#he was a soccer boy too

[frillypaws]

flashback to the time i was in 3rd grade and meowed at a random boy in my class for some reason and he meowed back

[amusedphan]

the benefits of being mexican and adhd means you're always late to a party (@phanniemasquerade ) 🤪

i'm mando, and i'm half a month from being exactly a decade younger than dan. first mask is a nod to my area of study, second is based off alebrijes. i'm gay as fuck and in an inchresting Situation that is extremely similar to phan except we're somehow not technically together. i started watching dnp (+listening to muse) a decade ago and even did a few phandom meetups back in the day, thought they were cringe for a while, and now i'm back to being cringe <3

i might want to do some music stuff if i ever get off my ass, but mostly i want to get back to writing rpf now that i have dnp's blessing... and to not let whatever i wrote in grade 8 be the only phan stuff i have out there :/

[pernillecfcw]

Cold Palmer 🥶🥶🥶

[m1ckeyb3rry]

GUESS WHO FINALLY CAUGHT UP W THE BLLK MANGA 🤩

[moonartemisia]

AS PROMISED!!

Okay.... idk why I'm always drawing blue lock men hot (I mean, they're totally indeed hot, or maybe it's just because of my artstyle—)

[mkstrigidae]

Beautiful boy, my little baby, my Bally boo bear, my favorite creature, ate another book while I was in the shower and then decided to belch in my face when I tried to take a nap

[le010n11]

The Pharaohs dream.

The football problem in Egypt

and the Pharaoh's curse.

I grieve different

I grieve different

Everybody grieves different

Everybody grieves different

The Egyptian men national team x United in Grief Kendrick Lamar

[heavencasteel420]

Whenever Steve is said/shown to be enjoying ABBA, as though it’s a given that an midwestern American teenage boy with mainstream tastes and a casual approach to liking media in 1986 would enjoy ABBA (a group that broke up in 1982 and hadn’t been hitmakers in the US since 1980) I have to sigh, because there are actually three scenarios where it’s plausible that he’d like ABBA:

He liked ABBA in elementary/middle school (during their heyday) and is nostalgic for it;

He’s an adult in the mid-1990s or later post-canon and gets caught up in the ABBA revival of the day;

It’s a modern AU and he’s a teenager in the 2010s/2020s, where ABBA is pretty much universally beloved.

But so few people seem to realize that ABBA would probably not have been on Steve’s radar in 1986 (unless, again, it was a remnant from middle school).

[omarwolaeth]

It's such a tiny innocuous thing that really doesn't matter, but I feel like calling duel monsters a children's card game (when it's fundamentally baked into everyday life, and your social existence is judged by what you play and how you play it so very intensely, for everyone in-universe) is an absolute injustice to what it is for that universe of people.

[etre-grantaire]

I absolutely love bisexual Taylor who doesn’t realize he’s bisexual because of anime.

“What do you mean not everyone is attracted to men? Are you saying it’s gay to be into men? To want to hold them against you and to think about them constantly? What, do you think Naruto is bisexual too???”

Simultaneous self awareness and obliviousness due to Naruto brainrot 

[emotionalsupportsoccerball]

My favorite thing about The Call series is all the players being surprised that Vlatko is FaceTiming them 😂

[yarnshoes]

[pernillecfcw]

COLE FUCKING PALMER YOU BEAUTY🥶🥶🥶🥶

[kay9leo]

At First Glance... Part VII

Chapter 6 <<< ||| Chapter 7 ||| >>> Chapter 8

...On Hippogriffs

It was by chance he recognized the exact location of the final piece of the triptych.

During their pause on their friendship, Sebastian found that the third best thing to clear his head aside from talking to MC or to Ominis and dueling was to take his broom and fly off.

While Imelda might focus more on breaking her latest speeding record and MC would focus on whatever misadventure she could get herself into (that girl don’t know the meaning of taking it easy), Sebastian couldn’t care less about either thing. The thing that he cared about was feeling the wind against his hair and the cool breeze against his face.

It was almost meditative.

He could always count on mindlessly flying to keep his mind off of things…such as his wayward friendwho decided that apparently getting in trouble with Garreth in potions was more fun than hanging out with him.

Yet, somehow when he spotted MC leaving the dungeons with Weasley after a Saturday’s morning detention of scrubbing caldrons clean and prepping materials for the next potion’s class –all done by hand mind you– with a fat smile before laughing at something Weasley said, Sebastian found that he couldn’t even be in the same building as the two.

So, he took off on his broom and started flying.

Usually when things bothered him, the first person he would go to was to MC to figure out how to resolve it. Then it would be Ominis –if it was something he didn’t want MC to worry about, like his thoughts on her.

Sebastian didn’t dare to bother Anne. Not with this.

And if he was being honest to himself, not since she was cursed.

Before (because there was always a before when things were better), Anne was always his go-to person. The person who knew how to handle things with a mischievous plan that would work nearly 75% of the time. His twin knew him better than anyone else…

…Until she got cursed.

Then it was as if a new person replaced her.

A more docile, behaved worried girl instead of his headstrong, playful, cheeky sister.

Telling his problems to Anne would only make things worse. She didn’t need to worry her pretty, mischievous head over him. It wasn’t the first time he kept her in the dark over something like this.

Lying to her however, made his stomach feel like it was filled with lead as he told her another made-up story over what the three of them were doing.

Anne SHOULDN’T feel the need to worry about her healthy twin brother when she was the one who was cursed. Who consistently needed bedrest. Who got weaker each time he saw her. He couldn’t bear to place weight on her weaken shoulders about his problems when half the battle of fighting a curse was having an optimistic attitude towards it.

If his sister couldn’t muster the strength to be optimistic about a cure, when their Uncle kept saying that it was pointless, that curing her was a lost cause, then he’ll be the one to do it.

He’ll be strongly optimistic for the both of them!

And if lying to her about his non-hiatuses friendship with MC would make her feel better, why should he tell her the truth if it will only make her feel worse?

Anne was over the moon to see that he made a new friend.

That it wasn’t just him and Ominis and an abandoned Undercroft.

Or that he wasn’t wasting his youth away trying to find an unknown cure.

Anne was happy that for once he was actually sneaking out to go on adventures, spending time at Hogsmeade, drinking butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, dueling for fun, talking at dinner, playing with beasts, traveling over the Highlands, pranking the prefects, playing cards, exploding snaps, Jacks, gobstones, manhunt, quidditch, soccer, quodpot, chicke–

Basically, anything that involved Sebastain acting like the adolescent he was instead of behaving like he was some old, grayed hair wrinkly olive-spotted researcher–healer with his nose buried in a book. Anne had countlessly teased him that he was becoming an old fart out in Hogwarts quicker than she was in her bed at Feldcroft.

Then all her teasing stopped when he met MC.

He sent letter after letter about their daily activities and mishaps they got into…minus a few parts…

…Such as fighting goblins…

…Or MC’s ancient magic that attracted trouble like moonlight to mooncalves…

…speaking of which, did MC remember to feed her mooncalves with that new feed they created in Beasts class?

He huffed and rolled his eyes.

She probably has Weasley helping her this time. The two seem pretty chummy for potions partner–

His train of thought stopped when he spotted two hippogriffs above him, front talons locked between them, tumbling and cartwheeling down.

A Death Spiral. Sebastian thought to himself with bated breath. They’re completing their courtship ritual.

“The reason why hippogriffs feathers are often used as part of an exchange in marriage ceremonies in some cultures is due to their symbol of love and companionship. According to records, hippogriffs are born of an unlikely union of male griffin and a mare. As you can recall, it isn’t uncommon for a griffin to prey on horse, but even love can tame the wildest.”

Sebastian recalled the words Prof. Howin lectured during class as he watched the pair fall in front of him on his broom.

“This extraordinary joining of two species that are typically seen as adversaries embodies the concept of love overcoming barriers and defying expectations. And their connection to love symbolizes the transformative and often unpredictable nature of romantic relationships, highlighting the profound impact that love can have on overcoming obstacles together. They are portrayed as a faithful and devoted companions who can form meaningful bonds with those who approach it with respect and humility.”

The two hippogriffs held tight, neither letting go, zooming down on a crash course to earth, each trusting the other on when to let go.

“When it comes to the end of their courtship ritual, they will perform a death spiral, similar to eagles, in which they lock talons and spiral downwards. It is a test to determine each other’s fitness and trustworthiness of a potential mate.” Prof. Howin stated.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Isn’t there a risk that they might die?”

Some of his classmates asked.

“It is. It isn’t surprising to see a few juveniles dead either from a failed courtship.” Prof. Howin said as she petted one. The white hippogriff keened with each stroke Prof. Howin gave on her head. “Remember class, don’t let their size fool you. The female hippogriffs like this one here are larger than their male counterparts. They are just like birds in that aspect. Now look at their wings here. The primary feathers of their wings are used for the exchange before the rings during the marriage ritual. It symbolizes–

“Then why risk it?” Sebastian thought out loud.

Professor Howin glanced at him.

“I apologize for my outburst, but why? Why would you risk your life for a potential mate like that when it can also lead you to death?” Sebastian had a strong sense of self-preservation, especially since Anne was cursed a few weeks ago.

Professor Howin shock her head with a smile.

“Ahh, spoken like someone whose never been in love before. Do you want to know what’s the prize they get if they survive Mr. Sallow?”

Sebastian nodded.

Just when it looked like they were too cocky, too prideful for either to yield first, they both let go, flying parallel to each other a few feet above ground. They then landed nearby the edge of the forest before they started preening each other, like a couple of lovebirds.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“The prize that is won from a successful death spiral is a mate for life. A partner you can always rely on Mr. Sallow. Surely as someone who’s a fine duelist like yourself would know what a difference it makes to have a partner to watch your back during paired fights. And now, imagine having a fine partner like that to help carry your burdens. A partner who you could also share your good times with as well.” Professor Howin stated with a smile.

Sebastian couldn’t.

Sebastian stood seated, hovering far above the newly mated pair of Hippogriffs, watching them as they nuzzled each other before flying off. That’s when he recognized a familiar landscape in the direction that they flew towards.

Looks like we might not have to fight that much to the next triptych piece. Not with that Floo spot available nearby. Sebastian smirked before he felt an ache in his heart. The corners of his lips fell.

It doesn’t matter. I bet Weasley’s keeping her happily entertain to even remember about me. He snorted before he flew back to the castle.

That evening, he wrote Anne another letter about his encounter with the paired hippogriff’s death spiral. He described the awe that appeared in MC’s eyes as the hippogriff separated in time before nuzzling each other like lovebirds back in the ground before she shared a fun fact about how the females ‘griffs tended to be bigger than the male ones before he joked that big thing comes in small packages with a wink.

Not that his own package was small mind you…at least from what he figured…

…So, what if his own package was smaller than the British average of 5.17 inches? He still had good 5.05 inches on him.

Either way, at least that joke will for certain make Anne roll her eyes before writing something about him being a scoundrel and to stop treating MC as if she was one of the boys.

Then Sebastain would roll his eyes and reply that he is aware that MC is a girl thank you very much. Why else would he be bothered by the fact that the other boys in their year were being a bit too friendly with her? What guy would wear a citrus orange perfume? Or even make crown flowers?

For all the tomfoolery, tomboyish attitude and trousers that MC would wear, Sebastian was deeply aware that at the end of the day, MC is a girl.

A girl who had no idea how much her absence in their friendship had hurt him.

Either way, that crude joke should be enough to distract Anne from looking too deep into the details of why he hasn’t written much about MC recently.

Anne was happy to see that Sebastian living his life for once.

He wasn’t going to break that illusion.

Sebastian just wished he could’ve lived that lie he written with MC.

So, after mailing the insincere letter to his twin and seeing MC and Weasley still being buddy-buddy after their shared morning detention with the addition of Natty at dinner, Sebastian went to the Undercroft to review the second triptych painting.

The landmarks he saw earlier matched to what he seen in the last canvas piece they found. Looking at it gave him the same feeling just like it did the first time when he recognized the landmarks seen in the first and only canvas piece.

It was excitement, determination and hope.

It was an adventure waiting. A piece to understanding MC's ancient magic. A great mystery the two were going to solve…

…a mystery he ended up shelfing when he realized that that meant he would need to talk to MC. That he would need to yield.

But that was yesterday.

Before he dreamt of his mother.

Before he mailed out the apologize letter with an offer to help find the last triptych piece this Sunday morning.

Even if they disagreed about certain things like her goblin friend, he would always have her back. It didn’t matter the length of the pause of their friendship or that glare MC threw at him that spelt murder when she finally arrived at the stated location to meet him.

Sebastian will always have her back.

Just like she had his in every single duel, challenge or fight of their lives as together, they razed down goblins, Ashwinders and poachers who thought they could destroy the world without any consequences.

Like they did with his.

Nothing could defeat them.

Not when they can relay on each other like a mated pair of hippogriffs.

…

But it seems as if that small pause, that little hiatus in their friendship was enough for them to change while apart from each other.

...

Chapter 6 <<< ||| Chapter 7 ||| >>> Chapter 8

[cherry-leclerc]

needy ☆ cl16

genre: humor, fluff, jealous/possessive!charles, smut, established relationship

word count: 2.3k

A certain dislike bubbles deep inside of the Monegasque when you attend your first race and continue praising his teammate.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, doggy position, m!receiving, blowjob, elevator sexxxx, choking

req!...aghhh i wish men existedddd

You’re smiling wide, face flustered with genuine happiness as you beam up at the podium from afar. The lights, fireworks, music, and environment fill you with pure adrenaline, and suddenly, you get it. Why a lot of people enjoy the sport, you mean. It was an exciting thing to witness.

But from the garage, where your boyfriend is getting weighed after a tiring race, Charles glares at you and then at Carlos who he can’t quite see but can hear the applause for as they announce his name. He can see the way you clap, the way your eyes crinkle up at his teammate. 

It should’ve been him. 

“You were amazing, baby!” you cheer as you skip towards him, arms flying over his broad shoulders. He grimaces. I’m sweaty, he protests as he lightly nudges you away. “Oh.” You take a wary step back at his odd behavior that had never taken place before. “I- um…Carlos and Rebecca invited us out for dinner to celebrate. Do you want to go?”

He could tell you wanted to and he hates how much it bothered him. The way it tugged at his heart like a painful needle. “I’m sweaty,” he simply states again. 

“You can shower first, I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re a bit late-”

“Or you can go without me.”

You frown, shoulders drooping. “But I don’t want to go without you…”

He blinks. Just as he’s able to speak again, Carlos proudly makes his way over with a shiteating grin. “Charles! Great race, man, I’ve missed driving like that.” They share a fierce hug before the Monegasque sheepishly smiles.

“Yeah, I did too.” A beat. “We’ll probably be a bit late to your dinner.”

The Spaniard waves him off. “That’s alright, as long as you make it. I want to celebrate something like this with my team. Especially since this is our last season together.”

Charles can feel a wave of annoyance towards himself for envying the 29 year old. He did enjoy the race, he was extremely happy for his friend, but it didn’t quite click why it nicked him how you wore a bright smile. He nods, a lazy arm pulling you in towards him. Your brows pinch with confusion. “We’ll be there.”

-

“I’m glad I was able to make it,” you ponder as you reapply with a fresh coat of lipstick. Charles dries his brown locks with a white towel as he stands close by. Me too. You hum, eyes trained on your reflection. “It didn’t seem like it.” 

His stomach churns at your sad tone. “I swear I am. Why would you say that?”

A tint of red colors your cheeks as you purse your lips. “For starters, you wouldn’t even let me get close to you. You pushed me away, remember?” He winces at the reminder. 

“I d-didn’t want to cover you with my gross sweat,” he tries as you shake your head.

“Like that’s ever been an issue. You’ve played soccer and kissed me. You’ve had a round of basketball and hugged me after an hour of attempting to make a hoop. Or when you played golf under the blazing sun and kept me close no matter what.” You grab your purse as you make your way towards the door. “Don’t make up some stupid excuse, Charles.”

Guilt slithers all around the green eyed boy as he watches you converse with the Scottish model. He feels like an old grump around the most colorful flower, and he’s ruining it. He was determined to make it up to you. “I’m glad you were here to witness my first podium of the season considering it’s your first time attending a race. That way you remember me as your boyfriend's best teammate,” Carlos gloats as you laugh.

“Oh, for sure.”

Jealousy pangs Charles once again as you continue. “I don’t know how you did it…it was a close one. But definitely a great race, you live up to your last name,” you salute as he winks as a thank you. Rebecca agrees besides her boyfriend. “You got me though because - no offense - I thought Charles had it in the bag.”

You’re getting back at him now. He can hear it in your voice as his eye slightly twitches. The Spaniard chuckles. I thought so too. Placing a warm hand over the Monegasque, you swiftly kiss his stubble. “But you were great nonetheless, Cha. My favorite driver without a doubt. My number one…Ooops. Four.”

“Ah, shit,” Lando hisses from down the table as he nibbles on a piece of cake. 

Charles fumes. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing, amour? Thank you, thank you very much.” 

You giggle. “No problem.”

Coughing awkwardly, Carlos diverts the conversation from the sudden tension as a new topic comes up. You simply jump in with ease as the Monegasque keeps to himself.

He could’ve gotten a podium if it weren’t for his front brake locking. He could’ve been the one celebrating right now with all his friends. He was simply better.

“I’m really going to miss this,” a deep voice rips him away from his thoughts. Carlos sighs. “It’s a struggle, but I will miss it when I’m gone. Especially you,” he says as he points to his teammate. “A sore loser, but you gotta love him.”

Charles scoffs. “I am not a sore loser.”

“He’s right,” you muse. “But trust me, it's incurable. For God's sake, he pouted when I beat his time on the stimulator.”

Pierre gapes. “She beat you? As in her?” Kika laughs, pulling him back by his linen shirt. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

The Monegasque blushes. “It happened one time. It was probably broken that day.”

“Ahh,” Daniel says as he clicks his tongue. “I totally see it.”

“Would you stop it?” Charles deadpans as the table laughs at his defensive behavior. “I’m honestly happy for Carlos. I am.” 

The Spaniard wiggles his dark brows in a teasing manner. “You hate me a little bit though, no?”

He squints his eyes before aiming a napkin at the brown haired driver. “In the very moment, yeah. Maybe a little.” Carlos raises his hands up before smiling. As the night grows older, the more you lean into your boyfriend's touch, eyes fluttering tiredly. “Wanna leave?”

“Not yet,” you murmur against his chest. “One more round of drinks.”

He snickers. “I think you’ve had enough. Here.” He hands you a glass of water. “Drink it all.” Rolling your eyes, you oblige before it actually sobers you up enough to call it a night. 

“Congrats again, Carlos!” you chirp as your boyfriend drags you away, swinging Charles’ hand like a glass of champagne. “Here’s to more podiums!”

“More podiums, my ass,” he growls as tugs you out. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” you hum as you sloppily kiss his lips. “You look so pretty, Cha, you know? Your eyes, your lips, your hair.” You lean in closer to his ear, whispering. “Your cock.”

“Pretty?” he retorts, trying his best to hide his hard on. You giggle. You’re also so fucking hot when you get territorial. It’s sickening, but I love it. His breath hitches.

“Oh, that was fast,” you cutely muse when his car rolls in by the valet. “Ready?”

“Y-yeah.”

As soon as you step foot inside the wide room, you jump onto him, lips clinging onto his neck, hands rushing through his hair frantically. I’m sorry for all I said. I love you, you’re my favorite driver, my number one. You’re-

“Oh,” you sigh as he kneels down in front of you, kissing your legs all the way from bottom to top, worshiping you until his head is beneath your dress, nose brushing against your panties. You shudder. He nips as you leap up in surprise. His teeth wrap around the thin material before sliding down and looking up at you like a dog. 

“Go to the bed. On all fours. Your favorite number, isn’t that right?” 

It’s a lame joke, but it still strikes you with shock as you carefully make your way over, following his clear instruction. And you think he’s going to fuck you, the way you were waiting for, but instead unzips his jeans and takes his boxers off, and stands in front of you. Open. “I thought we were-”

“Well you thought wrong, now open,” he grunts, hands grabbing your chin as he forces your mouth wide. Following along, you stick your tongue out eagerly. Like a dog. You should be ashamed, but can’t find the strength when he slips down your throat. You gag as he groans. “That's it, baby. Work your jaw f’me.”

Deepthroating him, you hum around his length as you take him all. He growls when your teeth graze his skin for a second, harshly pushing you back. “And you’re still being mean to me?” He tsks. “What did I do to you today for you to ignore me?”

Your brows arch. “I wasn’t ignoring you. You were ignoring me.” Fixing your dress, you climb off the bed, but not before he grabs your hand, dark eyes staring back at you. Where are you going? “Far away from you.” He fixes himself before marching after you. Just as the elevator is about to close, he manages to slip in. “I’m not talking to you,” you promise, arms crossed.

“Great.” The elevator comes to a halt. “Because this doesn’t require talking.”

Pushing you against the glass, he kisses you hungrily, greedy hands squeezing your ass as you squeal, attempting to push him off. This only makes him take a step back, rubbing his jaw. Seriously? You debate with yourself for a while before biting down on your lip and pulling him back towards you. 

There’s no sound other than moans and groans as he fucks your against the elevator. The angle causes his tip to hit your g-spot at a mindblowing pace as your head rolls back with pleasure. He’s the first to break the silence as he places a hand next to your head and the other secure around your waist as he pounds into you, loopy eyes admiring the way your breasts bounce. 

“I want you to know that despite my attitude, I’m happy for him, I am.” You don’t need to ask to know who he’s referring to as you hastily nod. I know, Charles. Leaning down to kiss him, you pout when he turns his head, leaving you to peck his jawline. “But you’re mine, all mine.” He sucks on your breasts that spill out in front of him as you whimper. “Repeat it back to me.”

“I’m all y-yours, you doofus,” you grin, tangled hair flying into your mouth as you squirm. “I didn’t even think I’d have to say it.” Squealing in shock, you hurry to grab the metal bar as he places you down and spins you around, leaving you mushed up against the tinted glass. “Oh shit.”

“Pretty view, no?” he quietly questions behind you, lustful eyes laser focused on the way you take him like no other. He grunts, head rolling back, messy hair following along. There’s no room to worry about the possibility that there could be a camera in the tiny space, or that help may be on the way despite the red button being pushed on purpose. And then he wraps his large hand around your throat and your breath hitches, tiny hole enveloping around him even harder. “S-so good, chérie.” He kisses you shoulder sloppily, mouth hanging a tad bit open as he tries to push back his fierce sense to come inside of you. 

I think it’s stuck, a familiar voice clarifies from outside. 

It is, you dimwit, another retorts as a group of mumbles follow with agreement. 

“Oh shit,” Charles whispers as he rapidly pulls out of you, fixing you dress and hair to the best of his ability before focusing on his equally fucked out appearance. A soft wail escapes your lips at the sensitivity that remains in between your legs as Charles apologetically pecks your temple and the door finally slides open.

“Charles?” Pierre squeaks as soon as he spots his friend. “Holy shit, are you guys okay?”

“Completely fine!”

“It was so scary,” you add, shivering with theatrical fear to emphasize your words. “Thank God they were able to help us,” you say as you signal to the hotel staff members who stand by with a skeptical smile. “I don’t know what we would have done.”

“I have a theory,” Lando whispers to Carlos as they snicker, taking in your sweaty state. The way your zipper isn’t all the way up, showing off a bit of humid skin. The way the Mongasque keeps his hands adamantly in front of his hard on. It’d be stupid not to know what had been taking place prior seconds.

“Well thank God you guys are okay,” Pierre breathes, already making his way to hug you and the 26 year old. Kika grimaces while you two cringe at the fact that the Frenchman was getting a good look and feel of the forbidden afterglow. Patting his shoulder away awkwardly, Charles hums enthusiastically.

“It’s been quite an eventful day... Charles?”

Dark brows fly up before nodding hastily. “Yeah! We should go to sleep…Take care guys! Au revoir!” 

Pierre smiles happily as he watches you two scurry away, Charles almost tripping as you grab onto his shoulder to level him up. “That’s actually really scary, I think I would cry if I were in their situation,” he admits, wide eyes blinking towards his friend group.

“Oh, honey,” Kika sighs, leaning up to pat her boyfriend's chest with empathy for his naiveness. What? Wouldn’t you? 

Lando can’t help but let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands with amusement. 

“Open up your eyes, Pierre. Those two totally fucked.”

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

[hyunverse]

wherever you are ☆ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x fem!reader. childhood best friends to lovers. slowburn, pining. fluff, angst. suggestive. a hyunjin birthday special.

wc: 12.9k words.

warnings: reader often referred to as "girl," suggestive. mentions of sex.

note: this fic is my baby. it might be one of my favourite things i've ever written so far, please treat it well <3 feedbacks are very much appreciated.

playlist.

Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.

one.

“Happy Birthday, Hyunjin.”

It was Hyunjin’s 10th birthday. 

Despite already singing him a happy birthday song, you muttered the wish once again in the comfort of his tree house. He sat adjacent to you, feet dangling over the platform, the large leaves hovering over the tree house’s roof providing shelter from the blinding sunlight. 

He hummed in gratitude, eyes busy watching Kkami running around below the tree house. Afternoons with Hyunjin were often spent like this — hanging out in the tree house as Kkami played around on the grass, its barks mirroring its happiness. For years, you’ve spent enjoying the fact that your afternoons were spent like this — were spent with Hyunjin, in childish innocence. 

After letting the silence take over for a while, Hyunjin turned his head towards you, a little surprised once he saw that you were already looking at him. He tried his best to not let his surprise show. 

“Why did you want to come up here? I thought you were enjoying the party inside.” 

Indeed, you were enjoying the birthday party, a little too much for Hyunjin’s liking. The boys from Hyunjin’s school came to the party, and you seemed to get along with them quickly, despite being the only girl at the party. Hyunjin hates to admit it but he was a little envious. He told himself that he’s jealous because he’s your number one best friend, so you should pay more attention to him. It was true, but only partially — he was jealous because they were all boys. Not that he would ever admit that to himself.

To Hyunjin’s question, you responded by extending your arms to him, revealing a white box in your palm. He took it, quickly recognizing it as a jewellery box. He’s received one of them after purchasing a Mother’s Day gift. Quietly, he examined the engravings on the box, and the pristine look of it. Honestly, he was impressed by how clean you have kept it. You had always been one to dirty your white clothes. 

“What’s this?” he asked, answering his own enquiry by opening the box with you sitting close, peering over his hands.

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat.

In the box laid two necklaces, black strings with Lego pieces as pendants. They were matching necklaces. The Lego piece of each necklace formed a heart when joined together. His brown eyes widened, in disbelief of the gift. He’s never received something like this — something matching. It made his heart flutter — no, it beat faster than it does while playing soccer. Hyunjin turned to look into your eyes, and it was as though he had found a new revelation in yours. The more Hyunjin looked at you, the more the realization seeped in, until it overtook his senses.

You’re a girl. 

You weren’t just the kid from next door, you weren’t like his other friends — you’re a girl. You like Disney princesses, you have a pretty face, you like Sanrio characters, you have soft hair, you like painting nails, you have pink lips from your strawberry lip balm, you like matching necklaces — you’re a girl. 

A very pretty girl.

It felt like a revelation after having been friends with you for over five years. As though the necklaces in the box held some sort of power to snap one from a trance. Hyunjin realized that you were different from his other friends. For one, you have softer hands. Moreover, you’re someone he can develop a crush on — or whatever girls call it. 

His finger traced the pendants, feeling the bumps of the Lego pieces. He smiled, one that reached his ears. You felt yourself releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“I love it soooo much. Thank you.”

Unlike other boys (the stinky ones from your school), Hyunjin didn’t cringe at the gift. The way he gently examined the necklaces mirrored the appreciation he felt towards it. If he was any other boy, he would’ve probably laughed at the gift, then poked fun at you. 

Then again, Hyunjin had never been like the other boys you knew.

He was different in the way he spoke softly to you (softer than he would to his guy friends), and how he would let you change the TV channel from Snoopy to Totally Spies. He had always been different, that being the reason why you were so fond of him. 

“You like it? Really?” you queried, staring at him. You watched his expressions carefully, trying to sense for any lies.

“Really! Which one do you want?” he answered, absolutely no hesitations. He wasn’t lying.

Hyunjin panned the box towards you, prompting you to pick which necklace. One was in black, the other in white. As always, he gave in to you, letting you be the one to choose. 

“White!”

The sun was setting when you both swayed your legs, wearing the matching necklaces. Hyunjin was genuinely happy, one of his hands wouldn’t stop fiddling with the pendant. The party was still lively inside, but he much preferred sitting with you — his one and only best friend. 

“Yn,” your best friend’s voice broke you from your trance. “What do you want for your birthday?” 

“Hm,” you pondered, tapping your pointer on your chin in a cartoonish manner.

He was looking at you, an expectant expression on his face. You pulled up your legs to cross them as you thought. 

“I think…” your voice trailed, “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!” 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “at least make it something I could give you!”

You pouted, “but that’s what I want!” 

The boy sighed, laying back on the rough surface of the tree house. He looked up, observing the little glow-in-the-dark stars plastered onto the tree house ceiling. He recalled putting them up with you. You were impossible to deal with. Hyunjin desperately wanted to know your wish — something he could give you for your birthday. Your gift to him made him really happy, and he wished to return the favour. 

“Then, I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris with you.” 

It was such an innocent, child-like answer — straight from a 10-year-old’s desire. Untainted by the boulevard of broken dreams. As if anything in the world was possible, and that the universe was kind all the time. 

“Really?” you chirped, looking at him with disbelief in your eyes. You giggled in glee and plopped yourself down beside him. “Really really? You really really really mean it, Hyunnie?” 

At that point, Hyunjin could only giggle and nod. “Of course! I’ll be wherever you are.”

The manner in which you hugged him expressed your excitement. You were practically suffocating him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing tightly. 

“You’re my best friend in the world!” 

Hyunjin felt like he could die. 

His heart continued beating rapidly, worsened by you nuzzling your face into his neck. Hyunjin knew, it was just you being your usual self. However, the revelation he experienced minutes earlier made the tips of his ears turn red. 

“Hyunjin! Come down here! Your friends are about to leave!”

At that very moment, Hyunjin silently thanked his mother for saving him.

two.    

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

A question which had you staring into space — the walls of Hyunjin’s bedroom for a while. The blue walls were plastered with posters of numerous musicians and self-made artworks.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know the answer. You knew. Ballet had been a part of your life since small, it was your everything. It wasn’t that you were unsure if you wanted to do ballet, you were unsure if you should be doing ballet. 

Uneasiness settled into your stomach, but you tried to keep them in. You were in no mood to be going through an identity crisis.

“Ballerina,” you stated, matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows furrowed when Hyunjin chuckled.

“What?”

“Your answer hasn’t changed,” Hyunjin laughed, but not in a humorous way. Rather, it was in an expectant way, as if he knew that’s what you would answer. 

You straightened your posture and tilted your head. Hyunjin laughed even more, making a comment that you looked like Kkami.

“Have you asked me the same thing before?”

He nodded, “sort of? Kind of. On my tenth birthday, I asked you what you wanted.” Hyunjin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, mimicking the voice of younger you. “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”

“Oh, shut up!” you rumbled, hitting him with his bolster repeatedly. “That’s not how I sounded like!”

“It so was!” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t quite recall the memory. You didn’t doubt Hyunjin though, it did sound like something you would’ve said. 

You queried again.

“What did you answer then?” 

Hyunjin turned silent. He didn’t like where this was going, not fond of recalling the cheesy answer he gave you. As he looked away from your gaze, you pressed him further. Even threatened to dog-nap Kkami.

“Fine. I said… I said I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris too…” his voice trailed, getting smaller, “said I’ll be wherever you are…”

Your eyebrows raised, scooting closer to him in mock confusion. “Sorry? Didn’t hear you.” 

A pillow hit your head, and you burst out into peals of laughter. It was hilarious, the cheesy answer little Hyunjin gave, but what amused you even more was his face turning red. 

Touches of laughter echoed in the room, and Hyunjin found himself praying the moment would last forever. The conversation quickly escalated into a pillow fight, ending up in Hyunjin leaning against his headboard, exhausted, and you laying on his lap. 

You looked up at him, eyes fleeting to the stubble growing. Mindlessly, you grazed his cheek, feeling his sideburns prickling against your thumb. 

He was growing, you realized it then. You were growing too. Neither of you were little kids anymore.

A fact you didn't want to accept.

It’s the softness of your fingers that froze Hyunjin in his tracks. He held his breath, as if you would stop if he moved. He didn’t want you to, wanted to let your fingers linger, to etch the sensation into his memories. 

In a soft tone, you spoke, “Did you really mean it?”

“Hm?”

“Would you be wherever I am?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, a lump growing in his throat. If he spoke, he feared his feelings would become too real. For as long as he could, he wanted to bury his feelings deep down. Life was already risky as it is, he didn’t want to take any more.

It’s platonic. It’s platonic. It’s platonic.

They repeated in his brain like a mantra. Maybe if he chanted it, it’ll manifest to life.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin swallowed, “of course I will. You’re my best friend.” 

Like magic, your worries about the future disappeared into thin air. Would it be foolish to trust Hyunjin so much, that you believed life would be fine as long as he was with you? 

Dear universe, be good to me.

You smiled, one that Hyunjin swore could light up the entire sky. The stars must envy you, for the way you could brighten up darkness effortlessly. 

“I’ll be wherever you are too.”

Yeah, Hyunjin would love it if time froze.

three.  

Don’t be a coward. 

Four words Hyunjin told his reflection as he got ready. He was dressed in a basic tee and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back like the one time you told him it looked good. He spritzed his cologne behind his ears, on his neck, and on his wrist before repeating the four words again. This time, he whispered it, letting it soak into his brain, in hopes his heart would have courage. 

It’s been too long. The feelings he harboured for you piled overtime, the crush he once thought was temporary transforming into fondness. It was becoming too much for Hyunjin’s heart to bear, he needed to let it out. If he didn’t, he felt like his heart could burst. And if it did, it would be confetti-shaped memories of you. 

Chatters echoed outside your ballet academy, Hyunjin watched through the lowered window for your face among the sea of people. He had a plan in mind — he’d open the door for you, put the seatbelt on for you, and tell you about his feelings. In front of your academy wasn’t the most ideal place for a confession, he knew, but God — he couldn’t bear sitting in silence with you as a storm raged in his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted to say it as soon as he could. 

Hyunjin’s eyes were still busy looking for you when suddenly, your face came in his peripheral vision, along with another face. The other person was lean, jet black hair with bangs and puppy-like eyes. The boy opened the door for you before Hyunjin could. 

Okay, step number one failed. 

“Hey, Hyunnie!” your voice chirped, getting into the car. Your hand moved to buckle your seatbelt before Hyunjin could. He was too busy analysing the stranger in front of the door.

“Hey,” Hyunjin replied nonchalantly, looking at the boy from head to toe. “And this is…?”

“Seungmin. And you?” the boy said, tilting his head. To Hyunjin, he was being challenged. Seungmin’s tone was more daring than he liked, so he felt an urge to one-up the guy.

“Hyunjin. Been friends with Yn since were in diapers.” he replied, the extra detail a pathetic attempt at one-upping Seungmin. 

Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, nodding as he shut your door, “Uh. Cool? Bye, Yn. And the friend since diapers.” 

Oh, Hyunjin really didn’t like him. 

“Wait, Seungminnie!” you called out just as Seungmin was walking away. He looked back at the car, raising an eyebrow. You turned to Hyunjin with puppy eyes. “Can you give Seungminnie a ride? He takes the bus and I think the next one’s in an hour.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering from your pleading eyes to Seungmin’s figure outside the car. If it was all up to him, he would probably run the guy over. But God knew how much he cherished you, how he would rather cut his tongue than tell you “no,” so he agreed.

“Mm. Sure,” he replied, swallowing back a scoff. 

Your eyes brightened, “Seungminnie! Come, we’ll give you a ride!” you yelled, tempting Hyunjin to mock the nickname you’d given him.

It was going to be a car ride straight out of hell. 

Hyunjin’s knuckles were white against the steering as he pulled up to Seungmin’s residence complex. The building standing in front of him definitely belonged in a gated community, ritzy and luxurious. Somehow, that pissed Hyunjin off even more. He glanced at the unwanted guest sitting in the back seat through the rear-view mirror.

“Want me to drive you to the lobby, or what?”

Seungmin looked back into the mirror, peering at the reflection through his bangs. “Nah. They don’t let random cars in. Here’s just fine,” he mumbled, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.” 

The car door closed behind Seungmin, leaving the two of you in the car. Hyunjin sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up him again. Now that it was only the two of you, it was time for Hyunjin to confess his feelings.

Before he could, you spoke, “Seungmin’s my friend in the academy. He’s really smart,” your eyes didn’t leave the crossroad before you, watching as Seungmin walked. 

Hyunjin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He tapped on your thigh, trying to gain your attention. It worked as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “Hm?”

He licked his lower lip, mustering all the courage in him. It was now, or never. “Look, I have something to tell you.” 

“Yeah?”

You shuffled in your seat, tilting your body slightly towards his way. Now that you had your full attention on him, Hyunjin felt even more nervous. He scratched the skin around his thumb, tongue-tied as his brain tried to form coherent words. He’s never done this before, always made fun of his friends for struggling to express their feelings but now that he was in the same place, he wished he could take back all the insults. The brown eyes looking deeply (and anxiously) into yours were profusely blinking, as though he was at the brink of tears. You grew worried.

“Hyunjin, what’s up?”

He scratched at the back of his neck. Why did his tongue feel so numb? Why did his brain feel empty yet so full at the same time? His heartbeats were so fast, he couldn’t quite catch up. Hyunjin was on a rollercoaster — you were waiting at the end of the ride.

Finally, he managed to muster words. “Look, I’ve pondered over —”

Two knocks on the window at the back. They’re followed by the door opening, an exasperated Seungmin popping his head into the car. Immediately, you both looked back, utterly bewildered. 

“Sorry. I left my bag. Thank God you’re still here,” Seungmin said, grabbing his messenger bag and slipping it onto his shoulder. “Thanks and sorry!”

The door closed, thus silence blanketed the atmosphere once again. This time, with unresolved tension. You looked back at Hyunjin, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You were saying?” 

Dazed, the raven looked at you. His face was a mixture of exasperation and confusion. His head? There was a storm raging, along with curse words aimed at Seungmin. 

“Um…” He licked his lower lip, racking his brain to find back the words he wanted to say. They were all lost. He was already at the end of the rollercoaster, the bumps along the way forgotten, and the thrill subsided. All that’s left was the remnants of anxiety. He couldn’t do it anymore, not when he’s forgotten the things he wanted to say, and the moment disturbed by your dear friend Seungmin.

So, he put the gear on to drive. He shook his head and made up a white lie.

“I think I want to try a new ice cream place today.”

four.  

The taste of cookies and cream could not beat the bitterness on Hyunjin’s tongue. 

It may be because the bitterness has seeped into his head. 

“I’m going to your room,” you announced, swinging the front door of his house open. “Hi, Mrs Hwang!” you cheered, running up the stairs after. 

“I’m going to talk to my mom a little bit,” Hyunjin said, hanging both your coats on the coat hanger. 

Nothing could’ve prepared Hyunjin for what was to happen next. 

Both his parents were crowding the kitchen countertop when he walked in, skimming through a piece of paper. They were beaming, eyes crinkled as they smiled. A reminder that Hyunjin resembled both his parents. He blinked in confusion as to why his parents looked so happy. He didn’t think he'd seen them this happy before.

“What’s going on?” he questioned, peering over their figures to look at the paper. 

On the paper were words he’d only seen in his dreams. Never in a million years he would’ve thought it’d manifest to life. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words over, and over. 

“You made it, sweetheart,” his mother’s soft voice spoke, confirming his suspicion. “You got accepted. Beaux-Arts de Paris.”

“Eomma,” he mumbled, as if he was pleading. Pleading for this dream to stop. Somebody’s got to wake him up from this nightmare of a day. “There’s no way.” 

Hyunjin picked up the letter, inspecting it closer. As though if he looked any closer, the words on the pristine white paper would change. Reject him. Or maybe, the logo of the prestigious school would magically transform into a logo of a school in Seoul. Anything, anything, that would keep him here. In Seoul. With you. 

“You did it, sweetheart. Your dreams are coming true,” his mother keenly said, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

His dream? It was his dream, and, yours. No, scratch that — it wasn’t truly his dream. It was yours. His dream had always been to be wherever you are. 

He didn’t think he would be accepted. When you told him you were rejected from the Paris Ballet School, he told you that he was rejected, too. He didn’t tell you that he was waitlisted, under the impression that he was never getting out of the waitlist. What was he to tell you now? 

Hyunjin hid his sadness, wanting to make his parents proud, “Yeah. I did it. I’m so happy, eomma, appa.” 

A series of praises left his parents, and he allowed for them to engulf him in a hug. 

“Don’t tell Yn, ‘kay?” he muttered, before excusing himself to go upstairs. The acceptance letter was neatly folded, tucked into his pocket.  

When he swung his bedroom door open, you were standing in front of his full-length mirror. Clad in only his t-shirt, you inspected yourself. 

“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered, turning your body. “Your clothes are bigger than me now. You used to be so small.”

You looked at him, mock dismay in your face. “I was so much taller than you before. You were a dwarf.” 

How was he meant to tell you about Paris?

“I was never a dwarf. You were just too busy looking down on me.”

Giggles left both of you. Silently, he observed the way you were examining yourself. You had the mannerisms of a ballerina, each gesture as gracious as your dance. Hyunjin adored the curves of your body, but God knew he loved that of your smile even more. 

Later, you were both laying on his bed, you in a starfish position. Hyunjin was at the edge of his bed, trying his best to not fall. 

“Ballet was so hard today,” you sighed. You turned your body sideways, burying your face into Hyunjin’s chest. He could smell you in this closeness.

“Are you wearing my deodorant?” he queried, bowing to clasp his nose onto your shoulder. It felt like a kiss to him. “This is literally the smell of my deodorant.��� 

You shrugged. “Yeah? What about it? You should’ve gotten used to me taking your things by now, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ve been doing this our whole lives.” 

Touché. The boy sighed, letting you fill in the silence with your babbles. Wordlessly, he listened to your words, letting it be the white noise to his thoughts. 

His head was clearly not there. Unbeknownst to him, you knew of this. He’d been off all day. You’ve picked up on each signal, knowing him like the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to know what was wrong, you knew not to pry. You resorted to comfort instead. 

Your fingertips met at the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He was never one for physical touch but sometimes, it helped. You leaned your head into his neck. 

Gingerly, you whispered the words you thought he would need. 

“You’re always here, around me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

The exact words he did not need to hear that day.

How was he meant to tell you of his feelings now? 

Especially when he was leaving — oceans away. 

five.  

Hyunjin had always loved soccer.

Whether it be being in the bleachers, or playing in the field. He loved doing both. There was something about the thrill of watching people play, and the adrenaline as he chased around the field. 

Sitting in the bleachers, Hyunjin watched as his soccer team played. The sounds of his teammates laughing made the blazing sun a little more bearable. He lowered his cap to prevent the sunlight from getting in his eyes, chuckling when he saw Beomgyu falling face-first onto the grass.

He loved his soccer team. Every time he observed them play, Hyunjin’s heart always got overwhelmed with pride and joy. At that moment, he felt melancholy taking space too — the thought of not being able to play with them anymore hurting him more than he thought it would. 

Hyunjin allowed for the melancholy to take space, allowed himself to feel — so much so that he didn’t feel Minho’s presence. Not until the older cleared his throat. 

Minho sat beside him, “Why the long face, Hwang Hyunjin?” 

“Huh?” startled, he looked up, face softening when he saw Minho. “Oh. Nothing. You’re not playing?”

“Nah,” Minho replied curtly. He silently analyzed the younger’s facial expressions before speaking up again. “For someone who’s going to Paris in two weeks, you sure don’t look too happy.”

Of course, Minho out of all people would notice the change in his mannerisms. Always the analyzing one, quick to notice changes in demeanour. There was no point in lying, not with Minho — so he let out the sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“It’s bittersweet, you know?” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.

“It’s Yn, isn’t it?” 

“Huh?”

“You don’t want to part ways with her. It’s what’s holding you back.” 

Right on. It was as though Minho was a mind-reader. A heavy weight pulled on Hyunjin’s heartstrings, made his heart even heavier than a few minutes prior.

“Yeah,” he didn’t lie, again. He looked at Minho, and the older could clearly see the uneasiness written all over his face. “If you were me… would you tell her about your feelings?”

“The fact that you like her?”

“Yeah.”

Minho fell silent. He pondered over the question, looking at the sight before him. The sun was setting, orange hues painting the sky. Hyunjin wondered if Paris sunsets would look the same.

“I think…” Minho turned towards the younger. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell her.” 

“Why?”

“Won’t benefit you, I don’t think.” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Listen. If you were to tell her, and she accepted, do you think you could get into a relationship with her?”

“I mean —”

Minho cut him, “Realistically, do you think the relationship would succeed? I mean, the time zone between Seoul and Paris is pretty big. The distance, too. I don’t think it would work out. And that’ll be bad, you know? You’ll both be left wondering what could have been.”

The truth hurt. The distance, the time — none of them were on Hyunjin’s side. 

“And, if, God forbid, if she were to reject you… do you really want your last memory with her to be the hurt you’ll feel?”

Hyunjin shook his head. The other sighed, and patted him on the back. 

“There are things better left unsaid. You should take her out. Spend your last time with her nicely.”

Despite Hyunjin’s stubbornness, he took Minho’s advice. It took him a lot of contemplating (and crying), but he followed it anyway. Whether he liked it or not, Minho’s advice had a lot of truth in it. 

Bitter truths, but true regardless.

six.

“Where are we going?” you whined, trailing behind your dear friend. The sun was setting in two hours, orange hues were beginning to paint the sky. “Hyunnie, if you don’t tell me where we’re —”

“Please, stay patient. Will you?”

Hyunjin looked behind. He was wearing a blue knitted vest. In one hand, he held a picnic basket. The other, is your handbag. You never have to carry your own with him.

“But we’re literally in the middle of nowhere!” 

“Please just trust me,” he pleaded. One hand was stretched towards you, a silent offer to hold his. “Come. If you’re too tired, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

Ever the opportunist, you took up on the offer. Alas, Hyunjin was left walking the remaining distance, you happily singing road trip songs while clinging onto his back. To butter him up, you told him that he must’ve been a blessing sent to you by God. Although he groaned at the remark, you couldn’t see the small smile on his face.

After a few minutes, you understood why Hyunjin was adamant about going out that day. Before you, green plains stretched as far as your eyes could see. Scattered across viridian shades were wildflowers. Some yellow, some pink. 

Hyunjin had brought you to a flower field.

The picnic basket, and the Polaroid camera finally made sense. 

Without any more words, you jumped off his back and ran into the field. The yellow sundress you wore matched that of the wildflowers. In Hyunjin’s eyes, you blended right in. 

You were as pretty as the flowers. 

“Careful, Yn! Don’t fall!” He called out, his voice echoing in the space. He watched you from afar. There was an urge to run among the flowers too, but he was much more content with watching you. 

From a distance, in silence, he observed your every move. He couldn’t help the giggles that left his lips. The smile that lingered on his lips. He wanted this memory to last, to be ingrained in his brain forever. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to witness your happiness. 

“Hyunnie, you need to come here! It’s so nice!”

Chuckling, he carefully placed the picnic basket on the ground. Hyunjin was done with setting up the picnic spot. He ran towards you, lifted you off the ground and twirled you around. You broke out into giggles and held onto his arms. 

Among the flowers, two silhouettes danced with each other. Swaying to the same melody as the peonies. Despite being a ballerina, you kept stumbling onto Hyunjin’s feet, giggling each time he elicited an “ow.” 

Like a scene from a movie.

Like he wasn’t going away soon.

Before the sun could set, Hyunjin convinced you to sit on the picnic blanket. He wished to dance with you longer, but alas, time awaits for no mortal. 

“How do you want me to pose?” you asked. You were facing him, legs tucked sideways.

Hyunjin scooted closer to you, and wiped breadcrumbs off your lips. He commented on you eating messily. “You can pose however you want.”

You nodded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Okay. Make sure you get my good angles, yeah?”

“You look good from any angle.” 

Crimson crept up your face. You hadn’t expected that remark. You hoped he wouldn’t see you blush, you would just tell him it’s the sun then. 

“Okay…”

Two clicks, then a flash went off. Your eyes widened, caught off-guard.

“You didn’t even count to three!” 

Your whines were responded to with a giggle. The camera whirled, apprising you of a Polaroid developing. Hyunjin took it, fanning the Polaroid with a grin. He was excited to see it.

“I wasn’t ready!”

“Candid photos are better,” he sighed. “Don’t you know? Everything’s prettier when it’s genuine.”

“So you’re calling me pretty?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Have I ever said you’re ugly?”

Right. He has never. 

You prayed to God the heat on your face was from the sun and not from blushing.

Once the Polaroid fully developed, Hyunjin made sure he was the first to see it. To your dismay, he held it close to his face, shielding it from you. His cheeks dimpled, illustrating his happiness. You looked so pretty, the sunlight on your face giving you an angelic glow. If he looked closer, he was sure he’d see a halo. 

Hyunjin wanted to keep this forever. 

If he couldn’t freeze the time, he figured he’d trap the memories in photographs.

“Let me see!” you whined. “It’s a picture of me! I have the right to see it.”

Scampering towards him, you waved your hands, trying to get the photograph off his hand. To no avail, Hyunjin had quick reflexes much thanks to his soccer experience. 

“No! You can’t — it’s for my eyes only!”

“Ridiculous! That’s my face, Hyunnie!”

“It’s my camera film. So it’s mine!”

Neither one of you would let up, legs entangling against each other as you fought over the photograph. He was determined to not let you even see the picture. One of your palms pressed against the picnic blanket, the other reaching up towards his hand. Hyunjin used his free hand to push you gently but alas, he underestimated his own strength. In one swift move, you lost your balance, toppling over him. 

“Ow,” he fell back and winced in pain. He looked up, and all the back pain was suddenly replaced by shyness. There you were, on his lap — face just as flushed as his. 

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do now. 

Pathetically, he just stared into your eyes, finding himself getting caught in them. He could feel your hitched breaths against his chest, he was very aware of your trembling fingers on his arms. There was a strong urge to kiss you as his eyes fell onto your lips. He wondered how they’d feel on his lips. He imagined it in his head — missing the way your eyes stared at his lips too. 

If you were a flower, Hyunjin would be a bee. He desired you, eyes tracing the shape of your lips. Over, and over. If he kissed you, would your lips taste like honey? 

He ought to find out. Hesitantly, he inched his head closer to yours. The warmth of your breath against his skin marked the closeness between you.

Numerous scenarios flashed in Hyunjin’s mind. Of him kissing you senseless, then whispering a love confession in your ear. Of your cold fingers pressing into his skin as he tells you each perk of yours that he loved endlessly. The more he imagined, the closer he was. You shut your eyes, waiting for his lips to finally press onto yours. 

Paris. The one-way plane ticket to Paris.

Against his heart’s desire, his fingers cupped your chin instead. Subtly, he pulled back, eyes trailing back up to your eyes. He ignored the look of confusion in your eyes.

Reaching down, he pocketed the photograph. His heart clenched as he spoke, but he did anyway. 

“I win.”

The two words pulled you from your trance — they tore off your heart like paper. You blinked, watching the playful smirk that graced Hyunjin’s porcelain face. 

“Oh.”

The whole journey home, bitterness sat on Hyunjin’s tongue like the aftertaste of tangerine pulp. Did you want the kiss too, or had his libido fabricated things? 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t kiss you. Not when he had suitcases packed for Beaux-Art de Paris. Not when it’s all his parents could talk about. 

Minho’s words played in Hyunjin’s mind like a broken record. They served as a reminder of what could not be. For the sake of his heart, he told himself that it had all been a figment of his imagination.

Tension cloaked the front door of your house. Neither of you made a noise, save for the jingling keys in your carabiner. You observed Hyunjin, who was busy looking at his shoes. Once again, his mind wasn’t in his head. It had been that way for a few weeks. 

“See you soon?” you mumbled. 

Hyunjin looked up, nodding at your words. He pulled you into a hug, one that almost crushed your bones. Shakingly, he nuzzled his head into your neck, burying his face into the skin like you would dissolve if he didn't. It must’ve hurt his back but you made no comment, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, in hopes it'll give him solace. By the front door you held him, so tight that it was as though the two of you were one, the curves of his fingers burning through your skin.

You didn’t know that it was a goodbye. It had to stay that way. 

Once more, his heart clenched in his chest. Two hands cupped your cheeks, as gentle as he could be, like you would break. He engraved this version of you into his memory — kind eyes boring into his with a soft smile plastered across the face he'd grown to adore. He vowed to always remember this face. 

Deeply, he inhaled his breath. Preparing the next words — lies to say to you, no matter how tight his chest felt.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

The last words Hwang Hyunjin muttered to you. 

seven.  

One day before your birthday. 

It had been two days since Hyunjin brought you to the meadow. You hadn’t seen him much, just glimpses of him as he played around with Kkami in his backyard. You figured that he was busy.

“Hello, I’m home!” you said in a sing-song voice as you stepped into the Hwang household. Kkami who’d usually greet you wasn’t in his usual spot, so you trudged straight to the kitchen, where Hyunjin’s mother was sitting. “Hi, Mrs Hwang.” 

She looked up, lips twitching into a smile, a cookie-cutter of Hyunjin’s. Under the kitchen light, you don’t miss the dried tears by her eyes. You pursed your lips, wondering if she was watching a sad drama. Hyunjin inherited his trait of easily crying from his mother, after all. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” she looked at your outfit from head to toe. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Oh,” you muttered, giving her a little twirl. “My birthday outfit! Is it pretty?”

“Of course.”

You smiled at her, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. Keenly, you looked around the kitchen for any traces of Hyunjin. You realized that the house seemed much quieter than usual, emptier than normal. 

“Where’s Hyunjin?” you asked. The reason why you’d come over was to show your best friend your birthday outfit. Now that you were there, he was nowhere to be seen. “Is he home?”

Sympathy materialized in the mother’s old eyes. She tilted her head at you, lips pursing as she thought of the correct words to say. 

“My girl, did he not tell you?”

Confusion would be an understatement. Hyunjin told you everything, everything — from pointless thoughts to his deepest, darkest secrets. You were his secret keeper, his companion — there was nothing he wouldn’t tell you.

Was there? 

It had to be something unimportant, right? Perhaps he was off to an art workshop and forgot to tell you. But looking at his mother, it felt like something big. You grew anxious under her sympathetic gaze. 

“Tell me what?” you questioned, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“We just came back from Incheon Airport. He’s on a plane to Paris,” the lady replied. She stood up, inching closer towards your trembling figure. “Did he not tell you, Yn? I thought he did.”

“Paris?” you asked, blinking. “Like. For a vacation?”

“No, sweetheart. Beaux-Arts de Paris. He got into the school.”

The words felt like bullets on skin, penetrating and chagrining you deeply. It felt unreal — a hoax.

You scoffed, “What? He wouldn’t go without telling me.” Your eyes searched for humour in his mother’s eyes. “Is this like, a birthday prank?”

Her eyes saddened even more. “No, sweetheart. He really went.”

Another betrayal came in the form of tears cascading down your eyes without warning. The emotions hit you faster than your brain could process things. Speechless, you took steps back from his mother, before running up the staircase to his room. 

He had to be there. Sitting in his swivel chair and laughing at your face. He’ll tell you it was a prank and wipe away your tears. 

Hyunjin was your best friend of a lifetime. He wouldn’t do this to you. He had to be there.

When the door to his room swung open, a sob was knocked out of your mouth. 

All traces of life in the bedroom were gone, save for the soft purrs of Kkami sleeping on the bed. The bed was stripped of its bedsheets, and the towels hanging behind the door were gone. The laundry bag was empty. 

All traces of Hyunjin were gone. 

The realization hit harder than his mother’s words. If the words hurt like bullets on skin, the sight of Hyunjin’s lifeless room felt like a knife twisted in your gut. It felt like sanguine dripping from wounds, and Hyunjin’s holding the knife. It felt like a betrayal. 

“Hyunjin,” his name slipped from your lips like a plea. “Hyunjin.” 

More choked sobs escaped your windpipes as you searched around the room. First, it was his wardrobe. The oak material was practically empty, all that remained were a couple of sleep tees and the shirts you’ve left over the years. You rummaged through the hangers, finding that he had brought one of your sweatshirts along. 

The confirmation of his departure was the emptiness of his study table. Each nook and cranny of his table used to feel like Hyunjin, from the stacks of sketchbooks to eraser dust. Everything was Hyunjin — but at that moment, there was nothing. There was only a void — that of his desk and your heart. 

Your best friend was truly gone. 

“Hyunjin,” the name wrestled its way past your lips again. This time, it was out of longing. “Hyunjin.” 

The manner in which you walked to his bed echoed your feelings. Quivering, like a toddler’s first time walking. Your body fell onto the bed, earning a soft whine from Kkami. Gently, you held Kkami in your arms, letting a stream of tears cascade down your cheeks. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to cry, to feel, to mourn. 

If someone were to tell you that Hyunjin out of all people would make you cry that much, you would’ve laughed. Never in a million years, you’d say. The only times he had made you cry were from laughter. 

“Kkami,” you cried. The chihuahua nuzzled its head into your arms, as though it could feel your sorrow. Perhaps it could. “I miss Hyunjin.”

The dog whined. It looked up to you, placing its paw onto your arm. You cried even more. 

“I wanted to tell him about how I feel today,” through sobs, you managed to speak. “How could he make me feel so many things in one day and disappear the other? He didn't even say goodbye.”

It felt like the chihuahua was mourning with you — the way it nudged its head onto your arm, letting out soft whimpers. As though it was telling you that things will be okay. 

You weren’t sure that it would. You spent your whole life with Hyunjin by your side, you had never known life without him. Now that he was ripped from your grasp, you didn’t know how to go on. No — he voluntarily released himself from your grasp, without warning. It was worse. 

Physical traces of Hyunjin in his room were gone. There was only his scent — the smell of his shampoo, and his cologne. It lingered in the room, mocking you.

In your melancholic state of mind, you could only weep.

eight. 

“Coffee, or tea?”

A female voice broke Hyunjin from his trance. He looked up at the stewardess standing by his seat, the sweatshirt doused in your scent crumpling in his tight grip. 

“I want to get off this plane,” sat on his tongue and dissolved. He took a deep breath. 

“Um,” he looked at the cart, “Plain water, please?”

Coffee would only force Hyunjin to stay awake, forcing him to listen to his own brain’s torments for 14 hours straight. Tea reminded him too much of you, of the times when you were little and would make him play tea party with you. He’ll think about the times you’d cheekily kiss his cheek, an attempt to woo him into playing with you. It worked each time. 

The stewardess nodded, handing him a water bottle branded with the aeroplane’s logo. He muttered a thank you, yet the stewardess still didn’t walk away. She looked nice, her eyes analyzing Hyunjin told him that he must’ve looked like the epitome of a wreck.  

“First time flying?” she questioned. It wasn’t his first time, having gone on many vacations before yet he nodded. “I see. It’ll be fine, just sit back and relax.”

The woman, whose name tag said Chaewon flashed Hyunjin a hospitality smile — one he didn’t think he deserved — then walked away. Hyunjin pursed his lips, wishing that she hadn’t walked away. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to be in this plane — there were a lot of things he didn’t want to do, but had to do. 

Hyunjin wanted to turn back.

Silently, he looked out the window, watching as the landscapes of Seoul grew smaller, slowly becoming covered with clouds. He desperately wished to get out, praying to God that the plane would miraculously turn back and the tableau of Seoul would become bigger. Had he told the stewardess named Chaewon he wanted to get off, would they have let him? Had he told his parents he didn’t want to go to Paris, would they have understood?

If he tells you he’s sorry, would you forgive him? 

Regrets and memories clouded his mind, tears making their way down his cheeks. Each thought strangled his heart, and he could feel it physically aching. In a melancholic state of mind he sat, clinging onto your sweatshirt like it was his lifeline, allowing slumber to slowly take over. 

The break from his own thoughts did not last long enough.

Seven hours later, Hyunjin woke up to dried tears on his cheeks. He straightened his posture and glanced at the window, feeling a wave of emotions at the change of landscapes. Hyunjin wasn’t sure in which city they were flying over, but he could say with certainty that it did not look like Seoul. It did not feel like home, it did not feel like you. 

Unable to fall back to sleep, he couldn’t help the thoughts that poisoned his mind. Looking over the landscapes, he came to a realization much too painful for his heart to bear. 

You and him — you were the Sun, and he was the Moon. Two people of different circumstances, who’ll never meet, ripped away from the merciless hands of time. For your timezones were different — horizons even more. 

As a wave of new tears descended, Hyunjin wondered if he would ever forget about you.

The answer came to him one afternoon three years later, as he laid on the couch in his Parisian apartment. 

No, he’d never forget about you. At least not in three years. Maybe not even in five. 

Sunlight seeped in through the balcony, providing Hyunjin the warmth he wasn’t able to receive from a person. His roommate was a French guy who was always out and about, leaving Hyunjin to soak in his own company for hours on end. Sometimes, for days. Hyunjin loved and hated it at the same time. 

His limbs stretched across the burgundy couch, a yawn eliciting past his lips. Brown eyes stared at the canvas in front of him, black and white hues scattered on white, forming a half-finished painting of you. 

Years later, and you remained at the back of his mind — his muse.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

nine.  

There are five stages of grief. 

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. Denial was the hardest for you, having spent your entire birthday staring at the front door of your house, praying Hyunjin would walk in. When your friends sang you a Happy Birthday, it sounded like a morose ballad playing from a broken record. Without Hyunjin, gloom sat at the centre of even the happiest things. 

Then came a sixth stage — one that seemed to exist for you.

Motivation.

After coming to acceptance that your best friend had gone, without any farewell, you spent many hours a day in the ballet studio. Pirouette, arabesque, plié — you managed to polish each move with the amount of time you spent cooped up in the studio. You weren’t born with ballet feet, but the times spent in pointe shoes had somehow moulded you into having them. 

Perhaps, it was distraction, disguised as motivation.

Nevertheless, the tireless hours of practice granted you a position in the Paris Ballet School.

Paris felt bittersweet when you first landed. It was the city of your dreams, but the reminiscence of the person it took from you made you loathe it. 

Withal, life had to go on. To cope with the Parisian lifestyle, you managed to get a job at a cafe near your academy — Desir Cafe. You worked night shifts as a kitchen crew but if traffic was overwhelming in the afternoons, your shitty excuse of a boss would make you come in anyway.

Unfortunately for you, it was one of those days. Clinks and sizzles reverberated in the kitchen, the peg board overwhelmed with sticky notes of orders. You were everywhere in the kitchen, from piping icing on cupcakes to sprinkling chocolate rice on pastries. 

“Yn,” the main baker yelled, “Tell Double C’s we can’t stock up on macarons! We’re out of almond flour!” 

The Double C’s — Charlotte, and Colette. They were a duo who worked as waitresses, always gossiping. Birds of the same feather, attached by the hip. 

Exasperated, you headed to the front, swinging the kitchen door open to see the duo gossiping. Charlotte was leaning in towards Colette, whispering into her ear, earning giggles from the other. You sighed, wondering what the topic was that afternoon. Curious as to who they were gossiping about, you looked towards the direction they were looking. 

Seated alone at the corner of the cafe was a guy, blonde hair gleaming golden from the sunlight seeping through the big window. His utmost focus was on the sketchbook in front of him, frail fingers dancing across paper, entrancing any eyes which fell upon him. You couldn’t help but stare, your face gradually contorting into disbelief.

He resembled too much like Hyunjin — your Hyunjin. 

Your gaze lingered on the man, analyzing each crease of his face, matching it with the one you had in mind. He looked just like Hyunjin, from the shape of his nose to the mole under his eye. The only difference was the hair. Hyunjin’s hair was raven black, but the person in the cafe had golden blonde hair. You felt your throat tighten. If the man sitting at the corner was him, then time had done good on him. He was beautiful, face sculptured beautifully by time’s gentle hands.

“Ooh, look who’s ogling!” a high-pitched voice interrupted you. You looked up to see the Double C’s looking at you, wiggling their eyebrows mischievously. Charlotte smirked, “Think the guy’s cute?”

“Huh? What guy?” you lied, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

Colette rolled her eyes. “The dude over there! Don’t lie, you think he’s cute.” The brunette wiggled her eyebrows even more, subtly pointing at the man. 

You didn’t say anything else, but your eyes travelled back to the familiar silhouette. The sense of familiarity tugged on fragile heartstrings the more you looked at him. Colette could sense your curiosity, so she parted her lips to speak.

“That’s Hyunjin. He’s a student in Beaux-Arts de Paris,” she muttered, unbeknownst to her the mixed emotions that dawned upon you. “He comes here almost every afternoon. Maybe that’s why you’ve never seen him before. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Excitedly, Charlotte nodded her head. “A total heart-throb, honestly.”

“I mean…” your voice trailed, “He’s quite alright.”

How were you supposed to react to finally seeing the one who got away? Were you supposed to feel excited, or upset? It was like the moon had suddenly dropped down onto your lap. 

You were confused.

Charlotte continued speaking, not realizing the mixture of emotions in your face. “Sometimes, the students have exhibitions about ten minutes from here. His artworks always make it to the exhibitions. I’ve seen them, and they’re really beautiful.”

You turned towards her, “Exhibitions?”

She nodded, still naive as to your shift in behaviour. “I think the school has an exhibition every three months or so.”

Unfaltering, your eyes bored holes in Hyunjin’s back. He was in his own little world, evidently absorbed in whatever piece he was working on. Just like that, the memories you spent years suppressing came rushing back. 

It was unfair, the impact he had on you. There he was, lounging in a corner while your heart grappled in your chest. He looked older, better — and you were still the little girl in the tree house. Swaying your feet as they dangled, as though you had all the time in the world.

Charlotte and Colette exchanged looks as you stared at him. To them, you were simply developing a crush on a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the conflict brewing in you, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend the ache that stirred in the depths of your heart.

“What? You’re interested in him?” Charlotte spoke, breaking you off your trance. You looked at her, blinking. “Don’t even try. I’ve tried. I think he’s gay.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“He’s not gay — oh my god, Lottie!” it was Colette’s turn to speak. Playfully, she smacked the other’s arm. “I asked that guy he’s always with, the songwriter — Felix. Cute guy, that one. Felix told me that he’s got a secret lover or something.”

“Secret lover?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he likes to draw this one girl. His sketchbook’s filled with her,” Colette murmured, glancing at Hyunjin. “Felix asked her who she was, and he said it’s a girl of his dreams.”

Your heart dropped. You weren’t sure to which news you should react first, either Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin, or that he has a secret lover. Either way, it made you pathetically jealous. Your heartstrings thrummed in anger as you imagined a beautiful French girl spread out on his bed, and Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin.

How could he go on with his life when you spent years mourning him?

Crimson tainted your lip as you bit on it hard, the taste of metal at the tip of your tongue. 

Perhaps, you never made it past the anger stage of your grief.

ten.

You truly tried to be happy for Hyunjin.

For days, weeks — you spent convincing yourself that you had to be happy for him. Sure, he hurt you three years ago. Sure, you spent years in agony, regretting not telling him how you felt earlier, wondering what could’ve been. Sure, you hoped that you’d see him in Paris and he’d tell you that he’s in love with you and kiss you senseless — but those were just desperate prayers, weren’t they? Those were simply hopeful scenarios. You hadn’t expected them to come true, had you?

Hyunjin was your best friend of years. He deserved happiness, even when you didn’t feel happy. You had to let things go. You had to be happy for him.

Clearly, you failed at convincing yourself.

In front of a building you stood, the sound of people walking past becoming white noise. You stared at the banner standing in front of you, the words Autumn Exhibition displayed, with the logo of Beaux-Arts de Paris at the top. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

A week ago, Charlotte told you that the university would be holding another exhibition, and Hyunjin’s artworks most likely made it into the exhibition. You knew then, that you had to go. If you didn’t get to see him, then you at least wanted to see his pieces. To not be a part of his life was devastating, you wished to at least witness glimpses of it. 

9:45 p.m. was displayed on your screen, people were beginning to leave the exhibition. There weren’t many people around, which was what you were hoping for. Visiting the exhibition in daylight meant potentially bumping into Hyunjin, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

One day you ought to meet him, but not today. Not when the fragments of your heart have yet to be mended.

After taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to step into the exhibition. A gust of wind hit your face, and you shivered, clutching your coat tight. The art display seemed to be painting-themed, the way frames of canvases were scattered around the building. Baroque paintings were displayed all over, each piece as beautiful as skies at dusk.

The tapping of your heels against the ceramic tiles sounded as you walked, the romantic lighting of the room providing you with a sense of comfort. Wildly, your eyes observed each piece, letting your heart be swayed by the beauty. 

They were all beautiful — but they didn’t feel like Hyunjin. 

Until your eyes trailed to a certain piece.

It was the centrepiece, the piece — little bulbs of lights were installed above the frame, making the piece feel alive. The moment your gaze fell on the artwork, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, taking hurried steps towards it. You stared, unable to take your eyes off the hues on the canvas.

There weren’t many hues, just black and white. It depicted two figures on swings. You couldn’t see the figures clearly but you could tell they looked happy. You could see through the strokes of paint that they were happy — though the artist not so. There was a certain sadness in the painting, one that screamed nostalgia. 

The longer you looked at the piece, the more you realized. 

It was a fragment of your memory. 

Your breath hitched. In came a memory of you and Hyunjin — running around the park before playing on swings. It was a particularly memorable day, you could recall falling off the swing and Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, kissing the bruises on your knees with the tenderness of a feather. It was the first time you felt so protected, and so loved. 

A rush of emotions overcame you, you wondered if that was how Hyunjin felt when he painted it. Had he thought of you, and wept by his easel? Had he stained his cheeks with charcoal as he wiped stray tears off his face? 

You wondered, so much so that you failed to realize a silhouette entering the display. 

Hyunjin didn’t enjoy art exhibitions in daylight. They felt pompous. The people who visited the exhibitions would usually walk around casually, and took photos. They didn’t harbour any sort of deep appreciation towards art, they didn’t sit and admire.

Therefore, Hyunjin loved revisiting exhibitions in the comfort of twilight. When the expositions were empty, he enjoyed revisiting them, taking his sweet time to admire each piece. 

When he spotted a figure standing before his piece — his most vulnerable piece, he felt his heart drop. He watched from afar as this person observed the artwork, body as still as a mannequin. He had never witnessed someone admire a piece this intensely, especially with it being one of his pieces. He felt flattered, his heart swelling in pride and joy. 

Silently, Hyunjin approached the figure. Usually, he was shy, not the type to approach people first but somehow, he felt the strong urge to this time. Fate was pulling him by his heartstrings.

“That’s my painting,” Hyunjin spoke, ensuring his voice was as soft as possible. 

The sudden voice startled you. You whipped your head towards the source of the noise, eyes widened in shock. They widened even more at the sight before you. 

Hyunjin’s breath hitched. His heartbeats escalated, taking in the figure standing in front of him. His fingers dug into the skin of his thumb, lips quivering. Brown doe eyes mirrored yours.

“Wh — what?” he spoke again, breathless. “Yn?”

A few steps were taken, inching closer towards you. His eyes scanned your face, lips quivering even more when he realized that it was you — you were real, and you were standing in front of him. You looked the same as you did three years ago, except more beautiful. How’d you get more beautiful? The passage of time had seemingly been good to you, the way it had carved your face into one Hyunjin could imagine himself filling his canvases with.

“Hyunjin,” you willed yourself to speak. You ignored the way your eyes watered. “It’s you.”

“It’s you, too. You’re here.”

Another few, brave steps were taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. 

“I hate you,” the words spilt past sanguine mouth before you could stop them, its venom contrasting the hushed tone of your voice. They crushed Hyunjin’s heart, though he knew he deserved them. “But I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” was all that he could say. Hyunjin meant it. He really was sorry. He was sorry as he sent you back from the meadow, too cowardly to bid you goodbye. He was sorry when he packed his bags, stealing one of your sweatshirts for solace. He was sorry when he was on the plane, wishing he could turn back time. He was sorry when he painted numerous portraits of you. He was sorry as he stood before you, watching tears flow down your cheeks because it was the least he could do — a form of punishment for what he had done to you.

You shook your head, palms rushing towards your face to wipe away tears. 

“It’s not enough, I know,” he mumbled, moving closer towards you to wipe your tears, like it was instinct, feeling his heart clench when you took steps back. “But I truly am sorry.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you sobbed, vision blurry. “You didn’t even contact me.”

“I know, Yn, I know — I’m sorry. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t,” he rambled, cupping your cheeks and rubbing on the skin. You allowed him to. “I swear, I wanted to write to you, but I was too embarrassed, and by the time I had enough courage it was already too late.”

Sobs wrestled their way past your lips, barely able to form coherent words. You kept shaking your head, blurting out the words you’ve kept for years.

“You just left me, Hyunjin — you left me. A day before my birthday,” your whimpers got louder, “I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you, on my birthday. Hell, three years later and I’m still in love with you.”

Hyunjin’s face paled. He had expected curses, and cries — but he hadn’t expected that. Anything, but that. His limbs moved before his brain could process things, lifting your chin to meet eyes. Your eyes were tinted with tears, but you were still beautiful. You’re always beautiful.

“What?” he squeezed your cheeks, “Yn, what?”

“You heard me. I’m not saying it again. It's fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Hyunjin knew he was supposed to feel remorse, but God — his heart bloomed at the words you had whispered to him. You’re in love with him. You’re in love with him, the same way he was in love with you. “Fuck, Yn. You can't just say shit like that.”

Feather-like touches grazed your lips. There was a certain look in Hyunjin's eyes, one that you couldn't quite figure out — they were a look of longing. How could you know it was longing when you had never bear witness to them? You could feel his breath against your face, warm like his fingertips.

“You have no fucking idea how long I've been in love with you. You have no idea how much I missed you. Fuck, I think about you every fucking day,” he whispered, “You have no idea how much I regret getting on that plane.”

At that moment, all you could feel was Hyunjin. His deep, brown eyes staring into yours and his thumb pressing onto your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered back, “Kiss me, Hwang Hyunjin.”

And kiss you, he did. His lips crashed against yours with fervour, moving his lips to the same beat as his racing heart. You kissed back in the same manner, letting out the emotions you had bottled up. 

I love you, I love you — each movement of his lips was a love confession, etching his adoration onto the curves of your lips. You caressed his cheeks akin to holding stars in your palms — careful, precious.

Finally, you pulled apart to catch your breaths, bodies heaving against each other. 

“Please, give me a second chance.”

It’s odd the way human minds work, because at that very moment, you were reminded of Colette's words. Ones that mentioned a rumoured secret lover.

“But,” you felt silly for saying it, “Your secret lover?”

“My secret lover?” the boy's eyebrows furrowed. He then chuckled upon realization. The rumour must've spread to you. “Ah, that secret lover. It's you, idiot.” 

He smiled. You didn’t think anyone could look as beautiful as he did.

“It's always been you.”

eleven.  

“Careful — come on, get under here.”

Giggles echoed in the alleyways as two shadows lingered in the darkness of midnight. It was raining, the pavements darkening with wetness and the wind howling a sweet melody. At that particular hour, under the moonlight, Paris looked like the city of love. 

You rushed out of the exposition hall, getting under Hyunjin’s leather jacket. He’d promised you the date of your lifetime that night, and he wasn’t one to break his promises. 

Hyunjin’s back was damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter as long as not a droplet landed on your body. It only took a few minutes (and a lot of giggles in between) to reach Hyunjin’s so-called secret spot. 

Streetlights shone on a bench, and clusters of flowers surrounded a little pond. The spot overlooked the city, you could see the city lights from all the way up here. You gasped in awe, it’s no wonder Hyunjin insisted on coming here.

“So beautiful,” you whispered. Hyunjin smiled softly, moving closer towards you on the bench and wrapped an arm around your waist.

While fondly looking at your visage, he muttered. “Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“How’d you find this place?”

“I found it while I was walking one night,” he explained, resting his head on yours. You could smell his shampoo in this closeness. “I was sad. This garden reminded me of the one we used to go to when we were kids.”

Your heart swelled at the confession. 

“It does resemble that one a lot.”

The skies were still drizzling rain, but you were both a little sheltered much thanks to the oak tree above you. Only droplets dripped, falling onto your head but it was a nice sensation. Besides, you couldn’t feel the cold when you’re nuzzled in Hyunjin’s arm, blanketed in his familiar warmth. You allowed silence to third-wheel you, eyes busied with observing the sight. Silence was always comfortable with Hyunjin. The time spent apart hadn’t changed that. 

He wouldn’t leave you alone, his skin constantly touching yours. It burned against you. You didn’t mind it. Instead, you basked in his love, listening to the sounds of his heartbeats as your head rested on his chest. He intertwined your fingers together, his thumb rubbing against yours. He wouldn’t let go of you, not even when he bent down to pluck a flower, slipping the daffodil onto your ear. 

“I missed you,” he murmured. You weren’t sure how much he’d repeated that phrase but you liked it. “I truly did.”

For the thousandth time that night, you responded. “I missed you too.”

The conversation changed into one about your lives, catching up on each other’s shenanigans. It was comfortable, being with Hyunjin. Topics changed seamlessly. You didn’t have to put much effort into talking to him, you just had to be there.

Softly, his hands moved towards your feet, taking off one of your shoes. He held onto your ankle, tracing his pointer across your sole. You giggled, the feather-like touches tickled. 

“You still have the feet of a ballerina.”

“Of course, silly,” you scoffed, “I am one after all.”

“I’m so glad that your dreams came true,” he whispered, putting your leg down. He cupped your cheek, showcasing a fond smile that stretched to his ears. “I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“Of course,” you repeated. “You told me you’d be wherever I am. It’s only fair I returned the favour.”

The words knocked out Hyunjin’s breath, and it filled his soul with so much adoration, he felt like he could burst. A pleading expression was written all over his porcelain visage, the way in which he squeezed your hand expressing his feelings even more.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I need to be yours.”

You kissed him, for the second time that night.

“I’m already yours, Hyunnie.”

twelve.  

Things with Hyunjin had been going exceptionally well. 

After the fated night, you carried on with so much happiness that you practically beamed everywhere you went. One time when you clocked into work, the Double C’s made kissy noises at you, and Charlotte had whispered, “You must’ve had crazy good sex last night.”

You couldn’t deny it, of course.

Date nights with Hyunjin happened thrice a week, with coffee runs in between classes. The Paris Ballet School and Beaux-Arts de Paris weren’t that far from each other, allowing you to sneak lunches together almost daily. Though you had to admit that even if the universities were far, Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t mind spending extra time just to see you. Sometimes, he’d watch you dance, and sometimes, you’d watch him paint. 

It was like you were both making up for the lack of each other the past three years.

After just two weeks of your relationship, you were acquainted with the comfort of Hyunjin’s home. His roommate was barely home, so you felt comfortable with coming over often. Most weekends, you’d spend the night over. 

Morning birds chirped a jolly ballad, waking you from your slumber. You stretched, feeling the heat of Hyunjin’s skin against yours. You couldn’t help the smile that grazed your face when you looked at him, fast asleep under the duvets beside you. Sleepily, you pressed a kiss onto his bare shoulder, then traced the memories of last night, tattooed on his skin in the form of bruises. It pulled a whine from him, moving under the duvet to press himself impossibly closer towards you.

“Flower,” he mumbled, morning voice husky, “I'm cold.”

“Then come cuddle.”

He did as told, wrapping strong arms around you. You felt his fingers ghost against your naked spine, sending heat straight to your core. You couldn't help the whimper that left you, earning a playful grin from your boyfriend. 

“It's too early to get in the mood, no? Baby?”

Flushed, you smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Hyunjin giggled, leaning towards you to press kisses onto your face. Mornings with him were often spent like this — limbs entangled, as if you were one. 

“Need to shower, baby,” he sighed, “Have an exhibition today.”

To your dismay, he slowly pulled away from you, missing the warmth of his body. 

“You coming to the exposition?”

“Of course,” you hummed. “Go shower. Can I borrow your laptop while you're in the shower?”

“Yeah, baby. The password's your birthday.”

He got up from the bed, and you flushed as you looked at his bare body. Unluckily for you, your boyfriend quickly noticed your flushed face, taking it as an opportunity to throw a pillow at you and call you a pervert. You rolled your eyes, watching him enter the bathroom before getting up, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. 

You walked towards his study to retrieve his laptop, smiling at the artworks displayed on his peg board. One was of you — a painting of the Polaroid he took of you back in the meadow. The Polaroid itself sat at the back of his phone case. He had never taken it out since the first time he put it in back then.

Whilst humming to a melody, you kicked in the digits of your birthday. The laptop unlocked, showcasing the unclosed tabs. 

Your eyes widened at the words written on the screen.

Congratulations, you've been chosen for a student exchange programme to Rome.

Your heart skipped a beat. Repeatedly, your eyes skimmed the words on the screen. You didn't mean to pry but you scrolled through the email, feeling your heart sink upon seeing the date it was sent.

Over a week ago. 

Yet Hyunjin hadn't told you anything. 

After all these years, he was still keeping secrets from you. You couldn't handle it, and so for the sake of your heart you exited the tab, and shut down the laptop. Careful as to not make much noise, you got dressed. 

“Hyunjin,” you knocked on the bathroom door. “Need to be at the academy now. Bye.”

You needed to be away from him — you needed to clear your head.

thirteen.

You hadn't seen Hyunjin for a week.

The texts from him you didn't avoid, responding each time he sent a message. However, you'd been dodging his requests of meeting, under the guise of practice when in truth, you hadn’t gone for classes in a week. You spent your days moping in your apartment. 

Perhaps it was a little childish of you to do, but you couldn't bear the thought of going through what you did before. You'd tasted a life without Hyunjin, and you were certain you didn't want to live through it again. This was your way of mentally preparing for that life again. 

Your limbs lazily stretched across the cotton duvet as a vinyl played in the background. A melodramatic song played, matching the current tune of your heart. You weren't entirely sure what time it was, but the sound of the apartment bell ringing hinted that it was afternoon. It must be the takeout your roommate ordered.

“Reine,” a familiar voice reverberated in your apartment. “Where's Yn?”

“In her bedroom,” your roommate, Reine replied in her thick French accent. “She's been in there moping all week.”

Damn you, Reine. 

Quickly, you buried yourself in your duvet, anticipating the footsteps which approached your room. Soon, your door swung open, and you could smell the white gardenia in his cologne.

“My flower,” his voice tempted you to look, “What’s going on, sweet girl?”

It didn’t help that each syllable that slipped past his lips felt like honey.

You felt his hands pull down your duvet before you came face to face with your boyfriend. He stood before you, hair slicked back and the white blouse he wore accentuated his shoulders. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, patches of peonies and daffodils peeking from the wrapper. 

You didn’t utter any words, simply looking at him with watery doe eyes. He didn’t miss the glint of tears, immediately setting the bouquet on your nightstand to get onto the bed. Tenderly, he pulled you onto his lap.

“You look so sad,” he mumbled, “Can my sweet girl please tell me why she’s so sad?”

Damn, him. How were you supposed to stand a chance when he was so ridiculously handsome and sweet?

Trembling, you parted your lips to speak. 

“You’re hiding things from me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What things, baby?”

Your eyes shot daggers at him, bottom lip forming into a pout. Hyunjin had to stop himself from leaning in and biting it.

“You got offered to an exchange student programme,” you finally bit the bullet. “You’re planning on keeping it a secret and just leaving me again, aren’t you?”

Ah.

Hyunjin’s eyes softened. He sighed, caressing your cheek in his hand. He shook his head as his free hand rested on your thigh, massaging the supple skin.

“No, I’m rejecting it,” he answered. “I didn’t tell you because I thought there was no point in telling you if I didn’t even want to go.”

“What?” you responded, voice a little higher than you intended it to be. Your eyes scanned his for any lies. “Hyunjin — it’s a good opportunity.”

“What, you don’t want me here anymore?” he joked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Baby, Paris is already enough for me. I don’t really want to move again.”

You nodded at his words. A huge part of you felt relieved — and you felt awful for feeling that way. 

Love, sometimes, is about being selfish after all.

“Were you sad because you thought I was going?” your boyfriend queried, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shrugged. “A little. I was more mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just didn’t mention it because it felt insignificant.”

“I want you to tell me things,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. It left goosebumps in its wake. “I want to know these things.”

“Okay," he mumbled. Something about his compliance made you feel fonder of him. "I'll start telling you these things."

A sigh of relief left your lips. You had known Hyunjin for years, but being with him was different. A good kind of difference. It would take you a while to adjust to these changes — but it was the kind of changes you'd want to adjust to.

Hyunjin's fingers trailed to your hips, ghosting over your skin until they reached your thighs. He traced the stretch marks there, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn't help the whine that left your mouth, and the heat that arose, tainting the tips of your ears in crimson. Hyunjin enjoyed this — flustering you with his ministrations. He allowed you to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering as he felt your lips litter kisses on his most sensitive spots.

"I love you," he confessed, like honey dripping from lips. "Promise I'll be wherever you are."

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