your way back home that people deliberately avoid looking at you. Seulgi and Irene are there when you arrive; Seulgi looks worried, Irene looks confused, you just decide to say you’re alright and lock yourself inside your bedroom because you can’t physically look at a happy couple right now.

You throw yourself on the bed and scream against a pillow.

If someone told you you’d be feeling so many things when all of this started, you wouldn’t have believed. You were always someone to continuously keep the fuck it button pressed - or at least, you pretended you did. Like that, you could trick your heart into believing you weren’t hurt by some jerk who cheated on you, that you didn’t feel like a piece of shit for drowning your problems in alcohol, that you didn’t care that most of your “friends” just cared about you when it came to parties and having fun, that there was never really anyone that truly took you seriously in a relationship.

It’s really easy to pretend those things aren’t real. But it’s just like Yeri said - one moment, everyone has to wake up. To you, waking up means facing the consequences of your actions, to face your feelings.

And it really hurts right now.

It also reminds you that the person you’d usually let your guard down for was Jungkook. You were never embarrassed to be weak in front of him - and it was the other way round. You were always in tune. Always in synergy.

This makes you remember the little black pen drive laying on the nightstand.

You sit in a jump, taking your laptop and the pen drive. Just feeling the device between your fingers makes you feel nervous… that’s why you still didn’t check what’s inside of it yet. Jimin said it was something personal. You’ve been hesitating to see whatever it is.

It can’t be bad, can it?

You plug the pen drive in your laptop.

The files tab pops up. There’s actually only one file inside the pen drive - a video. It’s called euphoria final test i swear to god.

You chuckle. This is so Jungkook.

Your finger still hovers over the touchpad hesitantly. It looks like one of Jungkook’s test videos - you’ve seen plenty of those. Nothing new. Nothing to be scared of. You double click.

The video opens up and fills up the screen.

It’s a vertical video recorded on selfie mode. Jungkook is walking down the university hall; he has a playful smile on his lips. The video shows you walking by his side, a grumpy expression on your face.

You remember this. He actually posted this on his Instagram stories around one year ago. His hair was way shorter back then. Why does he still have something so silly?

“Y/N’s team lost the championship.” Jungkook says. Of course he looks happy. He roots for the rival team. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Fuck you.” Is all you say.

Jungkook laughs loudly.

Another video.

A song kicks in.

It starts with the sweet melody of a piano. You frown, not recognizing this song at all.

Then the voice of the singer kicks in, and you feel your whole body freezing.

It’s Jungkook’s voice.

He sounds soft and angelic as you’ve always known - only this time, through professional mics and mixing. This itself is already shocking. You always felt blessed for being one of the few people to know of Jungkook’s singing ability, but this is different. He sounds like a professional singer, someone that makes a living out of it.

You remember Namjoon’s voice.

Hah, Jungkook didn’t tell you yet? He has been working with us! We’re doing a good job. He lent his voice to record some demos.

You then remember what Jungkook told you.

I… I kind of helped them write a song. I felt kind of inspired. It was just for fun, though.

Maybe I’ll let you listen to it any other day.

Is… is this the song he was talking about?

Jungkook’s sweet voice sings:

You are the sunlight that rose again in my life

A reincarnation of my childhood dreams

I don’t know what these emotions are

Am I still dreaming?

Your breathing is irregular. Your fingers are shaking slightly.

Because as if his voice wasn’t enough to singlehandedly make you feel completely lost, the video is still passing on.

Videos of you.

You sitting on the university’s library, reading a book. You crying that time you ate tacos that were way too spicy, Jungkook’s laughter from behind his phone ringing softly over the song. You playing Just Dance with Seulgi, ridiculously trying to follow the doll’s moves on the TV. You running after Jungkook down the hall as he laughs because he stole your last cookie. You dancing around your kitchen as you prepare breakfast. You and him singing to Staying Alive that night at Burger King, both of you visibly drunk. Your shocked reaction as you watched a plot twist unfold on the TV - an anime he insisted so much for you to watch that you ended up watching.

I hear the ocean from far away

Across the dream, past the woods

I'm following this clarity

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

You remember some of those videos. He posted some of them on his Instagram or Snapchat. Some of them you sent him yourself. Some of them, though, you had no idea that existed. Videos of you doing… nothing. Scrolling down your phone. Reading a book. Watching TV. Some of them look more professional - those are from the times you accepted to be his “model” so he could test his techniques, yet he never let you see any of those videos.

Just you.

You, you, you and you.

Were you wandering around

Looking for an erased dream too?

It’s different from what destiny suggests

We share the same painful views

Won't you please stay in my dreams

Yes, both of you had erased dreams. Your erased dream was Mike. His erased dream was Yeri.

Jungkook thought that you would never be more than friends. What he felt, though, was different from what he thought destiny suggested.

The way you drifted apart from each other. The pain you went through, watching your friendship slowly die. You shared the same painful views.

You don’t know at what moment you start to cry, but now, tears are freely dripping down your cheeks.

Even if the earth crumbles

No matter who shakes this world

Don't let go of my hand

Please don’t wake me up from this dream

You remember that time you were looking at the pictures Jungkook took at a wedding, and you noticed how the groom looked at his future wife with overflowing love. You wondered to yourself if someone has ever looked - or ever would - look at you the same way.

Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.

It was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around.

You’re not seeing him in this video.

Yet, it shows how Jungkook sees you. And you can’t help but think… in his eyes, you look beautiful.

He sings beautifully. Passionately.

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

Euphoria

Close the door now

When I’m with you I’m in utopia

As the song slowly ends, the screen shows a last shot from a very old video you didn’t even remember. It’s from your graduation day from high school… actually, a video your mother recorded. The difference is clear from how shaky the camera is. You can’t help but think you look too goofy in your old school uniform.

“Y/N, it’s your graduation day! Next year you’ll live by yourself in a big city!”

“Thanks God. Less bills to pay for,” you hear your father jokingly say somewhere out of sight. You roll your eyes, but still laugh.

“Thank you so much, Dad. I see how much you love me.”

“But I love you, sweetie!”

“Shut up, darling. I’m trying to do an interview.” Your mother shushes him. “So, how do you feel, Y/N?”

You look thoughtful for a moment. That stupid teenager on the screen looks so full of hopes and courage. So young, so naive. “I’m a little bit scared, but I’m excited.” You say.

Then you smile, as if remembering something very important.

“Besides, Jungkook will live next to me, so I’ll be alright.”

The video ends.

You just sit there, sobbing uncontrollably for the next few minutes.

When you clicked that file, you never expected this.

You never expected to feel so loved with just a video.

At the same time, it makes an urge - the strongest urge you’ve ever felt in your life - flow through you. You need to tell Jungkook how wrong those lyrics are.

He doesn’t have to keep dreaming anymore. You’ve woken up from your own dream - and you’re ready to show him the real world in which you love him back, unconditionally.

Irene and Seulgi look worried as they see you marching out of your bedroom, sniffling, tears streaming down your cheeks. Before Irene can say anything, you put both hands on her shoulders and look at her seriously.

“Remember when you said you owed me one? That you’d help me with whatever I needed?”

Irene starts to look scared. “Yes.”

“Were you serious?”

“Of course!”

“Good. Then I need you to buy a flight ticket for me. Today.”

“Are you sure that’s the right hotel, Jimin?” you ask out of breath, your phone almost falling as you balance it between your ear and your shoulder, your hands busy holding your passport and flight ticket. You, Irene and Seulgi run inside the airport, looking like three crazy women in a dangerous mission - which isn’t too far from reality.

“I’m sure, Y/N!” Jimin says through the phone, starting to sound a little bit annoyed. “God, you asked me this a hundred times!”

“But I need to be sure! Can’t you ask him once again?”

“He will start to get suspicious. I already had to make up one hell of an excuse to make him tell me which room he’s in without sounding creepy.”

“Room 23, right?”

“Room 32!”

“So, is he sure that’s the right hotel?” Irene asks.

“Yes.”

She clicks something on her phone. “Good. It’s not too far from the airport. You’re lucky there was a room available!”

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Seulgi asks, looking borderline panicked. “You’re not going to die if you wait a few days until he comes back.”

“Yes, I am going to die if I wait any longer.”

“So dramatic.” Jimin says over the phone. You can even see him rolling his eyes.

“Shut up!”

“Why are you telling me to shut up?!” Seulgi asks, offended.

“No! I was talking to Jimin!” You finally hold the phone with your hand. “Okay, Jimin. I’m hanging up. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Don’t fucking die out there.” Jimin says, but you can hear the smile on his voice. “Good luck!”

You shove the phone inside your back pocket and turn around to look at them.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you alone in a foreign country.” Seulgi says. She does look panicked.

“I don’t trust myself either, but it’s alright.” You reassure her - but she only looks more nervous. You didn’t even bring a suitcase, choosing to just take a backpack with a few clothes and extremely necessary items.

Irene takes something from her wallet and hands it to you. “Here’s my credit card. I will text you the password later.”

You widen your eyes. “Irene, that’s not necessary…”

She shrugs in a dismissing demeanour. “Of course it is. How will you survive out there without money?” This kinda reminds you that this is only one of her credit cards and that whatever money you spend won’t really mean much to her. Still, you take the card hesitantly, making a mental promise to not spend more than the utmost necessary. “Your room is booked. You can ask a taxi to take you directly to the hotel. There’s no way to get lost.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” Seulgi says under her breath.

“Seulgi, I will fucking beat you up.”

“Sorry! I’m nervous!” She admits.

Your gaze softens. “I promise I won’t die, okay?”

She steps closer and hugs you tightly. “Be safe. Huh, you’re so stupid, but this is so romantic! It feels like I’m watching a Netflix romcom movie in real life!”

“Why do you always have to bring Netflix up?” Irene wonders under her breath. Seulgi sends her a menacing glare as she steps back again. “Anyways, if you need anything, please call us. Call us as soon as you get out of the plane. Keep us informed.”

“Okay.” You jump over to hug Irene; she gets visibly surprised, not really the type of person to appreciate a lot of physical contact. “Thank you so much, Irene! You’re saving my life!”

“The same way you saved mine.” She giggles. “Now go, unless you want to lose your flight!”

You wave them goodbye one last time before walking to the check-in area.

Yeah. You know that this is very, very stupid to do. You could wait three days. But when your impulsive, chaotic side takes control, you can’t really hold it back. That’s why you get inside the plane even though you’re really fucking scared of flights, going to a country you know absolutely nothing about.

But it’s alright. You’ll be with Jungkook, so it’s alright. Even if he rejects you - it’s alright.

Your chaotic side says that you’ll annoy him until he at least listens to you - and this time, you don’t think your chaotic side is all that wrong.

You get lost.

Which is dumb, because there were lots of information boards around the airport. Maybe that’s why you got lost - too much information, your peanut-sized brain couldn’t process all of that. After walking around the gigantic place for a good thirty minutes, only stopping to buy something very important on a vending machine, you find the exit and the taxi area. The taxi driver sees how desperate you are and it looks like he pities you.

Irene was right; the hotel is only twenty minutes away from the airport. It’s not a super hotel, but it looks like it’s much more expensive than you’d be able to pay (you couldn’t even pay for the flight tickets anyway).

You get more and more and more and more nervous at each passing minute. You feel like you’re about to fucking explode as the receptionist types something you can’t see. When he gives you the key card for your room, you feel goosebumps run down your spine.

It’s now.

Getting inside the elevator, you press the button to Jungkook’s floor. You don’t even want to drop your things in your own room before meeting him. You’re so nervous that, if you wait a little bit more, you’re sure that you’ll pass out.

Every step of yours on the corridor’s carpeted floor echoes in your ears. Your heart beats furiously. Your hands are trembling slightly and you feel cold in your stomach.

Room 23.

You stand in front of it, frozen.

Oh my God.

As expected, you don’t know what you’ll say when you see him. You tried to plan a speech the entire flight as a way to forget you were thousands of feet away from the ground and how fucking scared it made you, but you couldn’t think of anything.

You inhale and exhale deeply. It’s alright. It’s Jungkook who you’re talking about. You’ve always known how to act around him. Right now it’s no different.

Finally, you knock on the door.

“J-Jungkook?” You call, your voice failing slightly.

No response.

Weird. Jimin made sure that Jungkook wouldn’t be working anymore at this hour.

“Jungkook, it’s me. Can we… can we talk, please?” You say a little bit louder, knocking on the door once more. You can't hear any noise coming from inside the room. Come on, Jungkook. You have to open the door before any security guard can drag me away from here.

Your breathing is difficult. Your hands are trembling slightly. It feels that the floor is opening holes under your feet.

"Jungkook, I know you're mad at me. But please… please, let me at least explain myself." It's stupid how you already feel your eyes welling up with tears. Since when you became such a cry baby? Your chest tightens, hurts. "Y-You can't just leave me outside your room like this. Stop being a jerk. I need to tell you… I-I need to tell you that I lo-"

"Y/N?"

You freeze.

You turn around, looking at the exact opposite room in the hallway.

It's him.

Jungkook still holds the doorknob, indicating that he just opened it. He's barefoot, wears shorts and a long sleeved shirt, all black. His damp hair falling slightly over his eyes indicates that he probably just took a shower.

His eyes are so widened that it looks like they're about to pop out of his face.

He sincerely looks at you like you're the weirdest thing he has ever seen in his life.

"W-What-" he stutters, looking like he can't form a coherent sentence. "What the fuck?!"

You're still frozen in place.

You turn around again, looking at the door you were knocking on.

Room 23.

You look back at Jungkook again - the sign on his door.

Room 32.

"Oh." Is all you can say.

Shame suddenly makes your shoulders weight. You really, really hope there's no one inside Room 23.

You both stand there, staring at each other with widened eyes like two scared chipmunks. Your neck and face feels very, very hot.

Jungkook looks like he's recovering from the shock. He didn't hear anything you said, apparently.

"W-What exactly are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side. He frowns, looking at you like you're an exotic species.

"Oh." You repeat. Your brain is malfunctioning. You step closer, simply showing him the plastic bag you're holding. "I-I brought you this."

His eyes go from you to the plastic bag and to you again.

"It's banana milk." You explain hurriedly. He widens his eyes slightly. "I mean- it's this country's equivalent of banana milk, I guess. It's the closest thing I could buy in the vending machine."

Jungkook raises his hand slowly and takes it. He's moving carefully, as if this exotic species can jump on him and bite him at any moment.

"Did you take a 5 hour flight just to buy me banana milk?"

"Yes." You agree mindlessly. You feel your entire body burning now. "A-And I also came here to talk, because your dramatic ass didn't let me speak the other day."

Jungkook quirks one eyebrow and crosses his arms slowly. "Alright. I'm listening to you now."

He stares at you very seriously.

His gaze is overwhelming. It almost feels that you're getting small under his eyes. Gosh - you've been wanting to see him for days, but right now, when he's right in front of you, you can't say a damn thing, your brain completely overheating, your braincells melting. You thought you'd know how to act when you met him - but ha, guess what? You don't.

And that motherfucker is just standing there, waiting for you to speak. Just staring at you.

You hold the doorknob in a swift moment and close the door on his face, just letting enough of it open so he can still hear you.

"What-?" He gasps from inside the room.

"Shut up, okay?! I just can't speak looking at you right now." You hold the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles get white. You hate the way your voice is trembling and you hate the way your sight can't really focus on anything around you - that's just how nervous you are.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. You feel him leaning on the other side of the door, waiting patiently.

You inhale and exhale heavily.

"You got so fucking angry at me when I said you were my best friend that night.” You start, not really knowing where you’re going with this. You don’t even know if it’s possible to convey everything you feel through words only. “But you know, it’s- it’s true. You are my best friend. But what you didn’t let me explain is that you’re not just my best friend.”

Your heartbeat thunders on your ears at each word. You can’t see Jungkook’s expression, and at the same time it helps you keep talking, it also makes you more anxious.

“Y-You’ve been with me through everything. You were there with me when I broke my arm when we were kids, and you were there to help me when I thought I wouldn’t get into college, and you were there with me to celebrate when I got into college. It’s even embarrassing that you’ve seen all of my lowest moments.” You rest your head on the door, staring at the carpet under your feet. The first tears roll down your cheeks. “You know everything about me and sometimes I hate it. You’re like… fuck, I hate how cheesy this sounds, but you’re like a part of me. A-And you’re the best part, because- I don’t know how to explain, but you’re always the one making my average self want to be more.”

Normal you would never say something like this. You’re far from being an emotional person and you’re shit with words. But right now you’re crying and sniffling and trembling and you can’t shut your mouth anymore.

“Please, you have to believe me. I would never purposefully hurt you. Whenever I see you sad I die a little bit inside, and to know that I was the cause of your sadness is fucking killing me. It’s killing me.” You sob. “I don’t want to be the cause of your sadness ever again. I-I want to return all the good things you’ve done to me. So, please… I know I’m a pain in the ass to deal with, b-but if you’d let me be by your side… if you’d just bear me a little bit longer until I become someone that you’d want to be with-”

Jungkook opens the door.

You hear him whispering under his breath wait, wait, wait, interrupting you. Gently, he puts his hands on your arms and pulls you inside the room, closing the door right after, so now your back is against the door - right in front of him.

He stares at you, lips parted, eyebrows slightly knitted together. He looks stunned. Very, very confused. And very hopeful.

His starry eyes are welling up with tears.

“What… what do you mean with all this?” Jungkook asks softly. He almost sounds scared. “What do you really mean?”

You stare at him in silence. His beautiful face. His beautiful self.

You’ve never been so sure about anything in your life.

“I love you.” you confess, your voice cracking slightly. “I-I fucking love you. I’m sorry that I took so long to realize.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

The next thing you know is that his lips are against yours.

He drops the plastic bag full of banana milk on the floor, holding the back of your neck with one hand and pressing your body against his with the other. He tastes like toothpaste and tears; you can barely breathe, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream, your fingers grabbing the strands of his damp hair.

When he finally lets go of your lips, you’re both out of breath and trembling.

Then, he smiles - and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks as his own cheeks are wet with tears. His eyes are smiling too, and you think that you want to keep that smile forever.

“Y-You have… you have no idea of how long- how long I dreamed of hearing this,” Jungkook says quietly, his voice cracking a little bit. He giggles, frowning his eyebrows slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing right in front of him. “I can’t believe you took a fucking plane to bring me banana milk! How can I stay mad at you when you do this type of thing?!”

You start giggling too. His warmth, his scent of baby powder, the way his eyes are shining as much as diamonds - this is something you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t know you’d ever have.

“God- I fucking love you, too.”

Your heart feels filled.

You smash your lips on his again.

It’s desperate and intense and makes your senses completely dizzy.

You feel the backpack dropping from your shoulders right before Jungkook lifts you up as if you weigh nothing and you circle your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss, he carries you to where the bed is, sitting down with you on his lap.

Adrenaline and excitement washes over your body in anticipation. It’s even familiar at this point - his gaze clouded with want, your heavy breathings, hands grabbing and caressing everywhere they can find. Jungkook moans quietly against your lips as you grip his hair tightly, humping your clothed core very slowly against his growing erection.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers in that deep voice that makes goosebumps run down your skin, his lips against your neck as he kisses and sucks it. You giggle.

“We fucked just a few days ago,” you point out.

“I miss this everyday. All the time.”

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you.

You might be shit at words, you might not know how to express yourself that well. But one thing you know better than anyone else is how to make him feel good.

So, softly, you push him back until you’re hovering above him and he’s propped up by his elbows.

You don’t say anything. You just smile and start to take his shirt off.

He doesn’t complain.

Your hands roam his exposed skin as you kiss and suck his neck gently. While your lips are still glued on his neck, one of your hands travels to caress his clothed member. Quiet moans come from the back of his throat. Slowly, you kiss your way down his chest and stomach - until you’re kneeled in front of his opened legs.

Jungkook is breathing heavily in anticipation. Maybe it’s the sole sight of you biting your bottom lip as you manage to get his member free from his boxers and shorts that makes it throb. He has to gulp when he sees you spitting on his dick, the feeling of your spit trickling down his member making goosebumps roam his skin.

You hold his member and start to bump it slowly at first - which makes waves of pure pleasure wash over Jungkook, stunning his senses. He hisses when your lips envelop the head of his cock, sucking it. His eyes are half lidded, lips slightly parted, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. He looks so beautiful as he’s being pleasured.

You start taking more of him inside your mouth until you feel him on your throat; Jungkook moans louder. You bob your head up and down his length, taking turns between sucking and bumping his member with your hand, your spit making it easier and producing obscene sounds. Jungkook hisses and groans and moans and then he’s grabbing your hair, making you take more of him inside your mouth. You don’t complain. You just want to make him feel the best he has ever felt.

This time, though, it’s being much quieter than what it usually is. Jungkook just swears a little under his breath. No dirty talking.

His face and neck are covered with blush, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, his face distorted with pure pleasure. His moans are getting more constant and louder. You wouldn’t mind if he cummed in your mouth right now, but Jungkook hisses and takes his hand off your hair.

“Oh my God- stop. Stop. Come here, babe.”

You decide to just do as he said. As soon as you prop your knees on each side of him, Jungkook sits up again and starts to get rid of your clothing hurriedly - first your pants, then your coat and shirt. When he unclasps your bra, he immediately takes one of your breasts on his mouth, making you moan quietly. His hand pushes your panties to the side to meet your already wet core; you moan louder as he gently caresses it. You unconsciously start moving your hips against his hand, his movements adding more pressure over your clit, his lips still licking and sucking your breasts.

Jungkook decides this was enough to get you wetter. He pushes your panties to the side, holds both sides of your hips as you guide his member to your entrance.

Both of you moan as he enters.

You close your eyes tightly, the feeling of being stretched by him so familiar and so delicious. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you start to guide yourself up and down on him, never breaking eye contact, watching him carefully. Every deep moan coming from him makes you shiver. The pleasure, the sound of skin hitting skin - how many times have you done it before? You don’t even remember. Yet, right now, it somehow feels fresh and new.

Maybe it’s because there’s more in Jungkook’s eyes than just lust. Maybe it’s because you notice how he watches you with adoration. And maybe it’s because you watch him with the same intensity, the same feeling.

Jungkook grabs the skin of your hips tightly as you increase your pace. He loves your face contorted in pleasure, he loves the sight of your boobs jumping at each move, he loves to feel the soft skin of your ass on his hand. He loves it. Both of you are really sweating now. You kiss him deeply, never decreasing your pace, your tongues entangling around each other, grabbing the strands of his hair.

God, how much he loves it.

He loves it much more now, because he sees how this time, he’s not the only one feeling something beyond physical pleasure. He knows you too damn well. It’s just like that morning at your house. You’re feeling it, too.

You love him, too.

Thinking about it makes him smile. You think it’s simultaneously the hottest and the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook simply circles his arms around your waist and completely switches positions, throwing you on your back on the bed, which makes you giggle. He finally gets rid of your panties and hovers over you, thrusting inside of you once again.

His pace is fast and steady from the beginning. Your moans get higher and higher, louder and louder. You love how his face is so close to yours, how strongly he’s hitting you, how he tightly intertwines his fingers with yours (Jungkook really is the type to intertwine his hands when having sex!)

It’s ridiculous how you feel your eyes welling up with tears in a moment like this.

This moment… It’s not just bodies connecting - it’s souls.

You used to think you and Jungkook didn’t match; you were opposites in many ways. Jungkook is an introvert, you are an extrovert. Jungkook prefers quiet places, you prefer parties. Jungkook works out, you’re too lazy to do so. Jungkook hates coffee. You can’t live without it.

But, it’s in this moment - when he’s inside of you, when all of your senses are stunned by pure pleasure, when everything you can smell is him and everything you can hear is the sounds of bodies against bodies and when everything you can see is his beautiful starry eyes looking right back at you - is when you realize how wrong you were all along.

You’re like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. They need to be different to match. They are different, but when you put them two together, they complete each other.

You’ve always matched.

Seulgi didn't expect to find Jungkook standing in the kitchen when she came home.

Of course - you told her that the flight back home was scheduled at night and you'd probably arrive in the morning. This shouldn't be surprising. Yet, Seulgi still widens her eyes when she sees Jeon Jungkook cooking breakfast, his hair a mess, his face slightly swollen - an indication that he just woke up - wearing shorts and a white t-shirt.

He turns around and smiles. "Oh! Y/N didn't tell me you were coming back so early." He sounds a little bit surprised.

Seulgi notices it immediately.

That smile on his face and those gleamy eyes are just shown by someone that had a long, steamy and tiring night of sex.

Sure, Seulgi knows that you and Jungkook made up - and that you've been fucking for months now - but damn, it's still shocking to see it with her own eyes, considering that you only looked like good friends.

"I didn't know I'd come back early, too." Seulgi says, sitting by the tiny kitchen counter. She was expecting to spend the weekend at Irene’s penthouse, but she had to work. This is one of the reasons why Seulgi loves Irene; Irene could just enjoy her fortune and do nothing, yet, she decides to actively work for the company. She’s admirable.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asks over his shoulder.

"Well… I already had breakfast, but this is smelling really good." She admits. Jungkook nods and proceeds to prepare one more portion. She just watches in silence as he works around the kitchen (and she's also surprised that he knows where everything is, every pot, every spoon, literally everything). He hums quietly, that tiny satisfied smile never leaving his lips.

Seulgi thinks she has never seen him so happy.

It's kind of adorable.

"So, how was your job?" She asks.

"It was great!" Jungkook says excitedly. He chuckles. "I thought I was going to be the assistant of the assistant, but actually I was everyone's assistant. I didn't really do much, but it was great anyways. It's totally different to study about it and see how things work in real life."

Before Seulgi says anything, she sees you coming from your bedroom.

Your face is swollen and your eyes are barely opened; it seems you're not even seeing where you're going. Your hair is a complete mess. You wear one of Jungkook's shirts and Seulgi suspects you're not wearing anything under it.

She watches as you walk on a beeline straight to Jungkook and hug him from behind, burying your face on his back.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" At least that's what she thinks you said, because your voice sounds muffled.

"Because you looked so funny that I didn't want to wake you up." He says softly. Seulgi can hear his smile. "You were drooling and all. I even took some pictures."

"You didn't."

"I did." Jungkook giggles when you punch his back, but still keep your body glued on him.

"Fuck you. What are you cooking anyways? It smells too fucking good." You mumble.

"It's my special recipe." Jungkook moves to take something on the cabinet. You go along. "I can't cook if you keep smashing me like this."

"I don't caaare."

"Since when do you like hugging so much?"

"You didn't know girlfriend Y/N. Girlfriend Y/N likes long hugs."

Jungkook chuckles again. "Nice to meet you, Girlfriend Y/N."

Seulgi just stares, jaw dropped. From all the things she thought she’d see in her life, this is the most unexpected.

This is so cheesy. So not you. Not even when you were dating Mike you were like this.

And Jesus- she has never seen you look happy like this.

You turn your head to look at Seulgi, and she watches awkwardly as you let go of Jungkook and proceed to walk in her direction. You kind of look like a really happy zombie.

“Oh, good morning, Seul. Don’t be jealous. I love you toooo.”

And you throw your arms around her shoulders, hugging her so tightly that she almost falls from the stool.

The only person that doesn’t get shocked at your relationship is your mother.

You casually called her just to talk and gave the news. What she said?

“Well, finally.”

Everyone else is utterly shocked.

When Hoseok saw you kissing each other goodbye the other day - it was just a peck - his eyes got so wide that it seemed they were about to pop out of his face. He stared at you and him, completely shocked, as Jimin just laughed. That was pretty much everyone’s reaction.

You and Jungkook were never the type to be too touchy. It’s still kind of awkward to hand hold in public or call each other things like babe or love. You physically cringe just thinking of calling him “babe”, honestly.

It’s weird, because you’re “officially” dating now, but your relationship isn’t all that different. All the overwhelming awkwardness between you is gone (thankfully), so now you do what you always did; you swear at each other, you have your violent ways of showing affection, he still ghosts you because he’s too busy playing whatever game. The only difference is that now you can fuck without feeling guilty (and oh boy, you’ve been fucking a lot these days) and there’s a lot of kissing. There wasn’t that much kissing back then.

You thought it was impossible, but sex is even better now. It’s more exciting and even funnier - especially because there’s no awkwardness weighting in the room after you both reach your climaxes. Instead, there’s giggles and hugs and soft kisses. You also sleep at each other’s places now, which is good.

To be honest, if you think really hard about it, you’ve been lowkey dating for years. It’s just that now, you fuck a lot.

When you tell him this, Jungkook just chuckles. You don’t think he’s really listening to what you’re saying, though - nor you’re thinking straight anymore. You went out with your friends at a karaoke and, as expected, ended up drinking way too much; you and Seulgi had a singing competition in which none of you won (Irene just sat there looking absolutely embarrassed), Jimin sang a little bit but disappeared at some point (Jungkook said he noticed some hot guy in the side room), Hoseok got so emotional singing Haru Haru by BigBang that he started crying as Seokjin laughed so hard he almost choked, and Jungkook didn’t sing at all (because everybody knew he’s actually good at it and he would humiliate everyone else), until Jungkook silently asked if you wanted to leave (and you did) and you two left before anyone could notice (they were too drunk to notice anyway).

Since he’s drinking, you took a bus. The wrong bus. You’re at the other side of the city now, sitting on the bench of a park, watching the sun rise. It sounds romantic, but really, everything you see is heavy traffic and the grey pollution line in the horizon, almost blocking the sun.

Not that you care.

“We did everything backwards.” Jungkook says, his voice low and a little bit husky. His eyes look heavy because of the alcohol. You love how his hair is tied in a tiny ponytail. “People usually are friends first, then go out on dates, then they fuck.”

“We jumped straight to the fun part!” You say as if it’s obvious. He giggles again.

Peaceful silence. Jungkook watches your intertwined hands sitting on his lap, a small smile on his face. You can see that, even though he’s right by your side, his mind must be far, far away. He’s clearly sleepy. It’s silly - you know this guy almost your entire life, you already have memorized each detail about him - but you can’t take your eyes off of him right now.

You inhale.

“You know.” You start absently. “I saw the video.”

Jungkook frowns and looks at you. “What video?”

You’re trying really hard to hold back a smile.

“I think it’s called euphoria final test I swear to God.”

His eyes widen.

“W-What? Who showed you?!” He groans. “Jimin. Oh my God- I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

You start laughing as you see blush creeping on his cheeks and ears. He hides his face behind his hands and moans painfully.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” You ask, endeared, trying to get his hands off from his face, but he won’t let you.

“You weren’t supposed to watch that! It’s- it wasn’t- ugh!”

“But the song is beautiful, Kook!” You try, still laughing.

“Yeah, the song is alright, but the video?”

“What’s wrong with the video?”

He finally side eyes you for a few seconds. The blush on his cheeks gets redder. He hides his face again, groaning.

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that. Shit, I can’t look at you anymore. I wanna fucking die.”

“Stop being so dramatic!” After a lot of effort, you finally manage to cup his face with your hands. Still, he avoids your gaze. “Hey, hey. Look at me!”

He does.

He looks sheepish and it’s adorable.

“I loved it. Every second of it. You’re so damn talented.”

“B-But I didn’t write the song alone… Namjoon takes most of the credits with the lyrics. I just helped a little bit. A-And you know, it was just for fun, it’s not an official demo or anything-”

He’s forced to shut up when you peck his lips.

“I love you.”

He knits his eyebrows a little bit.

“You like to say this a lot.” He notices quietly. “I didn’t know you were this type of person.”

“I’m not.” You agree. “But it’s because it’s you.”

You’ve been “officially” dating for, what, almost two weeks now? People usually don’t say “I love you” this early. But this isn’t the beginning for you two. It’s more like a progression. It feels natural, like it has always been with him.

It feels like home.

Jungkook avoids your gaze again. The blush hasn’t gone away. “I don’t know what to do when you say things like that- why are you crying?!”

It’s Jungkook’s time to laugh at you as you try to wipe the tears away. He pulls you to rest your head on his chest, hugging you tightly.

“I am supposed to be the emotional one here, not you.” He says, still laughing.

“Shut up. I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, sure.” His laughter slowly dies until it’s just a quiet giggle. You feel his scent, hear the beating of his heart. Jungkook kisses the top of your head gently, caressing your back. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed when I remember I said this tomorrow,” he says softly against your hair. “But I think I’ve loved you ever since that first day of school when we bumped into each other on our way.”

You bury your face on his chest even more.

Everything around you is blurred and distant. It seems that nothing really matters besides right here, right now - as if you’ve never realized what you’ve been waiting for your whole life. This moment.

Him.

The puzzle is finally complete.

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