#he would smell like cherry blossoms

[sugarcherriess]

thank you for the smooches <3 *smooch4u2

istg if im expected to work 24/7 like that the camera im handed will be broken

🐶 anon tysmmmmm ur not butting in dw (at least not to me) ill try the limited brushing thing and idk if my hair is insane but its very…fuzzy? all the time. like it has many baby-hair looking things all around all day every day so i kinda look like i have a translucent bird nest on top of my head lol

and i just realized i used “their” instead of “they’re” in my hair+tbz ask and its kinda driving me crazy cuz i hate wrong grammar and grrrrr seeing me do it is aghhhhhhh *rips hair out*

🫧

Lets forget all our issues and look at juyeons smooth armpits to relax our minds

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it. 

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

[liliavanrougelover]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: How the act when they're jealous

Characters: All (-Ortho)

A/N: Something something Floyd <3

Riddle Rosehearts:

He’s ashamed about it

He knows that being jealous is toxic and he hates that he’s feeling that, so he ignores it

He pretends he’s not jealous and hopes it just goes away, and yet… it hasn’t

He knows you’re dating him and he has nothing to worry about. But the way that guy is being so touchy and getting so close to you… it makes him want to collar the guy right then and there

He doesn’t because that would be unreasonable, but he does decide that he needs to talk to you. If ignoring it won’t work, then he’ll just have to face it and talk to you about it.

So, he walks over and asks to talk with you privately

“I don’t like how friendly that guy was with you. I know you love me, but I’m jealous. It’s silly and childish and I’m sorry that you have to deal with me being like this. I tried to ignore it, but it got worse, so I thought telling you about it would help. And again, I’m sorry.”

He’s so sincerely apologetic about it

Because he doesn’t want you to feel bad or feel like you have to stop being friends with that guy just because he’s jealous

Just tell him that it’s okay and remind him that you love him and only him

And a date would help too. Maybe a private tea party in the rose gardens

Trey Clover:

He doesn’t get jealous easily. He’s so confident in his relationship that “what if…” thoughts of you cheating or leaving him hasn’t once crossed his mind, BUT…

There is a line that shouldn’t be crossed

This guy acts so casual and nice around you, and he’s happy about it and he wished it stopped there

But then the next day, the guys is standing closer, being more touchy, and his voice sounds more flirtatious

Trey knows you don’t hear how he’s speaking, because if you did you would’ve moved away or told him you were taken or something. But you just kept talking to him with a smile

So, Trey walks over to shut this guy down before he takes it too far

“Hey. So sorry to interrupt, but they’re taken. I’m Trey, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He’s so polite that you can’t tell he’s even jealous

He lets you finish your conversation with him, but he stays there with you to make sure he doesn’t do or say anything

And the next day, he keeps you all to himself

He takes you out to eat, shows you around Sage’s island, bakes with you (or talks to you while you watch him bake) and then invites you to stay over and watch a couple movies of your choice before falling asleep in each others arms

Nobody could even tell he’s jealous

Cater Diamond:

So pouty

He gets jealous and walks around with a pout on his face

He doesn’t even check Magicam!

It’s not hard for him to get jealous either

You smile at someone for a bit longer than usual? He’s jealous. You let someone stand a little too close? He’s jealous. You agree to hang out with them one-on-one? He’s jealous.

He doesn’t like being jealous, and he tries to hide how often he gets jealous. Usually it works. He just takes a few days to think it over and then he’s perfectly fine.

But, sometimes it becomes unavoidable and he can’t hide it. And at those times, he invites you to his room so he can talk to you

“That guy you studied with yesterday was being pretty buddy-buddy with you. Almost like you’re a couple. But, last time I checked, we were dating. And I don’t think our relationship is open right now. Wanna explain yourself?”

He doesn’t realize how accusatory he sounds

It’s like he’s interrogating you and doesn’t realize it

And he does feel bad when he realize how he sounds, because he knows it’s not your fault

He apologizes for being so accusatory and asks you to have a study date with him later that day

You get to his room after class and he’s n set up for something that isn’t a study date

His LEDs (He has LEDs because I said so) are on a nice pinkish color, the room smells like cherry blossoms and he has a little dinner for two set up on his desk with an extra chair that he borrowed from Trey’s room. And before you go back to your dorm, he gives you a bouquet of roses

Ace Trappola:

Believe it or not, he doesn’t get jealous that often

But when he is, he doesn’t waste any time

Some guy thinks he can just put his hand on your arm, and stand so close, and tell you that he’s always free if you want to “hang out”? Hell no

He’s immediately baring his teeth like a lion

Not literally, but you could definitely tell he’s jealous with one look

He just walks over to you and forces this guy to back off. And if the other guy doesn’t back down, he’s not afraid to fight him

“Hey. Back off! For your information, they’re my partner. MY partner! Not yours. Why don’t you back up and keep your dirty little hands off of them. Wouldn’t want them to catch whatever creep disease you have. Hey, babe, let’s go. I want to make you dinner tonight.”

He gets you out of there as fast he can

He also doesn’t straight up tell you not to talk to that guys (especially if he’s your friend) but he does say “that guy makes me uncomfortable”

And he takes you back to his dorm and makes you dinner (Riddle and Trey have to step in because he almost ruins it. He tried and that’s what matters)

He also ask you to stay the night just for his peace of mind

Deuce Spade:

Immediately feels guilty. Especially because his first instinct is to go over there and punch the guy that’s standing too close and getting too touchy

You don’t even know that he’s jealous, because he never tells you

There are signs though

He’s hanging around you more often, getting more touchy, saying “I love you” more often, but other than that you wouldn’t know

He talks to one person about it and that's Jack

He ask Jack for advice on being and jealous and Jack gives pretty solid advice

The only way you’ll actually get him to admit he’s jealous is if you ask him

“Oh… Is it obvious? Sorry, I didn’t want to say anything in case you thought you did something wrong or anything. I was trying to hide it so it didn’t affect you. Am I being too overbearing? I’m sorry, I’ll try to tone it down.”

Please reassure him that he isn’t being overbearing and that you just want to make sure that he knows you love him

He tells you that he’ll work on not being jealous and even ask if you can help since he’s never seen you jealous

He wants to be better for you ♡

Very protective

Leona Kingscholar:

You’re his herbivore, not anyone else's

Someone gets too touchy or too friendly, he will get so protective

God forbid it’s a Savanaclaw student, he will make their life a living hell

He’s also not afraid to approach you two while you’re talking and telling him off

Doesn’t he know who this herbivore belongs to?

“Hey! This herbivore is taken. I’ve made that very obvious. And even if they weren’t, what makes you think they’d like someone like you? There’s a reason you’re single. How about you stop creeping on people and do something productive? Herbivore, you want me to teach this guy a lesson?”

Will actually beat the guy up if you want him to

He’ll also immediately take you to his room to cuddle

Also encourages you to tell off anyone else who acts that way

And if he does catch you telling off a creep, he gets so proud

“That’s my herbivore.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Doesn’t really mention it, but there are so many signs

He’ll ask you to study more, get donuts, and help him with chores. And he’s a lot clingier than ever

There isn’t a minute of your day that goes by when he’s not with you

And he also discreetly teaches the guy a lesson. By stealing all of his money. He has the guys wallet now

He’s not gonna get all flirty with his partner and not pay the price

“Hey! Y/N! I got more money! You wanna go out? My treat!”

He tells you that the money came from Leona, but it didn’t.

He just sticks closer to you and doesn’t talk about it

He’ll also deny being jealous if you call him out on it

If you talk to the guy he’s jealous of when he’s with you, he’ll shamelessly glare at him

Jack Howl:

Doesn’t get jealous easily

He trust you and that’s not gonna change because some guy gets touchy

He’ll only get jealous if you actively flirt with somebody, but at that point he just settles for leaving (reasonable)

He’s protective though

If a guys flirting with you and you’re visibly uncomfortable, he will get you out of there as fast as possible

Or if you tell him that a certain student is being creepy to you, he’ll keep you away from the guy

“Hey. You’re making them uncomfortable. Leave my partner alone. Y/N, let's go. Do you wanna see this new cacti I’m growing?”

He ends up sticking around you and make sure nobody is creepy or starts making you uncomfortable

He’ll act like your personal security

If a guy gets mad and starts getting physical with either of you, he’ll pick them up and take him away from you

Not jealous, but protective

Azul Ashengrotto:

Oh no

He just locks himself in the VIP room

Azul’s coping mechanism is to hide and he does just that

He sees a guy being all touchy and flirty and he doesn’t stick around. He just runs off and hides

You have to go to him and tell him that you aren’t into that guy

“I know. You are dating me and you love me. I just saw that guy and I thought… I don’t know. Maybe he’d be better for you. He’s more athletic, better looking, he’s… fit. I’m sorry.”

Once he’s out of the Funk© (as Floyd calls it) he will not hold back on the guy

He will get Floyd and Jade to spy on him and get blackmail information. He’ll then force the guy to work for him by using the blackmail and leave him with the worst and hardest job

That guy will learn not to be creepy to his partner again

Jade Leech:

Unhinged

Sometimes he’ll pretend to be jealous just to mess with you and get kisses, but when he’s actually jealous, he’s unhinged

He will blackmail whoever he’s jealous of to do disgusting things. When he goes to the Mostro Lounge, Jade will purposely make his food bad (or tell Floyd to mess it up). He’ll let Floyd have “fun” with him.

He is not going to go easy on this dude. Oh, but you won’t know any of this. You just notice that he seems a little more on edge and if you ask him about it:

“Well, my pearl, I’ve been quite jealous recently. Don’t worry though, I’ve dealt with it. Would you like to go on a hike with me?”

You can try to ask how he “dealt with it” but he won’t elaborate. He just tells you not to worry about it

He has this big grin on his face too, that definitely doesn’t calm you down

He does drag you on a hike with him. Mainly to get your mind off of what he might’ve done and also to get more mushrooms for his terrariums

Floyd Leech:

Oh no… Oh No. OH NO!

He gets unhinged in a more physical way

He is not afraid to approach you and get the guy to leave you alone. In a forceful way

He's so angry and violent. In a word, he’s very Floyd. Which checks out

“HEY! Who do you think you’re flirting with? That’s my shrimpy! Are you asking to get squeezed? Aha, I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

He’ll chase the guy around the school for a good while. To terrorize him, he’ll let the guy stay ahead of him, but once he starts slowing down he’ll get him

Oh, but you won’t get mercy either

He finds you after school and cuddles you for hours

He’s half-heartedly squeezing you with his head buried in your chest and grumbling about you being cruel

He’ll tell you how mean you are letting him get all jealous and then not doing anything to make him feel better

The cuddle’s don't count either. He wants kisses. A LOT of kisses.

Doesn’t get jealous

Kalim Al-Asim:

Ever

Why would he need to be jealous? He trust you

He sees a guy flirting with you and doesn’t feel even a little worried

At the end of the day, he’s the one dating you, he’s the one kissing you, he’s the one who gets all your love and affection and that’s what matters

Now, if you want him to step in and help you he will

You have to tell him if someone makes you uncomfortable and if he sees that person talking to you, he’ll step in

“Excuse me, they’re taken. I’m their boyfriend. Sorry, but I need them for something. Come on, Y/N, I need your help setting up for a party this weekend.”

The excuse he used to get you out of their wasn’t even a lie

He genuinely needs help setting up for a party

Whenever he gets you out of uncomfortable situations, he never lies about needing you. He needs your opinion on everything. The food for a banquet, the decorations for a party, his drumming skills, everything.

Jamil Viper:

What? Him? Jealous? Yes

You love him and want him. He’s not letting someone take you.

He’s tries to be lowkey about it though

He’ll interrupt every conversation you have with the guy, claiming that he needs you for something and then saying he just wanted to spend time with you

He’ll invite you to study more or help him with his chores

He’s not above pulling you away from the guy either

“Hey. I need them. Y/N, can you come with me?”

He literally just keeps you away from the guys he’s jealous

He tries to hide it, but then eventually just ends up cuddling you forever

He ends up falling asleep

And when you tell him he’s more clingy than usual, he denies it (like a liar)

Another guy that doesn’t get jealous

Vil Schoenheit:

He’s confident in himself

Why would you leave him for any of the potatoes around this school? Nobody could be as great as he is

He knows he has no reason to worry

At least, that’s what he says, until…

He sees you talking to Neige

Neige isn’t flirting or anything, he’s just being his normal self, but Vil still get jealous

The longer you talk to him the more the jealousy grows. He doesn’t say anything while Neige’s there but when Neige’s gone

“Potato. I hate to admit this, but I've found that I’m jealous. Perhaps you could help get rid of this ugly feeling. Would you like to go out for dinner?”

He spends the rest of the day with you. He’ll just randomly kiss you and gets happy when you randomly kiss him

And at the dinner, he pulls a bouquet out of thin air

You think he planned this the day prior. After all, he was with you all day, and you didn’t see him buy a bouquet

Little do you know, he ordered them while you were distracted and had Rook deliver them to him just before he entered the restaurant

Rook Hunt:

Rook, believe it or not, isn’t jealous

He is, however, territorial

If someone ends up standing too close to you, they will end up with an arrow grazing by them, forcing them to back up

He doesn’t acknowledge it at all

To him it’s just another day

You ask him about it and he acts confused

“What do you mean? I was just making sure they learned personal space, mon chéri. I need to make sure no one thinks to touch what's mine.”

He goes on a whole rant about boundaries and mentions something about marking???

He keeps say french in the middle of his speech and you end up getting lost

The main point of his speech is that he doesn’t want anyone trying anything funny with you since your his

Weirdo

Epel Felmier:

Oh man…

Epel already has a bit of a fragile ego from always being seen as delicate and girly, so when someone tries to make a move on you…

He immediately thinks that they don’t think he can protect and provide for you

He assumes that they don’t think he’s man enough to keep someone safe and provide for them and he is not at all happy about it.

“HEY! Git yer hands off ma partner, ya creep. Ya think ah can’t provide for ‘em ‘cause ah’m small, ey? How bout we head outside and ah teach how a real man fights!?”

That guy wasn’t too sure what Epel said, but the aggressiveness made him leave you alone

Epel ends up flexing asking if you saw how good he was at protecting you

He then takes you to his spell drive practice to impress you more

He also tells you to tell him if anybody is creepy like that again

Let's get one thing straight, he didn’t see anything physically

Idia Shroud:

He was watching the cameras he installed in the sc- I mean, no, what cameras?

He saw this guy standing way too close and you were obviously uncomfortable and trying to back up

And just because he can’t go outside, doesn’t mean he can’t stop this guy and put him in his place

He has Ortho, after all. And he’s more than happy to protect his best friend

“Hey. You need to back up. They’re taken by my big brother. I suggest you leave them alone unless you want to experience my laser eyes first hand.”

Ortho than escorts you to Ignihyde to make sure that creep doesn’t try to approach you again

Idia pretends he wasn’t jealous while clinging onto you like his life depends on it

He’ll swear on his life that he wasn’t jealous and yet he refuses to swear on Hero’s Dawn: A Rogue's Journey. Strange

Malleus doesn’t realize that someone flirting with you at first

Malleus Draconia:

Only when Lilia tells him does he realize

He gets all huffy about it, but then remembers that he can smite the person with lightning

However, when he gets there, Sebek’s already there telling this person off

How dare they think they can treat this human better than the next king of Briar Valley! Are they dumb?

Malleus has to stop him from hurting the person and then sweeps you away

“My dear, that person didn’t put their filthy hands on you, did they? I must admit, when Lilia  told me that they were flirting with you, I felt… Jealous. I’m glad to know that Sebek’s looking out for you.”

Sebek only thought it was an insult to Malleus, but maybe don’t tell him that.

He tries his best to be around and recognize flirting better, but it doesn’t really work

Lilia tries to teach him the differences between friendliness and flirting, but he doesn’t get it

He tries though, and that’s what matters

Lilia Vanrouge:

Oh no

No mercy for this poor soul who thought of flirting with you

He’s lowkey a little unhinged, but doesn’t let it show

In his mind, he’s thinking about settling this with a good old fashioned duel, and on the outside, he’s smiling politely

He does feel a little smug. He already knew you were the hottest student on campus, but this further cements that

“Oho? I understand why you would be interested in them, they are the greatest after all. However, they are taken. By me. Say, if you’re so intent on winning their heart, why don’t you duel me for it.”

He doesn’t end up fighting that person because he’s powerful enough to accidentally kill them, but he definitely considered it for a second

Just a second

And then he takes you to his room to play video games well past midnight

Silver Vanrouge:

Doesn’t get jealous for two reasons

1. He can’t tell the difference between being friendly and flirting and

2. He trusts you

Even if someone tells him that it’s flirting he won’t do anything because he trust you not to leave him

He’ll only take action if you tell him someone is making you uncomfortable

He asks for a name and/or description of the person and confront them about it

“My partner told me that you flirting with them has made them uncomfortable. Please stop. If you continue to harass them and make them uncomfortable, I won’t hesitate to take matters into my own hands. So, please leave them alone so this situation doesn’t escalate.”

After a few days, he asks if that guy left you alone and is satisfied when you say yes

He’ll do anything to make you feel safe and happy

Sebek Zigvolt:

It takes him a few minutes to realize someones flirting with you, but when he does he gets pissed

Who do they think they are?

That’s his human!

He’s insulted, offended, appalled, stunned, another word

This shall not stand

“How dare you say such things to MY human? Do you know who I am? I’m a loyal attendant of my liege, Prince Malleus Draconia! How dare you think of saying such things to MY human! You are a despicable person and I detest you!”

He meant that with his whole heart

He stays with you the whole day and makes sure that no more creeps try to creep on you

[todorokies]

cherry blossoms, tarot cards & chamomile - suguru geto

contents: sfw, fluff, meet-cute at book store, fem!reader, strangers to potential lovers, mentions of curses & whatnot, tarot cards reading,, 1.5k words.

a/n: this one goes out to the hopeless romantics who wanna fall in love in a bookstore aka me (we hear & see you)

spring has sprung as one would say. the pale snow that covered the ground has melted away, which in turn allows the freshly cut grass to flourish.

cherry blossoms had recently littered the streets alongside the sidewalks, with each petal engaging in a unique twirl that fluttered like a dragonfly before angelically collapsing on the concrete.

with spring came along new missions suguru would have to endure either by himself or with his trusted friend —and nuisance— satoru. as curse energy that once accumulated during the toughest season gets released during the warmer seasons.

today was different however, the pair had been sent into town to retrieve a relic from the past of jujutsu history; a two thousand year old book that slipped out of the archives and has been rumoured to be contained in a bookstore hidden in the nooks of jimbocho.

“the warm breeze outside might fix the low oxygen levels in your heads.” yaga sarcastically reasons when satoru made his complaints about the origins of the mission known.

the raven haired sorcerer reprimanded his tone but expressed his concerns in a more diligent manner. anyone with half a brain would know it would take many decades to successfully pawn through each and every bookshop in the jimbocho district for a specific book, that neither of them even have the slightest clue as of what it looks like.

nonetheless, they were shooed off campus with a pat on the back and a simple: “you’ll know it when you see it—or rather feel it.”

suguru now navigated through the busy streets alone, —his white haired companion taking off a few hours ago on his own journey— with both hands in his pockets taking in the simplicities of life that surrounded him while keeping his eyes sharp for any unusual curse energy.

each corner he’d turn the storefronts would be filled with colourful book spines neatly lined adjacent to one another. the harsh sound of crimped sandpaper occasionally made its presence known when a costomer would flip through the pages.

a bitter earthly aroma tangoed with the wind. one would simply scrunch their nose up and turn the other way but for suguru, the olden smell of books filled him with comfort.

elderly couples hand in hand, a few children accompanied by their parents, and the complementary store cats that would linger in the isles or be found curled up on a random stack of books.

after roaming about and checking a few stores for their recent inventory stock, suguru oddly felt inclined towards a particular store that was larger than the others.

he enters, a ring of a bell from above signals his arrival. immediately, the smell of different assortments of tea wafts in and lingers in his nose.

a café combined with a bookstore…that’s definitely convenient. he eyes the ‘ring for assistance’ bell that rest apon the main counter, he lightly scoffs before ringing it.

“how many times do i have to tell your ass, no, you can’t conduct a séance he—” you round the tight, abelit, breathable corner to face the person it seems you weren’t expecting. you slightly jump back in a frightened manner then regain your composure, or more so, your customer service demeanour.

“my apologies! business is slow today and i thought a rather persistent costomer had came back. do you need help with a book or would you like to order something?” you enunciate your words with care, trying to not let any vocal cracks slip as you fiddle with your colourful apron which is a rather stark contrast from your all black work uniform. 

suguru would pride himself as goal oriented man. the kind demands of asking to take a look at your recent stocks to see if the cursed book has fallen onto your shelves nearly wavers past his lips but the faint smell of his favourite tea clouds his better judgement.

“yes, i’d take chamomile tea with honey please.”

“coming right up!” you popped the ‘p’, scurrying off into the back to prepare his choice of beverage. alone with his thoughts again, suguru observed his surroundings with more caution.

the store has a whimsical charm to it. different array of ambiance lighting scattered throughout the establishment, vintage burgundy rugs made an appearance here and there, a few wooden chairs cushioned by velvet and a long couch that looks as if it has been passed down through many generations.

a sturdy coffee table in the middle and of course, the probably hundreds of thousands books neatly tucked in the shelves.

he wonders if you run this big place by yourself, must be a hassle if you do. he also wonders why a séance was mentioned by you in an irritated tone. maybe it could connect to his current mission? he plans on subtly bringing the topic up.

“one chamomile with honey!” you cheerfully announce handing over his mug. you don’t miss the way your heart skips a few beats when your fingers accidentally brush against his.

suguru nods his head to express his thanks. while digging for his wallet he brings up what’s been on his mind, “what was that séance you were talking about before?” he lightheartedly inquires.

you cautiously look over your shoulders and nibble on your bottom lip, as if you were scared someone might hear, “nothing too serious i suppose. these past few days business has plummeted cause there’s been talk about how this place is haunted.”

a small beat passes.

“which it isn’t by the way! just some silly stuff kids say when they wanna get under uncle daichi’s skin,” you grimace.

you then go on a bit of a tangent about how the alleged “hauntings” started a few weeks ago, just about the same time you gotten a new inventory restock. books would fly off shelves, unnerving whispers can be heard, lights would flicker and the atmosphere would turn unsettling.

suguru is unfazed yet intrigued by this, he calmly listens as his sharp eyes never leaves your face. he notices how animated your expressions are when retelling the events; you talk heartily with your hands as well as your voice that creates a certain bass to match your feelings.

he hums as he takes a slip from his mug, “can you show me the known hotspot for these hauntings?” you nod eagerly and swiftly move from your spot at the front desk to the back of the store.

yaga wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be able to feel the cursed book, as the cursed energy in the air multiples a tenfold when they step into the secluded part of the store the lighting couldn’t reach. he wonders how a cursed object this powerful was able to conceal itself from being spotted for so long.

suguru plucks the hefty grimoire off the shelf, small dust particles flying in its wake, “i’d like to purchase this one.” you look at him as if he grew an extra pair of eyes, but quickly shrug off any confusion and lead him back to the front of the store to cash him out.

as you progress his payment you feel conflicted about letting this particular stranger go so soon. holding him up for a few minutes couldn’t hurt, right?

“uhh.. wait, with each purchase a tarot card reading is offered free of charge. would you like to know what the future potentially has in store for you?”

suguru presses his lips in a thin line and sighs. he doesn’t have time for this and doesn’t believe in cards beholding a hidden future, however he is a sorcerer and just bought a book that would be a danger to society if not soon contained. raining on other peoples parade simply isn’t his forte.

he softly smiles with his eyes turning into crescent moons, “hit me.”

you try to conceal your excitement as you bring out a deck bound together by a rubber band. you start shuffling until four different cards slip out of the deck.

death, judegment, eight of cups, and the lovers.

“intresting…don’t be too alarmed by the death card, it could indicate the decay of a friendship that doesn’t hinder towards your beliefs or an troublesome habit finally coming to an end.”

you continue, “judement and eight of cups go hand in hand as your new calls for action may put certain things into perspective for you, as this chosen path may lead to dissatisfaction.”

“and finally, the lovers card is the nice light at the end of the tunnel. someone you can confine in and pour your heart out to; tarot cards can be interpreted in millions of ways so, take what i say with a grain of salt.” you smile as you put the cards away to bid the stranger farewell.

suguru stares astonished absorbing this information, you’re good. he’ll give you that. “well..thanks for the reading and the tea, have a great day.”

and just like that, he turns his back to leave until he stops just in front of the door. “oh, and i can assure you the ‘hauntings’ should come to an end now.” he smirks and waves you goodbye.

you smile until he fully leaves which is when the realization hits that you didn’t even get the chance to get his name, you frown and groan into your palms.

maybe he’ll swing by again…hopefully.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[jenosjarofjam]

Now, you're stuck with me forever

Alpha jeno x Omega fem!reader

-Rivals/enemies to lovers

Requested ✔️ @no-romance-for-me-please

Word count: 2k+word.

Warning: smut,abo stuff, a lot I mean a lot of slick, squirting, knotting, cussing, biting/marking, mention of scent, nicknames(princess, good girl, etc...)

An note! This is like my first one shot and abo so hopefully this is not too bad🤞.(I took some prompts idea from Tumblr.)I didn't really dive deep into the rival/enemies part.

Playlist: collide-Justine Skye, Best lover-BiBi

You took the same class with Jeno, both of you were the top 10 students in the whole uni. You vividly remember the first year you met Jeno, Jeno always sat next to you, taunting you when he got higher grades. On the other hand, you studied extra hard because of it, surprisingly Jeno still got a higher grade than you. This went on for months, until the professor decided to pair both of you up for a huge project, now you have no choice but work with him. You guys started texting each other, deadline of the project was approaching, you agreed on letting Jeno into your place to help on the project, another led to another, now he crashes into your place whenever he wants

9:34 a.m

Jeno: Can I come over I’m bored……

Y/n : Since when did you started asking?

Jeno:I’m just trying to be nice rn, I’ll bring you food.

Y/n:awwwwwwwwww are you showing affection to me rn?

Jeno: I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and choke you until the life in your eyes die down.

Y/n: kinky ;)

Jeno: stfu, u freak

Jeno was sitting on the couch, finalising the project while you ate your food. The presence of him was distracting you , you seem to be confused about the reason… but hey no one’s complaining when there’s free food.

You noticed the sun peeking through the curtains, sun ray hitting Jeno’s face, highlighting his features. He’s skin glowed under the sun, his eyes shimmered hazel, his nose- “Hey! Are you even listening to me?Hello? Earth to Y/n?” A voice abrupted your thoughts, you realised you have been unconsciously starring at him, your face blushed in embarrassment about being caught. “Were you starring at me?” He cocked his eyebrow in disbelief, “no- no way why would I be starring at you! You’re.. ugly.” Well that was a lie….. “You’re avoiding eye contac with me? Why’s that?” He grins in enjoyment watching you suffer. “No. NO why would I do that.” “Maybe because you’re into me?” He said poking fun at you. “ wha-what no no no…” “well, you’re looking at me like you want to murder me but also like…you want me.” He smirked, seeing your widened eyes. "*cough* umm I'm gonna go uhh get some water." You said, as you quickly walked to the kitchen. You let out a sigh, feeling like you lost your breathe just the moment before. You felt... feverish, oddly... horny.

You went back talking with Jeno, it still doesn't help the fact that you're thinking about getting pounded by a particular person. The uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs was borderline painful, you tried to ease the pain by crossing your legs...it didn't work. You spaced out looking into Jeno's eyes. "Hey... You should take a rest, you seem tired today," "Yeah..um yeah sorry I'll uh go to my room and get some rest, call me when you need anything." You responded, feeling the awkward tension in the room rise up. Little did you know, your scent was flaring up like crazy, the mix of raspberry jam and cherry blossom was putting off Jeno, the sweet smell of slick was oozing out of your panties, making it awfully hard for Jeno to keep his instincts and not to fuck you senselessly. You scurried off to your room, feeling overwhelmed to the brim. You started researching about random heats, trying to find the reason the sudden neediness. You came across an article about spontaneous heats.

Spontaneous heats-Though rare, there is a phenomenon called Spontaneous Heat, which is when an Omega goes into heat outside of their cycle. The rare cases where it happens include meeting one's perfect match (at which point both heat and rut begin almost immediately)

No way Lee Jeno was destined to be your mate, but you can’t deny he is dreadfully hot, but you definitely didn’t stand a chance to be with him.

All these mix signals are just throwing you over the edge.In spite of that, all you should be worrying right now is about the fact that you’re craving the feeling of Jeno’s dick sliding in and out of you.

You had to find a way to relief the pain, ignoring the fact Jeno is probably outside your room playing video games, you slipped your hand under your panties, stimulating your clit. You bite down on your pillow, trying to muffle your moans.

Jeno was standing outside your room, the scent of a sweet aroma slipping through the door crack is driving him insane. The sound of muffled moans , made it obvious you were touching yourself. The thought of marking you, letting everyone know you’re his. The desire to breed you, filling up your pussy with his cum. How pretty you’ll look when he fucks you until you’re senseless . He feels his body burning, blood rushing to his cock, he couldn’t get you off his mind the entire day, he was just craving to fuck you all day long . Jeno couldn’t hold it anymore, he knew damn way he wanted you, all the pretending was driving him mad.

As you were approaching your high, you closed your eyes and focused on the climax. Yougot so lost in the pleasure, you didn’t even notice that someone was standing in front of your doorway.

"Always so needy for me, having fun without me huh?" You quickly cover yourself, your face burned up in embarrassment, you stared at Jeno and his very prominent erection, the size of his bulge was huge , the sheer thought of it already makes you mouth water, you wondered how it’ll feel in your hand,or even in your tight pussy. “What you looking at?” Jeno interrupts your line of thoughts, but it doesn’t make it better. He's low raspy voice sends chills down your spine. He slowly walks to your bed, kneeling down and staring into your doe-eyes, you quickly turned your head away from his stare, he quickly leans closer, closer to the point you feel his breathe against yours " I asked you y/n, what are you looking at?”. Jeno realises how stupid this is, and pulls away, before you pull him by the collar, his lips crashes into yours, the hunger you both crave for each other is finally getting satisfied, his hands naturally went around your waist as he pulls you closer, goosebumps swarming every part of your body. He pulls away "do you want me to stop?” he asked, trying to reassure you wanted this. You hurriedly answered, longing for more “just the opposite, please” He pushes you on to the bed, now you’re under him.

“Submit yourself,” he demanded, “jeno-” “What did you call me?” he abruptly shouted, making you jolt from the unexpected behaviour. “I’m sorry, al-alpha.” he slowly pulled down your flimsy shorts along with your pink panties, the cold hands made you squirm away from his touch. He quickly put his hands on your hips and pull you in, “Let me take care of you, let me make you feel good, let me make you mine,” he whispers into your ears before he forcefully lifts your head up, now you’re staring at him. He’s eyes filled with lust, the dark orbs felt like they were burning holes in yours. He takes off his shirt, his toned abs, arms bulging with veins, looks just like a wet dream in sight. He spreads your legs further apart, slotting his head between your legs. He started licking your hole, not letting a single drop of slick going to waste, before adding two fingers into your leaking hole, slick dripping to his chin, his nose bumping onto your clit adding the extra sensation, making you moan like crazy. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, taste like mine,”he mumbled, the sound of slurping echoes in your ear, your hand naturally find its way down to his head, you grip firmly on his hair, tugging it slightly letting him know your getting close to your climax. The high he brought you was like shockswaves crashing into you, you arch your back gripping harder onto his hair, you let a breathy gasp as you came all over his face.

“I’m not done with you, yet." His eyes darkened as you reached your hands towards him, freeing his cock out of his confinement, it spring out hitting his abdomen. It was huge, far from the ones you've taken before. He slowly lift your legs up, pushing the tip in you, the stretch was painfully good, you unconsciously clenched around him making him groan, your slick coating his dick making it easier for him to fit. He gave you time to adjust to his length then he slowly thrusted into you. “Fuck- take it like a good omega that you are.” The new feeling of adrenaline came rushing in, your eyes rolled back when he hit the spot that made you see stars. He lets out a low breathy grunt , your creamy velvety walls sucking him in deeper, the tight fit making you feel every inch of him, every single veins dragging in and out of your pussy. He started thrusting in a merciless rhythm, he grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, his tongue swirled against yours, the passionate kiss turned into a messy make-out session. His warm lips taking over you, pussy gushing over his dick. "Alpha, I'm close-" you choked out "please, fill me up please.", you feel like time slowed, each thrust felt so sensitive, so good, you feel your vision blurring, the knot in your stomach snapped, you let a long lewd moan as you cum on Jeno's dick. Jeno kept thrusting, ignoring your whines. "Hmm, too much?? Too much for my omega? You were begging for it, you were begging me to fill you up right?? Good girl's keep their promises baby." The sensitivity was too much, you feel your eyes tearing up, you kept clenching on his girth, forming a creamy white ring around the base of his cock.

Jeno used his strength and flip you around, his big hands holding onto your hips, “ass up princess.” You obeyed, feeling a sharp slap on your butt, he swify pushes back in with a one quick thrust. "Plea-se knot- in me al-pha, please, wanna be full of your pups." You pleaded, the thought of being by each other's side everyday, carrying his child, was the best fucking dream ever. "Fuck- You want me to knock you up- huh? Such a slut, such a slut for me. Fuck I'm cumming." He grunted. Jeno grabbed your hair pulling it aside, exposing your bare neck and collarbones, Jeno put his nose on your neck, inhaling your sweet aroma. "Can I mark you- princess, wanna make you mine-" He asked, waiting to get a permission to forever mark you his. "Mark me please, alpha mark me!" Jeno licked the side of your neck, and bit down on it, he licked the blood that was oozing out of the mark. You screamed in pain, but the idea of being his was enough for you to bare the pain. Jeno kept thrusting in you, you feel like your were about to pass out, a new feeling rushed in, not like your typical orgasm. Your now breathy moans echoed the room along with the slapping sound of the skin, you screamed in pleasure as you squirted all over his abs. "S-shit , that was so hot, I'm so close princess." He growled, liquid dripping down your thighs. His thrusts became more sloppy, the raspy low grunts was starting to become smoky moans. You feel his dick twitched in you. He held you closer, gripping onto you harder. With a final push, his knot inflamed, hot white cum covering your walls, you whimpered from the knot's pain. The feeling was way too addictive that you can barely feel the pain now. Jeno lays on you for a few seconds, you can feel his warm breathe against your neck. It took a few seconds for him to recover from his orgasm, he finally broke the silence

"How are you feeling?" He asked genuinely, "Tired and confused...I thought you never liked me..." "Idiot, why would I not like you." "No shit Sherlock, you acted like you hated my guts." You argued

"Well now you're stuck with me forever."

[byhees]

hold me tight.

엔하이픈 형선 ・ female reader + word count 400 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read skinship kissing — more

a/n. this was written in mid 2023 … it’s 2024 now..

heeseung

would prefer facing you whilst cuddling— his heart simply swells at the sight of you; likes it when you curl into his circle of warmth, head softly resting against his chest, his heartbeat strumming a pretty song in the comfortable silence.

cuddles accompanied by little kisses; him pressing quick pecks over your face, each gentle touch akin to dew-kissed petals.

would softly run a hand up and down your back, a smile blossoming on his face with every soft, ticklish giggle lacing the air.

jongseong

cuddles, where you both are on the verge of sleep; eyelids lightly flutter close every so often, yet hands are still wrapped around the other’s torso, not wanting to break away from the comfort.

him clinging to you after a long day, the smell of your shampoo filling his senses with such indescribable love; finger barely grazing your arm, face buried in the crook of your neck.

words of affirmation being elicited, voices lightly bouncing off the four walls of the quiet room; his heart melting when you blink up to meet his gaze, the softest of smiles dawning your features.

jaeyun

likes it when you rest your head on his lap; he’d run his fingers through your hair, lightly messing it up only for the reaction it’d provoke; would occasionally boop the tip of your nose, finding your response adorable.

likes hearing your voice; it lingers like stardust, calming him almost immediately; relishes in the way it softens with the close proximity, whispers leaving a trail of delicate warmth in their wake.

would likely be the big spoon; he simply likes holding you close to his embrace, as though a fortress to keep you snug and safe. the feeling that’d flourish in his chest is beyond the capabilities of verbal explanation; would often brush strands of stray hair out of your face, finding everything about you so endearing.

sunghoon

cuddles where his eyes softly lock onto the contours of your face, gaze gently tracing the crests of your cheeks; his lips lightly brushing your forehead, a small kiss being pressed onto skin. would pull you back into a warm hug after a moment of admiration.

would cling onto you like a koala, not wanting to be separated from your embrace; always has the sweetest smile on his face, deep dimple being the cherry-on-top to his soft request.

him finding comfort in your hold, often crashing into your warmth after a stressful setback; his heart flitting and fluttering as you softly squeeze his arm, a breath of relief being heaved; would kiss the top of your head, heart full of love.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[muniimyg]

3: the favourite snacks // series m.list

note: ohhh... it's kinda cute here ;) how are we liking them? lmk ur thoughts! oc's moment to shine is coming soon !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

fic taglist: @seagulljk @peterstarkchrishiddleston @thekookiecorner @kyjjk @bbtsficrecs @rainypainting @skzthinker @lachimolalajeon @wildflower98 @bluesoulsoul @loumin908 @jk-190811 @survivalistghost

//

As usual, Jungkook interrupts your reading time. Before, it didn’t mean much. Before, he would quietly sit beside you and mind his own business until he got out of his mind bored. Then, he would bug you and you would have no choice but to put your book down. You didn't mind it before. Before, it was whatever.

However, the scene is different today.

Today, he ran to the library after his lecture and couldn’t find you. Disappointed, Jungkook turned his heels to head home… But as fate would have it; he found you along the way.

At the sight of you, right then and there, Jungkook decided that this was his favourite season. 

The season of you.

How could it not be when this… You… Are just so beautiful? As you sit on the grass, leaning against the tree trunk, the wind gently blows cherry blossom petals around you. It’s beautiful. It looks magical.. Like it was fake. I mean, it had to be right? You look so perfect. It looks like those made-up scenes in movies. Jungkook rubs his eyes to make sure it isn’t. This is real life. 

This is you. 

However, his dream-like state of mind is shaken awake when he approaches you, and you refuse to give him the time of day.

First, he stands in front of you and greets you warmly. You ignore him. Then, he sits down beside you and nudges you. Even though your body moves to his push, you still remain silent. Now, this is his last attempt before he loses his mind. 

Jungkook inches closer to you. You sit still, doing your best not to move away. You have to stay put. You have to stand your ground! But life gets 10 times more difficult because he smells so good. As he leans forward, he fixes your hair, and you're awestruck. He tucks your hair behind your ear, sending chills down your spine. You swear it’s just the cool breeze, but you know in your heart it’s him. 

He makes your heart race. 

He smells good.

He looks good, too.

It's no wonder your body betrays you. You squirm from his touch, unable to hold yourself still. It’s gentle and light—but it’s just so ticklish! As you react, Jungkook offers a smug smile. In return, you push his hand away and huff at him. 

“I’m not talking to you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops. 

“What? Why?” His mind spins with confusion. Meanwhile, you keep a straight face and go back to reading. “What did I do?”

Keeping your book up, you answer him without really answering him.

“You know what you did.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What could he have done? The last time he saw you was a few days ago. You two met up to have a quick study session together. It was the same routine! What could he have done wrong since then? Rather, what did he do wrong then?

“... I’m not really sure what I did wrong… Can I have a hint or something?” His tone is genuine and curious, making it harder for you to dish-out your anger.

So, you don’t respond.

Impatient and annoyed at your pettiness, he grabs your book and lowers it to see your face. 

Infuriated, you whine. “Hey! I’m reading—”

“—And I’m trying to talk to you.” Jungkook snaps. "Come on, ___. What's going on? Talk to me, please."

You glare at him, completely baffled at his audacity. Does he seriously think that he can play dumb? He can't. You won't let him.

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

With an eyebrow raised, he speaks out his thoughts. “Why not? I don’t think I did anything wrong—”

“You lied to me!” You blurt. “You lied to me, and you know it. I looked so stupid!”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry. 

Lied to you?

About what?

He tries to run everything he has ever said to you back. He tries to remember everything from the moment you two first met to this very moment now… Every story he has ever said and every tiny side comment—yet, he can’t think of a time he was dishonest. He had no reason to lie to you! Talking to you is so easy because you’re such a good listener. If anything, talking to you has compelled him to be more honest… Jungkook reflects and concludes: no. He is not a liar. Besides, it’s not like he was hiding anything—

“You can skate,” you reveal. 

Jungkook blinks.

“Who told you?”

Fed up, you shove your book to Jungkook's chest. He lets it hit him and drop before reaching for your hands. Quickly, you swipe them away from him. No way is he holding your hand! Not after all the crap he just pulled.

Crossing your arms, you begin to confront him. “Yoongi and Jin were drinking last night. They called me and teased me about how dumb I was… How naive I was because you knew how to skate the entire time! I took the time to teach you how to skate because you kept falling—a-and to what? Find out you were pretending the entire time? W-why would you do that? Why would you lie to me?” 

Oh, it’s bad. 

It’s pathetically horrible how Jungkook is so into you right now.

It melts his heart how you could be this serious and hurt over this little fib. This has to be the cutest thing you could ever do… Be mad at him for wanting to hold your hand just because he was mischievous about it. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to tell you that you’re cute and the entire thing was just a stupid boy-coded play… But, considering how bruise-hearted you’re acting… Jungkook thinks twice about it. 

Then, he decides to give in and abide by your needs. 

Answers.

You want answers and answers is what he’ll give you. 

“First of all: you’re not dumb,” Jungkook reassures you. You make a sour face and shake your head at him.

Groaning, you tell him: “Yes, I am! I looked like a total idiot trying to teach you how to skate when you’re literally a hockey player—”

“Second, I’m not a hockey player,” he chuckles. 

With a half smile, you return: “Right… You’re just a liar.”

Okay. 

… He deserved that. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or do… Honestly, what are you supposed to say or do? The issue is ridiculous but at the same time, he understands you feel deceived. So… now what? 

Honesty. 

“Okay… I admit it,” Jungkook sighs, accepting his defeat. “I lied to you about not knowing how to skate. I’m a liar. I’m sorry—”

“Ah ha!” you point your finger at him. Then, you poke his chest. “That's why I’m not talking to you—”

“But I’m apologizing—”

You shush him. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Like... Oh my goodness, Jungkook! I’m so embarrassed! It’s bad enough that—”

“—That I like you?” Jungkook interrupts you. You’re tongue-tied, unable to find words to deny or confirm. With shaky eyes, he does his best to look at you with the sincerest gaze. “I refuse to apologize for my feelings."

"It's not about your feelings—"

Jungkook plays smart. He's all in anyways. "Okay. Fine, it's not about my feelings. It's about yours, okay? ___, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to hold your hand… Is it that bad? Am I that awful for wanting to hold your hand?”

Slowly, you shake your head. You didn't meant to make him feel bad about his feelings for you! That wasn't the point. The point was... Well..

Oh, god.

What was the point again?

Your words beat your thoughts. “N-no… I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Jungkook looks at you softly, and it makes your heart stumble. Booping your nose, his lips curve into a smirk.

“It’s called flirting, dummy.”

“Hmph,” you pout, turning your face away from him. Under your breath, you mutter, “... So you’re calling me dumb too, huh?”

Jungkook panics. “W-what? No! That’s not what I—”

Without much thought, he grabs your hand and squeezes it. You turn to him, eyeing the way he’s holding your hand. You send him a look, and immediately, he drops your hand and puts it up in surrender. Then, he reaches for his backpack and unzips it. 

“Look! I know my apology doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it’s true. I am so sooo sorry, ___. I’ll deal with the guys. I’ll tell them to shut up and drop it. You’re not dumb—okay?” Jungkook digs inside his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag filled with various items. “Snacks! I was at the convenience store... Then, I suddenly thought of you. So, I bought your favourite snacks. Then I headed to the library but then you weren’t there… And now I’m here—a-and there’s so many! So many snacks, ___! There’s banana milk, some Yakult, and oh, I even bought that cup with the fancy ice—”

“... Is that pocky?” You shift, taking a small peek.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He nods, shaking the bag in front of you. “Almond crush… Cos I have a crush on you—” You sit up and send him a warning look. Jungkook leans his body back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay! Sorry! Almond crush is for me… The strawberry pocky is for you… Your favourite, cutie.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give in.

Your heart can refuse Jungkook, but it remains powerless against strawberry pocky. Jungkook takes out your strawberry pocky first. You’re drooling at this point… Before you can hold your hand out and ask for the pocky, Jungkook already opens it for you. When he successfully gets through the box and rips the wrapper, he offers the pocky to you as a peace offering. 

Unspoken, he knows he’s forgiven the minute you take it from his hands. 

Yet, he plays it safe. He waits for you to get a few bites in and for the smile on your face to appear. Once it does, he smiles cheekily at you. 

“Still mad at me?”

Between chews, you reply, “Let me think..."

"Whatever you need to do, my smart girl."

You shove a few more pieces of pocky in your mouth. After you chew and he laughs at you, you voice your decision.

"Nope... Not mad at you anymore. We’re good.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he reaches for the top of your head. He ruffles your hair and continues to laugh to himself… Perhaps, it wasn’t just about the lie. You were hangry. Mentally, he notes to always keep strawberry pocky in his bag. In case of future screw-ups or of hangry ___ moments. 

When he’s sure your mood has improved completely, he opens his pocky. 

You watch as he does so. Jungkook takes a bite out of his pocky stick and moans in approval. As he eats, he takes a moment to look out at the view of the rest of the field. Jungkook takes it all in. Other students are sitting on the grass, under the other cherry blossom trees, and even playing. It's a calm late afternoon, and he can't help but think about how much he likes this moment.

How the raspberry lemonade sky is peering over the horizon. How you're beside him. How cool the spring breeze is... It just feels so good to be with you.

“This is a nice spot!" He tells you. "I like the view. I like you—"

"You're ruining my peace," you complain. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the pocky. "But yeah, it's a nice spot. I found it while I had that whole week of avoiding you."

Jungkook laughs. "So I found your new hideout? Sorry, not sorry."

You shrug and point at the Yakult inside the bag. He digs in the bag and takes it out. Like the pocky, he prepares it before giving it to you. When he hands you the drink, you take a sip.

"Can this be our spot?"

You choke.

Jungkook's shoulders drop, finding it hilarious and also a little offending at the same time. Was it really this hard to flirt with you? Are you this childish? He never noticed.

It's annoying that his feelings only grow even more.

"Oh my god," he moves closer to you and pats your back. You take another sip to help relieve your throat. As you recover, he lectures you. "Fine. You can have this damn spot."

When he moves back to his spot, you sit and stare at him. Jungkook continues to eat his pocky. Moving on, he pushes the conversation forward.

"Ahh, I forgot how good this is. Almond is the best.” 

You tilt your head at him, wondering what it’s like to be completely wrong about a simple thing. It's like all your pressing thoughts dismissed themselves.

“Strawberry is better,” you claim. You say it rather simply. You say it honestly.

Jungkook copies your head tilt. 

“Strawberry is overhyped,” he argues with you. “Almond is more expensive. The ingredients are more worth it. It’s not just a fruit-flavored cream—”

You huff at him. “Strawberry is not overhyped! Just because it’s cheaper doesn’t mean it’s worth less—”

“Actually… It does.”

The anger that you had earlier? The one that went away? Yeah… It’s back. 

Fuming, you begin your rant. “Strawberry is classic. Almond was made because people got bored of chocolate, so they added almonds to trick people into thinking it was completely different… It's the same thing! Strawberry is an original flavour like—” As you explain, you put another stick in between your lips and suck on the cream. “Mhmm! It’s the best—”

Your words cut off. 

Not because Jungkook retaliates. 

Not because you’re chewing your pocky. 

No. 

It’s because Jungkook dips his head low and takes a bite out of the other end of your pocky stick. He pulls away rather quickly, but it happens… 

It happened. 

His lips brushed against yours. 

Oh my god. 

Jeon Jungkook kissed you! 

Wide-eyed, you pause for a second. Then, you panic. “W-what—”

“Mhmm.. I guess it’s okay,” Jungkook swallows his bite. “I think I still like—”

“Y-you kissed me!” you exclaim, bringing your hands to your lips. 

Jungkook blinks at you.

“No, I didn’t.”

“J-Jungkook," you breathe, “are you gaslighting me? You literally just kissed me!”

Your mind is spinning.

How the heck did that just happen? One second you’re defending strawberry pocky with your life, and the next… You feel more alive than ever. Jungkook has always been sneaky, but you never expected this. It was so innocent yet so mischievous—you have no words!

Perhaps, your inability to explain how you truly feel is what frustrates you and causes you to sound so naggy. 

On the other hand, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. He has no issues facing the repercussions. In his heart, he knows he’s just following it… So, why does it matter? This is him taking a chance. This is him… Winning. 

This is you folding. 

“___, that was not a kiss.” Jungkook reasons with you. “Why? Are you upset because you wanted it to be?"

No words. 

"It's okay to be disappointed," he adds. "I'm disappointed you don't want to share this spot with me. The library is boring as fuck so I don't really want it to be our spot, you know—"

“Y-you’ve got to be k-kidding me!” you cry. “Leave the library alone, you hater."

"... Okay?" Jungkook snickers. "You're greedy today. Do you always have to be right? Is that a thing I should know about you, future girlfriend?"

"Future what?" your eyes bulge. "O-okay, fine. Fine! You win. It wasn’t a kiss. It was horrible anyway. I expected more—”

Jungkook squints at you. “We didn’t even kiss, and you’re already accusing me of being a bad kisser? Damn, at least let me prove you wrong.”

Shaking your head profusely. “T-that’s not what I’m saying! I’m sure you’re an excellent kisser—in fact, I should brace myself, right? B-because you’re probably going to kiss me one of these day, and I’ll—”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You pause. 

“W-what?”

“You heard the question,” Jungkook inches closer to you. In your mind, your body stiffens… In reality, you’re melting. Your body slightly leans in towards him and Jungkook has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Y-you already did.”

“You said it wasn't a kiss... Who's the liar now?"

You stay silent. Partly because you have no words and partly because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't speak.

Jungkook presses on. "You’re not answering my question…”

Silence.

Then, as he speaks again, you realize you're stuck either way… You’re too shy to actually say the words, but he will take your silence, and find the truth. Or... You can say it for yourself. So, okay.

Fine.

You give in.

“Y-you can do what you want. I just… I thought you already kissed me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you for the second time this afternoon. “No, silly… If I kissed you, it would’ve been like this—”

Before you know it, it happens. 

It really happens. 

Soft, slow, and sweetly—Jeon Jungkook kisses you.

He kisses you under the cherry blossom tree with the raspberry lemonade sky above, and the spring breeze. He kisses you until you can't breathe, and your heart falls for him. Jungkook kisses you in your spot.

The spot.

Yours and his.

[allisonlol]

Ah, a Jouno simp...I've always been more of a Chuuya and Fyodor simp. Having said that Jouno is fast becoming a new contender. On that note..if you get time (uni is a real time eater) could we maybe get headcanons on ideal types of woman for Chuuya, Jouno & Fyodor please

a/n: chuuya and fyodor are on TOP too! jouno was love at first sight tho <33 but i would love to do this for u!! keep in mind y'all this is my OPINIONNNN so be nice or else. felt like i was writing kunikida's list of ideals LOL

warning: fem reader

(Chuuya, Jouno, Fyodor) And Their Ideal Woman

Chuuya

i feel like he's...not really picky??

like as long as ur decently nice and somewhat confident he'd be down to get to know u

i feel like chuuya would definitely be drawn to someone who puts a lot of effort into their appearance tho. he does the same so it's not a double standard!!

^such as well-put together outfits and styling ur hair or makeup to match

this is random but i think he likes girls who wear glasses...it's fine if u don't but bonus points if u do!! especially the round frames

doesn't care about height much. but if ur taller than him don't tease him too much or he'll be insecure :(

personality wise, i think chuuya would like someone who is sweet and a little shy, but knows when to stick up for themselves? like not a pushover

someone who is soft-spoken would be a nice contrast to his hotheadedness and bring out his softer side <3

Jouno

his type is me. next

all jokes but i think jouno would like someone who is very similar to him

^you would have to have a substantial amount of things in common to get close to him in the first place, since he doesn't waste his time on anyone

i'm thinking someone who is quick to aggravate, reserved, and sarcastic

there's a lot of playful banter instead of flirting

appearance doesn’t matter much since he can't exactly see you lol. but he would like to lightly trace over ur face and such to picture what you look like

due to his enhanced sense of smell he would love someone who smells good all the time...like regularly uses lotions and perfume but doesn't over-do it (too much would give him a headache)

^has an inclination towards sweet and warm scents, like vanilla. claims the florals are "too overpowering" (although he likes cherry blossom)

i also feel like jouno would like someone with longer hair. he likes running his hands through it or playing with it :)

Fyodor

he likes anyone who will shut up and sit down to obey his order <3

i'm only partially joking here. he would need someone who will typically submit to him

^doesn't mind pushback once in awhile tho. likes the debates that come up if you question or disagree with him

fyodor would like someone who is very quiet, softspoken, and intelligent. the less friends you have, the better too!

^wants you all the himself lol. if you're very introverted, he won't have to worry about you getting close to anyone else as much (did someone say...possessive...)

does want someone who is close to his intellect but doesn't match it. he wants to be able to teach you things and feel superior

don’t bash me here BUT i think fyodor would like a woman who fits that “trad wife” stereotype. like just chills at home and does housework for him. he tends to neglect taking care of himself and his surroundings so he appreciates if you care for him in that way

i also believe fyodor would be drawn to someone who's style resembles his own. i have a very distinct image of a woman with dark hair, elegant clothing, dark makeup

another one who appreciates if you put a lot of time into your appearance

immense bonus points if you're also russian or can speak the language

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

[4ngel-inc]

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — 𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓐 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓣𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮

notes: mdni. fem reader. fluff & smut. it's your first, second, and third dates + dazai goes down on you. ꪆ୧

warnings: this is the longest thing i've ever written (3k) but dazai has my whole heart in his hands, help i'm just in love ʚ ɞ

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝕯𝖆𝖙𝖊 — THE DARK AGE. ࿐

you weren't expecting to walk in on a very suspicious-sounding conversation that night between three handsome strangers when you walked into lupin. you were mostly expecting it to be empty, possibly a lovesick couple making out in the corner somewhere, hiding their affair from their respective husband and wife—no doubt. that was the norm.

however, that night was different. did you know you were walking toward something that would consume you for the rest of your life? difficult to say. but something was different, you tasted it in the air. it lingered in the stale atmosphere of the bar that suddenly smelled of lavender and cherry blossoms when you laid your eyes upon him—osamu dazai. a man more beautiful than you could've rendered in your own imagination.

your confusion at the three (admittedly stunning) men occupying the space you normally sat in, likely showed on your face—and your perfume and the light clicking of your heels surely caught their attention as well, the three of them turning to you as the bell over the hidden entryway clinged and you descended the staircase fully.

they were all so handsome. but you still couldn't take your eyes off him. there was something about him—the way his eyes lingered on your body before settling to lock with yours made your stomach twist. neither of you looked away, though the situation was awkward at best—was this your heart telling you it knew, before you even did?

a few hours later and everyone else in the bar had drifted away, only you and dazai remaining. only the two of you in the world—that was how it felt. neither of you had a single sip to drink from the moment you walked in, too drunk off one another. you'd sat down next to him and started talking, and somehow, in the sea of intoxication the two of you were drowning in, hours had passed in a matter of seconds.

"who are you?" he asked in that deep, sultry voice that had you reeling. he knew your name—you'd told him hours ago. but he wanted to know more—he wanted to know what really made you, you.

"who do you think i am?" you smirked as you placed a gentle kiss on his neck.

"someone who wants to ruin my life," he laughed as he struggled and failed to hold back a needy groan, your lips feeling like heaven against the pulse of his neck.

you laughed at that, "now, why would i want to do that?"

your arms wrapped tighter around his neck as his hands squeezed your waist, grinding your hips against his ever so slightly, not enough to cross a line, but enough to show his desire. at some point you'd found yourself straddling him as he sat on the bar stool, facing away from the bar, your heels abandoned on the bar floor as the sleek pantyhose covering your toes glided smoothly against his clothed calves.

his eyes were half lidded as he groaned, your hands running through his hair exactly what he needed after another brutal day working for the mafia. the killing, the carnage—it was nothing and sometimes, all at once, it was too much. but in that moment, your soft touch was like an oasis to him.

"why do you want to die?"

"what's the purpose of living?" his answers matched yours in speed and wit, something you hadn't expected.

"to make people's lives better."

his eyes met yours again as his hands slid up your back, eyes lidded and fingers barely grazing your skin as he inadvertently lifted your shirt slightly with the tips of his fingers. his delicate touch felt like it was burning you—this was moving too fast, you knew it. this was dangerous, but you wanted more.

"you think you can make my life better?" he asked ironically, clearly doubting your logic. "you can't save me, angel."

"i don't want to."

"what do you want?"

"there are things worth living for."

"and you think you're one of those things?"

"no, but love is."

"everything i've ever loved has been taken from me."

your heart hurt at that—and the moment you pressed your lips to his, a gentle kiss that sought to cradle his soul turned needy and desperate. everything felt right, nothing had ever felt more right.

pulling away moments later, both entirely too breathless and desperate for a one night stand, you sought to penetrate the scarred exterior, to unveil his true intentions— "who are you, osamu dazai?"

"i guess you'll have to wait and see, princess."

𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝕯𝖆𝖙𝖊 — SOMETHING WORTH LIVING FOR. ࿐

maybe you were manic. . . maybe you were making things out to be more than they were. you'd been known to be a fool for love, but this felt different. osamu felt like someone you could trust.

but naturally, hadn't all the others felt the same way in the past? it was difficult to find something worth living for, he'd told you that. you'd kept your own pessimistic confession from leaving your lips the moment you'd heard his—you felt the same. but somehow, you felt differently. you wanted to live. osamu didn't.

but there was just something about osamu you couldn't explain—something you couldn't understand. and despite the way the gears were turning in your mind, your analytical brain fighting against your heart to find some logical reason why you felt so infatuated with him so early on—someone you weren't even sure would be around much longer (you'd deduced he was in a dangerous trade, that much was clear, though he hadn't told you yet)—you didn't want to solve the mystery that was osamu dazai. you wanted to float in the warm, safe abyss of ignorance and the euphoria that had you feeling lighter than air.

each time his name popped up on your phone had your heart singing—you hated it, in a way. it was a recipe for disaster. heartbreak would surely find its way to you soon. osamu was dangerous—not only in the way he lived, but in the way he made you feel.

your heart felt so vulnerable. so weak. so fragile. you felt like you would crack at any moment, and just like that—your feelings would consume you. the same way they always had in the past before disappointment inevitably struck you like lightning, crippling you and tearing away any hope you'd ever find someone who matched you.

things had gotten a little heated between you two on your first "date," if you could even call it that. but you hadn't let things go too far—you wanted to know more about dazai before you committed your body and heart to him. would he even be comfortable sharing anything about his life? about his past? about his job?

you checked your makeup one last time in the mirror, ensuring your lips were perfectly lined, a natural shade paired with the casual look you were sporting—a touch of mascara to give a different impression than you had last time—last time you saw him, you'd been tired and exhausted from work, your full makeup and sleepy, dreamy flirtiness giving a different vibe than you normally did.

osamu had suggested a walk for your second date. you were a little surprised, judging from the suit he wore the night you'd met him—you expected him to plan an elaborate date at some fancy restaurant and take you out for a night on the town. you were grateful he suggested something you were more accustomed to, something a little closer to your comfort zone.

you grabbed your bag and tucked your gloss in the back pocket of your jeans, a comfortable solid-colored tee tucked into your belt, a suitable pairing to the tennis shoes you laced yourself into.

as you grabbed your coat, the insecurities began sinking in—what if i'm not what he's expecting?

you'd been a little too forward the night you met him, naively swept up in his good looks and charm. you were wondering if his interest would hold once he realized how. . . normal your life was. surely, it was a little more dull than his.

however, the way you got lost in each other's eyes that night, made you feel a little safer in opening your heart to him. was this really only the second time you were meeting?

you probably talked a little more than you should have—but dazai seemed to get lost in the way your words flowed, listening intently with soft eyes as he drank up every word that left your lips, autumn leaves falling gently one after the other as they brushed the two of you intermittently, one last time as the chilly air wrapped around you both, winter quickly on its way.

"what makes you happy?"

he looked confused at your question, contemplating his answer briefly before turning toward you, pulling at the lapel of your jacket and wrapping it tighter around you, tucking your scarf back into it.

"i had a friend once, spending time with him was the closest thing i've ever found to happiness."

the way his voice trailed off at the end left you feeling sad and lonely—feelings you picked up from the tone of his voice. you weren't sure if you should press the subject, but the smile that traced his lips involuntarily as he spoke about this mysterious friend, told you he wouldn't mind.

"what was he like? or she?"

his eyes flashed a trace of appreciation at your words, grateful you'd even asked. no one had ever wanted to know more about his life. and surprisingly, he finally seemed eager to fill the space between the two of you with his own words.

"he was the kindest person i've met." he was staring at the ground now, "although, if you pissed him off, you were in for it." he laughed at that last part, and it was enough to have you laughing with him.

his eyes seemed sad now, and you figured it was time to change the subject.

"i love autumn." your eyes followed the trees surrounding you up to their canopies, in awe of all of the beautiful, natural creation around you. it was almost like the two of you were trapped in a masterful painting—you never wanted to escape.

"i think i do too, now." he pulled you in and brushed your hair behind your ear, leaning closer as your lips just barely grazed, his dark eyes staring down at you. "i wish i could see things the way you do—wish i could see the beauty in life."

"i'll show you."

"you can't fix me."

"you aren't broken, just lost."

"find me, then."

"i will." his delicate kiss soon turned needy, his tongue testing the waters as he cradled the back of your head. just the same as the first you'd shared in the bar—it felt electric. his hands pulled you as closely as possible, the threat that you'll leave seeming to haunt all of his gentle touches.

i hope you do.

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝕯𝖆𝖙𝖊 — JUST A LITTLE TASTE. ࿐

"i knew you wanted to ruin my life," he laughed against your lips. you'd been teasing him for the past hour, all of your soft touches and warm breaths against his neck leaving him whining against your lips—he hated how needy he was for you already, but not enough to stop your hands from exploring every inch of his body, bandages doing little to resist the heat of your skin on his.

he was hard and leaking for you—attempting and failing to resist falling into you even more. osamu didn't remember the last time he'd felt this wanted. he couldn't think of anything but your body as he pulled away from you, settling on the floor in front of you, your back pressed against the couch.

"stop." he kissed your wrists one at a time, stopping your hands from reaching out for him, attempting to pull him back in for more kisses. he placed a gentle hand on your stomach, encouraging you to relax and let him take the lead as your hands found their way into his hair.

"i want you," you whined, "so much."

"the feeling is mutual," he smirked.

as he pushed your legs back, your pussy on full display for him, you could only think to yourself—troublemaker. that's what osamu was—but only in the best way. he tore down your walls and ripped you out of your comfort zone, only to build new ones around you that made you feel even safer than before.

how it was possible to trust him with your whole heart after only just meeting him, you could never explain. but you were no longer interested in fighting your feelings, you couldn't deny your heart. you wanted him—all of him.

"fuck me, please." your voice was broken and desperate, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes from how much you wanted him.

"not yet."

the disappointment in your eyes faded as his pretty fingers spread your folds, a moan escaping his lips when he noticed how wet you were, a string of your slick caught between your lips. he was sure the taste of you could make him fall even more in love—the way your body responded to him, almost like it was meant for him. you were meant for him.

"mind if i have a little taste?" the look in his eyes was devious and lustful, and your nod of affirmation desperate and frantic, hands in his hair pulling him closer to your cunt.

his tongue darted out to kitten lick your clit just once, before pulling away to savor the taste.

"osamu, please—don't tease me."

"what do you mean, pretty girl? i'm just enjoying myself."

his hot breath against you was enough to have your eyes rolling back, practically screaming when his lips finally wrapped around your clit, sucking softly before letting the wet nub slowly slip from his mouth, a mixture of his spit and your slick making it glisten in the candlelight as he admired your pussy, his gaze soft and intriguing.

your moans turned needy as he continued to lick gently at your clit, pulling back every so often to spread your lips more and expose the sensitive little nub that insisted on hiding from him, his tongue hard against it as he picked up the pace, firm licks setting the perfect rhythm to make you cum quickly.

"'your tongue- feels- so good. . ."

"hm, is that so?"

he pulled away only for a brief moment before diving back in, intent on making you cum before he fucked and satisfied your desperate, sensitive little pussy. it'd been entirely too long since he'd fucked a pretty girl like you. something foreign took over him as he groaned and whimpered and whined against your pussy, seemingly more desperate than you were to make you cum.

"i'm gonna come soon. . . don't stop, baby. don't stop. . ."

you came only a moment later, a wave of your slick gushing from your quivering hole as he slid a finger in, eager to feel the powerful waves of your orgasm as your pussy squeezed his fingers. he devoured your pussy after you came, licking and sucking everywhere he could find, playing with your lips and pressing gentle, careful kisses to your clit, still twitching from such a high-octane orgasm.

as your breathing settled, a burning desire grew in your stomach. "'samu, come here. . ." you grabbed his hand, trading places with him on the couch, settling on your knees as they found their home on the soft carpet. your hands found their way to his thighs, spreading his legs as your eyes landed on his cock and balls, pretty veins decorating the shaft and making your mouth water. he was lightly trimmed, head pink and leaking and firm. the way his cock jumped before you even touched him, your hands simply running gently up his thighs before squeezing his hips, told you he was painfully awaiting your touch. even so, he seemed hesitant.

"aww, you don't have to angel—only if you really want to."

so that was it. he didn't think he deserved you—didn't think he deserved your touch. he slid his fingers through your hair before resting them on your chin, admiring your beauty and all of your pretty features—his gaze tender and loving as something swelled in his heart. it was more than he deserved.

despite his doubts, your lips wrapped around his cock had every thought leaving his mind, only a few remnants of his existence still floating around in his conscience. the tip of his cock was so sensitive from hours of waiting for your pussy, his thighs quivering each time you slid your tongue over the cute little vein on the underside of his cock. it was enough to have any cohesive thought pattern fade away.

as he gave into you entirely, head rolling back as small puffs of air left his lips each time you slid his cock deeper in your throat, your name, your body, the way you touched him, the way you wanted him—were the only things on his mind.

he wanted you close. he never wanted to let you go—for the rest of his life, he wanted to stay in this warm glow with you.

save me from myself, angel. give me something to live for.

[hannie-dul-set]

LOVE VOMIT [n.] — the term when you become too full with your feelings too quickly and too frequently that you end up spitting everything out before even getting the chance to digest. this happens to you more often than you’d like to admit— every quarter, actually, ever since starting college. but what can you do when the prospect of falling in love is just too good to say no to? what can you do when maybe the next desert might actually stay inside your system this time?

or, wherein you fall in love with a different guy every season but fail to notice the one that’s been looking at you the whole year.

PAIRING. choi soobin x female! reader (ft. the rest of txt x reader). GENRE. college! au, orgmate! soobin, strangers to friends to lovers, slice of life, romance, humor, mild angst, comfort (no hurt), SLOWBURN, featuring some members of seventeen, enhypen, and le sserafim. WARNINGS. reader is shorter than soobin, swearing, drinking, kissing, unrequited feelings, annoying org jargon. WORD COUNT. 36k. TAGLIST. @stellz581​ @michipan​ @goldennika​​ @taekwondoes​​ @cerealdreamwriter​​

NOTE. this fic is a five-in-one but it’s obvious endgame is (hint: look at the header). thoroughly enjoyed projecting all my past crushes into my dear tubatu boys haha i hope no one i know personally reads this haha.

some of the scenes were lifted from my own personal experiences HUAHAH have fun guessing which ones are real (but embellished) and made up for the sake of the story 😎. anyhow, this is long. this is slow. but i do hope the payoff at the end is worth watching soobin’s year long suffering when he finally gets the girl 😭 hope to hear your thoughts on this. enjoy!

reposted because tumblr is an ass.

THE TIME IS SPRING. A soft musk in the air, freshly bloomed flowers lining the sidewalks, and the start of a new semester. There’s something gentle about springtime, reminiscent of crisp blankets straight from the dryer with lavender seeping into its cotton folds, and sunlight leaking through pleated sheer curtains. The season is for cherry blossoms and picnic baskets, outings and first loves. You’ve always associated these things with spring, however none of these sensibilities are present tonight.

Instead of clear skies and bright sunlight, the view through the diner windows is lit up by artificial lights and signages in the middle of a March evening. There’s no lilac nor daisies in the air, but cheap beer and the savory smell of fried chicken. It’s noisy, it’s loud, and it’s far from the gentleness of spring, but you’ve never felt more alive at this time of the year.

‘Why did you join Shutter.TXT?’ reads the sheet of paper sitting on your table. You’re all smiles as you listen to the answers of those sitting around you, mindlessly nodding along after being three glasses in. Tonight is an orientation-slash-welcome party for the organization you impulsively joined upon entering the university.

Because photography is my passion...because I want to explore other fields…because, because, because.

The answers carousel around the table, and honest to god, you stopped listening at some point because it’s getting repetitive. You don’t understand the purpose of this activity. Why else would you join a club for photography, videography, and editing if not for photography, videography, and editing?

“Are you kids having fun?”

You perk up. The empty smiles you’ve been giving become brighter, eyes crinkling at the corners. Spring came belatedly tonight, and it came in the form of your extremely pretty senior appearing behind your seat, and you’re instantly all the more conscious about your posture when he leans down to check in on your table. He cranes his head to look at you with a smile. “Is it your turn?” he asks. The back of your neck is burning.

“Ah, yes,” you cough, clearing your throat to introduce your name. “I major in public administration. I know it’s pretty far from my discipline, but I decided to join Shutter.TXT because I didn’t want to be constrained in one field throughout college. I’m sure this organization will make my university experience a lot more exciting and interesting.”

Lies. You joined because of the very face that’s smiling at you this very moment.

“I look forward to working with you.”

He leaves a pat on your shoulder before moving on to the table next to yours. You feel like passing out.

The first time you saw Choi Beomgyu was during the organization festival after the freshmen orientation. You left the auditorium and made your way to the courtyard, taking a peek at the orgs and clubs your university was offering. The moment your eyes caught him advertising the newly founded organization right by the entrance, you didn’t need to consider the rest of the booths and signed up your name. You didn’t even know the name of the organization back then, only finding out after you received an email confirming your registration. Lucky enough for you, you have some editing experience, so you don’t have to risk making a fool out of yourself.

But it seems like you aren’t the only one with the same ulterior motives. Your eyes naturally followed your senior as he switched to the next table. “I’m only here because of you, seonbae,” you hear from one of them, and Beomgyu only laughs in response before moving on to the next group.

You mask your bitter expression by taking a chug from your glass. You need to work harder. Before even being a potential love interest to your evidently popular flower boy upperclassman, you need to become an indispensable member to Shutter in order to— at the very fucking least— have him remember your name. The elections for officers are next week and you’ll try your darndest to grab a position. Preferably, one that’ll make you work closely with Beomgyu.

“Um, hello.”

Your attention is snagged by the person sitting in front of you. Admittedly, you haven’t been paying any mind to the rest of the newly recruited members, eyes always gravitating toward Beomgyu and his tendency to jump from table to table, corner to corner, so you’ve haven’t noticed that the boy sitting in front of you is also pretty good looking. His face reminds you of a bunny— soft features all around with dark bangs falling just above his eyes. He’s wearing a pink cardigan with shoulders tightly squeezed against his torso as if he’s trying to shrink his gigantic frame but miserably failing.

In other words, another pretty boy. But your eyes are set on a different pretty boy, so your heart isn’t stirred completely.

“My name is Choi Soobin. I’m a second year computer science student. Photo, video, and graphics editing has been my hobby since high school,” he introduces with a tiny smile before following it up with an even tinier bow. “It’s nice to meet all of you!”

Then your tables are reshuffled and you don’t see him again for the rest of the night.

You leave the restaurant after a few more table shuffles to get some fresh air. You’re already starting to get tipsy, getting a hit straight in the liver of how college get togethers are going to be in future. The night is cold with only a cardigan to keep you warm. Maybe you should’ve chosen something thicker since it’s still early in the season, but this is the cutest outfit in your closet and you were dead set on making a good impression.

“It’s getting pretty stuffy inside, isn’t it?”

Apparently, you aren’t the only one who decided to sneak out into the alley beside the fried chicken place the org rented. You turn around, arms crossed together for more warmth, and see a girl approaching your hiding spot. “Sorry. I’m not intruding, am I?”

“Not at all,” you smile at her. “I don’t think we ever shared a table earlier, right?”

She shakes her head. “I’m Kim Yura. Freshman.”

“Hey, me too!” You proceed to introduce yourself, and the both of you hit off almost immediately. You exchanged majors, numbers, and mindless small talk including your shared misfortune of having zero friends in college so far.

“Holy crap, you don’t know how glad I am to have run into you like this. I joined Shutter on a whim and knew literally zero people in there and I was too nervous to socialize with so many people,” Yura confesses with a sigh, leaning against the same concrete wall as you. She turns her head to look at you. “Before I left, they were talking about going for round two at The Rooftop. Are you gonna join?”

“I think I’ll pass.” You wouldn’t have made an escape if you weren’t tired. Your social battery is depleting by the second, and Yura is the only person you know so far.

“I heard the seniors will be paying. Mingyu seonbae, Beomgyu seonbae, Jina seon—”

“On second thought, let’s go!” You grab Yura’s wrist and march back into the restaurant with a new burst of energy. There’s no harm in socializing more. You need to put yourself out there anyway if you want to be elected to a position. Strike while the iron is hot, as they say— while you’re still in the early stages of your first year in university and deadlines, paperworks, and assignments haven’t body slammed you into the dirt yet.

It’s the beginning of spring. the season for starting fresh and starting anew. You chose to begin your life in college by searching for a romance you’ve never had the chance to experience in highschool. And romance doesn’t happen if you just sit and wait around all day.

You’re going to chase it, and it begins with going to a cheap rooftop bar in the middle of Seoul and drinking a few too many drinks for you to handle.

Okay. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest idea considering you woke up in your apartment with no recollection of how you got home, save for a message from Yura to text her once you’ve woken up, but at least you managed to collect some numbers and friend requests from a handful of other orgmates while your social skills were tampered by alcohol. Those numbers included Beomgyu’s. You dare call this a success.

Still, org life is secondary to academics no matter how much more fun it is over the latter. The only thing you receive from the Shutter group chat is a good luck message for the first week of classes and some idle conversations here and there. You’re on the way to your first class after telling Kim Mingyu, the organization’s founder, to eat shit and choke on his lunch.

“Morning.” You look up from your iPad to see Kang Taehyun take the seat next to your seat in the lecture hall. You’ve met him at the orientation, and honest to god he intimidated you then. He was the guy that kept asking questions to the moderator about anything and everything. He still intimidates you, but you’re determined to not be a friendless loser throughout the four years of your bachelor’s degree, so you greet him back.

“I asked some seniors if they can share their notes for our Intro class,” you mention. “I can send it to the group chat later once I organize them.”

“Really?” he says. “Are you close with any of our seniors? I would’ve done the same if I knew at least one of them.”

“No,” you grin. “Survival over shame. But I think I already have a pre-positioned target on my back even before the welcome party.”

Taehyun shakes his head with a laugh, and you oddly feel proud of yourself. “I’ll have your back, don’t worry.”

Some of your other classmates overhear the conversation. You grace your blessings upon them as well and a small group begins to form in the middle of the lecture hall right before your professor walks in to take attendance. You spend the class diligently taking notes because although you might be a little lovestruck and heart-eyes for a certain person from the building next to yours, you’re not revolving your entire life around him. Sort of. You’re going to pass by the club room later in case he’s there.

He’s not. It’s just Mingyu and your short-term beef with him for taking unflattering photos of your hammered ass last Friday. You don’t hide your disappointment when you see him. He calls you over to take a seat next to him in front of the computer.

“You’re good at graphic design, right?”

“I have experience.” You pull out a chair and take a look at the monitor. SHUTTER.TXT ELECTIONS. This Thursday at Mirage Building Room 104, 4:00 p.m. Be there or be square.

You shoot Mingyu a look of judgment. “What?”

“You should stick to camerawork, boss. Move your ass.”

He swivels away and you take over the mouse and keyboard, doing your best to fix the layout of the publication material. “Can first-years be elected?”

“Why?” he’s playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sometimes you forget that he’s your org’s founder. “You eyeing a position?”

Yes. Next to Choi Beomgyu. “Maybe?”

Mingyu grins. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry. I’m so happy to have such a dedicated member to exploit and work wageless. Thank you so much in advance for your service.”

You have nothing to thank Kim Mingyu for because although he did nominate you on the day of the elections which secured your spot, you were elected as Assistant Layout Director. Beomgyu is currently making a dumb thank you speech in front of the lecture hall for being the Videography Director and everyone is cheering. You’re moping in your seat until all of the newly elected officers are called to the front for a picture taking.

“Please stand in the order of your positions! Alright, perfect!”

Click!

The amount of times you’ve been blocked today is harrowing. You’re wearing a smile, holding out a thumbs up while posing for a picture, but you want to throw a tantrum. There’s a giant body standing in between you and Beomgyu. Your tears are internal and eternal.

“Three more!”

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and your feet are moving by themselves. Rather, someone is moving you. You look up to see the bunny boy you shared a table with last orientation, now on your right when you swear he was just on your left earlier, in between you and Beomgyu. Wait a minute, you realize. You’re so touched you could cry, but someone from the front yells your name.

“Stop looking at Soobin and look at the camera!”

It’s followed by the eruption of insinuating noises from the rest of your orgmates, and your face grows hot from embarrassment. You don’t acknowledge their teasing, save for a middle finger directed at Shutter’s Founder-slash-newly-elected-Chairperson, then you collect your composure, strike a cute peace sign for the camera, and try your best to make it not so obvious that you’re thrilled to at the very least be standing next to Beomgyu for the photos.

“Alright! Thank you, everyone!”

The lecture hall breaks into claps and conversation as you all scatter around after the picture taking. You scan the crowd for the mop of black hair that did you a favor earlier, belatedly remember that he’s the Layout Director and your direct superior. You spot him with Mingyu, looking mildly terrorized at the older male’s affection. When Mingyu sees you approaching them, you can see the heinous intent in his smile when he greets you. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Congrats, Chair,” you declare blankly, then brighten your smile when you look at Soobin. “Congrats to you too, director! I will do my best to assist you.”

He receives your outstretched hand with a shake and bows politely. Mingyu clicks his tongue at your exchange. “Ey, how can you make your preference so obvious?” He’s very obviously referring to you, extending the teasing from earlier, and you wear the most threatening look on your face that you can manage while still holding hands with your innocently smiling colleague. You’re dead if you keep that up, you try to signal with your eyes. Mingyu only gives you a wink and walks away with a pat on Soobin’s shoulder. If Beomgyu gets the wrong idea from their teasing and closes off all your chances with him, you’re going to kill Kim Mingyu first.

“I’m sorry. Mingyu hyung likes to mess around a lot.” You turn your attention back to Soobin, heart clenching. Poor boy doesn’t need to apologize on behalf of his demonic senior. You shake your head and tell him it’s fine,

“Officers, please stay for a quick meeting! The rest may leave. Thank you all for attending!”

You give Soobin a quick smile before running off to where the rest are gathering, bumping into Yura whom you gave a quick hug. She was also elected. Program management committee member. You both stand next to each other as you listen to Mingyu’s announcements. There will be an orientation for officers this weekend and then you’d have to start planning and organizing for Shutter’s first major event— an acquaintance party slash mini workshop of sorts. One of the officers asks “didn’t we already have a welcome party the other week?” Mingyu defends by saying there’s no harm in getting all the members to bond together as often as we could. You’re sure he’s just looking for an excuse to party, but you’re not complaining.

“See you all at the org office this Saturday. Get home safe!”

“We’re going to COEX. Jake and Yunjin brought their car. You’re coming with us.”

Your shoulders slump, and your heavy bag drops to the floor. You give your friends an incredulous look. “I have a meeting. You guys said you were too lazy to eat out yesterday, but now you all have the energy when I have a fucking meeting.”

Taehyun tells you better luck next time before slamming the passenger’s seat right in front of your face. Sunghoon gives you a pat on the head before following inside. Kazuha promises to get you takeout and stop by your club office later. Though you’re thankful that you managed to find a group of friends from your year and major, moments like these make you want to eat sand.

“Be honest. You can totally skip the meeting but you’re flaking out on us because you want to see your crush.” Jay earns a kick on his ass before he retreats into Yunjin’s car. You wave them goodbye and dust off your bag, slinging it over your shoulder again and make your way to the office.

“You’re here!”

When you open the door, Beomgyu greets you with a smile. There’s a camera dangling on his neck and he’s carrying a tripod bag across his torso. You feel your mood instantly shooting up, like a flower bed is growing inside your ribcage with how ticklish you feel in your chest. Jay was right. You actually have nothing important to do today besides errands, probably. God, you’re down bad.

“Perfect timing! Can you come with me for a sec?” Your head automatically nods like you’re stupid, but you don’t mind the fact that you look stupid because Beomgyu beams, and you’re happy if he’s happy. He wants to take you somewhere and you’re buzzing in your shoes at the mere thought of it. Flaking on your friends is the best decision you’ve made today and Jay can suck on his left toenail.

“Soobin hyung! I need you, too. You can continue working later.”

You hear a whine from inside the room. Soobin shows up beside Beomgyu with a scrunched up look of annoyance, which immediately gets replaced with surprise when he spots you by the doorway. He gives you a flustered bow and greeting, promptly adjusting the black-rimmed glasses resting on his nose.

“Mingyu hyung says we need to present an introduction video for the executive board for the event next week. I’m doing it by position and you two are next on my list. Let’s find a good place to shoot for the both of you.”

Oh. You press your lips into a smile, nodding. “I think the gazebo near the Communications building would be great.”

“Perfect. Let’s go!”

You’re the dumbass for jumping into conclusions and thinking that Beomgyu would have a reason for the both of you to be alone together. You’re walking across the campus with your crush and the guy your Chairperson is teasing you with. Maybe you should have just gone along with your friends. You heard a fried ice cream store opened at COEX the other day. The cold desert on your tongue would’ve immediately cured your embarrassment and shame.

“I’ll get your solo shots first. Soobinie hyung, give me a cute pose.”

You watch the two boys bicker while they shoot the video clips. You remember that Beomgyu is majoring in EMC, so they must be close since they come from the same department. “Hyung, look this way.” Soobin seems to follow Beomgyu’s direction despite his grumbling.

It’s easy to get lost in thought while watching Beomgyu in his element. The camera isn’t focused on him, but you still feel like he's the focal point of the frame captured by your field of vision. There are flowering trees all around the surrounding areas of the gazebo, and the white petals falling from above dance around him.

He’s really so pretty. So pretty and dreamy but evidently unattainable.

“Be back in a sec. Good job, hyung! You can sit down now.”

Beomgyu runs off to greet some of his friends that have just passed by. You watch as he’s laughing along with them, an unreasonable feeling of disappointment forming in the pits of your stomach. He’s always got people around him— org members, friends, and people you don’t know. It’s impossible to squeeze yourself into the picture when the frame is already full.

“Do you want to work with him instead?”

“Huh?” You look up to see Soobin towering over your pathetic frame on the bench. He takes a seat beside you, but takes a moment before changing his mind and adding more distance between the both of you with an awkward cough.

“Beomgyu,” he adds. “You’re probably disappointed that you weren’t elected as his assistant instead, right?”

You look at him, horrified.

“Haha, what do you mean?”

Sure, you haven’t been the most discreet with your heart-eyes for the guy, but you don’t think you’re that transparent. You want to question him further— what makes you say that? Have I been really fucking obvious?— but then your palms become sweaty, and you remember he switched places with you the other day and that’s how you managed to stand next to your crush for the photo. He knows. He definitely knows you have a crush on his friend and there’s a chance that he might fucking expose you.

Before you can get on your knees, beg him to shut his mouth and spare your rejection, Beomgyu returns and tells you to head on up to the gazebo.

“I also called the rest of the guys so we can finish everything in one go,” he says while adjusting the camera on the tripod.

You’re nervous, Self conscious to have such a pretty man judge your level of photogenic-ness. Thankfully, Beomgyu is kind enough to give you directions sweetly along with expressions of encouragement. When you’re done with your solos, he tells Soobin to join you.

The discomfort on your expression is evident because Beomgyu drops the camera, revealing the dissatisfied pout on his face. “Can you two move a little closer?” You do, albeit robotically. Soobin is kind enough to stop nudging himself closer right before your shoulders could bump into one another. Beomgyu still isn’t satisfied. “Can you two…please act natural?”

How are you supposed to act natural when you’re about to shit your pants from discomfort? You look up at Soobin and he’s clearly as uncomfortable as you are. You can see the sweat droplets trickling down his neck, throat bobbing after a tense swallow. He’s hesitant to even lay a hand on you, lagging midair above your shoulder like a nervous raincloud. Your eyes gloss over his face. He drops his hand and gives you a hesitant smile. You’ve never noticed he has dimples until now.

“Please— please excuse me.”

Suddenly, you feel an added weight on your shoulders, and you stumble forward. Your face bumps into his chest. Your eyes widen in alarm. You can hear something loud thumping in your ears.

“Better! That’s great—”

Oh. It’s just your heartbeat.

“—perfect!”

Shit. Oh no. This doesn’t make sense. You have a crush on Beomgyu so it doesn’t make sense that your heart is beating like crazy for somebody else— not to mention someone who knows you like Beomgyu. It feels like the thumping just grows louder and louder and you’re feeling dizzy. You’re sure you would’ve fallen into the wooden flooring of the gazebo if Soobin isn’t keeping you steady right now. Then, from your peripheral, you can see some of your orgmates nearing the area, so you quickly move away without a second thought.

“Did we get enough shots?” you yell out for Beomgyu to hear.

“Yup! You both look great!”

Immediately, you patter off, hopping down the elevated surface and into the fresh soil. You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding with a hard pat on your chest. Keep it together, you scold yourself. Amongst those who just arrived is Yura, who immediately brings joy to your face when you see her. You pick up your pace to go greet her, but you slowly come to a halt when you notice her attention is deeply engaged elsewhere.

When you trace her line of vision, you spot her looking at Beomgyu and Soobin. When Beomgyu walks away to greet the other, her eyes are still stuck on the same spot, a faint tinge of pink coloring her cheekbones, and she jogs into the direction where she’s been looking at.

Your chest loosens in relief. You swivel your feet, moving towards Beomgyu who jogs up to you upon notice. “Do you want to see?” he asks, and you nod in response.

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed because embarrassment strikes you hard in the gut that you sink to the ground at the first three seconds of the first clip he shows you. “Oh my god,” you cover your face, squatting on the grass. “Stop. Okay. Nevermind, I don’t want to see anymore.”

“Why not? You look pretty in all of them.”

The inhale you take gets caught in your throat and you nearly choke on nothing. Your palms start to grow warm from the heat emanating off your face. Holy shit. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

You hear him laugh. “It’s true though.”

Peeking through your fingers, you see him in the same squatting position right before your eyes, and you groan to hide yourself again. Even though your system is about to explode with the amount of ticklish flowers sprouting, you can’t help but feel relieved. Yes. This is how it should be. What happened earlier was only the heat of the moment and your heart was just carried away by the scene. You also have a feeling that Yura has a crush on, or is at the very least interested in Soobin, so you can bury that possibility in the soil immediately. You’ll scatter some seeds over it and hope that the daisies can be enough to mask its shame.

Your name is called by Beomgyu, and you begrudgingly force yourself to get up. Beomgyu lends you a hand. “Myungho hyung is getting us drinks from the vending machine. What would you like?”

“Um. Sprite, please.”

“Hyung! Get us two Sprites. Thanks!”

Your fingertips are still buzzing from when he pulled you up by the hand. You stretch out your joints then ball them into a tight fist, throwing your head back with a sigh. Ice cream sounds really good right now. You text Jake if they’re still at the mall and if he can pick you up in ten minutes. He says he’s on the way.

“Choi Beomgyu is out of my league, isn’t he?”

You receive a chorus of yeses from your beloved friends. It’s the day of the event and you squeezed in lunchtime at McDonald’s before heading to the venue to make it up to them. You’ve been busy the whole week with Shutter preparing for it and throughout those seven days, the times you’ve managed to talk or interact with Beomgyu at all is less than two digits.

“It’s not that you’re too ugly for him,” Sunghoon gives his unsolicited opinion, waving a single french fry in the air before throwing it into his mouth. “He just has a vibe, you know? That sort of untouchable vibe you feel from typically popular people. We’re IG mutuals and he gets a million anonymous confessions a day. You’re better off looking for someone else.”

“Jay is also good looking, aren’t you into him?” suggests Taehyun, and you offer him a grimace in response. Jay doesn’t hesitate to preview his own disgust. “Then again. That’d be incest.”

“If you want to get over him, it’s best to stop seeing him.”

“But she has to attend their event later,” says Kazuha in response to Yunjin’s advice. They all offer you a moment of silence in grief. You completely lose your appetite.

“I’m off. Mingyu told me to come early to help with any last minute preparations.”

“Where’s the thing?” Jake asks as you pick up your bag. “I can give you a ride home later, if you’d like.”

“Perriot Bowl. And it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll be finishing late so you don’t have to bother.”

“Call me if you change your mind.”

You give him a smile and excuse yourself out. It’s one bus ride to Perriot Bowl, and you don’t remember which one of the idiots thought that a bowling alley would be the best place to hold an acquaintance party. Your org is new, so it has zero funds, therefore you all had to pull money out of your pockets to rent the place and pay for other expenses.

At least everyone seems to be enjoying, you think as you sip on your plastic cup filled with coke, the venue’s shiny floors slowly being matted away by dozens and dozens of bodies. The large, overhead lights are shut off as per Myungho’s request, and the only things illuminating the bowling alley are the neon wall washers and LED strips lining the lanes in pink, purple, and blue. There’s vibrant music playing through the speakers. Your eyes land on Beomgyu helping Soobin set up the technicals.

“Ah, ah, ah. Testing, testing.”

The area hushes, and all eyes are on your chairperson standing in front of a projector screen. He breaks into a smile. “Ah, wait. Why am I suddenly nervous?”

You snort. He gets over it quickly and starts his opening spiel, welcoming the members and giving a rundown of today’s activities, starting with the introduction of officers in which you hid behind Yura in embarrassment when your face appeared through the projector screen— mainly because of Mingyu’s hollering. Somehow, you have unintentionally wiggled into your chairperson’s favor by bullying and swearing at him every time you cross paths. That shaves a lot of effort off your goal of being an integral org member.

“Feel free to drop by the snack table at the back, but before everyone can freely play some games on the lanes, let’s start with our prepared activities first!”

That’s your signal to move to the front, taking the red bandana laid down on the table near Mingyu and standing next to Soobin. You look up at him and muster a smile. “Just so you know, I’m pretty competitive.”

Soobin laughs. “I don’t like losing, either.”

Frankly, you’ve been weary about him for a while, but throughout the past week of preparing for today’s event, he hasn’t shown a hint of snitching on you, so you managed to be less tense around him. The both of you are also stuck together for the rest of your term, so it won’t help if you’re always going to be uncomfortable around him.

You give him a smile, and he returns the same expression. It also helps that Choi Soobin is very easy on the eyes.

“Please check the color of your name tags and form a line in front of the Directors that match your color. They’ll be your team leaders.”

Once the teams are divided, Mingyu reads out the game mechanics: bowling but with a mix of charades. Six lanes are open for the six teams. The rules are the same as regular bowling but there’s a time limit and in order for the players to actually play, they have to guess the words you’re acting out first. It’s a loud, screaming mess with people shouting over each other and those watching having the time of their lives watching you all make fools of yourselves. The problem with an org like this is that everyone has cameras. You ignore the shutter sounds as you disregard all shame trying to act out slipping on a banana peel on the way to a blind date and your team member runs past you to make her turn and score a strike— bagging your team’s win.

“First place goes to the reds!”

You’re screaming, cheering, jumping around with your teammates and you let out a noise when your back bumps into someone. You turn around to see Soobin clad in your team color who simmers down his bouncing when he meets eyes with you, settling for a breathless smile.

“Congrats,” he tells you. You grin at him, elbowing his arm.

“You’re pretty good at getting washed up on an island.”

His ears match the color of his jacket. “Aah, let’s forget that, let’s— look, look, Mingyu hyung is calling for us.”

He actually is, so you let it slide, allowing yourself to be bulldozed into the crowd by the shoulders by Soobin as Mingyu gives out the instructions for the next activity— an on the spot photo challenge with the theme youth.

“You guys have one hour starting…now! Don’t forget that our anonymous confession box is still open! You can find the link in our group chat and we’ll be reading the first batch of confessions before we present your entries. Have fun and good luck!”

When you reach Mingyu’s side, he slumps with a sigh after dropping the microphone. You give him a pat on the back. “Hang in there.”

“This is so tiring. How do people host for a living?!” he whines, stomping his feet. “Oh, the laptop and equipment is set up over there. You can start collecting photo entries as soon as they’re ready.”

You nod and move to your station. It gets exhausting quickly— inserting flash drives, connectors, and SD cards, selecting, downloading, uploading files and photos and it doesn’t seem like the line in front of your table is getting shorter, only longer by the moment. “Need any help?” You look up to see your lifesaver, Yura, and ask if she can take over for a moment.

“I’ll go get something to eat,” you tell her.

“I just need to transfer their files right?”

“Yup, yup.”

“Alright,” she says. “Girl, go get some rest. There’s only fifteen minutes left so you can leave the remaining entries to me.”

You happily hop off to the snack table. Your last meal was earlier with your friends and you haven’t eaten since then. Coupled with all the shit you’ve been doing since you got to the venue, your stomach is already dying and it’s only four in the afternoon. Myungho is in charge of watching over the snacks. He’s wearing a pitiful look as he passes you a can of sprite and opens the box of pizza before you.

“Are you planning on going after Mingyu’s position, or something?” he says. “You’re working too hard.”

You scrunch your nose, taking a bite from the slice. “Can’t it be because I’m just trying to impress someone?”

He raises a brow. “Who?”

“I didn’t peg you to be the nosy type, seonbae.”

“Well, whoever it is, I hope it’s working,” he shrugs. “Else you’re just working yourself to the bone without any payoff and end up disappointing yourself.”

Ouch? He didn’t need to give you a reality check like that because the entire event, you haven’t even talked to Beomgyu. Not once. You have made your attempts, but he’s always with someone every time you see him and you’ve not close enough to interrupt.

Myungho notices you frowning at your pizza. He clicks his tongue. “If you came here just to lament about your love life, please do the food a favor and leave. They’re getting soiled by your mood.”

“I’m going, I’m going. You’re so mean.”

The can crunches in your hand and you toss it to the bin on the way back to your station in case Yura is having some trouble. “The next one is from— oh, Lee Chan! I thought this was supposed to be anonymous?” It seems like they started reading the messages already. You can’t hear properly what Lee Chan said and to whom because of all the noise, and you can’t find yourself to care because on your way back to Yura, you spot Beomgyu in the direction you’re walking towards, and he’s alone.

He notices you and gives you a smile and wave. You pick up your pace to a jog.

“Eyy, what’s up?” he greets you. “Aren’t you tired yet? You’ve been working since you got here. I’ll ask Mingyu hyung to give some of your work to others if you want a break.”

“It’s alright. Yura covered for me at the submission table earlier, so I’m all done for today,” you assure him. “I’m just itching to knock down some pins already.”

He hums. “You must be pretty good.”

You grin. “I don’t want to brag but—”

Your conversation gets cut short by the feedback squeal of the microphone. You wince, the ear-splitting noise going on for a good three seconds before it gets cut off. You hear a cough through the speakers. Mingyu is onstage looking a little flustered. “Sorry, sorry, my bad. Anyway, let’s move on to the last message for now. This one’s for— holy shit—”

You hear people laughing, but you turn your attention back to Beomgyu, eagerly waiting to resume your talk.

“Ahem. To Shutter’s Assistant Layout Director.”

Your eyes widen. As if that is’t enough, Mingyu continues reading, and your cheeks grow warmer and warmer by each word he utters into the microphone, amplified by the dozens of speakers strewn around the venue.

“I think I have a crush on you.”

There’s silence, and you can sense too many eyes staring at you. It’s too early for summer but you feel the sun on your face, blazing and unforgiving. Oh my god. You want to hurl yourself into the atmosphere. Oh my god, if this is a joke, you’re going to murder a man.

“Before anyone misunderstands, this confession is from codename Shinbi. Our Assistant Layout Director may be pretty and hardworking, but my heart belongs to someone else, I hope that’s clear to everyone. Anyway—”

“Looks like you have a secret admirer on the loose.” Beomgyu nudges you. “Have any idea who it might be?”

You see, your delusional ass is hoping that it’s him, but the rational part of your brain is telling you to be realistic and stop being a stupid. “Haha, no,” you reply. It could be just someone from the many members of your org that you’ve never talked to. If they really liked you, they would step out and quit hiding behind that dumb codename.

Still, the warmth in your cheeks hasn’t disappeared yet. If shit goes to complete shit with Beomgyu, maybe this Shinbi guy can save your failing college romance. You’re not dumb enough to invest in something so evidently and palpably hopeless. You knew from the get-go– from the moment you saw him at the courtyard in the first week of school— that he isn’t someone you can attain.

Beomgyu is called out by one of his friends again, and he gives you an apologetic smile before screaming back at them and running off.

“Sorry! Text me if you need anything!”

You wave him goodbye and your arm limply falls to your side. Right. Maybe it is time to give up. There are far more important things to your life than some pretty boy from your org, anyway. It’s only a matter of time before classes come in full swing, and you won’t even have the time to think about him anymore.

“Can I tell you something?”

Yura looks up from the torn piece of paper in her hand, containing the list of orders the slave drivers from your org asked you to buy from the cafe in front of campus. It’s a place everyone from your university frequents, so it’s understandably full most of the day. Your friend looks at you attentively. This isn’t the most appropriate place to empty out your feelings, but your orders are taking too long and the buzzer is getting cold in your hands.

“I had a crush on Choi Beomgyu.” Yura lets out a hard cough. “He was the reason why I joined the Shutter in the first place.”

She’s staring at you.

“But I’m over him now.”

Speechless, with widened eyes from surprise.

“If you have any cute friends, please introduce me to them.”

“Wait, wait— one at a time! Oh my god.” Yura exhales, trying to piece together the three bombs you dropped on the table. “You have a crush on Beomgyu seonbae?! Had a crush on him?! If he’s the reason you joined, you’re not resigning, right?!”

“No way,”.you shake your head. “He might’ve been the reason, but I’ve got you guys to make me stay.”

The buzzer vibrates in your hands, and the both of you get up to pick up your orders. “The work is fun. Mingyu is annoying sometimes, but he’s generally a supportive Chair. I’ve gotten closer with the other guys, too, so I don’t see a reason why I should quit,” you continue. Once you get out of the cafe, your phone also buzzes. Yura notices the face you’re making and asks what’s wrong. “Nevermind. Mingyu is just annoying. Let’s just hurry up. The child is throwing a tantrum and needs his caffeine.”

“Are you okay, though?” she asks as you’re walking down the sidewalk back to campus. “I mean. If there’s anything else troubling you in Shutter, you can always vent to me.”

You smile at her. “Thanks.”

The both of you continued walking in pleasant silence. Right when you reach Mirage Building, Yura suddenly stops with a gasp. “So that’s why you joined round two at The Rooftop that night!”

Your brows knit in confusion.

“Because Beomgyu was there!”

“Oh, fuck you.” You feel like swallowing yourself. “I did so many stupid things that night and Mingyu has all of it one his fucking phone.”

When you arrive at the office, Mingyu isn’t even there. It’s dark and near empty save for one person and the glow of the computer screen. Soobin turns to the doorway when you two enter and scrambles on his feet to help you carry all the drinks you bought. You turn on the lights and poor boy flinches, prompting you to turn them off again.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

“It’s alright. You can turn it back on.” You don’t. Instead your squinted eyes scan the room because maybe your god damned senior is hiding somewhere to fuck with you. Soobin notices this, even in the dark.“Mingyu hyung and Myungho hyung left to take care of something urgent for their class,” he explains. “Jina noona and the rest went to get us some snacks. They’ll be back in a bit. You two can just wait.”

A huff leaves your lips and your mouth twitches. “He texted me to hurry up but his ass isn’t even here. Hold on, where’s his drink— I’m leaving it outside. What an unbelievable idiot.”

The door slams in your stomping wake and you put Mingyu’s americano right next to the plastic bag of takeout boxes from yesterday right by the door. There is no point in doing this. You’re just annoyed. You’re still grumbling curses when you stomp back in, but promptly hush yourself with the scene you’re walking in on.

Well. Nothing significant is actually happening. You watch Yura as she’s leaning on the table, an earnest spark in her eyes as she and Soobin converse over a movie you’ve never watched. You press your lips together, holding back a grin and trying to make as little noise as possible when you settle down on the springy couch in the middle of the room. Admittedly, you confided in her about Beomgyu earlier with the hopes that she’d also give hints about what you suspect is her crush on Soobin.

But then, maybe you’re just romance obsessed and attempt to find meaning in everything. You won’t know unless she tells you, but you don’t want to pry.

“Oh no. Wait, I’m sorry I have to go,” you hear her say. She hurries over to the door and pauses in front of you on the way. “Professor Han wants to meet us immediately for a paper consultation. Gosh, he just does whatever wants.”

You wave her goodbye, and now it’s just you and Soobin in the Shutter office.

He’s standing by the wooden table shoved into the left corner of the decently sized office, organizing the drinks you and Yura ordered. It’s a good thing that it’s dark— this way you can’t see the trash and wrappers on the floor, likely left by the people who went out earlier, but it’s just as likely that they’re garbage from last week. The worn out sofa you’re sitting on is in the middle of the room, up against the storage room wall.

“What are you working on?” you ask, taking a peek at the open computer at the right side of the room. There’s photoshop on the window and you can see some photos from the acquaintance party last week.

“Oh. The pubmats for the winners from the photo contest last time,” he says while walking to you. You step back to let him settle back on his seat in front of the desk. He places his coffee next to the monitor, and the swivel chair rocks back and forth as he fidgets with the layout.

You cross your arms over the chair’s backrest, leaning forward as you peek above his hair to watch him work. He stops moving. The stray strands of hair on his head tickle your nose.

“How about the officers post thingy that Chair mentioned the other day?”

“It’s— it’s in progress, but hyung told me to finish this one first.”

Squinting, you narrow into the cursor. It’s shaking, and your eyes curiously gaze down on Soobin’s hand on the mouse— also shaking, ever the slightest. Maybe he had too much coffee. Sympathy wells in your stomach and you pull yourself back. You take over the seat next to him and turn on the computer.

“Send me the psd for the other one. I’ll work on it.”

Technically, you should be working on it. It’s your job. You’re literally his assistant, but you haven’t been helping him properly lately since you’ve been filling in the spots of the officers who have been inactive lately. You’re collecting fees, accompanying Mingyu for partnership meetings, and sometimes you’re even the one scheduling posts on your social media accounts. But you failed to do the duties assigned to your actual position.

You open the file, and study his initial design before jumping in. “Is it okay if I change the fonts?”

He hums. “Go ahead.”

All you can hear are mouse and keyboard clicks in the office with the occasional creaks from the old, worn out chairs the both of you are sitting on. The blue light is starting to strain your eyes, so you stretch your back and rest them for a moment while waiting for some elements to download.

“You spelled my name wrong.”

You pause mid stretch, turning to see Soobin looking at your monitor. The screen is displaying your work-in-progress for the pubmat, officers listed from top to bottom. Your eyes scroll down until you spot his name. Chou Soobin, Layout Director. You snort.

“So did you, but I didn’t say anything.” You pull up the history panel on screen, revealing how he skewed your name in a previous version of the file, crossing your arms and leaning back on your chair.  “But anyway, my sincerest apologies, Choi Soobin. C-h-o-i Soobin.”

He looks so wronged, it’s funny. It makes you want to mess with him more.

“That was a typo! And I fixed it. Yours looks like an intentional act of malice,” he defends with an offended tone, but the corners of his lips twitch upwards and it’s infectious. You feign a gasp.

“Is that how you think of me, Choi Soobin? I can sue you for defamation, you know. But since I’m kind and compassionate and understanding, I’ll let it slide.”

“Wow,” he gapes, looking around the empty room for backup. The room is empty. You stifle a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

Today is the day you realize that Choi Soobin is a pretty easy going guy and you’ve got nothing to blame but your paranoia for not getting along with him a lot earlier. If you recall correctly, you also had pretty good chemistry with your team during the bowling game last time. He seems like a good guy. and you’re feeling guilty for thinking that he might tell people about your crush on his friend. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to get it right next time, Choi Soobin. I’ll continue repeating your name until the spelling is ingrained in my brain stem, and— oh. Beomgyu texted.”

Speak the devil and he shall appear. Heck, you were only thinking about him for a good .01 seconds. You press your lips together as you come up with a reply. He’s asking if Mingyu and the rest are also at the org office.

“So,” you hear Soobin clear his throat. “How’s your progress?”

You tilt your head, still typing your reply. “With…?”

“With Beomgyu.”

Suddenly, the phone is on your lap and you make an embarrassing noise. You’re looking at Soobin with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You knew he knew but you didn’t think he’d ask you outright like this. You cough and pick back up your phone, trying to play it cool. “Have I— have I really been obvious?”

“Maybe not?” he replied. “I don’t think anyone would have noticed unless they’re looking closely.”

You continue typing. “So you’ve been looking at me often.”

It’s his turn to be flustered. “N—no, haha. Anyway, Beomgyu is pretty popular, so the competition is brutal. But I can help you if you’d like.”

After pressing send, you straighten your legs on the chair. Your elbows press on your thighs as you lean forward and Soobin flinches back. Now that you’re looking at him closely, you don’t understand why he doesn’t have as much people lining up for him like Beomgyu. He’s actually so pretty it’s unreal. Maybe it’s because he’s less outgoing and prefers to keep to himself— even in Shutter, Soobin only talks to a handful of people on the regular, and you’re sure he only started talking to you because you literally have to work together.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a private person. Bottomline, his face is a hidden gem and you’re lucky to be the few that can admire him up close.

“What’s the catch?” you raise a brow.

“The...catch?”

There’s a moment of tense silence until you break with a laugh, comfortably leaning back into the chair. Soobin looks confused. “I’m kidding,” you admit, swiveling the chair left and right. “I decided to give up on him.”

You know you don’t have to explain yourself, but you do anyway. Maybe it’s because there’s still a hint of doubt in Soobin’s eyes, or maybe it’s because you want to rationalize yourself. Either way, your mouth runs, and he just listens. “He’s a pretty face, he’s nice to me, and I would’ve been over the moon if there was actually something, but I don’t think I’ll ever get past being just an orgmate. Guys like him should just be admired from afar, you know? He’s like a pretty flower that you always notice in the garden, but if you pluck him from the bushes and bring him to your living room table, he’ll just wilt and die.”

You pause. “Okay. That sounds a little morbid, but you get what I mean. Anyhow, I’m done with him. I’ll get over him quickly. and I’ll find— oh, Jesus fuck!”

A burst of light suddenly breaks into the once dark room and you jump, glaring at the source of the disturbance. Mingyu’s head is peeking through the crack in the doorway. His eyes are so wide you think his eyebrows would fly off.

“Would you knock, please?” you tell him off.

“Oh— oh my, What’s this?” He’s holding up a cheeky, annoying hand to his lips. You want to throw him a shoe. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Welcome back, hyung.” Soobin greets him.

Mingyu is still wearing an exaggerated shocked expression. “Oh? Sorry, were you having a moment? Oopsies, my bad, I’ll just get my coffee and leave, please carry—”

“It’s outside,” you cut him off. He huffs.

“I know you want to be alone with Soobin, but you don’t have to kick me out.”

“Look down.”

He does, and then he gasps in horror when he sees his americano next to the trash. Mingyu looks up at you from the floor, cradling the drink to his chest. “You monster.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Since Mingyu is already here, I’m heading out,” you announce while getting off the chair. Before Mingyu can try to stop you (he’s already shuffling back to his feet), you give Soobin a smile. “Choi Soobin, I’ll finish this at home later and I’ll send it to you so you can check.” You brush past your senior, and just as you’re about to leave, you hear your full name called out from behind.

When you turn around, you see Soobin with a cheeky smile, dimples popping. “Get home safe.”

It takes you a second to reply. “I always get home safe,” you say, and with that the door shuts behind you. As your back presses against the door’s surface, you can hear the muffled conversations of your two seniors inside, but it’s impossible to pick anything up. You give yourself a moment to take a deep breath— inhaling and exhaling to match the rhythm at the back of your head.

You quickly leave before anyone spots you, running off to the library to go over some of your classes. It’s getting loud again, you think. If this keeps up, you’re going to get yourself in trouble.

Shutter is quiet in the months leading up to your April Midterms. The group chats were still noisy from time to time— most often in the late nights when you’re trying to do your readings and study but your notifications keep buzzing, and your FOMO forces you to engage in whatever pointless conversation they’re having. There was one time, when you caught a sore throat and couldn’t speak for a day, and Beomgyu had sent some home remedies his mother always made for him. You almost caved in again. Almost. Especially when he kept checking up on you the following days after.

May flew by just as quickly. Though you only had two required major courses, it was still difficult to get into the swing of things, so you couldn’t join with a lot of Shutter’s weekend activities and instead buried yourself along with your friends in cafes, study hubs, and the library with Finals slowly creeping in.

You managed to dry yourself out of all your feelings for Beomgyu when you celebrated the end exam week at Jay’s condo. They have a video of you sobbing over him after your hammered ass saw his name when he sent a congratulations message to Shutter for surviving the semester.

That marked the end of your crush on him, and the end of spring. The weather is starting to grow warmer, and your cardigans and cotton-jackets find their places in the back end of the closet. You stop noticing the flowers peeking through your apartment window, and instead look forward to the chirping grasshoppers at the signal of the sunset.

A new season is coming. You hope it’s better than the last.

IT’S SUMMER, THE FIRST WEEK OF JULY— but you’re on campus, and it’s hot, and you’ve been sitting on the bench by the courtyard for thirty minutes waiting for Kim Mingyu to show up. The canvas you’ve been hauling with you serves as your umbrella from the sun’s radiation. His message from last night said that the call time is at 8:00 a.m. It’s already a quarter until ten, and you haven’t seen him yet.

There are a few more people on campus besides you, passing through your frozen spot on the courtyard. Still, none of them are your Chairperson. Annoyed, your fingers jab your phone screen and you put the device to your ear. A few rings, then he picks up. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

Before the semester ended, the Shutter officers had a meeting for the organization’s plans, and it was decided that you will be holding an exhibit over the break. You’re here today to give him the 26 x 19 canvas-printed piece you’d submitted for display and help set up the venue. It was a pain in the ass bringing it with you on the bus, and you’re not going to put it off until tomorrow.

You don’t hear anything on his end for a few moments. Then he swears. “Oh shit,” he hisses. “Sorry! I’m out with my classmates for breakfast. I completely forgot, crap.”

“Are you serious? I’ve been waiting since—”

“Just go to the Cultural Center!”

“I don’t know where that is?!” you blurt out, but take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Might I remind you, Chair, that this is only my second month in university. I tried looking for it earlier but my legs got tired and it’s too hot to walk around.” It’s also worth mentioning that you have trouble with directions in general, but that’s something Mingyu shouldn’t know because that’ll give him another bullet to tease you with.

“Fuck.” he says. “Okay. Wait. I’ll ask someone to come help you. Where you at?”

“At the courtyard,” you reply. “Who are you sending?”

He doesn’t tell you and instead cuts the conversation short. “Gotta go. I’ll join you guys later. I’m really sorry, please don’t hit me. Bye. I love you. MwahI” And then the call ends. You’re staring at your call history screen and processing what just happened.

Mingyu says he’s gonna send someone, maybe another officer, to pick up your lost ass and help you to the Cultural Center, so you should just sit here and wait. It would have been better if the bastard actually told you who’s coming so you’d know who you’re looking out for. You sit on the bench under the heat for another five minutes, arms getting tired from lifting the canvas over your head as a sun-shield.

Then something cool touches your cheek. You flinch in surprise and turn around to see Soobin holding a cold water bottle to your face. He greets you by your full name with a click of his tongue. “You could have waited somewhere else, dummy. Do you wanna get a heatstroke?”

Over the past weeks that you and Soobin have been working together, things have definitely become more comfortable. You might have passed out on face-to-face work with the org, but you’ve been doing your part as his assistant without fail— editing birthday pubmats for your members and officers, congratulatory posts, and other announcements layouts that were needed on demand.

“Choi Soobin,” you greet back. “Are you the one Mingyu sent to save me?”

“Let’s get out of here first,” he answers, eyes squinting when he looks up to the sky.

You take the water from him with a thank you, and the bottle cools your palms as you lag behind Soobin on the way to a more shaded area of the campus. “The Center was still closed when I checked earlier. The guard said the staff are still in the process of cleaning it, so we can’t start setting up anyway,” he explains. “Is this your piece?”

His question mellows you out immediately, just when you were about to complain about Mingyu again. Soobin peers at the canvas you have pressed to your side, tentatively waiting for a signal from you. You give a hum of agreement, a little self-conscious because it’s an evidently beginner piece, incomparable to Mingyu’s or Beomgyu’s works, and photography isn’t exactly your niche, but you let him take the canvas from your arms anyway. He’s careful when he holds the frame in his hands, stretching out his arms to get a full look.

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s amateurish,” you cringe. “I didn’t think they’d actually pick it.”

On the canvas is a silhouette of Sunghoon, pitch black against an ocean sunset. It’s a cliche composition, taken on a whim with Jake’s camera that you borrowed for ten minutes when you got bored on your beach trip last weekend. The decision to submit it was also just as impulsive. You’re pretty sure Mingyu, Myungho, and Beomgyu just picked it because it’s you. Nothing better than some organizational nepotism. You’ll get them to admit that eventually.

“Well, it’s pretty good for someone who’s just starting,” Soobin assures. The both of you must have forgotten that you’re in the middle of a road on campus, an archway of trees above you. The sunlight speckles that manage to leak through the leaves above can be seen shining spots on his face. “I can help you practice when I have the time.”

“No way, do you also do photography?” You’ve only seen him do graphic design and some photo and video editing so far, so you’re legitimately pleasantly surprised. “That’s unfair.”

“No, I don’t,” he answers. “I work better in front of the camera.”

You give him a look. Soobin notices that you don’t quite understand him.

“If the model looks good, then the photo will look good too.”

You’re speechless. “Wow,” you gape. “You know, my first impression of you was that you’re a very kind, very shy, very gentle, very humble individual. But you’re actually quite shameless, Choi Soobin.”

Soobin only laughs, and you try to take your canvas back, but he insists on carrying it. You let him, not by choice, but because he lifted it up to his head and you can’t possibly fucking reach that unless you climb him. Giving up, you look around. “So, what now?” He raises a brow. “The Cultural Center is closed and Mingyu will take a while. What are we supposed to do?”

You didn’t expect him to actually try and think of something, so you’re surprised to hear his silence while he’s deep in thought, contemplating. You stifle out a chuckle. “Would you...like to check out a different exhibit in the meantime?”

“Hm?” you look at him. “What exhibit?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I had Programming last semester and we had to develop an app as our final project. The faculty decided to display some outputs, and— a-anyway, it’s in the CICT Building. If it’s too far, we don’t have to go.”

“No, I wanna see.” You tug on his sleeve and make your way to their building, overly familiar with the directions from the times you’d loiter around the premises in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Beomgyu, only to get roped by Mingyu and the other Shutter members for a few rounds at different pop-up bars and cafes in the city. But it’s been a while since you’ve been here. It’s white like most of the college buildings on campus, but it’s impossible to tell from the outside how much more budget the administration gave to this building for the air conditioning.

Soobin leads you inside the lobby and from there, you can already see a mini LED screen with the animated text saying SOPHOMORE COMPSCI EXHIBIT. IT203 Programming. OB 101. July 1-23, 2023. No admission fee! along with printed arrows on the floor leading to the large double doors on the right wing of the building. There are white and red balloons forming an arch around the door— their department’s signature color. “You guys really went all out,” you nudge Soobin. He makes a noise of what you assume is embarrassment.

When you enter, you’re met with computer monitors, television screens, and even more LED screens in the large room, lining up in different rows with signs and other things you can’t quite name accompanying them. You’re so used to having only printouts, PDFs, and word documents in front of you for your major that you forgot other courses have a little more life in them.

“Ohhh? Soobin, you’re here.”

Then you notice that there are a lot more people in the exhibit, presumably Soobin’s classmates because they either walk up to him, greet him, or both. You’re stuck with a customer service smile as Soobin engages with them. That is until one of them— a girl you think you share an elective class with— looks at you with a bright smile. “Hi! Are you Soobin’s girlfriend?”

Your eyes bat three times. You’re flustered, but you maintain a tight smile to mask it. Soobin isn’t handling it as well as you because he audibly makes a choking noise and his face, neck, and ears are visibly matching the color of the decorations strewn all about.

“Soobinie, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Wow, I’m hurt.”

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.”

“N-no, what are you—” he stammers. “She’s not— I mean, why would you—”

Oh no. His friends’ hollering and teasing isn’t helping his case at all until Soobin gets enough of it and tells them to shut up while shooing them away. “I’m sorry. You must’ve been uncomfortable,” he says once they’ve all scattered off, a noticeable change in his timbre. “Should we just go?”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “I’m sure they always do that whenever you’re with a friend they’ve never met before. Anyway, let’s just look at your work! Where is it? Which one?”

You’re already sniffing out the displays one-by-one, but Soobin lags behind for a moment. You turn back, looking at him expectantly. “Choi Soobin.”

“It’s at the end of the next row.” His pace is slow as he leads you to his display, as though there’s glue on his heels, pulling him into the floor. Your nose bumps into his back when he stops all of a sudden. Soobin spins around to sputter apologies, crouching a little to examine your face. “Oh no—”

Your face is a little scrunched up and your cheeks are squished in between his palms. “Does it hurt anywhere? Shit, I’m so sorry.” You can’t even say anything because he’s mushing your face. Your hands crawl up to his arms, about to pry him off, but you hear a voice inserting himself into the scene, and so you pause in the same position.

“Kids have gotten bolder these days.”

You and Soobin turn your heads at the same time. You see someone leaning against the foundation pillar next to one of the displays. He has his arms crossed, and staring at the both of you with sharp, curious eyes. But it isn’t quite clear since strands of his hair are covering most of it. The corners of his lips curve upwards, almost playfully. His piercings catch your attention next— dangling silver amidst various hoops and studs.

In other words, he’s dangerously attractive.

“Hyung.”

Your eyes shift back to Soobin. His arms drop to his side and he straightens his posture. You watch as the newcomer approaches him, keeping a close eye on Soobin’s expression to gauge whether they’re close or otherwise. “Ah, go away.” Soobin rolls his shoulders when the other guy suddenly latches onto him like a koala, the same subtle grin painting his face.

“Wow, you aren’t even greeting me properly, you punk.”

Soobin gets a noogie, and you’re staring at the both of them with an absentminded smile until you’re finally noticed. There’s something in his gaze when he cranes his head ever the slightest to look at you, a slow roll of his irises, and you feel something burning.

“Hi Soobinie’s girlfriend,” he greets. Soobin fully shoves him off.

“She isn’t.”

“I overheard the commotion earlier, though?”

“My blockmates were just messing with me.” Your friend lets out a groan. “Go away.”

He doesn’t go away. Instead, he releases Soobin and he slowly walks up to you. Your throat gets tighter every time he takes a step closer, up until he’s standing directly in front of you. “Hi,” he introduced himself. “I’m Choi Yeonjun. That guy’s senior.”

Yeonjun points a thumb to ‘that guy,’ who isn’t looking very bright at the moment, making it more difficult for you to gauge whether they’re actually friends or not. But you put it on the backburner for now and give Yeonjun your name in response. He repeats it, testing how the syllables should roll off his tongue. Admittedly, your name sounds better when he says it.

“Are you really not dating Soobin?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard.

“N—no,” you quickly reply. “I’m very single right now.”

You want to punch yourself. The fuck kind of response was that?

It doesn’t help when you hear Yeonjun laugh a little, and you feel yourself physically shrink and burn up. You’re sure there’s air-conditioning in the room, but you’re fanning yourself with your hands. The air squeezing down the back of your throat feels like flammable gas. “Sounds a lot like an invitation,” you hear him say. You shoot up, blinking a few too many times.

“I’m sorry?”

Something is tugging on the corners of his lips, and brushes an index finger under his nose. “To watch your exhibit,” Yeonjun clarifies. “You’re friends with Soobin so you’re probably in Shutter, right? So, when’s your exhibit?”

“O–oh, I’m not sure. I’ll ask our Chair once we meet with him later.”

You release a breath you’ve been unconsciously holding. “Then…” he trails off, and you flinch when he suddenly dips closer. Holy shit, he’s too close. “Won’t you need my number so you can tell me the date once you’re sure?”

There’s a cough, and you can hear Soobin mumble something inaudible. Your head peers above Yeonjun’s shoulder and he turns around to check on Soobin, as well. You ask him to repeat himself. “It’s nothing. I can give you updates on the exhibit, hyung,” he says. “And the open dates will be posted on our page as well.”

“Ah, is that so?”

Your eyes narrow at their exchange. Soobin calls Yeonjun hyung and the latter knows he’s in Shutter, so you’ve settled with thinking that they’re friends. Yeonjun also seems to be pretty comfortable around your friend, but the evident tension in the air is making you second guess. You’d have to ask Soobin later.

Then, Yeonjun says something that throws your plans out the window.

“She can just give me a different date,” Yeonjun says. He spins on his heels and returns his attention to you, an eager smile on his face. “Right?”

Now, your love life might have been a consistent dumpster fire, but it doesn’t take a genius to take a hint that Choi Yeonjun is hitting on you right now.

Your brain is short-circuiting, causing you to sputter out an unsure, “Yes?”

“Okay.” It seems like that was good enough for Yeonjun because he graces you with a satisfied smile and holds his hand out. You stare at his open palm. He lifts a brow. “Phone?”

“Oh! Right—”

You dig into your pockets and fish out your phone, passing it to Yeonjun who brings the device close to his face, covering the amusement on his lips from your unhidden fluster. “Cute,” you hear him mumble, and it feels like you’re being swallowed by hot sand.

It’s hard not to get your hopes up from a first meeting like this, but Yeonjun is merciless. Your hopes flutter far above your head when he texts you later that evening while you’re out for dinner with Yura, asking when the aforementioned date will be.

“Why is it so hard for all of us to get together?” Yunjin opens your first lunch together since the beginning of break by slamming a sprite can into the table. “It’s summer break for fuck’s sake!”

The hot pot restaurant you’re in has gotten noisier with your group’s presence. There’s chopsticks clattering on silver platters, soda cans spritzing open, and a mess of voices as justifications break out from all sides of the table.

“I went home to see my parents!” Jay defends himself.

“So did I!” adds Jake.

“Kazuha booked her flight at the end of the month because she’s smarter than you two,” Yunjin points her chopsticks at the latter before switching over to you, who’s innocently shoving a piece of boiled meat into your mouth. “And you—”

“It’s not my fault I have org shit to take care of!” you say with a full mouth. Taehyun passes you a glass of water.

“What about you?” Jay juts out his chin at Sunghoon, who’s also quietly eating from his bowl like you’ve been earlier. “What’s your excuse?”

The moment summer break began, Sunghoon suddenly disappeared without a trace. He showed up at Jay’s condo with a suitcase and shopping bags yesterday evening without an explanation. You have yet to hear from the man himself. He gets uncomfortable from the amount of eyes staring at him and slams down his spoon.

“Can’t a man get some personal time?!”

“Then go have lunch by yourself.” Taehyun pushes aside Sunghoon’s bowl while reaching out for some side dishes. “I’m sure he had a two week fling but it didn’t work out so now he’s crawling back.”

“Yah, what do you know?” Sunghoon shoots up. “You’ve never even dated before.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t slander Taehyun,” Yunjin butts in. You didn’t think Taehyun’s accusation was true until Sunghoon’s reaction. Poor guy really must have gotten dumped. “He got asked out by Aecha and a girl from broadcasting while you were off the radar.”

Sunghoon sits back down. “Seriously?”

“Wait, how come I don’t know this?” Jake only snorts at your question and reaches over the table to place a cube of radish into your open mouth. Your jaw chews automatically, waiting for an explanation.

Taehyun shrugged. Jay answers on his behalf. “Do the both of you even open our group chat? He turned them down. I wasn’t even in the country but I knew.”

“What the—” Sunghoon looks at the man in question. “Dude. Aecha is so pretty, why would you reject her?”

“Go date her yourself, then,” he says.

“Maybe I will.”

“I feel like I’ve overheard this conversation in high school,” you hear Kazuha from beside you and you breathe out a laugh in agreement.

“But I was also pretty shocked when I found out Taehyun turned her down,” Yunjin says. “I thought you two got along pretty well.”

Aecha is another girl from your major, and you’ve seen her and Taehyun together a few times— asking questions about your classes and such. It never hit you that she had a thing for your friend. Then again, you aren’t the smartest person in that area, either. While listening, you’re on the verge of spilling your guts out on the table about the very dangerously attractive senior you met the other day. Kazuha notices how you’d suddenly grow quiet from time to time. You open your mouth, but Taehyun catches everyone’s attention.

“I’m not interested in dating,” he says. “I’ll just get distracted. If I’m going to be this nation’s president in the future, there’s things I need to prioritize first.”

You want to laugh at him, but the shit he’s saying is actually possible, even if he’s saying it with a serious voice as a joke. You decided to take public administration as a pre-law, but Taehyun seems to have a higher ambition than all of you combined. Sunghoon warns him that he shouldn’t be too confident about staying single, “You’ll never know when you’ll fall in love and trip over your plans, buddy.” Taehyun just shrugs him off and continues eating his lunch.

You’ve already emptied your bowl and are once again deep in thought. It’s not only Kazuha that notices this time— Jake eyes you as he drinks from his glass of water. When he settles the glass down, he calls out your name. Your eyes snap forward and look at him. “Yeah?”

“What’s up?”

Man, you really have to fess up now, don’t you? It takes a while to get the words out of your system, and the amount of eyes staring at you is making the food crawl back up your system. This must be how Sunghoon was feeling earlier. “Well,” you start, trying out one word at a time. “I met a guy.”

Jay nearly spits out his water. You don’t give them an opportunity to grill you and continue.

“We’ve been texting for a few days.” It’s Yunjin’s turn to choke on her water. “Is it...too soon to go on a date with him this weekend?”

You’re guessing you gave out too much information at once, so it’s taking them a while to make a response. You sit there, innocently fiddling on some tissue paper. Jay is the first one to recover/ “Holy shit. I didn’t believe you when you said you were over Beomgyu, but I guess you’ve really did move on, huh.”

“Is he pretty? Is he from our uni? What’s his major?”

“You have a thing for tech boys, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” you smack Sunghoon. “But is it too soon? Or…?”

Kazuha drags her chair closer to yours. “Tell us about him first.”

You cock your head, a little hesitant to say anything about Yeonjun yet. You don't think you know him well enough, granted that you’ve only been texting for a few days. Still, you tell him what you can— his name, that he’s a friend of a friend, and that he’s one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.

“I think it’s too sudden,” says Jake.

“I think he’s just playing with you.” You smack Sunghoon a second time.

“Don’t listen to them!” Yunjin jumps in before the boys can do any more damage. “You should go date whoever you want and it doesn’t have to be serious. You’re at the very least interested in him, right?”

“Well— yeah.”

“And it seems like he’s interested in you, too! If it works out, then great! If it doesn’t, then we’ll just help you get over him. Give it a shot. You’ll never know unless you do.”

You ponder over Yunjin’s advice for the rest of the day until you find yourself staring at your phone screen instead of going to sleep. The night is leaking through your window, and you turn to your side, biting your thumb. The screen is showing your last conversation with Yeonjun, earlier this morning before you left to meet with your friends. Your bedside clock ticks impatiently. Then you start typing.

Saturday.

Hm?

I heard there’s a summer promo at Baskin Robbins.

You shove a pillow to your face and you end up kicking off your blankets. Taking a sharp breath, you sit up and attempt to lower the rising temperature, else you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Though when you see his reply, you fumble harder.

Can’t wait :)

Yunjin should’ve warned you that taking her advice had side effects.

Saturday comes. You’re already sweating buckets on the elevator ride down your apartment.

It’s hot out, so I’ll pick you up, Yeonjun texted a few hours prior. He also asked what outfit you’ll be wearing. We should match, he says. You’re in an oversized striped dress shirt and about to pass out from nervousness.

One thing you haven’t told your friends is that fact that you’ve never been on a date before. Like, ever. Your high school years were plagued by books and tests and assignments and the moment your parents allowed you to move out for university, you decided you wanted to live your life to the fullest— at least during your first year.

However, your resolve doesn’t translate to having balls of steel. The elevator reaches the ground floor and you hesitate to leave. You pull out your phone and use it as a mirror to give yourself one last check, fearing that your makeup has already melted off. It took you thirty minutes just to get your eyeliner perfect and you’d cry if they’ve gotten ruined.

You only get one quick glance before the screen flashes on. An incoming call from Yeonjun. You press the phone to your ear and hurry out the elevator. “I’m on the way!” The floor is slippery when you skid across the lobby and emerge through the entrance, but you manage to catch your balance by holding onto the doorframe.

“I see you.”

You allow your arm to fall to your side because you spot him as well in front of your building, waiting outside a gray vehicle. He was serious when he said he’d match your clothes.

Yeonjun waves at you with a wide grin, but eyes covered by the dark shades perched on top of his nose. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from flaring up. You feel like you should be the one protecting your eyes and not him.

“The temperature today is brutal, isn’t it?” he says upon your arrival. “Ah, I can’t wait for some ice cream therapy.”

He should know that he’s much more dangerous than the scalding summer heat. The warmth from his palm is still lingering on your shoulder when he guides you inside his car, and you feel a lot more lightheaded inside the compact space of the vehicle than when you were outside. Your left leg is jerking in nervousness. Yeonjun turns on some music, and you start to loosen up a bit more.

“You know,” he says, eyes on the road in front of him. “You’re a lot more talkative in text than in person.”

You should’ve known you’ve been pathetically obvious. “Relax. I won’t eat you up.” Yeonjun assures.

“It’s just that,” your knuckles tighten on your lap. “I’ve never been on a date before.”

“Really? Guess I should do a good job today.”

When you snatch a glance at him, he peers at you with a smile and you want to explode. “So that you’ll let me take you out on a second one.”

It’s always like this whenever you’re with Yeonjun. You learn this after the second, third, fifth time you’re out with him. It’s like something is burning, always keeping you on your toes else you’ll combust along with the flames. He’ll say something that’ll set your cheeks on fire and won’t do anything to put it out.

Yet the burn is addicting, like when your fingers start to sting a little after playing with lit candles whenever there’s a power outage. But you still swipe your index finger barely above the flame to show off that you can tame it with your own hands.

The exhibit will be on the twenty-second of July. Yeonjun says he’ll be there.

“You’ve been in a great mood lately.”

You turn around after settling an easel at the end of the room to find Mingyu fixing the ones next to you. It’s a day before the exhibit— Hanyeorum, as the selected title— and some volunteers from Shutter are making last minute preparations at the Cultural Center. The easels you borrowed from storage finally arrived. All that’s left is to arrange them along with the photos, and plaster their labels underneath.

“Some would say you even look prettier,” he wiggles his brows, and you snort.

“What do you want, Chair?”

Mingyu pouts, moving over to another corner of the venue. “Your attitude still sucks, though.”

“As if yours is any better,” you shoot him a grin. He lets out a scoff and falls to the floor, sitting cross legged and looking up at you. He pats the ground in front of him. You’ve been working and walking around since two in the afternoon and it’s already getting dark, so you take his offer.

“Are you inviting anyone for the exhibit tomorrow?” he asks. You raise a brow at him, wiping your hands with the towel you’ve just stolen from his shoulder. The easels are dusty. Mingyu continues talking. “They say if you bring someone to check out Seo Myungho’s ‘Everlong,’ the both of you will fall in love.”

“That sounds fucking stupid.” You toss the towel back at him. “Wait a minute. Are you spreading these rumors to get more people to come?”

He grins. “Genius, right?”

“Hate to admit it, but that’s actually a good strategy,” you tell him, and his face stretches into a proud smile. “Need any help spreading fake news?”

“If we reach one-fifty visitors on the first day, I’m treating everyone who helped out. A new bar opened in the district.”

You shake on it. “Leave it to me.” How can you say no to free drinks? Even if you don’t reach the quota, Mingyu will probably spend money on you all, anyway.

“I’ll take over from here. Go take a break until the guys come back with the displays.”

You have no reason to protest. You snatch a can of soda from a plastic bag in the middle of the room and make your way outside. The night breeze is gentle on your skin, and you spot someone else taking a breather outside the building. He’s leaning against the railings, looking into the dim painted campus. “Choi Soobin,” you call out. He turns around, blank face tugging into a small smile and he greets you the same way as you called him. It’s been a while since you’ve hung out with him. Even the days where you were working for the exhibit, you and him have only exchanged a few words, mostly greetings.

“Are they done inside?” he asks. You take the spot next to him.

“Not yet,” you reply. The soda can is cold on your lips, and you look up at him. “Heard the rumor about Myungho’s piece?”

“The one Mingyu hyung is spreading to get people interested?” Your laugh comes off as a huff of air when he hits the nail on the head. Just how many people has Mingyu been recruiting? Soobin tells you how ridiculous it sounds. “I don’t think it’s gonna work as well as he thinks.”

“I think otherwise,” you tell him. “The fact that such a rumor exists in the first place is gonna draw their curiosity, whether they believe it or not. 2,000 won isn’t much. I’m sure people would throw away their money to see what in the hell this Everlong piece looks like.”

Soobin laughs. “You’ve got a point.” He stays quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you invite Yeonjun hyung?”

“He says he’ll come,” you reply. “What’s with the face?”

You’ve noticed his discomfort on the day you met Yeonjun, second guessing your assumption that they were friends (they are, Yeonjun assures. Soobin also clarified that when you questioned him on the same day). However, you still haven’t gotten an explanation from that dau. You hope Soobin will give you some clarity tonight. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, and you listen attentively. “But I’m just worried.”

“Is he a player, or something?” you raise a brow. “He does look like one, and I thought so too at first until I got to know him better. But if he is, you would’ve warned me.”

Soobin shakes his head. “No, well— he’s not like that, but—” He’s a little hesitant. You can tell from his expression. “Yeonjun hyung isn’t an...actively bad person. It’s just that…he sort of has commitment issues.”

This is news to you, but you keep your thoughts to yourself first. Soobin continues and you keep listening. “He doesn’t hesitate to make a move when he’s interested in someone, but after a couple of dates or when things start getting a little more serious, he gets cold feet and it ends up— you know.”

It’s not an easy story to tell. Soobin must have spent a while thinking if he should tell you these things about Yeonjun or not, considering the fact that he’s probably closer with him than you, who just popped up in his life a few months ago. Yet he still told you, and he’s looking at you with such an earnest concern in his eyes. “The two of you are my friends and the last thing I’d want is either of you getting hurt.” To say you’re touched is an understatement.

“For a while I thought you were being jealous.” You joke in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but it’s only made the air colder and you quickly try to cover it up. “But thanks for looking out for me, Choi Soobin.”

He presses his lips into a tight smile. Your shoulder slump, letting yourself sink into the railings.

“I don’t know. I still like him a lot,” you admit and Soobin hums in response. “Still. Whatever happens, I hope it doesn’t get in the way of your friendship with either of us.”

Soobin’s smile settles softer. “Of course,” he says, and it’s suddenly a lot easier for you to breathe. In spite of the arid summer weather, it’s cooler tonight. The wind blows in a gentle rhythm outside the Center, and you sip on your soda in the quiet of each other’s company. The science doesn’t last long— you start hearing a lot of noise coming from inside the building, prompting you to straighten.

“I think Beomgyu and the rest are back,” you tell Soobin, tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s go. God, I can’t wait for this shit to be over.”

You should’ve taken Soobin’s words as a warning.

It’s the day of the exhibit’s opening and people are slowly trickling in. The tarpaulin in front of the building was designed by yours truly— Hanyeorum in a warm orange and deep purple palette. Mingyu says he can already smell the success of the exhibit, but you’re restless at the ticketing area, walking in circles with your eyes glued to your phone until someone calls out your name.

“Your friends are looking for you,” Yura’s head pops into the booth. “Chan is coming in a bit to take over.”

When Chan arrives, you hop off from your post and join the four people loitering by the entrance. Yunjin and Kazuha are out of the country for vacation, so you’re left with four bastards. They don’t notice you as they’re huddled around your piece near the doors, so you bump your head into Jake’s back.

Four heads turn around. Jake swallows you in a one-armed hug when they notice it’s you. “They finally set you free,” he says, destroying all the work you put in your hair in a matter of seconds.

“This org will fall apart without me,” you say, still tucked into your friend’s side and you cringe when your eyes land on your piece. Mingyu still hasn’t admitted that it’s only up for display because he’s biased. Your friends are praising you because they’re biased, too.

“This one is the best in the entire exhibit.” Except for Sunghoon. You’re sure he only likes it because he’s in the photo.

“Have you even checked the rest of the exhibit?” you raise a brow at him.

“No, and I don’t need to,” he says then releases a noise of awe accompanied by an approving nod, hand on his chin and all. “This is a masterpiece.”

“Where’s the cursed photo everyone’s talking about?” Jay asks, looking around the interior like some sort of art critic. He’s even wearing obnoxious ass shades.

“Right,” Taehyun adds. “The thing you told us about.”

“It’s not cursed. It makes you fall in love,” you click your tongue, finally escaping from Jake’s grasp. Jay scoffs at your correction.

“Sounds like a curse to me.”

Nevertheless, you take them to see Myungho’s display. You guys printed it on the biggest canvas you could get your hands on and made sure to position it at the end of the building so that the viewers could wander for a longer time. The downside for that reveals itself to you in the form of your friends getting distracted by other photographs and disappearing like scattered bugs in the Center.

The only one you’re left with is Taehyun, who’s genuinely curious to see your senior’s piece.

“Wow,” he gapes. “I didn’t think it’d actually be good, but this is amazing.”

What overtakes the wall is a massive blanket of the night sky, splotched with the occasional star. It’s on the rooftop of somewhere you don’t know, but the sky is so clear, so pretty, so hollow that it draws your attention. The canvas nearly stretches from the floor to the ceiling. It was Mingyu’s idea to print it this big. He wanted to make it feel like you’re in the photo yourself— with your significant other, friend, or anyone you want to share the midsummer night sky with.

“I thought Yeonjun was coming over.” You turn to look at Taehyun. He must be done admiring the piece.

“I thought so too.” you reply.

He’s quiet for a moment— a cautious silence before asking, “Have you texted him?”

“What do you think?”

You’re engulfed in your second hug for the day. Taehyun is never affectionate with any of you, so you know you’re already that pitiful when he decides to comfort you with an embrace, but you don’t complain.

“Maybe something came up so he can’t reply yet. Don’t be too sad over a man. Enjoy your opening day with the rest of your friends.”

If Soobin hadn’t told you anything yesterday evening, you might’ve been a little more hopeful and it would have bitten back twice as hard and painful. Still, your hopes aren’t completely obliterated. You wait for a text or a call or anything up until the first day of your exhibit finally wraps up and you’re in Mingyu’s car with shitty love songs playing on the speaker on the way to Dice, the newly opened bar he mentioned.

“Cheers!”

Shot glasses clunk with one another and you feel the burn crawling down your throat. “Slow down,” Myungho warns while refilling your glass. “I don’t want to clean up after you tonight.”

Your mouth forms into bitter pout. “Cut me some slack. I’m tired and sad and I’ll get shitfaced if I want to.” Your head dips back as you finish another shot. Myungho clicks his tongue with a disapproving head shake and transfers to a different table, where you spot Soobin stealing glances at you.

Shit, he must’ve heard you. You try shrinking yourself and squeeze next to Yura. God, you probably seem pathetic to him right now. It hasn’t even been two days since you talked about Yeonjun, but his warning already happened. You don’t think you can talk to him about it yet, so you gather yourself to a different table. You hear an angel’s chorus singing when you spot Mingyu near the bar front. He’s with some Shutter members that you aren’t really close with, but you bulldoze through it.

Mingyu spots you and waves over for you to come with a bright smile that signals he’s already a few bottles in. “Sit here!” your senior beckons, patting on the empty chair beside him.

“Who’s this?” the guy sitting across him asks. You recognize him from some of the events your org has had— Jeonghan, you think, but you’re not entirely sure since you’ve never talked to him. All you know is that he likes to tease the other members in the group chat a lot.

Still, you give him a polite smile and Mingyu introduces you to each other. You were right. He is Jeonghan.

“Ohhh! So, this is her,” Jeonghan exclaims, stirring your confusion. “The girl Soobinie likes!”

You blink at him. “Ex— excuse me?”

Mingyu quickly brushes his statement away with a laugh and starts thanking you for the exhibit’s success in between drinks. There were a total of 167 visitors today, morning to evening, so Shutter finally has some expendable funds.

You should’ve learned from the first night you were out drinking with Mingyu that you cannot keep up with his pace, but you never learn. He’s making you another drink, sober enough to not spill anything, but your head is already feeling dizzy.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”

“Careful! Wait, hyung you should accompany her—”

“I’m fine!” you assure. “I can still walk by myself, thank you very much.”

You can. Barely, but you can manage. It’s better than being assigned to a senior you’re not even close with and you’d much rather be alone so you can wallow in your feelings. But you overestimated your motor skills while under the influence. You bump into a pillar and stumble right when you’ve almost reached the foyer.

“Whoa. Are you okay?”

The shock and shame of seeing Soobin’s face is almost enough to snap you back into sobriety. He managed to grab you by the shoulders before you could make a fool out of yourself in a public bar.

“Choi Soobin,” you greet him. “You were right. Totally, completely right.”

“Let’s get you back on your feet first, okay?” He steadies you back on your feet, and you grumble with a tight grip on his sleeve to keep yourself balanced. You finally make it to the foyer, leaning against the ledge as you intake the fresh breeze. It’s a mirror of your encounter with him last night. Even the conversations are direct reflections of each other.

“Yeonjun didn’t show up today,” you finally tell him. He settles next to you, and his elbow brushes against yours.

“Maybe something urgent came up?” he says after a moment of pondering. You fish out your phone and after a few scrolls and taps, you flash him the screen, revealing your last conversation with Yeonjun. Conversation is a stretch. The rows of messages you sent today are all marked as read. Soobin’s face glows from the bluelight. “Oh.”

You pocket your phone and stare back into the horizon. There are more occupied tables settled in the bar’s backyard, eliminating any opportunity for silence to rupture. “I’m sorry,” he says. You look up and give him a smile.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “I’m okay. We were only talking for like, three weeks. I didn’t even like him that much.”

Yet in spite of the white noise, the moment when you stop speaking feels heavier than the dead of night. Soobin peers down at your face. You’re staring blankly at the air, and he’s almost convinced you’re actually fine until he catches the slight quiver of your lips and the damp glassiness of your eyes. He flinches back when you suddenly take a sharp breath.

“I thought he was the one! God damn it—”

He’s in a bit of panic at your outburst, unsure of what to do so he settles with awkwards pats on your shoulder as you continue your fit. “Why is it so hard to get in a relationship?” you exclaim. “I mean, it seems so easy for other people! I stopped eating at the cafeteria because I see couples left and right, while all i do is fall on love on my own and end up disappointed and heart broken.”

Your rant leaves you a little out of breath. The air circling around you starts to grow warmer, and Soobin’s face starts to grow a little hazy as you slowly blink, but the concern in his eyes cuts clear despite your insobriety. It makes you laugh a little.

“Choi Soobin,” you call his attention. “Do you like anyone?”

Silence settles in the dry, arid evening. You watch as hidden thoughts flit through his head until he finally gives an answer.

“I do,” he says.

And you remember Jeonghan’s words from earlier. It’s hard to take seriously, and you’re not sure if you even want to take it seriously. Still, it leaves an aftertaste in your mouth, and you swallow it with a sigh. “Good for them,” you hum, melting further into the iron ledge. “Must be nice to be at the receiving end of love. Ah, why do I fall for people so quickly? Am I just easy?”

You earn a comforting pat from Soobin, his hand settling on the top of your head and when you peer up at him, he’s looking away with an unsure expression, the same uncertainty you can feel in the tremors from his hand.

”We should get back inside. You’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“It’s pretty warm out.”

“Still. Summer colds are brutal,” you nudge him. “Let’s go back.”

Mingyu managed to get other members to help in managing the exhibit until the first week of August, so you have more time for yourself. While everyone else crashed with the waves and dug underneath the sand, you resigned to staying indoors and sleeping in while you still can. You’ve heard from some seniors that the next semester will be a lot more brutal.

It’s only the end of July, yet the air around you has shifted from a sweltering burn to a mellow warmth of burnt orange and chalky sienna. It’s still hotter on some days, and those days you’re out with whichever friend is available.

Summer ended early for you. You’re still figuring out how you feel about that.

A WEEK BEFORE FALL SEMESTER, you and Yura decide to clean up your closets and buy more appropriate clothes for the season. You’ve already signed up for your classes once the MIS opened, and you and your friend were lucky enough to enroll in the same elective. You’re only good at graphic design, but you hope art appreciation will be kind to you.

“I don’t think I have any more space for this,” you state, expertly flitting through the clothes rack of cardigans and sweaters. There’s a red one that catches your eye, so you pull it out and hang it over your arm along with your other picks.

“That’s why I went home last weekend and left a bunch of my clothes there,” Yura replies. “What if you sell your old clothes online?”

“I’m thinking about it,” you say. “For the meantime, maybe I’ll just stuff my summer shit in a bag and hide it under the bed.”

“Sounds good,” she says. “Should we check out?”

You two leave the thrift store with two bags in each hand and decide to stop by a ramen place for lunch. While waiting for your orders to arrive, you settle into idle conversation. “You’re meeting up with Chair later, right?”

“Yup,” you reply. Your orders arrive, and you thank the waiter and split apart your chopsticks. “He wants to hear my ideas for the campus festival.”

“I feel like he relies on you a lot,” she says. “Maybe he wants you to be the next Shutter Chair.” You don’t think she’s wrong. It’s evident to everyone that you’re working more than what your position entails. Sometimes, you feel like a second Vice along with Myungho. Not that you’re overly against it— in fact, being needed makes you feel a lot better.

“Does he want to pass his headache to me?” you laugh. “I’m not even sure if I still want to stay in Shutter next year. I want to focus on my acads.”

You notice that she’s been a little less bubbly since earlier. You sip on a little bit of ramen soup and watch Yura as she eats, a thought seeping in your mind and you settle your chopsticks for a moment. “I got ghosted last month.” She coughs on a noodle. “On the day of the exhibit opening.”

Once she recovers from the joke, a glass of water from you to help, she looks at you with wide eyes. “Hello?!”

“Try some karaage.”

You place a piece of the fried dish into her mouth. While she’s chewing and swallowing, you can see her processing your words better. “Who?”

“A guy from comp sci,” you say, picking on the boiled egg in your ramen bowl. “I don’t think you know him.”

Your confession simmers in the air for a moment as you two continue your meals in silence. That is until Yura puts down her bowl after finishing her food and tells you, “I got rejected.”

Cautiously, the words stumble on your tongue. “By...Choi Soobin?”

“How did you know?!”

“I sort of noticed you have a crush on him,” you sheepishly say. “I haven’t told anyone, don’t worry.”

The both of you share a moment of silence to mourn the death of your love lives. It’s almost funny how you and her have an accumulated zero when it comes to your luck with men. “You know what,” you start, ready to leave the restaurant. “We should focus on self love next semester. Fuck everyone else.”

“Yeah!” Yura follows after you, picking up her shopping bags from the floor. “Fuck everyone else!”

Another wave of silence overtakes you as you leave the restaurant, and once you’re back out in the main space of the mall, there’s a relapse.

“I miss him.”

“I miss him, too.”

This is gonna take a while.

Yura gives you a hug before you part ways in front of campus. Mingyu already texted that he’s in the clubroom with your coffee as hostage. The ice is already melted when you get there, and the both of you spend more time scrolling on your phones on the bed Myungho bought the other week because a few too many people have fallen asleep in the office. You’re supposed to be making initial plans for the September festival, but your feet are on Mingyu’s lap and he’s trying his best to fit on the mattress.

“Hey, set me up with one of your friends.” You kick your feet to pull up your body, sitting up straight and Mingyu looks at you like you’ve just assaulted him. “I saw your insta story yesterday. The guy in the bucket hat and glasses is cute.”

“He’s married to his lab reports and is in love with his cat. You’ll only get your heart broken,” he says, sending you a pointed look. “Don’t you have anyone you’re interested in from your major?”

You run the numbers in your head. There’s only a handful of people you find attractive from your major and most of them are your friends. Mingyu takes note of the unabashed disgust on your face.

“I’m guessing that’s a no. How about your anonymous confessor?”

Right. There’s that Shinbi guy from orientation. Whatever the confession said is already fuzzy to you, and no one’s even made a move since then so you didn’t dwell on it too much. Mingyu plops down the bed, looking up to you with his feet swinging behind him like a teenage girl. “Have they revealed themselves yet?”

“What? No. I think they’re over me,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s been months. It’s already expired. There’s no hope in that anymore.”

“Do you seriously have no idea who it is? Dude, I’ve been teasing you with him all this time!”

“Choi Soobin?” He gives you a look: Bingo. “What the hell makes you say it’s him? Did he tell you?”

“No.” You raise a fist. “But hear me out, okay? Wait—”

Very quickly, he scrambles off the bed and hauls in the whiteboard you have in the office. The wheels screech as he drags the giant board in front of the bed. The marker cap pulls out with a pop, and he writes CHOI SOOBIN on the white surface, all caps, and then SHINBI at the bottom.

“Look,” he taps the marker on the board. “All the letters in Shinbi can be found in his name.”

Your head tilts, observing the bullshit he’s written. He seems about right. “And?”

“That’s it,” he nods, looking proud. “What?”

You throw a pillow to his face.

“Hey, what if I’m right? What if it really is Soobin?” he pushes defensively, roughly erasing the blasphemic writings he made on the board. “How would you feel?”

It’s been months, and whoever Shinbi is, they’ve probably lost their feelings already so you see no point in dwelling on it. But if Mingyu’s speculations are correct, then that complicates things. You recall Jeonghan’s words from the other day, and the fact that Yura literally got rejected by him and she’s still far from over him. The very idea stresses you out.

“I don’t think it’s him.” You hope it’s not him. “But if it is, then he’s really doing a favor for my ego.”

Mingyu has already positioned the whiteboard back on the opposite side of the room. He’s back with a skeptical eyebrow raise. “I mean, if a good looking guy has a crush on you, won’t you feel like you’re the hottest person on earth?” Not taking things seriously fends away the stress.

“So, you’re just using him to feed your narcissism?!” he gasps. “Don’t do my son dirty like that!”

“Calm your giant tits, Gyu. It’s more likely to be Heeseung than Soobin.”

God, you don’t even want to begin thinking if it turns out to be him. Mingyu raises his arms protectively against his chest and you sigh. “Let’s shut up about this and plan for the festival.”

“Your boy thirsty ass is the one who brought this up in the first place.” You hit him with another pillow the moment he settles back on the bed. “Ow! This is why you don’t have a boyfriend. Your temper is shit.”

For the rest of the afternoon, all you two do is type down all the ideas that float in your head in a shared Google document until you realize that half of them aren’t feasible with your bare minimum budget, so the document gets cut in half until you settle with some basic shit— a photobooth and a table to sell some prints of your members’ works.

Before you conclude for the day, Mingyu mentions an upcoming university event sometime within the month. “We need two volunteers from Shutter to join the LDT. Seungcheol hyung said it’s required.” But you put it on the back burner for now. Mingyu gives you a ride home and you decide to schedule a meeting sometime in the middle of the month. For now, you have some classes to prepare for.

“Thanks, Chair. Drive safe.”

It’s great that things are starting to get busy again. That way, you can keep your mind occupied with the incoming season.

“Are you actually joining?”

It’s two weeks into the semester. Your friends are gathered under the orange leaves of burnt trees at the courtyard, spending your vacant period with laptops and other devices on the bench. “No one else volunteered,” you answer Taehyun’s question, mindlessly scrolling through a highlighted PDF document on your laptop. You have a recitation for South Korean Politics and Governance in an hour and a half. Might as well get some last minute reading while you can.

“We also have a presentation at the end of the month. I hope you don’t forget,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“I have our work schedule planned out. You know you have zero shit to worry about when you’re with me.”

“Why did Prof. Seo pair you two up? It’s not fair,” Jake whines, pushing away his iPad in order to melt into the stone table. “Donate some brains to the rest of us.”

You peer down at the back of his head. “Who are you working with again?”

“Him.”

He points a finger to the person on the table next to yours. Sunghoon is hogging Kazuha’s laptop, but he turns back when Jake’s words sink into him. “What are you insinuating, Shim Jaeyun?”

“At least you’re not working with our major’s resident deadweight,” Yunjin joins Jake with his table meltdown, to which the latter agrees and takes back his remark.

“I’ll help you whenever I can, Yunjin,” you pat her head, but Taehyun isn’t too impressed by your volunteerism.

“No, you aren’t,” he says. “You already have Shutter and the LDT on your plate. You should sleep when you can. Yunjin, I’ll help you. Let this dumbass rest.”

You shoot him a glare for calling you a dumbass and he simply ignores you and continues with his reading material, but you are a little touched. He isn’t wrong. You still have the university festival next month and before that there’s the LDT next week— or the Leadership Development Training your university council is organizing. Every student organization, college council, and publication are required to send two to three representatives. Myungho was the only one available from Shutter’s officers, so you felt compelled to throw yourself in the waters. Mingyu assured it’s just gonna be a one-day seminar with team games in the afternoon like last year, so you aren’t too worried about it.

But Taehyun is worried. Your 2am texts to the group chat about how fucking tired you are probably isn’t of help.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you announce, and Yunjin shoots up to follow you with Kazuha automatically joining the both of you as well. Your friends are a bunch of idiots so they tell you they’re going to talk shit behind your backs before you leave.

You and Kazuha wait outside the door for Kazuha. She’s dreading your KPG recitation because she fell asleep while studying last night (read: three in the morning). “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Prof. Kim isn’t as terrifying as Sir Jung. I almost passed out the other week because he kept using my answers against me.”

“Don’t remind me,” she shudders. “I wasn’t even called but I was terrified just watching you guys.”

From the corner of your eye you see someone familiar in the hallway. Yunjun’s voice slips in and out of your ears as you meet eyes with Yeonjun as he passes by. You feel a familiar burn welling up in your system. When Yunjin notices, you have to stop her from jumping the guy when he turns to go up the stairs. “Let me hit him. Just once, please—”

“Calm down,” you grab her shoulders. “The guy’s probably just here to pass a paper.”

“I’m sorry. If i didn’t tell you to go for it, this wouldn’t have happened.”

You give her a smile. “C’mon. It’s not your fault. Besides, I’m more or less over him already. Three weeks isn’t enough to ruin my life.” It’s not that you’re pinning the blame on Yeonjun, either. You understand him, in a way, because commitment isn’t easy with a lot of people. You also fell too quick, too hard, too easily. Maybe it’s thanks to that that you’re also able to move on pretty quickly. You only hope that this doesn’t affect his and Choi Soobin’s friendship.

Once Kazuha joins you, the three of you head to the classroom. Taehyun and the rest of the guys brought your things with them already.

The week goes by quickly, and before you know it, it’s already the day before the LDT and you’ve been assigned to a team. Seeing the list in your email, you notice that you know only one person from your team— Chaewon from last semester’s Ethics class. You receive a message from her just a few moments later filled with crying emojis, just as relieved as you to know someone. Not long after, you’re both added to a group chat, and you don’t send any messages except for an introduction because you don’t want to be team leader. Chaewon has the same strategy. Your team color is orange and you dig into your closet for thirty minutes to find an orange top.

The whole event isn’t something you’re exactly excited for. It’s something you just want to get over with. It’s Saturday tomorrow and you have a presentation with Taehyun on Monday. So when you arrive on campus at six in the morning to get to know your team, you’re holding back a yawn and trying your best to pay attention.

After Chaewon introduces herself to the orange circle, your turn comes up like a blur. You aren’t really looking at your team members that much— ironic because the afternoon is dedicated to team building activities. That is until the next person introduces himself, and you’re suddenly hit harder than the seeds falling from the trees.

“Hi, my name is Huening Kai. I’m a first year VetMed student.”

He’s cute, you think. It’s ass o’clock in the morning but he’s already smiling so brightly as if the obnoxious orange hoodie he’s wearing isn’t already catching everyone’s attention. You know you’re staring at him, but the rest of your team is too, especially when he’s expressing his determination to win the team building games later.

Throwing together a bunch on people who are at most acquaintances is simply going to be harrowing awkwardness unless there’s an evident extrovert, and you’re lucky enough to have that person in the form of Boo Seungkwan, a junior from broadcasting who is also (very obviously) your team leader. Just as Mingyu said, the entire morning program is a seminar about budgeting and how liquidation works in your university, but you’re barely paying attention— partially because your very cute teammate from earlier is sitting in front of you and the back of his head that keeps on bouncing around is distracting.

“Oh no, I missed the slide,” you hear Chaewon from beside you before she scoots closer to take a look at your notepad. “Did you catch what it said?”

“Huh?” You’ve only written notes up to the third slide. You’re not sure how far into the presentation you’re already at. “Sorry, I’m a little sleepy today.”

She promises to send you her notes once the event is over, and you mutter a thank you even though you can honestly care less. You’re only here because you’re required to and the only positive benefit you’ve received thus far is the eye candy sitting in front of you. He turns around to pass you the packed lunches they’re giving out. “Careful. It’s a little hot,” he says.

“Thanks.” You smile at him, and he returns the expression tenfold. You were dreading the team building activities in the afternoon but if this guy is cheering you on, you think you can run just about five laps in the field.

“Please gather at the front of the building by one-thirty! For the meantime, you may eat your lunch and change clothes since things are going to get physical. Thank you!”

After eating, you carry your bag to the restroom to change. Lucky enough, you managed to borrow a more comfortable orange shirt from Jake. You exit the bathroom looking like a deflated mandarin, and as you’re walking half-dead, you bump into a large, red mass in the hallway. When you look up, you instantly brighten. God, it feels great to see someone you’re actually close with.

“Choi Soobin!” you exclaim. “You’re here! Why didn’t you tell me you’re also joining?”

He only replied with a sheepish laugh and you can’t help but feel disappointed that he didn’t tell you. Your teams are sitting far apart from each other (odd choice from the organizers because the two colors literally sit next to each other in the rainbow), so you’ve never seen him the whole morning.

“I already volunteered under my major so I couldn’t do the same for Shutter,” he explains. You purse your lips, not even making an attempt to hide your disappointment. Maybe he’s trying to make some distance since you’re friends with Yura and he doesn’t want you to get caught in between, but you’re not having any of that. His friend ghosted you and you’re still on good terms with him. You won’t let him take a step back when you’re already this close.

“Choi Soobin,” you say again sternly this time, and he jumps. At first, you started calling each other with your full government names as a joke, but your tongue has grown familiar with it. He’s looking a little nervous from your tone. You can’t help but break into a grin. “I owe you dinner. Take note of that.”

“For what?” he asks.

“For trying to warn me about Yeonjun. If you hadn’t told me anything that night, I might still be crying about him today. But thanks to you, I was able to prepare myself a little better,” you tell him. “Anyway, red looks good on you. Good luck to you and your team, but mine’s still winning.”

You let him off with a light punch to his arm and skip back inside in a better mood than earlier this morning. Soobin stops you before you’re too far away, calling out your full name in the hallway that you turn around embarrassed, ready to scold him because there are still other people around besides the both of you.

But you don’t scold him. He gives you a smile that makes his eyes disappear. “Good luck. Don’t get hurt,” he says, and you can hear the noise from somewhere inside your system threatening to build up again.

“You too.”

At first, you weren’t planning on pouring all your effort into the games. But then you remember that you don’t like losing, and Huening looks extra pocketable when he’s bouncing around after your team finishes a station.

It’s amazing race. Your team has to accomplish all five stations in record time to earn points. You’re at the third station, blindfolded in the field with the rest of your teammates shouting directions at you. You think your back is going to break after limbo-ing too hard to evade the apparent obstacle hanging right above the end line.

“Finish!”

No, you can’t see. But you can definitely hear the victorious shouts around you and feel the bodies hurling themselves at you. The blindfold slips down amidst the chaos, and you’re met with a sight that rivals the sun, painted in bright orange and flakes of gold. It hits you that Huening is beaming because of you. It hits you a second time that he’s jumping on and off the ground while shaking you by the shoulders in a fit of excitement. You struggle to keep balance, struggling harder to keep smiling because oh no— here we go again.

“Next station, guys! Let’s go!”

He shakes off the gold confetti from the last station and runs along with your group. You have to make a conscious effort to sprint because your legs are jelly from your most recent realization, so you’re the last one to arrive at the fourth station by the water fountain. You hoped that getting splashed in the face will bring you back to your senses, but Huening looks like he’s filming a youth drama in the water like that.

The last station ends in a blur, and before you know it you’re back on the field for the last game. “This game is called Caterpillar. Team leaders, please come to the table here at the MC’s station and get your handkerchiefs.”

It’s a simple enough game. All of you have to fall in line and hold onto the person in front of you like your lives depended on it. The member at the very front of the line, or the head, can snatch the handkerchiefs from other teams. The handkerchiefs must be tucked behind the last member, or the tail. Seungkwan already volunteered to be the head, but your team is still trying to decide who your tail should be. “They have to be agile and good at evading,” he says. “Anyone up for it?”

You have no intentions of volunteering, but Huening does it for you. You nearly choke when you hear him mention your name. “You did great during the blindfolded obstacle course,” he says. Chaewon vigorously nods in agreement.

“We can win this.”

“Are you sure?” you stammer, a little surprised. “If we lose, don’t blame me.” Seungkwan seems to have faith in you as well and you’re in mild panic. But once you’ve tucked in the orange handkerchief in your shorts, your competitiveness gets the best of you. Five more minutes before the death match starts. You’re behind the rest of your team and doing some stretches.

“Don’t overdo it!” You pause mid-stretch when Huening passes by with a pat on your shoulder. “Fighting!” Oh, you’re so winning this.

All ten teams are scattered on the field like a lopsided rainbow. It’s oddly tense. Your eyes land on the team clad in red right in front of yours, and you find Soobin at the head of their line. He looks nervous and it makes you laugh a little. He probably couldn’t say no to them and landed himself there.

“Lose your handkerchief— you’re out. Get separated— you’re out. Doesn’t matter if you fall or trip as long as you’re all intact.”

Oh shit, it’s starting. You position yourself firmly behind Chaewon, arms wrapped around her waist and you decide to clutch on her shirt for extra measure.

“Last team standing gets the most points. Three, two, one— go!”

It gets messy right off the bat and you already hear one of the teams getting eliminated. You’re panting, trying your best to evade the colors trying to fucking snatch the orange little tail; you have tucked in behind you. The interim scores were announced earlier and your group of tangerines were in the top three. No wonder everyone else is out to get you.

“Green, out!”

They fell over while trying to chase you and broke apart. Serves them right.

“White, out!”

Two more teams follow them after and everyone slows down for a moment. Your team is in a spiral defensive position with you at the center as everyone tries to catch their breaths. “Are you good?” Seungkwan asks. You feel like passing out but give him a thumbs up. There are only five teams left on the field. “Let’s go!” And just like that, you’re running again.

“Purple, out! Blue, out!”

Seungkwan manages to snatch another team’s handkerchief. It becomes a lot more tense with only three colors left on the field— red, orange, and yellow. You’re out of breath, panting at the tail end of your line as the three teams take another moment to rest. How many minutes has it been? With the burn your lungs are feeling, it feels like it’s been hours.

“Shit, shit, they’re making a move! Run!”

You almost trip over the ground, legs flailing under you as the team in yellow suddenly decides to chase you. “Don’t let go!” someone screams. You’re sure Chaewon’s shirt has been stretched out beyond use. When it feels like you’ve managed to put some distance between you and the yellows, your team slows down a bit. “Hang in there,” you hear Chaewon from in front of you. “Holy shit, I think I’m going to die.”

“I’ve never run this much my entire— huh?”

It takes a moment to hit you. At first, you thought your legs had simply melted away because you suddenly can’t feel the grassy ground you’ve been relentlessly racing on. But your legs are still there, hanging mid-air. You look down to see a pair of red sleeves wrapped around your waist. Someone just snatched you from your team. Choi-fucking-Soobin.

“Put me down!” You try to squirm out of his grasp, but this guy is stronger than he looks. Your heart is racing faster than when you were running. It’s short circuiting your brain.

“I will! Stop thrashing, I might drop—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because someone smashes into the both of you, hurling your bodies into the ground. “Orange, red, out!” you hear amidst the yelling and pacing of hurried feet, while you’re still on the ground, barely catching your breath on top of Choi Soobin.

“You could’ve gone after the other team,” you say in between labored breaths. His arms are still firmly locked around your waist. You can feel his chest rising and falling from underneath you. You don’t have the strength to get up yet.

“I was,” he justifies, also breathless. “I’m not sure what happened either. Before I knew it I was running after you.”

Oh no. This isn’t good. With a grunt, you roll yourself off of him and fall into the patch of grass next to him. “Chaewon, help me up,” you stretch your arms out, and the girl comes running to save you.

“Good job. We still got some points for being in the last three.” Chaewon pulls you up and you barely have any strength in your legs anymore. Soobin is also skewed away by his teammates, celebrating their second place victory behind the yellow team.

Somehow, your team managed to land second overall, and you’re standing next to Huening for the photo opportunity after the organizing committee hands you your certificates.

Earlier, this morning, you expected the day to go by uneventfully, itching to go home upon entering the venue with no significant gains on your end, only losses. Instead, you leave campus with a giddy smile on your face as your group parts ways with a certain orange clad teammate telling you to get home safe. It’s unlikely that any of you will be thrown together again, coming from different majors and departments and all, so you settle with keeping it as a fleeting late August memory as autumn crawls in.

“I have a new crush.”

Taehyun and Jay don’t look very impressed nor surprised by your revelation. Maybe spilling the beans while you’re waiting for Prof Seo at the faculty office for a paper consultation isn’t the best idea, but you couldn’t help it anymore. No, you and Huening haven’t talked since the event, but he did follow you on Instagram the evening of and everytime you see his stories, you go a little insane.

Before entering the office, you saw his story from last night. He had a puppy with him. They looked identical, especially with his hair all fluffy. How can you not crush on him?

“Who’s it this time?” Jay asks, feigning interest.

“I met him at the LDT. He’s— oh, fuck. That’s him.”

Cue Huening entering the office with two other people. You don’t know why he’s in your department when he’s a med student, but it’s none of your concern because the world managed to give you a one in a million opportunity to look at him. He’s talking to Professor Ahn, and you notice that there are a few other students in the office mirroring your expression. Maybe you’re just fated to fall for unattainable men— at least this time, you’re sure your infatuation won’t last long.

“No way,” Taehyun breathes out from beside you. “Huening Kai? I know him. We were classmates in highschool.”

That...isn’t something you expected. The smile on your face twitches. Jay voices out the question you want to ask. “Do you still keep in touch?”

“Sometimes,” he replies. “Our moms are friends.”

“Oh boy.” Jay lets out a laugh, aggressively nudging your arm. “How are you planning on getting your heart broken this time?”

“Shut up, hater,” you shake him off. “I don’t plan on acting on my feelings this time, so you don’t have to worry about me getting wasted at your condo and sobbing my throat out again.”

Huening is just a happy crush. A very happy crush and you know for a fact that it won’t go beyond that. You’ll cherish the butterflies he gives whenever he posts something new on social media or if you happen to stumble upon him on campus, up until you don’t see him for a week straight then you’ll most likely forget about him, just like how he’s forgotten about you already.

“You seem very happy today.”

After your consultation, you head straight to the Shutter office for a meeting. Mingyu has his arms crossed while peering down at you with a grin. “Want me to ruin that?”

Your Chairperson is a pain in the ass but he’s still your Chair, so you can’t sock him in the face with all the rest of your officers watching. After the LDT, you’re given another problem in the form of the upcoming university festival. Mingyu is presenting the ideas you came up with earlier in the month after polishing it with Myungho. The plan is still the same— photobooth and selling some prints, with the addition of a face painting corner as suggested by your Vice Chairperson. It doesn’t align with your org’s specialty, but you’re sure it’s gonna get a lot of people falling in line, especially when Beomgyu will be one of the people painting.

“We’ll also be needing a tarp for the photobooth background. Oh and a pubmat announcing that Shutter will have a booth.” Mingyu’s eyes fall on you and Soobin, who just happen to be sitting next to each other on the floor next to the bed. “I’ll leave it to you two.”

As if you have a choice. You and Soobin share a look. His mouth twitches into a half smile, almost a sneer, and he shakes his head like the overworked puppy he is. The meeting wraps up and you pry yourself off the floor with a groan before Yura calls your name. “Let’s go have dinner!”

“Oh, I’m staying here for a little longer,” you inform her. “I need to plan some designs with Choi Soobin.”

It’s awkward. Understandably so. You’re standing in between them as Yura tries to control her expression, and you start to feel bad. Soobin decides to look away, which is a great choice for him. “Al— alright, tell me if you need—”

“I’ll bring you two some takeout,” Mingyu whisks her away as he passes by. Most of the officers have already left the room, only a handful remaining, including Chan, who suddenly shoots in.

“I can stay behind if you two need more hel—”

“No! These two can handle it.”

Mingyu is already pushing them out the door. He shoots you a suggestive eyebrow wiggle when half of his body is already out the room. You want to slam the door in his face.

“Call us if there’s an emergency. Bye!”

With the creak of the door, you and Soobin are left in the office. Unlike the last time the both of you were left alone here, it’s bright. All the lights are on, their fluorescence illuminating all corners of the room, fending away the night that’s leaking into the sole glass window high up the wall behind you. Soobin calls out your name in full, like he always does. “Should we pick a palette first?” he asks, already tinkering with Photoshop on the computer.

You hum in reply, taking the spot next to him. It’s quiet while you’re working, save for the occasional questions and answers, “does this look better or this?” or if you should add more or less.  Soobin is working on the pubmat while you’re brainstorming some options for the tarp. The festival is in the third week of September— autumn in full swing, so you settled for some warm tones of oranges, reds, and browns.

“Break time, please,” you groan, already feeling the strain on your back after hunching in front of the computer for thirty minutes. Soobin gets up and crouches in front of the bed, pulling out a basket where you store your shared snacks.

“How are you?” he asks out of nowhere, throwing you a bag of pretzels.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” you laugh, accepting his offer. Soobin sits back down next to you, his chair swinging left and right.

“Mingyu hying isn’t the only one that noticed that you’ve been in a better mood,” he says. “I’m glad you seem to be over Yeonjun hyung now.”

“You know, you always seem to be involved in my failed romantic ventures somehow.” Soobin is taken aback at your accusation, an unsure laugh escaping his throat. He doesn’t deny it because it’s true— he’s friends with both Beomgyu and Yeonjun. You won’t be surprised if he turns out to be friends with Huening Kai as well. “I have a new crush now, so you don’t have to worry.”

In all fairness, you don’t need to tell him that. But you did anyway. If there is a chance that Choi Soobin was really the one who confessed to you months ago, if Yoon Jeonghan wasn’t just messing you and he does, in fact, have a crush on you, then it’s better to nip the bud early. Things are going to get complicated, especially since Yura still likes him based on what happened earlier. You’re just saving yourselves the headache.

“Should I tell you?”

You can’t dissect his expression. He doesn’t look affected, nor does he look pleased— like he’s practiced it before. “It’s best if you don’t,” Soobin says. “Like you said, it’s like I’m always involved somehow. What if I’ve been the one jinxing you all this time?”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you frown. “It just so happened that they aren’t the ones for me.”

He only laughs, leaning further back into the chair which causes it to swivel more. “Do you think it’s gonna work out this time?

You snort. “No. He’s also out of my reach. And we’ve met like once and he doesn’t even remember me.”

Soobin lets your words simmer in the air for a while. Unlike earlier, there’s a weight in his eyes, staring right into yours. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that,” he starts. “You’re pretty, smart, hardworking, and responsible. I think anyone would fall for you once they get to know you.”

The air shifts. You hear the deep, rhythmic thumping in your eardrums again, like your body is sending you a message— to run away? To hide someplace where he can’t hear the violent drumming of your ribcage? It’s not like you’re stupid and don’t know what this means, but it’s a lot less complicated and dangerous if you choose ignorance over acknowledgement. A knock on the door saves you. You can breathe again when you see Myungho peering in.

“Takeout delivery,” he blandly announces his arrival. He has two plastic bags in his hand, waiting for the both of you to take the weight off him. “The guards are starting to lock the rooms. You two should hurry and finish up. I’ll drive you guys home. You can eat in the car, if you want.”

It’s like a new life gets breathed into you when you stumble over your feet and quickly grab your food from Myungho with a squeaky thank you. You’re even more thankful when you get dropped off first, unable to swallow any of the food your orgmates bought for you in the suffocating atmosphere inside the car. “Thanks. Drive safe,” you say before slamming the door shut and running into your apartment building.

You’re not stupid. You’re making the smarter choice, you repeat to yourself as you climb up the stairs to your unit. Everything will fade in a few month’s time. You just need to endure it.

“I was about to cry from exhaustion but when I heard Huening’s voice, I felt like I could live again.”

Taehyun’s eyes are nothing but judgemental. “Does he even remember you?” he hits a sore spot. You tell him to shut the fuck up.

It’s the day of the festival. The university ground’s are littered with crisp auburn rain from the trees lining the courtyard, warm lights hanging from the lamp posts in between the pop-up booths from different organizations and clubs. Evening is crawling in, but for now the sky is a pretty shade of orange. You’ve been working since it was blue, setting up your booth situated near the stage of the venue. You’re thanking whoever assigned Shutter to this spot— you can see Huening onstage clearly from where you are standing. He’s one of the emcees for the event and is currently introducing your uni’s president for his opening remarks.

“Your boss is calling you,” Taehyun brings you back to earth, pointing a thumb at Mingyu, who’s setting up the camera for the photobooth.

You suck in a deep breath, ready for some more work. “What is it this time?” you ask. Mingyu spins around to face you. His face is smiling too much for your comfort.

“I’m releasing you from your duties,” he says, proud. “Enjoy the festival. I already asked someone else to cover the cash register.”

Your eyes widen. He laughs and tells you he’s not lying, pushing you into the crowd. Wow. So he can actually be considerate sometimes. “Come back before the event ends, though. We all need a picture together!”

Thanks to your Chair’s blessing, you can actually spend some time with your friends today. You hear Huening introduce the hired band through the speakers and music erupts as you rejoin Taehyun with the good news. “The others are hogging the food at the business department’s booths,” he tells you. “I’m not really that hungry. Wanna play some games?”

So, you do. The next hour is spent with fortune telling and archery challenges, ball throwing and jewelry making. Jake picks you up at some point to jam in the middle of the crowd, jumping around with the makeshift rave party the band is providing. You notice a lot of your peers have drawings on their faces— hearts and sunflowers, waves and pumpkins, patterns in different colors, and you remember your org’s booth.

“Hey!” you call out to Jake. “We should get our faces painted!”

He nods vigorously, and you drag him over to your booth which has accumulated a rather large crowd around it. You poke your head through the rest of the people, trying to see if you can wiggle your friend and yourself in. It’s busy. Like really busy. There are like three different lines mixing and matching together with Beomgyu, Myungho, and Riki bending their backs to paint some flowers or whatever on the people sitting in front of them. You sort of feel guilty that Mingyu gave you free time.

Beomgyu catches your face in the crowd after he finishes a customer, and he greets you with a curious smile. “Face paint?” he asks. You nod, and he pats on the now empty chair in front of him.

“You go first, dummy.” You push Jake down the seat.

“Why am I suddenly nervous?”

You roll your eyes at him with a laugh, but Beomgyu doesn’t start vandalizing your friend’s face yet. “Are you also lining up?” he asks again, and you nod. “Soobin hyung!”

You didn’t even know he was here until you look at the direction Beomgyu is yelling at— a few steps away from the rest of the booths, unlit by the warm candied lights. There, you see Soobin with Yura. The former has his back facing you, so you can only see Yura’s face, and your heart sinks a little. It doesn’t look like she’s at a festival. Her expression matches the dim surroundings they secluded themselves in.

Soobin turns around upon being called for the third time, managing a quick bow to Yura before running back to the booth.

“Sorry— what is it?”

“You have a customer.”

Soobin is a little caught off guard when he sees. You’re not sure how you should greet your friend that most likely rejected your other friend for the second time, so you settle with a smile and try your best not to make it obvious that it’s forced. “I didn’t know you could face paint.”

He looks guilty. “I don’t. They grabbed me at the last minute because we needed more people.”

“Oh no,” you breathe out. “What are you going to do with my face?”

Your eyes flicker to the back of the booth once more and Yura is already gone. God, you feel like shit, but asking for someone else to work on your face or suddenly backing out will put Soobin in an embarrassing situation as well. So you sit down, trying darndest to feign ignorance and act normal. “I’d ask you what design you want, but Myungho hyung only taught me one thing,” he says nervously, preparing the paint palette on one hand and a paintbrush on the other. “I’ll pay for you if it turns out bad.”

“Relax,” you tell him and yourself. “You can do whatever you want.”

It takes him a few tries before he actually gets near your face, and you can see how his knuckles are shaking a little when he lifts up the white-coated brush to your cheekbone, just underneath your left eye. He’s so close. He’s so close. The paint is cold when it hits your skin, like a melting snowflake, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Hold— hold still,” he tells you to stop moving, but you hold your breath instead when you hear him settle down the palette and use his other hand to turn your head a little, and you stop breathing altogether.

Shit. “I didn’t think it’d get this busy here.” It’s your pathetic attempt to distract yourself from the inferno erupting in your lungs. “You guys need help?”

“No, it’s fine.” Shit, you can feel his breath hit your cheeks, warm amidst the cool weather. “You’ve been working since earlier.”

He pulls back, nervousness gone and a more focused expression coating his face as he examines his work. Under his stare, you feel self conscious, and the heat swirling in your ribcage crawls its way to your neck like an invisible scarf, and your throat dries up. “Hmm, what color do you want?” he asks, pursing his lips at the limited palette.

“You— you can pick.” Your knuckles squeeze at your voice crack. God, this is actually too much.

“Okay,” he says. “Can you tilt your head a little?”

Soobin inches closer again. It’s hard not to look at him when he’s this close. He’s making it hard not to. You flinch when the cold brush kisses your cheekbones, sharply inhale when his warm fingers graze your jaw, until he retracts all the cold and warmth again for an interim check of whatever he’s painting on your skin.

“Oh? Oh, what’s this? Mingyu, your kids are flirting in public, I don’t think they should be allowed to do this.”

Jeonghan’s voice is like a sudden splash of hot water. “Seonbae, if Choi Soobin ends up painting a turd on my face because you’re being annoying, I’m going to bury you.”

Your senior only laughs at your misery, and you don’t think you can handle another second of this activity. “Is it done?” you ask Soobin, ready to bolt out of your chair.

“I—I think so.” He hands you a mirror. “Please go easy on your evaluation.”

His dumb comment makes you feel a little more at ease, laughing a little when you bring the mirror to your face. You were honestly expecting chicken scratch— a splotchy mess on your face of what he intended it to be— but you’re surprised and impressed to see a monarch butterfly making a home underneath your eye, dots of orange littered around it.

“Wow. It’s pretty. Myungho taught you well.” You pull down the mirror and look up at him, satisfied. “Thanks. Where do I pay?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Are you sabotaging our business?” you eye him. His smile is guilty, but you’re smiling at him too. “I’ll go throw money at Mingyu. You still have more customers, Choi Soobin. Your butterflies must be in demand!”

You make an escape rather than a farewell, fishing Jake along after you throw an unsure amount of money on the counter Mingyu is watching. You know your friend has something to say. He looks at you with suspicious eyes and an insinuating grin once you’ve gotten far enough from the Shutter booth. “You look like you’re getting weird ideas,” you get ahead before he can say anything. “Whatever it is, don’t say it. I want to enjoy the festival, thank you very much.”

“It looked like you were enjoying, though,” he swings an arm around your shoulder, hauling you over to the first stall that catches your attention. “Like you were enjoying it a lot.”

You trust Jake not to run his mouth to the rest of your friends, but you bribe him with chicken skewers just to be safe. When you two rejoin your group, the festival is already coming to a close. You were hoping to find Yura, but she hasn’t replied to any of her messages.

Things are already complicated as is. You don’t want to complicate things further.

“What should we do when exams are over?”

It’s midterms week— the third week of October. You raise your arms in the air, locking your fingers together for a quick stretch as you walk with your friends from the Social Science building, fallen leaves crunching under your feet. You’ve just finished an exam for a major course, leaving you with a few minor and elective exams.

“Jay, it’s literally Tuesday,” says Yunjin. “It’s not even the middle of the week.”

“What about for winter break?” Sunghoon thinks out loud. “Is the Christmas party still happening?”

“We’ll talk with the rest of our batchmates after midterms,” Taehyun answers while flipping through his notebook. It’s a wonder to you how he hasn’t tripped yet. “Can’t you two focus on your exams first?”

You’re in front of the College of Medicine’s building. Jake says he needs to pick something up from his friend. “Wait for me! I’ll be quick. If you guys eat lunch with me I’ll throw a fit, seriously,” he warns. You shoo him away and your group loiters in front of the building.

It’s a little cold. You cross your arms together and ask Sunghoon if you can borrow his scarf. He sticks his tongue out, wrapping the fabric tighter around him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“Hey, I’m cold too.”

Then you feel a thick jacket hit the side of your face then fall to your shoulder. You look at Taehyun, jacketless now. “Are you making a move on me?” you narrow your eyes at him, eliciting a gasp from Kazuha.

“Holy shit.”

“Are you stupid?” he flicks your forehead. “If you get sick, you can’t study. If you can’t study, you’ll fail your exams. If you fail, you’ll repeat a year. Want us to graduate before you?”

“He’s allergic to saying nice things,” Jay shrugs. “By the way, you look a lot less like shit lately. Did your org stop overworking you?”

You decide to ignore his insult. “We’re taking a quick break from events. All we have going on at the moment is in IGP to fund our year-end party and Sensitivity Training. Mingyu is also planning on holding some workshops by next year.” He also wants to make a short film, but Shutter is broke. You guys accumulated some money last festival, but it’s not enough to finance all the things he has planned.

At first, you didn’t think Mingyu took Shutter seriously since the past months, all you’ve been doing was partying, hanging out, drinking, and whatever. You’ve come to realize that that wasn’t the case. “We should all get to know each other before working on something bigger, you know?” he said, one time while you were sorting files in the club office. It’s only Shutter’s first year and he wanted to focus on developing a connection among the members first. You saw his plans for next year while you were organizing the files— he’s got everything down pat. You weren’t sure before if you still wanted to stay in Shutter in your sophomore year, but seeing your Chairperson’s passion cemented your decision to stay. Though you joined because of Beomgyu at first, it’s different now. You’d like to help Mingyu as much as you can before he graduates.

Jake is taking way too long, so Yunjin and Kazuha went off to buy some drinks for you guys. Your legs are getting tired, so you squat down with a groan. “You guys should join Shutter next year,” you tell them, looking up.

It becomes a topic of conversation. Jay and Sunghoon are considering it, but Taehyun is adamant on not joining, causing you to egg him on. While you’re doing your best to sales talk him into joining your org, you get distracted by a cat joining in your little group. “Hello!” you greet the orange tabby, and Sunghoon joins you on the floor. There are a lot of cats that roam around your campus. This guy usually wanders around with a friend.

“Oh no, what’s wrong?”

Your ears perk up. The voice doesn’t belong to any of your friends, and it’s followed by a meow that’s not from the orange cat Sunghoon is petting. You stand upright and spot Huening sitting on the staircase in front of the Medicine building, holding up a gray cat like a baby. “Are you hungry?” The cat meows in his face. “Your tummy tells me you’ve just had a nice meal, though.”

The cat jumps out of his grasp and struts over to your group. “Oh no. He’s too cute,” you grumble.

Taehyun eyes you. “Should I introduce you to him?”

“No!” you snap. “I already told you— this is just a happy crush. A happy crush. Nothing more. I just want to admire him from afar.”

“Like a stalker,” Jay butts in. You kick his shin.

“Suit yourself,” Taehyung shrugs. “Hey, Huening!”

Your eyes fly open, wide in panic. What the fuck are you trying to do?! You furrow your brows at him. He doesn’t respond, instead waving at Huening who is happily hopping down the stairs and running up to you. Jay is enjoying your turmoil. Sunghoon looks up from his cats to snort your evident distress.

“Do you still have exams today?” Taehyun asks him.

Huening nods. “Yup. Organic chem. We already had so many lab projects this semester, but Dr. Jung still wants to give an exam.”

He gets introduced to Jay and Sunghoon, and when your turn comes along, your two friends look extra punchable. “And I think you two have already met,” Taehyun says. Your eyes are telling him that he’s going to get a beating later. His face replies with ‘good luck with that.

“Oh!” Huening exclaims after a moment of thinking. He beams at you, dropping a fist on his open palm. “Team orange!”

You’d be lying if that didn’t make your heart skip a beat a little. If he didn’t remember, you might’ve actually cried from embarrassment. You see Jay and Sunghoon from the corner of your eye trying to suppress their giggles, but their unabashed eyebrow raises and whispers are enough to piss you off. Lucky for you, Huening needs to run back inside the building for his chem exam, so you’re spared from any awkward small talk and the scrutinizing stares of your friends. Huening leaves with an apology, and Jake finally returns, asking what happened and why are you on the ground with your hands buried in your face.

Midterms finish quickly— the easiest set of tests you’ve had so far which makes you a little scared for finals. The post-midterms celebration Jay was looking forward to ended up being nothing more than a meal at his place, no alcohol involved, because his parents came to visit.

You met up with Yura on campus when your schedules matched, and she told you that she did get rejected for a second time during the festival. Your conversation got cut short when Mingyu spots the both of you and invites you to a night out this weekend with some Shutter members. You’ll see if you can go, you tell him. It’s probably best if you avoid Soobin for now until Yura starts feeling better.

“We’ve booked two cottages already, but we couldn’t get an overnight room. If I knew the resort was this popular, I would’ve contacted them weeks earlier.”

Yunjin is in charge of the venue for your batch’s Christmas party— which is just an excuse to swim and go drinking in broad daylight, honestly. It’s a well deserved celebration after surviving a year of readings, essays, and depression-inducing recitations, so most of the people in your year are going. Your department doesn’t exactly prioritize camaraderie, so you freshmen had to organize your own get together since your seniors have basically left you to fend for yourselves.

“Good job,” you squick your cheek against Yunjin’s shoulder, peeking at her laptop to see the venue. It’s two months away, but you’re already excited. Shutter is planning something for the end of the year, too. You hope your liver can handle all of these upcoming parties.

“Twelve-twenty-seven. Life check.”

“Alive,” Yunjin groans. You can hear her back bones pop when she stretches over the couch.

“Zuha?” you ask, looking up from your laptop. You see her face planted on the coffee table across from you. “Kazuha.” She springs up, a sticky note sticking on her cheek.

“I’m awake.”

“Good morning,” you laugh. “Let’s clock out at one. Sunghoon says he’ll be here in the morning.”

“Tell him to bring breakfast,” Yunjin says. You’ve been at their place since after lunch, working on a paper for your theory class. Your professor thinks the weekend is enough to write thirty pages of research and prepare a presentation, so you decided to spend the weekend at your girlfriends' place so you don’t get distracted.

The night out with Shutter is also today— or, yesterday since it’s already thirty minutes past twelve. Mingyu has been sending photos to the group chat to make you feel jealous. Too bad you’re not here, says his last message with a sad face, but they’re all looking extremely happy and off their senses in the photo. Mingyu’s face is closest to the screen, Yura is there, barely awake on Myungho’s shoulder, and at the edge of the photo you can see Soobin, Beomgyu, and Heeseung.

You place your phone face down on the table and return to furiously typing on your keyboard. They’re having fun. Good for them, good for them, good for them. You’re also having fun. Writing a paper is fun. Very fun indeed.

A little while goes by, and the clock strikes one. You’re about to pass out on the spot until your phone vibrates again, expecting another message from Mingyu to fuel your envy even further, but instead of a photo, you receive a text. A text from Choi Soobin. You’re staring at your phone screen, frozen after reading the bubble on your lockscreen.

“Why do you look so flustered? What happened?”

I have a crush on you, it says— without explanation, without context. You’re still blinking at the one-line sentence, as if staring at it long enough will make the letters make sense in a way that you can wrap your head around them, but then another bubble replaces it.

Sorry, Heeseung took my phone. Followed by, Good luck on your paper! and your thoughts spiral further.

This is bad. This is really, really, really bad. How do you even reply to this? What were they doing that Choi Soobin’s phone managed to fall in Heeseung’s hands and why would he think of sending you that god damned message? Were they talking about you? When Yura’s literally right there with them?

You’re going to go insane. Your body’s reaction isn’t making it any better. It’s one in the morning and you’re supposed to be fatigued and tired but your face is burning and your heart is racing and your phone is slipping from the sweat on your hands. “Are you okay?” asks Kazuha. You quickly settle your phone back onto the table.

“I’m fine,” you say. “I’m tired. Wake me up at three.”

But three o’clock comes, and you’re still lying awake on your friend’s living room floor, staring at their ceiling with Soobin’s message still unreplied. When the sun rises, and you’ve finally had some time to think, you click on your conversation with him and send— haha, alright, and you immediately get back to work.

The thing is, you aren’t opposed to the possibility of Soobin actually having feelings for you. But your friend still likes him, and you’re all working in the same organization. You don’t want things to get weird, especially when Shutter actually matters to you.

So in the weeks leading up to your finals, you’re thankful to have enough academic burdens on your plate to decline every single hangout, night out, or coffee run from Mingyu so that whatever hinted emotions your co-director is harboring for might be diminished, even if it’s just a little.

But of course, you can’t avoid him completely. You only message him for work, pubmats, layouts, editing, and all, but sometimes, the conversation wanders— have you eaten’s, good luck’s, and full names exchanged in between font choices and composition decisions. It’s easier said than done to shut Choi Soobin out of your life. He’s made himself part of your weekly routine without realizing it, even if it’s just text messages and clubroom meetings.

Your last semester of your freshman year ends when you walk out of your last final, and the bite of December finally sinks into your skin in icy breaths. It’s the coldest it’s been the whole month, and you’re sure it’s only going to get colder from now.

YOUR CHRISTMAS PARTY STARTS IN SHAMBLES. First of all, your period arrived in the morning, so swimming is out of the question unless you want to recreate a Jaws movie in Samcheok. Second, it takes three hours to arrive at Daryeong Beach resort, so instead of having an early brunch at the venue, it was already past lunch when everyone arrived. Third, you feel like shit. Everyone else is either eating, drinking, or swimming despite the cold weather, but you’re wrapped in a towel in the corner of your cottage because your uterus is throwing a fit and it makes you want to die.

“Are you okay?” you look up from your pathetic position to see Jay, damp from the sea. “Yikes. I’m taking that as a no.” You haven’t said anything. He just looked at your face and left to get some barbecue.

“Babe, you should still eat,” you hear Yunjin say. She has a paper plate in her hands and a paper cup in the other.

“I’m fine. I’m not that hungry yet,” you tell her. “I’ll grab a bite later. Go have fun with the rest of the guys.”

Though it’s the beginning of winter, the cold hasn’t settled. Only a light chill in the air indicates the season’s coming, and the white sand scaling the seashore substitutes the first snowfall. Now that you’re free from any academic troubles, there’s more room in your headscape for thinking— which isn’t always a good thing. Your eyes scan the scenery, the beach within your vision filled by the students from your major. Some are with you under the cottage, some are on the sand, some in the water. What better way to keep your mind off someone than by thinking about other people?

Your major has always been male dominated which almost makes you nauseous. You first set sight on the four men playing beach volleyball— Jiseok, Jooyeon, Seungmin, and Hyeongjun. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to them except when you were paired with Seungmin for a presentation.

Next, you glance under the coconut tree nearest to your cottage. A few girls are gathered, then you realize you’ve never really interacted with anyone outside of your circle and your friends from Shutter. Maybe if you hadn’t kept your world so narrow, then maybe you’d be able to meet someone to distract you.

This is hopeless. You give up with a low groan, thinking that maybe eating could take your mind off of things. You’re about to stand up, but are preemptively sat back down with someone’s appearance.

Taehyun is in front of you, half-leaning down and half-about to jerk back up when your foreheads nearly collide.

“Oh.”

You’ve known from the first day of classes that Taehyun is pretty, but you’ve never gotten the chance to look at him up close— this close. Why would you? You two are friends. That’s a stupid enough thought to bring you back to your senses, a squeak escaping your throat and you draw back. “Sorry,” he says. “Mind lifting your arm for a sec?”

“S—sure,” you sputter, scooting away to give him space. Taehyun pulls out his back from the pile and draws out a towel which he lazily rubs on his hair. He must’ve been in the water— that much is obvious with how his clothes are sticking to his skin and how he’s trying his best to dry his hair without spritzing any water on you.

“You don’t look too good,” he frowns. “Have you eaten yet?”

Oh god. “No, but I’m about to.”

“Stay there.” He lets the towel drape over his shoulders and heads over to the table. Taehyun half-fills the paper plate with the food you like before settling it on the surface to crack open the cooler. “Coke or Sprite?” he asks

You remember the time when Mingyu asked if there was anyone from your major that you could be interested in. You also remember the look of disgust you gave him upon considering your friends. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so appalled. Maybe you should’ve been a little bit more open to the idea— then maybe it wouldn’t be biting you in the ass at this very moment.

“Sprite,” you reply.

“Alright.”

Taehyun has always been caring. His mouth might tell otherwise, but his actions towards you and your friends have always been consistent. So when he returns in front of you with a plate of the food you’d usually eat, making a conscious decision to not put too much because he knows you’re not feeling well, your sensibilities shouldn’t falter. It really shouldn’t, but you find yourself swaying. Oh no.

You hear the click of his tongue. You haven’t taken the plate from him, so he’s set it back on the table and is now looking at you with his arms crossed, head tilted. “This won’t do,” he sighs. “We passed by a drug store earlier. What medicine do you take for your period cramps?”

Taehyun is already putting on a jacket and you panic, jumping out of your seat. “No, it’s okay! I’ll eat! I can eat!”

“Are you sure?” He’s unconvinced. You take the plate from the table and sit down with a huff, grabbing one of the skewers while you look at him dead in the eye. “Fine. Tell me if it gets bad. I’ll be with Yunjin and the rest.”

Your friend that your other friend is still hung up on versus your friend that’s completely emotionally unavailable— which one would be less disastrous? Which one would hurt less? Both seem awfully catastrophic, but your heart is stupid and doesn’t listen to your head when it gives a warning to stop falling. Stop. That’s enough, yet you find yourself in the same situation over and over again like you’re addicted to nonreciprocity or something.

Maybe it’s just period hormones, you try and rationalize. You finish the meal, albeit with difficulty, and lug yourself to the beach. Your legs are folded up to your chest, cheek pressed on your knees, and you’re scribbling random shapes into the sand to track every passing thought you’re going back and forth with inside your head.

“You look pathetic.”

When you turn around and look up, you see Jake looming over you like a rain cloud. Your expression sours. He quickly retracts himself. “Wait, I’m not saying it in an insulting way, but in a descriptive way, you know?”

“Just shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He plops down beside you, probably out of pity because in his words— you look pathetic. You have no energy to argue, wanting to bury yourself underneath the sand you’re sitting on more than anything else, and you spare an envious glance at the beer can he has in hand. Jake notices. “No room for a drink?”

You shake your head. “Unfortunately, no. I think I’ll be leaving early today.”

“Oh, me too,” he says. “Can’t stay overnight since I have to babysit my nieces tomorrow morning. Sunghoon has been complaining about the weather too. You can just come with us.”

“Thanks. Seriously, I feel like dying,” you groan. “Ugh. I wanted to go swimming today, too.”

“Next time,” he gives you a smile and gets up. “I’m heading back. Just wanted to check on you.” He gives you a head pat before running back to the cottage, and you’re left alone once more. You’ve come to the realization that the temporary solution to your wavering feelings is talking to your friends (except Taehyun), so you suck up the occasional pain from your lower abdomen and approach the nearest person you can find, which is Yunjin, obliterating the karaoke machine your group rented.

You alternate between listening to them sing, screaming into the microphone, and wallowing in your own suffering until late afternoon when you resigned into your cottage corner once more, waiting for Jake or Sunghoon to show up so you can leave. You’re chatting with the Shutter group chat when Taehyun shows up in fresh clothes, hair damp, and asks you to scoot away a bit.

He’s already organizing his things. He arrived with Jake and Sunghoon earlier, so he’s probably leaving with them too.  “Leaving already?” you ask to confirm.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You’re not feeling well, so you should just come with me. You don’t know how to commute by yourself, anyway.”

You scoff at his remark, unable to refute. “I am. Hold on, let me find my stuff.”

The thought of sinking into your warm sheets with some hot chocolate manages to bring a little more color to your face as you rummage for your things. You tell Yunjin and Kazuha that you’re leaving ahead with the guys, and they stop their passionate karaoke-ing to send you off with a hug. “Take care. Text us when you guys get home.”

It’s a silent walk to the resort’s exit, and there’s still no sign of Jake who’s supposed to be driving you. “Where are the rest of the guys?” you ask him, entering the parking area outside the entrance.

“Hm?”

“Jake and Sunghoon,” you clarify hesitantly. Worry and nervousness starts to seep in. You’re starting to believe that you might have misunderstood something.

“I think they were kayaking when we left,” Taehyun replies. “Why?”

“I thought we were all leaving together?” you furrow your brows.

“No? I think they’ll leave after sundown.”

You screwed up big time. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, the situation slowly sinking in as you and Taehyun leave the resort’s premises and start walking down the side of the road to the bus stop. Oh no. You came here in Yunjin’s car and Taehyun doesn’t drive. That means you and Taehyun are going to be spending the three-hour commute back home together. Alone. Just when you started to suspect the traitorous feelings you have bubbling for your friend.

“Give me your bag. You look like you’d pass out any minute.”

You’re seriously so fucking screwed.

“Thanks.”

It’s okay, you tell yourself upon climbing up the bus, taking a seat near the back next to the window. Maybe it’s just a momentary weakness of your heart. Maybe it’s just a temporary vulnerability with all the things going on. Maybe you’ve just become pathetically desperate like Jake says (he did not). Taehyun leans over and you silently panic. He reaches over to the window next to you, flipping it open, then goes back to his seat like he didn’t just threaten to give you a cardiac arrest. “The air conditioning might make you nauseous,” he says. You’re nauseous enough as is.

The commute back home is quiet, but you aren’t able to rest easily throughout the whole three-hours due to your consciousness toward the friend sitting next to you. At least you managed to arrive back in Seoul in one piece.

It’s already dark out, street lights lit up in the city. Thinking that you can finally say goodbye to him, you tug your bag that’s firmly hung on his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“We take different buses from here,” you say. “Thanks for carrying my stuff.”

Your bus makes a halt in front of you, and Taehyun goes up first. Wait. Holy shit. “If anything happens to you, Yunjin will have my head,” he simply says. “C’mon.”

Maybe you just catch feelings too easily, you conclude. You hope you can get rid of them just as quickly as you caught them.

You spend the first week of winter break in bed, on the sofa, on any warm and comfortable surface available in your apartment. It’s both out of need and out of choice— need, because an entire year of being around people is enough to run someone dry, and choice, because there is a good number of people you’ve been wanting to avoid, now that you aren’t forced by proximity and circumstance to be around them.

The same routine is happening for the last Sunday of the year. You’re in bed as the afternoon sun provokes you to do otherwise, but you aren’t listening. Your blankets and pillows bury you in their warmth while you’re scrolling through your phone. Until Taehyun gives you a call, out of nowhere.

“Hello?” you answer after three rings.

“I’m having dinner with your crush later,” he says, not bothering to greet you. “Well. We’re eating with his family. I’ll send you the restaurant. Why don’t you stop by so you can see him for a bit.”

He’s a little too supportive of your tiny, expired crush on Huening. “I told you guys, I’m over him. I’m looking for another crush,” that isn’t the person you’re talking to right now. This whole situation would be funny if you aren’t part of it. Too bad you are, and it makes you want to stab yourself.

“But what if you fall for him again once you see him.”

What’s stupid is that you don’t think he’s wrong. You were hardwired with a heart that gets swayed way too quickly, flutters a little too effortlessly, and gets smashed into tiny bits and pieces a little too easily, but it’s not something that you can just stop. The past year is proof of that— a testament of its inevitability.

“Go away. I’m going to sleep,” you roll to your side with a groan, pulling up the covers over your head. “Enjoy your dinner. Please stop trying to set me up with your friend.”

You hoped your college romance would be a straight path from meeting someone, to falling in love, to being loved back. Not this messy labyrinth of dead ends, twisted intersections, and back to starts.

“Who’s calling this time?!” If it’s Taehyun again, you’re going to uncrush and unfriend him, you swear.

With a groan, you grab your phone from the bedside table once more, and you nearly drop your phone when you see the caller ID. You didn’t think you’d ever ask for this, but can’t all these pretty boys please leave you alone this time?

“Choi Soobin,” you huff into the microphone.“This better not be about work.”

You’re nervous. There’s that familiar staggering of your heart rate again. “I’m guessing you’re enjoying your vacation,” you hear him say with a laugh. Something about hearing his deep voice so close to your ear is driving you insane.

“I am,” you reply, falling back to bed. “You usually just text me. You’ve never called me before. This is suspicious.”

He hums. “I text you if it’s about work.”

“So...this isn’t about work?”

Soobin is quiet for a moment, and you can feel the silence embed itself into your skin. You feel a jolt when you hear his voice again. “Are you busy? I just remembered that you owe me dinner.”

Now, it’s you that grows quiet.

“Sorry. If you’re too busy, you don’t have to—”

“No, I’m free,” you quickly reply. “Let’s have dinner.”

This could be an opportunity. Maybe if you go out with Soobin today, you'll finally clear up how you actually feel— for whom you are actually feeling. There is a possibility that you’ll return home with a heart more confused than when you left, but your racing heart is already chasing you out of bed.

“Can we meet at COEX in an hour?”

“Sounds good. See you.”

Shit, you’re actually doing this. You end up arriving ten minutes too early, but Soobin is already there, by the fountain, looking at his phone. “Choi Soobin!” you call out, and he looks up with a surprised look on his face, but melts into a smile half a second later. He shoots up his hand, waving, and calls out your full name in the same manner.

“You’re here early.”

“Says the guy who’s here earlier than me,” you raise a brow.

“I had some errands,” he says. “Where should we eat?”

It’s the end of the year, so the mall is more populated than usual. Mostly couples. There’s a pair in knitwear sitting on the fountain literally a few steps away from you. It’s like god is giving you a sign, telling you to hurry the fuck up. “You choose. I’m the one treating you.”

The both of you start walking around, eyes scanning through the shops lined along the walkways. “I can eat anywhere. I’m not picky.”

“Choi Soobin, you know I’m bad with decisions,” you tell him. “You’re the one who dragged me out of my apartment in the first place.”

“You’re making it sound like I forced you to eat with me.”

You stop in your tracks. “Wow,” you gasp. “You’re putting words in my mouth, Choi Soobin. How dare you when I generously decided to open my wallet for you.”

His smile opens into a toothy grin. “What’s with the face?”

“Nothing,” he hums, settling his hands on your shoulders and lightly pushing you into a direction. “Let’s eat here. Mingyu hyung recommended this place before.”

It’s a Chinese restaurant with an interior that you might have seen on social media before (maybe Mingyu’s insta, to be honest). The both of you are sitting at one of the center tables, tubes of lights hanging from above as you peruse through their menu. When your orders arrive, you split apart your chopsticks, staring heartily at the served meal. “For the record,” you say before digging in.“I do want to eat with you.”

“Thanks for the information.”

“You know, you’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

Soobin lets out a huff of air, smiling with stuffed cheeks and the both of you proceed with your meals. You can only hear the sound of your dishes and the occasional glass clatters. It’s literally just dinner. “So,” you mumble out. “Why did you join Shutter?”

He elicits a snort-cough, and he brings a napkin to his lips. “What is this? An interview?”

“It got quiet and I didn’t know what to say!” you press. “Just answer.”

“You’d know if you listened to my introduction at the welcome party,” he crows.“You already liked Beomgyu at that time, right?”

The food stops in your throat, caught off guard because why would he bring that up? You cough, swallowing a large gulp of water and when you set the glass back on the table, you look at him straight in the eye. “First of all— even if I was paying attention, I wouldn’t even remember because that was months ago.”

“I remember yours,” he says, as a matter of fact. “You said you wanted a space apart from your major, and that it’d make your university life a lot more exciting.”

Well. You can’t verify that because you don’t remember what you said at that time. You were too occupied staring at Beomgyu. “Se—second!” you bristle. “How did you know that I already liked him then? I don’t think I’ve ever told you.”

“Your eyes were following him the entire night. It’s like there’s a magnet in there somewhere.”

You stop eating altogether, utensils clattering on the plate. Wouldn’t that mean his eyes were following you, too? He didn’t even think twice before saying that, and now he’s back to picking on the remaining food on his plate like it’s nothing, and your phone buzzes like a warning signal.

“What’s wrong?” Soobin asks as you frown at your phone screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have talked about Shutter,” you complain. “Mingyu messaged the group chat. He’s asking if anyone can run some errands for the event.”

At first, the plan was to have a year-end party and a sensitivity training (“sensi” for short) for the officers, but with the majority of your members returning home to their hometowns for the holidays, you decided to merge the two events in the second week of January instead. Mingyu is eyeing Gapyeong for the party and sensi, and the itinerary has already been prepared by Myungho.

Soobin hums in acknowledgement. “What does he need?”

It’s the 31st of December. Most shops will be closed tomorrow and the next day. There are still some materials that need to be bought, so your Chairperson is asking if there’s anyone who can pick up some stuff from the list. “Ugh,” you groan, finishing up your meal. “No one else is replying and I already read his message. You don’t mind if we stop by some stores, right?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I borrowed my brother’s car, so I can take the stuff home with me.”

The both of you leave the restaurant and enter a stationery store to pick up some vellum boards, parchment papers, envelopes, and the like. You need to go back to the office within the week for some last minute work— so much for the new year, but aside from some light hearted complaints, you don’t really mind. “Can you check if there’s some sticker paper in the other aisle?” you ask Soobin. The both of you still need to finalize the certificate designs and the tarpaulin sign. You’ll remind him once he gets back.

After double checking your basket, you check out all the items and send Mingyu the receipt. “What else do we need?” asks Soobin. He takes the paper bags from the counter and you two exit the store.

“Uh. We need some wooden panels. They probably have those in hardware stores, right?”

Lucky for you, they do. You and Soobin wait behind a wall of fake plants as the employee leaves to cut the panels into the size Mingyu instructed and as you’re waiting, you let your gaze wander around the store until you look up and pause when your eyes land on your tall friend. You’ve never noticed before, but Choi Soobin actually looks pretty intimidating with a straight face. He’s staring off into space, brows in a slight knit, but when he looks down and notices that you’re looking at him, he lifts his eyebrows, curious, and a dimple peeks through when he presses his lips together. “What is it?”

You cough, looking away. “We haven’t talked about this yet. I remember you telling me you liked someone last summer.”

“Mm, right. I did,” he says.

Hesitant, you drawl out. “Do you still like the same person now?”

“Yeah.” He says it flatly, picking on the plastic leaf of a plant hanging above you. You cock your head. He’s way too nonchalant about this that you start to second guess.

“Is that why you couldn’t give Yura a chance?”

“It would be unfair for her when I have feelings for someone else.”

“I know. And Yura isn’t telling me to distance myself from you or anything. I know we haven’t hung out lately outside of Shutter, but trust me it’s not because of that,” you assure. “Did you tell her who you like?”

He looks at you. “I did.”

“Do you plan on telling me?” you blurt out before hesitation smashes into you. You avoid eye contact, trying to justify yourself, “It’s not fair that you’re a witness to all of my romantic pitfalls in the first half of the year, but I don’t even know the person you like.”

You know you’re blabbing. You know Soobin knows because he’s flashing you a cheeky smile. “Do you wanna know?”

“Of course. I’m curious.” You hope he doesn’t notice you’re trying to bait him. Half of you wants to hear your name fall from his lips, rolling off his tongue like it’s meant to be, and you’d be untangled from your confusing feelings, but the other half is scared because you wouldn’t know how to react. You’re still in the fucking hardware store, for god’s sake, waiting for the god damned wood panels to arrive.

“Why?”

Suddenly, he dips down his head, noses closer than ever, and you gulp. “Why do you wanna know?” No words leave your throat and you can’t hear anything other than the deep, reverberating thumps from inside your chest. Soobin backs away before anything else, a smile still present on his lips. “You’ll find out. I haven’t been doing my best to hide it, anyway.”

The employee returns with the panels. You pay for them and it’s late into the evening when you exit into the parking lot and load all the items you bought into his (brother’s) car’s compartment. “I’ll drop you off,” he says, closing down the trunk.

“Thanks,” you reply, and he smiles, shooing you into the passenger’s seat.

It sinks in belatedly, when you’re already a few songs into his driving playlist, that you haven’t given Soobin your address but he’s going in the right direction. He didn’t even ask. Confirming your suspicions, he pulls up right in front of your apartment building, and the doors unlock with a click. “How’d you know where I live?” you raise a brow.

“When Myungho hyung gave us a ride last time,” he answers. “He dropped you off first. Did you think I was stalking you?”

“No. I just wanted to tease you, but you’ve been turning the tables on me all day,” you roll your eyes, unbuckling yourself from the seat. “You used to be so nervous and quiet all the time. Choi Soobin, you’ve grown.”

You thank him for the ride and push open the door, squirming to get off but Soobin suddenly grabs your wrist, and you jerk your head back, surprised. It’s warm where his fingers are wrapped around, a firm grip that feels a lot more intimate than when he was all up in your space at the festival, than when you fell to the ground with his arms around your waist.

He appears to be just as surprised as you are, but the words quickly come pouring out. “I’m still nervous. It took me four tries to give your number a call earlier and I was so relieved when you actually picked up,” he confesses. “I was nervous during dinner, nervous all throughout the car ride, and I’m still nervous now.” You can feel that his hand is slightly damp, circling around yours. “I just wanted to let you know before you go.”

When Soobin lets go, you can feel the cold air nipping at your skin from where he’s been holding. You made the right choice in going out today. Things are a lot clearer now.

The feelings you have for Choi Soobin aren’t sudden— an onslaught of petals from blossoming trees, heat waves from the corshing midday sun, orange fireworks on the cobblestone ground, or the gusts of wind from a December evening that hit you without warning. It’s gradual, accumulated over the seasons in the form of spring showers that extend into the ber months, a summer cold you can’t get rid of, the fall sweater you have nestled inside your closet until flowers start blooming, and the warmth that comforts when the rest of the world freezes into oblivion.

They’ve been building up— slowly but surely until the glass is tipped over, spilling into your veins, and you can’t deny it anymore.

“Thanks for today,” you give him a smile. “Drive safe. Text me when you get home.”

“Will do. Happy new year.”

“Happy new year.”

You wait until he disappears into the street before getting inside the building. Choi Soobin has been your spring, summer, autumn, and winter. It took the last day of the year for you to realize that.

It’s the day before your trip with Shutter to Gapyeong. You’ve already finished all your assigned tasks, so you’re able to hang out with your friends at Jay’s place today. For the meantime, you’re all treating his condo as if it’s your own.

“Let’s watch a movie,” Jake suggests. He’s laying flat on the sofa, his head next to yours while you sit on the carpet, destroying Sunghoon’s ass in a game of chess. When no one replies, everyone else busy doing their own things to even hear him, he gives up and falls to the floor next to you. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yup. Checkmate, Hoonie,” you reply, killing Sunghoon’s king and gloating your victory.

“You all ready to go?” he asks. “I can help you pack if you haven’t.”

“How bored are you, Jake?” you laugh at him. “Yunjin and Kazuha already promised to help me later, but I guess you can tag along.” He looks satisfied with the arrangement, and he wiggles off of the floor to dig through Jay’s kitchen.

Well. You’re almost ready for the trip tomorrow. But besides packing, there’s still one thing you need to settle within yourself before facing your friends and colleagues from Shutter again. “Guys,” you announce after cleaning up the chess set. “Can I tell you something?”

“Is it a new crush?” Kazuha asks, and you hear Taehyun snort. You can neither confirm nor deny her accusation. When did you become so predictable?

“Let’s say I like someone,” you start, and your friends start gathering in the living room, ready to listen to the new boy of the season. “And all signs are saying that he likes me too.” This elicits a gasp from Yunjin and a very obnoxious oooooh from Jake.

“Depends on the signs,” Jake snorts. “Have you been watching tarot readings on TikTok again?”

“Fuck you. I stopped doing that when Yeonjun ghosted me,” you shoot him a glare, and he raises his hands up defensively. “But anyway. It’s already like— really, seriously, obvious that he likes me and all that’s left is for him to say it himself—”

“Ask him out already.”

“But I have a friend who also likes him.” They grow quiet. “What should I do?”

Kazuha is the first person to speak up. “Does she know the guy is into you instead?”

“We’re assuming he’s into me. He rejected her saying he likes someone else,” you explain. “But I don’t think she’s over him yet.”

“Here I thought your love life is finally turning around,” Yunjin groans.

“I can’t fully entertain him without the underlying feeling of guilt because my friend was literally crying over him when they were out for drinks the other day!” you pause, then clarify your statement. “I wasn’t there when it happened. Mingyu told me. It would’ve been terrible if I was there.”

Taehyun sinks into the sofa handle, arms crossed in thought. “This is a little complicated.”

“Right?” you sigh, deflating into the cushions. “Maybe I should just give up. Maybe romance isn’t for me.”

“It’s literally not that complicated, you idiots.” Sunghoon speaks up for the first time, and you look at him. His expression is that of annoyance, mainly direction towards you, and he continues, “If you think he’s worth risking your friendship, then go for it. But if a boy is enough to ruin your friendship, then your friendship is bullshit. Go talk to her first and I’m sure she’ll understand. Maybe it’ll even get her to move on.”

“Holy shit,” Jay gapes. “Why are you making sense for once?”

He’s right. Sunghoon is making sense. Yet there’s still a lingering hesitation clawing at your throat and preventing you from agreeing. “But what if I’m just being delusional and he doesn’t actually like m—”

“Be honest.” Taehyun cuts you off before you could spiral. “Are you hesitant because you’re afraid of hurting your friend, or are you afraid now that the real thing is waiting in front of you?”

Quiet washes the apartment as your friends allow you to simmer in Taehyun’s words. Throughout the past year, you’ve always been the one pouring out love from all your senses, so much and so often that you’re afraid you’d run out, but you never do. It just keeps on pouring and pouring— a momentary stop— but it gushes out again like a perpetual fountain of red. Now that there are hints of the roles reversing, you’ve froze. You know that you’re using Yura too much as an excuse to justify yourself.

You’re always the one pouring— never the one receiving, and now you have no idea what to do.

IT STARTED AS A LIGHT SHOWER, but in the middle of the bus ride to Gapyeong, the rain begins to pour, harder and harder to the point that you can hear it through the music in your earphones. You pull out the buds, looking at the window. “Damn, I guess we have to cancel the outdoor activities today,” you say, and Mingyu overhears from in front of you.

“Let’s hope it stops raining in the afternoon,” he sighs, worried. “We can’t have a barbecue party indoors.”

You’re sitting beside Yura. The girl is already fast asleep, understandable since you all met at five in the morning to do some last minute organizing at the office. It’s now ten in the morning, thirty minutes until you arrive at the place, and the rain is showing no signs of stopping. Mingyu senses the grayness in the air and picks up a megaphone, spits out a generic “let’s have some fun!” message, and proceeds to play some tunes.

It works, because through the rest of the ride to Gapyeong, you’re all screaming Taylor Swift lyrics loud enough to block off the hissing rain, so when the bus stops in front of the place you guys rented for two days and one night, you’re surprised it’s still pouring.

“Well, shit,” you say underneath your umbrella, Mingyu pathetically trying to shrink his frame to fit alongside you, and you reach an arm out from under its protection, feeling the cold droplets soaking your skin. “This is gonna last a while.”

“We should all have lunch first,” he says. “This is gonna be fine. We have a lot prepared.”

You nod. “You guys get inside first,” he says before running off into the second bus that arrived to give Myungho some instructions.

You peek into the bus, “Those with umbrellas, please share with those who don’t. It’s a short run to the accommodation. Please don’t forget to bring your valuables with you.” You watch by the doors as your orgmates leave in two’s and three’s uphill, and you can feel yourself starting to get damp due to the unstable direction of the rainfall.

The last person comes out, and he ducks underneath your umbrella. It’s Soobin. Your eye’s meet, and he’s wearing a sheepish grin. Before you know it, he’s got his hand wrapped on yours, tightly clutching the umbrella handle and suddenly, puddles are splashing underneath your feet as you run into the same direction. A squeak escapes your throat when you hear the rain pour harder, and Soobin pulls you closer with his free hand as the rain threatens to soak you.

“Are you two shooting a youth drama?”

You’re out of breath when you reach the porch of the large house, but you still manage to shoot Heeseung a dirty look for that comment. You glance at Soobin, who still has your umbrella. He’s ruffling his hair and shaking his head like a wet puppy. “I’ll go grab the boxes from the bus. Can I borrow this for a while?” You nod, and he smiles. “Come and help me,” he drags the unwilling Heeseung back into the pouring rain, and you turn back, nudging everyone to get inside the house once they’ve dried up.

“Oh, look who we have here,” you turn to see Jeonghan, walking back out with two mops from the house. “You look pretty happy for someone who just got rained on.”

Your eyes land on Yura, and guilt settles when you catch her expression before she goes back to smiling at Jeonghan and takes the other mop from him. You plan on having a conversation with her later, and you plan on settling everything today. “The day will come where I’ll eventually kick your ass, seonbae. Please reflect on your sins until then.” You bid him off with a bland smile, and you settle inside the warm floors of the room.

It’s two houses connected to each other, two floors each, large enough for twenty to thirty people in total. Mingyu says he’s unsure if there will be enough room upstairs for everyone to sleep in, but there are some that won’t be staying overnight, and you’re sure that the sleeping arrangements will be wherever everyone ends up passing out after getting alcohol-bombed throughout the night.

“Alright, everyone please gather around!”

Mingyu’s voice pierces through the dozens of conversations happening at once. It’s a miracle that the rain is finally letting up after you finish your lunch. “T-shirts are distributed by size so please line up in front of the assigned officers. You can change immediately after receiving yours.”

You’re only able to change into the Shutter shirt after handing out everything from your pile. You happen to bump into Beomgyu after changing, walking down the stairs. “Cute. The shirt looks good on you.” You’re taken aback, but you laugh out a smile.

“Thanks. Did you get yours yet?”

“No. Mingyu hyung is holding it hostage upstairs.”

“Good luck,” you tell him. “I’ll go set up the projector.”

You hop down the last set of steps and are immediately blocked by Soobin when you turn to the living room, bumping into him. “Oh,” you look up. “Were you here the whole time?”

“I was waiting for you,” he says, picking on a stray thread from your shirt collar, and he flicks it off to the side. “I couldn’t find the file for the presentation.”

“Ah, it’s with me. Hold on.”

You drag Soobin into the little tech-area you set up in the living space, passing through the lights the machine is projecting at the white cloth set up against a wall. As you’re tinkering on the laptop, looking for the PPT you made somewhere in the chaos of your files, Soobin is leaning down and watching you work, one arm outstretched on the back of your chair to balance himself. “I thought I didn’t like him anymore,” he says out of nowhere. You stop digging through your files and look up at him— oh, Beomgyu— then resume. His face tells you that it’s just to provoke you, but you entertain his provocations anyway.

“I don’t,” you reply. “But I do like being called cute.”

“Hmm,” he sounds out. “That’s right. Yeonjun hyung called you cute, too.”

You cough out a noise. “What are you getting at, Choi Soobin?”

He laughs at the dirty look you’re giving him. “I just wanted to say that I think you’re cute too.”

For someone who admitted that he gets nervous sweats around you, he sure is getting shameless and bold. You ignore the heat prickling at your cheeks, slamming your hands down the table after opening up the presentation, and leaving into the kitchen to get some of the lemon water Myungho made. If Mingyu were to see you right now, he’d be having a mother fucking field day. Thank god he’s busy keeping everything in check.

“Alright, it’s time to officially start Shutter.TXT’s new year’s party and sensitivity training! We’ll begin with an opening message from our very own Chairperson, Kim Mingyu, and after that, the anonymous message table will be opened once more. Chair, you have the floor.”

Beomgyu and Yura are hosting today (after the last event, you’re sure Mingyu decided that hosting isn’t for him). You’re back next to Soobin, helping him manage the technicals, and the afternoon passes by with the various party games you guys prepared— with prizes, of course because no one would join without an incentive. The screen is projecting a picture of Yoon Jeonghan as a baby and everyone yells out their names, hands raised to guess who the pudgy gremlin is. He didn’t submit the photo, of course. You had to dig into his mother’s Facebook account to find it.

“Correct! The answer is our Business Manager, Yoon Jeonghan!” You click to the next slide as Chan runs up front to get his prize. “Before we head to picking the raffle winners sponsored by our Chair, let’s take a break and pick out some messages from the confession box first!”

Your memory flashes back to one confession you got last time, and your eyes flash up at Soobin. “Did you send anything?” you ask him.

“Maybe I did,” he hums. “You?”

“I didn’t have the time,” you reply, a smile tugging on your lips. “So I might just end up doing it in person.”

Your attention is caught when you hear Beomgyu read one of the messages into the microphone, and you hear your full name echoing through the speakers. “Ohhh, this one’s for our Assistant Layout Director!” and he repeats for your full name once more. You look at Soobin, but choose not to say anything when he’s so intently waiting for Beomgyu to read out loud the message. “I’ve liked you since March of last year and my feelings have only grown as each month passes. What other signs should I give you?” He’s practically pouring his heart into your lap and you’ve been so stupid as to ignore it with every passing season.

“Alright, alright, everyone please settle down, I know that last one was thrilling but we have another confession for—”

The rest of the activities finished without a hitch, and Heeseung managed to win the ramen cooker Mingyu bought as the grand prize for the raffle. When the sun fell and stars started settling in the sky, the front yard finally dried up enough for everyone to set up for dinner.

“Hyung! Come take over the grill!”

Smoke fills the air as you bump glasses over the picnic table, and soft music hums from the portable speakers Beomgyu brought. The night is cool, still stuck in the middle of winter. You leave a pat on Chan’s shoulder before you leave the group, passing by the large blue cooler near the grill to scoop up two beer cans before sauntering over to the downslope path.

There isn’t a staircase, so you’re careful with your steps, slightly buzzed from the early shots you had earlier. Your eyes land on Yura, sitting on the grassy knoll while staring off into the treeline. “Hey,” you greet her, and she looks up behind. You raise the blue can, smiling. “Brought something to refresh our emcee’s throat. You did a great job today.”

She smiles.“Thanks. You too.”

You take a seat next to her on the ground and your cans open together with a hiss, clinking lid tops before taking a hefty swig in mutual silence. After a while, you speak up. “We’re both working too hard,” you say. “But we didn’t even get to win a single damned prize from the raffle.”

“I would’ve been happy with the box of tampons, honestly,” she laughs.

“Me too. Even the dead matchstick would be good enough.”

The tree leaves rustle when a breeze passes. You know what you came up to her for, but you don’t know how to bring it up. The metal is cold between your teeth as you ponder, biting on the beer can after you let the drink sizzle down your throat.

Much to your surprise, it’s Yura that brings it up. “I want to tell you that I’m completely over Soobin,” she says. “I should’ve moved on after the first rejection, but I think the second one was enough to give me a reality check.”

You stare at her. “Are— are you serious?”

“Just pretend and believe that I am. Don’t ask questions,” he proclaims, closing her eyes with an affirmative nod. You can see her veins popping on the back of her hand as she holds the can.“Yup. So don’t hold yourself back anymore and do whatever you want.” You eye her in worry. It doesn’t go past her radar. Yura settles the drink on the ground beside her and grabs your two hands.

She pulls them close to her, smiling. “We’re friends. I’ll always be happy for you.”

You don’t need her to say it outright. Maybe it’s better for her that way. Your hands wrap around her and you give her a squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Ah,” she starts cocking her head. “This should’ve happened sooner. Gosh, I need another drink. Let’s go raid the cooler.”

With that she pulls you up and drags you back to the rest of your peers. As soon as you’re within earshot, Mingyu calls out the both of you to eat more, boasting how nicely he grilled the beef this time. “We’ll be the judge of that!” Yura yells back, and you spend the rest of the night with a few weeks worth of weight on your chest finally lifted, making it easier for you to breathe in the clean air of the rural neighborhood.

Your initial predictions are right. At three in the morning, almost everyone is passed out scattered areas of the two houses, and you’re having a bit of difficulty trying to evade the obstacle of bodies when you enter the living room after cleaning up outside. I doubt we could go through with the program in the morning, you think when you pass by Beomgyu’s unconscious body hanging onto Heeseung as you make your way up the stairs to wash up. Waking everyone up would take at least two hours.

It’s a lot more civilized upstairs. Some of the girls gathered in one room and are sleeping soundly on the mats and blankets. You do your best to keep quiet as you prepare for the night, but even after bathing and giving yourself a change of clothes, the moonlight from the open window keeps you up with its brightness. You give up sleeping and head back downstairs. There, you see a familiar silhouette snuggled up on the couch and taking up all of its space. He’s squirming when you walk up to him, tugging the blanket that’s half on the ground, and you let out a soundless laugh.

You’re on the floor watching Soobin’s face scrunch up as he sleeps. His mouth is pouting, and one of his arms hangs off the sofa when he turns, facing you. You bring your knees closer to your chest. He’s pretty even when sleeping.

Right when you plan on leaving, you hear him mumble out your name— in full, like he always does. It’s barely coherent, a slur of syllables, but you can recognize your name in his voice. “You’re still awake...?” he asks, rubbing his barely open eyes. You settle yourself back down with a smile, hugging your knees.

“Mhm,” you reply. “I was thinking.”

He’s still half-asleep. You can tell when tries getting up but he only makes it a few inches up the sofa before his head surrenders to the armrest. You shouldn’t be making any noise. There’s at least five more people sleeping in the room, but a noise escapes in spite of your tightly pressed lips when his fallen arm reaches out for your hand, looping his index finger with your pinky. “What were you thinking about?”

Your hands fiddle around with his, tracing invisible shapes on each print and surface as his hazy eyes flutter back and forth in between wake and sleep. “I was thinking about how much I like you,” you say softly. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep.”

Silence befalls, and you’re sure he’s dozed off again. But when you turn to check on him, his eyes are fully open, wide awake. You’re still holding his hand, waiting for something to happen, and that something happens when you feel his gentle but firm grip on your wrist, pulling you up from the ground and your footsteps patter against the moonlight leaking into the wooden living room floor, until a sharp cold bites your feet when you enter the kitchen.

“Okay,” he exhales with a voice clearer than his earlier murmurs, still holding your hand. It’s dark. You can barely see anything, but there’s enough light from the window to make-up Soobin’s silhouette, and you’re still breathless from the sudden sprint. “I’ll give you five seconds to take back what you said, but if you—”

It’s soft, you think. So soft, when adrenaline takes over you and you jerk forward, lips clumsily bumping into each other in exhilaration. Soobin’s wide eyes are staring into yours, and neither are moving away. You’re not sure if it’s your own heart beat you’re hearing, his, or the both of yours thumping in an unfamiliar rhythm.

“Is someone there?”

You’re tugged away again, and before you know it you’re crouched under a table, and all the light you can see are the streams pouring underneath the small gap between the floor and the tablecloth.

“Did you hear something?”

“I thought there was someone here.”

Your eyes flash up from the ground and you’re once again met with Soobin’s clear gaze. It’s a small table, and Soobin is trying his hardest not to collapse onto you. His arms cage you in between, and you cover his head with your hands so he doesn’t bump against the table.

“Probably from outside.”

You can only guess your expression right now. It’s probably mirroring his— panting ever the slightest, trying his best not to smile too much, trying to soak in the moment that’s been months in the waiting.

It’s the first time your apartment has been this loud.

You don’t know what you got yourself into. A merger between your friends from your major and your friends from Shutter was a disaster waiting to happen. And it is happening. Beomgyu and Taehyun shouldn’t have met, Myungho shouldn’t be drinking with Jay and the rest right now, and you can hear Mingyu talking shit about how he knew you and Soobin were meant to be from the very beginning to every person he sees.

“I’ve been shipping them since day one!” he proclaims proudly to Jake. “Your friend wouldn’t believe me when I—” and your boyfriend promptly tells him to shut up, Jeonghan teasing him along with Heesung.

“When I saw them at the festival, I knew something was up!”

“I made a mistake,” you say out loud. “Holy crap, this is noisy.”

Then you’re dragged by the girls for questioning when Yunjin and Kazuha spill to Yura your series of unfortunate romantic events last year until Soobin happened. “You guys are missing a detail,” you sigh. “It’s time to be honest. I also had a crush on Taehyun for a total of like, two days.”

“What?” exclaims Yunjin?

“What?” echoes the rest of your friends.

“Hold on, when did this happen?” Soobin is back to your side. You haven’t told him either. He only knows up until Huening.

“Christmas party. It was a temporary moment of weakness because I was sad and hormonal,” you explain. “Don’t look at me like that, Choi Soobin. It didn’t last long. Things became clear when we went out for dinner on new year’s eve.”

You hear a gag from Sunghoon and Yunjin freaks out. “You had dinner together?! How come I wasn’t aware of this?”

“Ew, I can’t believe you had a crush on one of us,” spouts Jay, but Jake quickly turns it against him.

“Like you’re one to talk. You had a crush on her throughout the first week of classes.”

“Now, why the fuck would you tell her that?”

They fight. You take the opportunity to escape the scene, dragging Soobin to the safe space of your room before you can get a headache from the mess outside. “I think I should’ve just introduced you to them one by one,” you sigh against the door. “I’m sorry. They must’ve been tiring.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he assures, already taking a spot on the floor beside your bed. “Of course, it’s still better when it’s just you and me.”

Slowly, you pull yourself off the door and plant yourself right in front of him, sitting cross legged. He waits for you to speak, eyes expectant. You give in. “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you about my two day crush on Taehyun?” You didn’t expect him to laugh at that.

“No. I’m actually glad you didn’t,” he starts. Soobin leans forward a little, picking up your hands from the floor and he starts twiddling with them as he lets his mind speak. “I was always hesitant to do or say anything because you always had your eyes set on someone else, but I just couldn’t do nothing. I liked you a lot, and I only fell deeper as we got closer. I thought I might explode if I didn’t let it out somehow. I only got the courage to call you that day because I thought you didn’t have feelings for anybody anymore,”

“But I did,” you correct. “I’m pretty sure I already liked you then.”

You pause for a moment. “Actually, I’m sure I liked you even before that.”

He breathes out a smile. “I’m glad.” Soobin lets go of you— only for a moment because he lets himself sink forward, arms locking you in place like the time you were trapped under the table during the Shutter outing. It’s late at night, too. Nothing but the moon illuminating the floorboards through your bedroom window, except this time, your eyes aren’t looking at each other. You follow his gaze, and you let out a little laugh. “Choi Soobin,” you call out, and his eyes snap back up. “You know, you can kiss me if you want to, right?”

It’s like he said. He gets nervous around you. You can see him swallow hesitantly, the air around you growing thicker, and he breathes out, “Are— are you sure?”

You dip your fingers into his hair, and he chases after when you trail them down to his cheek. His face is soft, softer than a gentle spring bloom. “You can do whatever you want."

Soobin presses his lips together. “Then...close your eyes”

Your eyes follow, and within a few seconds you can feel nothing but the teasing burn of his lips barely grazing above yours like it’s the summer sun, but then feel his grip on your shoulder, and the air gets colder when you suddenly feel a distance.

He’s red when you open your eyes, a pretty shade of warm, autumn sienna painting his cheeks and ears. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t let him finish. You pull yourself into him and the plush of his lips are soft against yours— still as soft as you remember and you let yourself drown in his heat and warmth, and he does the same, tugging you onto his lap so he can pour all his year’s worth of love and ardor into you with every kiss, peck, whisper like it’s a winter present.

“You’re really doing whatever you want,” you laugh as soon as he presses a kiss on the skin peeking from your left shoulder.

“I’ve been holding back for months,” he whines into your neck, arms firmly wrapped around your waist with no intention of letting go. “Let’s stay here for a little longer. The guys outside can take care of themselves.”

Choi Soobin has been pouring his love into you all throughout spring and summer, fall and winter, even when you were too caught up in momentary shifts of the season to notice. Now, you won’t even let a drop fall astray, catching every last bit as you do the same for him. He’s a spring shower that extends into December, a summer cold you never want to get rid of, a fall sweater you’re wearing in the middle of May, and the cold nights that visit all throughout the year.

love vomit. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[luna0713hunter]

Dancing to the beat of our hearts

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : being Zoro's lover,was a dream come true. Everything was perfect about him,but...when the night comes and you see couples dancing,you cant help but to wish for more...

Warnings : none, slightly hurt/comfort,Zoro being a simp for you,soft Zoro, FLUFF,gender neutral reader

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"ANOTHER VICTORY FOR STRAW HATS!!!CHEERS!!!"

Luffy's excited shout echoes through the night,as everyone cheer and down their drinks. All around you,people were celebrating,and happily serving you and your crewmates drinks after drinks.

You and your crewmates had managed to save yet another village from pirates,and it was time to celebrate.

Everything about this village was absolutely beautiful;from the cherry trees that had blossomed just recently,making the scenery breathtaking,to its kind and warm-hearted people who knew nothing but how to love and be happy.

They apparently,also loved to dance.

When the song changes to something soft and more melodic,you watch from your place across the bonfire how couples start to gather around;hands being placed on shoulders and arms around waists. You watch and sip your suddenly too bitter drink as they dance,and the sound of their laughter fills the air.

Your eyes wander to the green haired man sitting next to the open bar across you,and your lips pull down to a frown;Zoro didnt like to dance.

You loved Zoro,of course you did,but ever since you two became a couple...things didnt get too different between the two of you.

Obviously there were small kisses here and there,and Zoro became even more protective of you if that was even possible,but you craved real romance. Like the ones you would see young couples do,or read in the books; running under the rain while laughing,going shopping or matching clothes,and of course, dancing .

You could've made a list of the dances you wished to have with Zoro on so many occasions,but you never asked. You knew Zoro;he wasnt a big fan of showing his affection openly,always choosing to show his love to you through his actions. So it didnt take a genius to guess he would absolutely rather die than to dance.

You swallow the lump in your throat and stare down to your drink. You weren't even sure what it was; probably something light since you weren't feeling even slightly drunk. Something sweet. Maybe cherry? It sure had a good smell to it. As you swing the last of your drink around the glass,you make a mental reminder to tell Sanji to get some with you back to the ship. A small smile graces your lips as you think about sailing tomorrow morning once again with your new family,but the happiness is short lived as a bitter feeling fills your chest and you find yourself blinking rapidly in hopes of not bursting in tear right there.

Was it too much to ask to have a romantic love life?

As you start to wonder whether to return to the Going Merry or ask the musicians to play some other song,a small tap on your shoulder makes you jump in your sit slightly. You turn your head,and find yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

At first, Zoro's eyes search yours for a second,before jerking his head toward the back,where the road leads to the cherry garden.

"come with me for a second."

you silently nod,and accepting his offer to help you stand,you take his much larger hand in yours and make your way toward the garden. And when you finally step inside,you let out a loud gasp.

You dont think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life;the way the petals of the cherry blossoms dance in the air and settle on your hair,the air having the sweet smell of the drink that you had earlier,and the moon shining the brightest you've ever seen-

And none of them could compare to the picture Zoro was making.

You've always loved Zoro;ever since the very first moment you saw him,the first time he smiled at you,and the first time he held your hand. You loved Zoro,and you believed with your soul that there was no one prettier than him.

But now,as you watch the flower petals dancing around him,and the moonlight shining on his green air as he stares at you with the softest look on his face,you cant help your heart from beating awfully faster.

You loved Zoro. And gods above,he was the most beautiful being in the whole universe.

You're so busy admiring his features that when his fingers brush against your cheek,you jump slightly. Zoro raises his fingers up to you hair,and you feel him pluck something out.

When he lowers his hand,he shows you a small cherry blossom that was trapped in your hair. And in that moment,when he raises it up to his lips,you swear the time stops all together.

Zoro closes his eyes as his lips make contact with the flower,and he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours.

"y/n," he puts the flower in the pocket right over his heart and as he takes hold of your hand,with the sound of his three swords clanking together,he kneels right in front of you. Your gap at him,and you're torn between laughing and kneeling as well.

"Zoro,whats going on?"

Zoro scowls at you.

"what does it look like I'm doing?"

"proposing?!"

"no," Zoro deadpans,and your face visibly falls, "that has to be special. Not out of blue."

Your face brightens and small laugh escapes from your lips

"then,whats going on?"

And for the very first time since meeting him,he actually looks embarrassed.

You didn't know he could feel that kind of emotion

"I'm planning to ask you for a dance,if you let me finish."

When your mouth slams shut,he sighs and unconsciously rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

Your heart flutter at how comforting he can be even when he's not realizing it.

"Babe,i know I'm not the most romantic person in the whole world," when you let out a snort,he scowls again, "but i promise,its not because i dont love you."

He slowly raises to his feet once again,and gently leans his forehead against yours.

"i know i dont say it enough,but i love you." His hand find your waist,as your arms wrap his neck;your eyes shining with unshed tears, "and i will continue loving you until my last breath."

You let out a small sniffle when he kisses your wet eyelashes.

"sounds pretty much like a proposal to me."

"oh,babe,i promise you that after my proposal, you'll cry your eyes out."

You tug at his short hair and give him an unimpressed look.

"you're making my heart beat with your smooth talk,Zoro. Keep it up and you'll no longer have a lover to propose to."

And when he laughs quietly,you cant help but to pull him down for a kiss.

The sound of the music in the background,makes everything feel surreal. The way Zoro holds you so gently,and his lips moving against yours with urgency,reminds you how passionate he can be. And its right there,that Zoro reminds your how much he actually loves you.

The sound of the music is still audible in the background,so when he starts swinging you side by side,you cant help the giddy laugh that escapes you. Zoro gives you a gentle smile,and kisses your forehead.

"from now on,tell me what you desire. I'll make all your dreams come true."

And when you raise your head to lock your lips with his once again,a small whisper leaves your lips.

"dont worry. All my dreams had already came true the moment i laid my eyes one you."

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

P.s : thank you everyone for 400 followers!!!

[candycandy00]

Character: Sukuna

AU setting: Church

spice level: NSFW

Mood: writers choice

Kinks: Non-Con(however would it be alright if it's consensual non con?), daddy kink, breeding, spanking, Size difference and Praise

(Could it be Fem reader? Thx !! :))

Father Sukuna’s Discipline - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

I might have added a couple kinks and took some liberties with the CNC kink but I hope you like it! 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Sukuna as a Priest. Probably very offensive to Catholics (I know nothing about Catholicism so please look over any errors). Breeding. Spanking. Sort of CNC. Dubcon. Daddy kink (he’s a priest so Father is used instead of Daddy), light bondage. Size difference. Rough sex. Praise. Dividers by @benkeibear. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback whatsoever would be adored!

You stand in the drafty hallway outside Father Sukuna’s office, shifting from one foot to the other. He’s angry with you. He definitely saw that you were late for morning prayers, and he happened to be walking by when you flubbed reading the study verses to your students. As a new nun working in this Catholic school, you should be providing a strong example for the students to follow. Instead, they giggle when you try to scold them. 

Father Sukuna, the headmaster, has had to discipline you several times now for your careless behavior and mistakes. You appreciate that he’s taking the time to give you such personal attention, but his punishments can be… severe. 

And so you take a deep breath before knocking lightly on his door. He calls for you to come in, so you twist the brass doorknob and push the heavy wooden door open, then step inside. 

The room is large, with high ceilings and tall windows along the back wall. The air is chilly, despite the low fire burning in the fireplace. You flinch when the door slides closed behind you, feeling like you’ve been sealed in.

There’s a large wooden desk in the center of the room, and behind it sits Father Sukuna, looking at you over the top of his reading glasses and closing the Bible in his lap before placing it on the desk. 

“Do you know why I asked you to come?” 

His voice is deep and smooth. His black priest robes do little to conceal his muscular form. As he pulls off his glasses, his unusual red eyes seem to shimmer. His handsome face is lined with black tattoos, remnants of his former life before joining the priesthood. 

You fidget beneath his piercing gaze, thinking, far from the first time, that it’s a waste for someone like him to be a priest. Sensuality seems to ooze from every pore on his body. Every little move he makes, every word he utters with that voice, makes you think impure thoughts. 

“I was late this morning,” you say, looking at the floor. 

“And?” he prompts. 

“And I messed up my reading of scripture.”

“Twice,” he adds. 

You nod pathetically. “Yes, twice.”  You raise your head then, meeting his eyes. “I beg your forgiveness, Father! I’ve only been a nun for six months now. I’m having a hard time adjusting.”

He stands up from his leather chair and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. This close, you’re very aware of how tall and big he is, how he towers over you, how he could throw you around like a rag doll if he wished. You can smell his cologne, a deep musky scent with contrasting cherry blossom undertones. 

“It seems that you need more discipline, Sister. Did you come prepared?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your face burning with shame as you reach your trembling hands down and grip your robe. Hesitantly, eyes on the floor to avoid his face, you slowly pull the fabric up to your waist. 

Just as he instructed, you’re wearing no panties, only black silk thigh high stockings. Even with your soft thighs pressed together, he can definitely see your bare pussy, shaved the way he demanded. 

“Ah, so you can follow instructions after all,” he says, and you glance up at his face to find him grinning widely. It’s an expression wholly unbecoming of a priest. 

You watch as he steps back to his desk and uses one arm to knock everything off it with a single swipe. Then he pats the desk and says, “Climb on, and get in position for your punishment.”

You drop your robe and move over to his desk. He lifts you up and sits you on it, then you nervously maneuver yourself to be on your hands and knees. Your limbs are shaky as he walks around behind you and jerks your robe up again, letting it bunch up at your waist, leaving your lower half bare. One of his large hands sets upon your naked ass, then rubs down it, tracing your shape. 

“As for what we discussed earlier… are you still certain?” he asks. 

“Y-yes,” you say. 

Two days ago, Father Sukuna proposed giving you “special discipline” to help you improve as a nun and turn away from your careless, sinful behavior. He said it would be intense, possibly painful and embarrassing, and that you would have to consent to allowing him full access to your body, using it however he sees fit. He gave you those two days to think about it. Today, you gave him your answer. 

Now, with his eyes roaming over your exposed flesh and his warm hand squeezing the fat of your ass cheek, you don’t regret your choice, even if it’s humiliating. Because you truly do want to be the best nun you can be, and… being touched by a man like him, so tall and so intimidating, with those wild tattoos, makes your body quiver with excitement. So many nights you’ve laid in your bed, shamefully touching yourself while thinking of him. 

He gave you a word, what he called a “safe word”, for you to say if you decide you can no longer handle the discipline and want to stop. Otherwise, he said, he would continue no matter what you say. The very thought of being completely at his mercy both frightens and thrills you. 

Stepping around to the front of you, Father Sukuna pulls your rosary from your neck and winds it tightly around your wrists, binding them together and forcing you to lean more on your elbows than your hands. This makes your position slightly more unstable, and leaves your ass elevated higher than the rest of you. 

He moves out of sight for a moment, and returns holding something in his hands. It’s a large wooden paddle with several holes drilled into it. Your eyes widen as you stare at the threatening object. 

“Years ago, before I became Headmaster, this paddle was used to punish misbehaving students. We don’t do that anymore, but we keep the paddle around. Sometimes it’s effective to just have it lying on the desk when talking to an unruly student.”

He slaps the paddle into his open palm, resulting in a loud thwacking sound that makes you jump. “The holes supposedly make it sting more,” he tells you, that unnerving grin spreading across his face again. 

Moving to your side, he holds the paddle up, looking down at your glassy, wide eyes, then he swings it downward, smacking the harsh wood against your trembling, vulnerable ass. You cry out in pain, feeling the burn of the holes, instinctively trying to scoot away. 

Father Sukuna uses his free hand to firmly grip your shoulder, holding you in place, before bringing the paddle down again. This time the sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and a scream from your throat. 

But he remains merciless. 

Thwack!

Thwack!

Thwack!

Three more hits, each one hard enough to make your body jump from the desk. Your ass burns. It has to be totally raw by now. 

“Father, please! Forgive me!” you weep, your knees nearly collapsing, your face now buried in your forearms, your hands clutching the rosary that has them bound together. 

Father Sukuna pauses and sits the paddle on the desk beside you. He uses his now empty hand to grip your sore cheek, kneading it, making you whimper. 

“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, and you struggle to comply, scooting your shaking knees further apart. He leans over to look, making you flush with heat and embarrassment. “Such a sinful body,” he says. “You’re absolutely dripping.”

“I’m so sorry, Father!” you cry, desperate to close your thighs and hide your shame, but knowing better than to anger him. 

You feel his hand slide down, and then his fingers dip into your wet folds. You shudder, fighting the urge to try to pull away. He laughs as his fingers brush over your clit, making you twitch. “Such a fuckable little cunt,” he says, and you glance back at him over your shoulder, shocked by his words. 

“Father?” you ask, trying to ignore the feeling of his fingers stroking you. 

“Hmm? Do my words concern you, Sister? I find that hard to believe when this soaked pussy is practically begging to be fucked. Do you want that? Do you want to be fucked by my huge cock?”

“I… I don’t…”

He suddenly withdraws his hand, picking up the paddle again in one smooth motion and then slamming it back down on your raw, stinging ass. This time it hits so low that it connected with your pussy. You squeal and jerk, and Father Sukuna holds the paddle up to his face. “You’ve gotten it all sticky,” he says. 

After sitting the paddle back down, he reaches down with both strong hands and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. He grabs your bound wrists by the rosary and jerks your arms above your head, then forces your legs even wider apart. He pulls your whole body down toward the end of the desk, making your robe ride up even further, nearly exposing your chest. 

He uses one hand to pull up his own robe and open the black pants underneath. “I fucked countless women before becoming a priest,” he says, his voice deeper than usual. “I thought I got it all out of my system. But fuck it, I’m still a man. So I’m gonna ruin this cute little pussy of yours.”

His tone of voice, his manner of speech, they seem different, rougher. “F-father, please,” you beg, “be gentle with me!”

He pulls a massive cock from his pants and lines it up with your entrance. “Not a fuckin’ chance!” he says, then immediately shoves himself all the way in. 

You gasp as you feel yourself being completely stuffed, his hands firm on your waist, keeping you steady as he pounds into you. “Please forgive me, Father!” you sob out. 

“Huh? Forgive you for what?” he asks, that maniacal grin on his face. 

“F-for being so sinful!” 

He laughs before he leans down and extends his tongue, licking a stripe up your crying face. “No need to apologize. Your tight pussy feels fucking incredible! This sinful body of yours is a blessing!”

You feel dazed, out of your mind, as his cock repeatedly slams into you. You have no idea what’s right or wrong anymore. You gaze up at him through teary eyes. “Is… is this part of the discipline? To make me a better nun?”

He reaches one hand down to stroke your clit, making your hips buck off the desk. “Yeah, I’m making you a better nun!” he grunts. “I’m making you my personal little slutty nun!”

You can’t take anymore. Your mind and heart are so confused. Only your body seems to understand Father Sukuna’s discipline. So you let go, you let yourself fall over the edge, and you scream out his name as you cum around his cock, clenching him with everything you have. 

His grin only gets wider, his red eyes gleaming, as he fucks you even harder. And when you finally feel him pulsing inside you, followed by a gush of his hot sticky cum filling you up, you lose all strength, going limp on the desk beneath him. 

Once he’s bottomed out, he pulls back and looks down at you. “Good girl, taking my cock so deep. I’ll forgive your mistakes this time,” he says as he buttons his pants and pulls his robe back down. His voice is returning to his more formal tone. “But if you don’t show more grace as an employee of this school, I will have to discipline you again.”

He reaches down and unties your hands, then gives your rosary back to you, leaving you speechless and stunned. You quickly recover and scoot off the desk, jerking your robe back down to hide the cum dripping down your thighs. 

“Thank you, Father,” you say with a quivering voice as you hurry out of the room. 

[7surugi]

blue waves and his last kiss ｜ satosugu x f!reader

with a friend abruptly gone from your lives one day, you and satoru are left behind to reminisce about the love from past to present, and a future without him.

[content] slice of life, hurt/comfort, unestablished relationships, mentions of sex, mentions of underage drinking & smoking, mentions of death, implied child neglect/abuse, something about trying to cope with loss and grief (?? i think), non-linear

[word count] 9.3k

[note] summer memories told out of chronological order… i tried to do something new ┐(´ー｀)┌

The train gradually slows, screeching to a stop, piercing his ears and rings. This old village is still surrounded by a dreamy haze, almost slumbering, everything here is slowed down, and Satoru can feel everything; the gentle breeze carrying the faint scent of the ocean brings him back to summer. Their summer. His summer with you.

Walking down the streets feels a little empty, drained of life, gravel crunches beneath his feet with each stride, nothing has changed within a year, and he inhales, loosening his tie. Satoru has never been fond of wearing suits for formal events; he wishes he had worn his school uniform to attend the ceremony instead.

Dreadful, thick air, the smell of the dead welcomes him before he steps into the place. White chrysanthemums, lilies, and Satoru almost finds it hard to breathe here. It’s full of people he doesn’t recognise, an old lady he thinks he met last summer, and you. Even by your back alone, Satoru knows it’s you. So small and curled up near the corner, your head is hung low, not looking at anyone or anything, eyes getting lost in the thin lines of the flooring.

Satoru kneels down beside you, wrapping an arm around your stiff shoulders. You look up in surprise, eyes empty, brimmed-red, matching the tip of your nose. “Hi. Sorry, the train was a little delayed.”

“Satoru…” your voice comes out croaky, barely above a whisper.

Satoru looks down at you, pulling you into his arms as he tells you it’s okay, that you are fine. You really aren’t fine, it’s evident in your tired expression, your broken heart you wear on your sleeve. But you are still alive. You, a non-sorcerer. That should count for something, and it does, it’s more than something, in a tragic way, Satoru understands what it means. A remaining piece of him begins to break.

You are shaking in his arms and he holds you tighter. “How could this happen? They said…” your words are lost within your mumbling and how you are pressed right against his chest. “And the police said they don’t know… I don’t—Satoru.” His name escapes your mouth, you say it so sadly, begging him for something he can’t give to you, something that he wants, too.

“I don’t know,” he chokes out an easy lie, thin, almost painful, none of his eyes are looking at you. His line of sight is only focused on the pairs of slanted eyes that replicate the deep, soul sucking ones he had first met when the cherry blossoms bloomed three years ago. Incense smoke rising high in front of the still frames.

—

Satoru forces himself to tag along, much like he always seems to do these days, hanging off of Suguru, following him around to annoy him. He allows Satoru to come with him to visit his hometown because Suguru wouldn’t leave him in this shithole alone, right? (Of course, Suguru would never do that.)

After hours riding the train, it comes to a slow stop. Cicadas greet them with a loud screech in the air once they hop off the train, the familiar scent of the ocean hits, and that’s how Suguru knows he returned back to his hometown. It’s humid, too hot out here, his loose strand of hair begins to stick to his forehead, and Suguru wipes away the sweat. He glances over to Satoru who looks absolutely fine in the heat, he doesn’t understand how Satoru rarely sweats, even during training. Even Buddha has his favourites.

“Oh, wow? This place is so…” Satoru trails off as he looks around at the scenery around them.

“So what?”

“Unique.” It clicks off of Satoru’s tongue like a sickening sweet insult, coated bright red in the cherry flavoured lollipop that he sucked on the ride here. Rude. Snobby. And hypocritical. Satoru had been raised in the countryside too, Suguru learned this months after being ridiculed by the said boy for being a ‘country boy’. They aren’t so different. However (unlike him), Satoru is someone special, so special, and was raised in a secluded place for a reason. A reason nobody, but the holder of six-eyes could understand, and a small fishing village like this is nothing compared to what Satoru is used to.

Suguru rolls his eyes at that, not replying, to which Satoru takes as a sign to continue speaking. “It’s very you, Sugu-chan. I mean it.”

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Okay, sorry, so sorry,” he unapologetically replies with a smirk, childish and irritating, mischief reflecting in his icy eyes, a grin that begins to grow deviously. “Guru-chan.”

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”

“Oh, you should know flattery will get you nowhere.”

—

His mother greets him with a hug, wrinkled and cold hands holding him, she glances over his shoulder to Satoru, whose eyes are darting around the old hallway, his judging eyes hidden behind those tinted black lenses. “Is this the special boy you told me about?”

“Oh, you called me special, Suguru?” Satoru teasingly asks with a laugh to his words.

Suguru rolls his eyes at the boy’s growing ego, somebody needs to pop it one day. “I didn’t say that. And yes, mom, this is Gojō Satoru, one of my classmates,” he says, drawing out the last word, Satoru clicks his tongue. “Satoru, this is my mom.”

Suguru watches the two share a greeting, forced, and awkward kindness neither of them share. The walk to his bedroom is short, Satoru is quick to force his way inside to inspect the room he will be staying in for the next few weeks. He predicts Satoru’s next words correctly, like always, saying, ‘What a small room,’ and then, ‘How interesting.’ Asshole. What makes it annoying is how Satoru isn’t trying to be rude, this is just how he speaks, which is somehow more irritating.

Satoru is looking through his leftover collection of CDs he had forgotten to pack the last time he was here, he had already brought all of his favourite ones with him. Satoru picks out an album, one he is quick to recognise as the one his childhood got for him last christmas, ‘My Sweet Darlin’’ by Hitomi Yaida plays on his old stereo, your favourite song of hers. Satoru mentions this is his favourite single by her, Suguru blinks, he doesn’t mention you, nor the coincidence.

“Suguru!”

Ah, speaking of the devil, he thinks as he hears you before he sees you, the familiar sound of your footsteps running down the hall, your voice, and the moment he turns around you wrap your arms around him.

“Oh, hi, didn’t expect you to get here so quick,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer for a second, the scent of your shampoo and perfume is so sweet like coconuts.

“That’s what I should be saying, you know how those trains are always delayed,” you happily reply, saying something about how it’s been a while and that you missed him.

Satoru can’t keep his eyes off of you, his gaze locked on your figure, then he looks to Suguru, and smirks, mouthing some words, which widens Suguru’s eyes as he subtly shakes his head.

“I brought over some leftover onigiri I made earlier… Oh, wait, are you and your friend not done packing yet? I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” you say, looking over to Satoru who acknowledges your attention with a simple wave and signature smile in which you return.

“Okay, we’ll be down in a minute,” Suguru says to you as you nod, making your way out the door to the kitchen downstairs.

“Hey, you’ve never mentioned a girlfriend before… She is kinda hot, she might be the Waka Inoue type in a few years. You’re one lucky guy,” Satoru says letting out a shameless whistle.

“She is my childhood friend,” Suguru hisses once he makes sure you are out of sight. “Don’t say things like that about her.”

“What? It was a compliment. I always say things like this to you and you never—” Satoru abruptly stops, and Suguru can tell his eyes are gleaming behind those stupid sunglasses of his, he teasingly grins, pearly white flashing at him. “Oh. I get it. It’s ‘cause she is like your girl, but isn’t your girl, right?” His girl. Not his girl.

Suguru scoffs at the assumption, denying it. “No… Satoru, sometimes normal people find talk like that gross.”

“Okay then… I am so sorry,” he slowly replies, voice void of understanding, obviously not knowing why people may be turned off hearing words like that. His words go in and out through the other ear, Satoru only likes to hear what he wants to hear. “But you think she’s hot, like, it’s not just me, right?”

Suguru merely shrugs his shoulders with a sigh, dismissing Satoru. He agrees, saying you are pretty and changes the subject to something Satoru likes. To digimon and those pokémon cards he’s been collecting.

(You made tuna onigiri, his favourite, and karashi mentaiko onigiri, with a glass of iced genmaicha, exactly what is needed on a day like this.)

—

You are eighteen when you are whisked away from this little dull village to the lively city of Tokyo. To a bigger world where the lights never turn off. For a long time you’ve imagined this moment, and now that your wish has come true, you can’t find yourself smiling like you do in your fantasies. The midnight train ride is a long one, it’s silent and cold, too. The scenery passes you by, too fast and too dark to see.

Satoru is here with you. Sitting in the blue seat in front of you, his signature sunglasses rest low on the bridge of his nose. Eyes so void of emotion. Similar to when winter arrives and frosts over the ocean. A sheet of ice, you cannot see nothing, but your own reflection. Full of discomfort, chilling, you hate the way your lonesome reflection is hazed and muddled when he looks at you. You don’t want to see it, so you turn away.

“You good over there?”

“Yeah, I am just getting tired. It’s a little late,” you reply and before you get the chance to ask if he’s alright (which would be an understatement; his lifeless eyes and the dark circles that rest underneath are quite telling, almost as if he hasn’t slept in a few days), he quietly laughs as he leans his head against the cold window, saying he’s a little tired, too.

This Satoru resembles nothing of the boy you met during summer back then. That boyish smile of his feels lacks warmth; those pretty blue eyes of his are fully crystallised, reminding you of when snow heavily begins to fall. Summer is over, your final summer of youth comes to an end, the last page scribbled of black swirls.

Satoru sends you a sleepy smile when he catches your eyes glancing at him from time to time, you force a thin smile back. “This is exciting, huh? It’s like you’re a dumb kid running away from home, following some random guy to Tokyo. Imagine if you were following a murderer home.”

You awkwardly laugh at Satoru’s joke, his sense of humour is sometimes different from what you are used to, Suguru would say this is just how Satoru is, and not to take his words too seriously. You assume it’s a city people thing. “Wow, how romantic, or should I be concerned right now?”

“Perhaps, it is a little bit of both. Scared of me yet?”

“Maybe a little bit now,” you jokingly reply.

Underneath his playful tone and airy laugh, bitterness lies beneath, and you can understand it all too well. When Satoru catches your lurking eyes, he pushes up his frames, shielding those eyes of his from you, black lens blocking you out. You are tired, so tired, yet sleep doesn’t consume you the entire ride there.

—

The entire sky is painted bright blue, thin white clouds floating above, instantly reminding him of Satoru. The sky twinkles deeply in his eyes, the sun captured within, Suguru is almost envious at how Satoru easily consumes the world, how the world kisses him.

You and Suguru drag Satoru out of the house to show him your secret spot in this little seaside town. You are carrying a homemade kite that you’ve been working on the past few days, made up of scrap fabric from your old bed sheet. Suguru and Satoru follow behind you, carrying a bag of snacks and cold drinks from the little shop on the main street.

Walking up north, the wind carries the sand across their exposed ankles, behind an area seemingly of huge rocks is an area on the beach where people don’t come to (you and Suguru just haven’t seen anyone here throughout the years).

You carefully lay your kite down on the sand, holding the handle tightly in your hands, your skirt flutters in the wind as you run.

The two of them sit on a long beach towel, picking at the carefully assorted fruits, Satoru only eats the strawberries before eating the other fruits. Satoru glances over his shoulder to you, nudging Suguru, as he tilts his head in your direction.

“Have you ever fucked her?” Satoru is blunt, he asks this with a knowing grin to his smug face. “Like, nobody could blame you if you dreamt about it before.”

“You’re an idiot, Satoru,” he scoffs, his words or actions aren’t harsh, he is almost smiling. How he thinks of you is no one’s business, but his own, what he does with you is only for you to know, and of course, Satoru will only think of it as sex, like all teenage boys do. Suguru can’t help, but roll his eyes. He realises that maybe Satoru has never liked someone before, like like.

“So you have…?”

“I never said that.”

“Didn’t deny it either.”

Satoru is someone who is loved by others, thousands have waited for his birth for many years. Satoru has the world beneath his feet — the elders, and his clan worship the very ground he walks on. He has marriage candidates, girls younger and older than him selected to become his wife, which Satoru always complains about. It’s sad, very sad, and he can’t help but feel bad for his best friend.

Everyone loves Gojō Satoru, but nobody really likes him. Suguru wonders if he’s the only person that will ever know Satoru, who he is, and what lies in his heart.

Your handmade kite drifts in the air, slowly coming down, until Satoru begins to chase you, you run and run, the kite flying high right behind you.

—

Satoru watches, watches, and watches — he has always been good at that. He sees everything, things nobody will ever see, light shimmering in the darkest cracks, specs of crushed stars scattering this world, six eyes allow him to, he is Gojō Satoru, afterall.

His focus is on Suguru and by extension, you. Your neighbours down the street, the Yamato’s, had given the three of you an extra watermelon they had grown. Suguru had chopped it open, cutting half of it into thick slices. It’s so sweet, refreshing on this hot day, the three of you are sitting in Suguru’s backyard, drinking in the summer heat and the cool breeze that drifts by every few minutes.

You offer Suguru a bite from the slice of watermelon you had already bitten. Suguru doesn’t like to share food – something about sharing germs and what-not – however, Suguru opens his mouth, taking a huge bite causing you to whine, yelling about how you hate it when he does that. You hit his shoulder and he playfully grins at you, your little star pendant swaying around your neck. He studies this side of Suguru he hasn’t seen before.

Watermelon juice runs down your hand, dripping onto your exposed thigh, you don’t wipe it away, not noticing it as you continue to talk and Satoru grabs another slice off of the plate to eat. He picks all of the black and white seeds out with his fingers before eating.

“Yup, but Tomoko-san absolutely loves pretty boys, so she will probably try to set you up for marriage with one of her daughters—they’re like eleven now,” you say, “right, Suguru? She is sweet but loves to chat a lot.”

Tomoko-san. Off the main street. White roof. Free fruits and drinks. Satoru has no idea what you are talking about or referring to, but he hums every time you pause for a second in wonder if he is listening, and he lets you know he is.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. Satoru doesn’t shut up.”

“Hey, don’t say that about him,” you scold him in a friendly manner, before turning your head to Satoru, flashing him a sweet smile, lips glossy from the watermelon juice. “If she bothers you, all you need to do is remind her that Suguru is at the age where he may need a suitor.”

“Ooh, throwing him under the bus, I like that.”

“I don’t. I’ll kill you if you do,” Suguru grumbles, and Satoru immediately takes his words as a challenge. Satoru has never once backed down from a challenge.

“How could you? You can’t even beat me during sparring, Suguru.”

“Should we find out then?” Suguru bites back like he always does, he’s never liked to be challenged.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Hey! No fighting, it’s a nice day out, and I am trying to relax,” you speak up loudly between them, your hand gripping onto Suguru’s wrist.

“It’s actually called sparring,” Satoru spits out, and you roll your eyes.

Suguru explains this is just how they are, they spar together almost everyday during training, it’s something fun they like to do, especially when they are given permission to use their cursed techniques (which is rarely ever now after the damage they created during their first year).

You say, “I know that, but I don’t want to see two guys fight, oh, sorry, spar, nobody wants to see that.”

Suguru loosens his wrist from your grip, lightly holding onto your hand, stroking it with his thumb as he looks at you, telling you no spar would be taking place, they were only fooling around. Suguru looks a little different around you.

He wonders if Suguru loves you. Like the way humans love one another. He can tell that his best friend feels something towards you — something that isn’t friendly in the way Suguru treats him, it is in a way that’s foreign to him, perhaps, it’s because you two are childhood friends. Satoru has never had a childhood friend, so he wouldn’t know what it feels like. This side of Suguru is unfamiliar, overly gentle, touches that linger and tighten before letting go, something deeply blurred and entangled between the two of you. You are dangerously blurred within those violet eyes. Suguru has you, he probably has since so long ago, and you have him, and maybe that is a fact you don’t know.

Satoru sprinkles a bit of salt onto his watermelon slice, copying what he had seen you and Suguru do earlier. He immediately bites into it, the salty taste makes him grimace, spitting it out onto the freshly cut grass to which you both loudly laugh at. Suguru says he didn’t wait long enough, so he tries again, waiting a few minutes this time, the juice explodes into his mouth, overflowing with sweetness and he becomes addicted.

—

During the summer of your third year, you almost take all of your belongings and run to Tokyo. Almost. Yet you don’t, staying curled up on your bed in silence, swallowing your pain and hatred, your screams go unheard in the deep ocean. Forever muffled. The cicadas buzz loudly tonight, too loudly, the town is always so quiet during the night.

Tonight, Suguru visits you alone, without a call or any heads up. It’s midnight, you heard his school has a curfew, you wonder if he’ll get in trouble once he returns (“—and did you know Suguru is a delinquent? He makes the elders' heads hurt all the time, it’s true, he is no better than me,” Satoru had whispered into your ear last summer, a little secret treat for you, he said. You guess Satoru was telling the truth about that), you wonder why he visited so unexpectedly.

He invites himself in like this is his own bedroom, like he’s lived here for years, and technically he has. There’s something so different about him today, something sad in his slow movements, and shadow. There always has been. He’s always been wrapped in an air of melancholy, but his sadness tonight is different. Different in a way you think you’ll never know, in a way you could never understand, your heart burns, you swallow.

“Why are you here? You didn’t call,” you whisper in hopes your voice doesn’t slip through the cracks and awaken your parents. You walk over to your single size mattress, sitting down as Suguru joins you, sitting right next to you, legs touching within the small space.

He shrugs, saying, “I was nearby for a mission, thought I should come and see you.”

You’ve never once not believed in Suguru, he’s never given you a reason to doubt him, except for when he bottles things up and refuses to talk about it, always saying he is fine. You find it hard to believe his words tonight, you don’t think he was nearby, and guilt pricks your heart knowing you feel happy he came to see you. You’ve missed him dearly.

You lean forward, your hands rest on his shoulders, a bitter scent lingers on the collar of his white shirt, one that you have always hated since you were a child, you don’t know when it began to linger on Suguru, or when he began to start. His hair is let down, flowing down and framing his face beautifully, those eyes of his are too dark tonight; not a spec of purple can be seen, devoid of the deep violet you’ve fallen for all those years ago.

Suguru doesn’t say or do anything, so you tilt your head up, an attempt to capture his lips, however your lips are met with his thumb, pushing lightly against you. Suguru smiles so softly, so sadly, he looks down at you in a way you don’t recognise. Your heart races, a sharp pain piercing through you, and you place a hand on his wrist, as he runs his thumb against your bottom lip one last time.

“Oh. What’s wrong, Suguru? You don’t want to…?”

He shakes his head, “it’s nothing. I think the summer heat is getting to me.”

“Is it those missions you do? Or training… Has it been too hard for you?”

“No, it’s not that. Sometimes, they are tiring, and I feel like I need to rest, but I can’t.” Suguru does seem more tired than usual tonight, the dark circles underneath them are prominent.

“Oh, should we sleep then?” you offer, not wanting him to stay awake for any longer, especially when he seems so exhausted, on the verge of collapsing. “You need to rest up, Suguru.”

“Yeah, let's go to sleep. I just want to hold you tonight,” he says, you wrap your arm around him once you lay down, he feels a little thinner than usual. There is not enough space on your bed for the two of you, you lay slightly on top of him, and neither of you complain about the cramped space. It’s not the first time he’s slept with you. Suguru really only holds you tonight, calloused and strong hands don’t roam, his fingers don’t dip underneath your shirt or waistband. He holds you tightly, so tightly, it’s too hot, and you find it hard to breathe, yet you don’t complain about it, pushing yourself closer into his embrace. Suguru’s presence has always been so soothing, the way he holds you in his arms makes you feel okay once again, lulling you to sleep as your worries vanish back into the sea, the sharks can’t reach you from here.

You wake to an empty bed, his side has been cold for a long time. You don’t see or hear from Suguru for the rest of summer. You receive a postcard or souvenir in the mail like you usually do every few weeks. Mid-august, humidity high, and you can hardly breathe in the heat, and you hear about the murder of the Getō family. Mr. and Mrs. Getō were murdered in their living room during the silent night. Their son, Getō Suguru has gone missing. Whispers seep through the cracks of the concrete saying he is the main suspect — the parents were murdered by their own son. Getō Suguru, your precious childhood friend, killed his own parents. You choke on the summer air and throw up.

None of your messages or calls go through. You are met with the same automated reply. Suguru is gone, and Satoru never replies to you.

Winter seems to come early this year.

—

A knock on your window wakes you up in the middle of the night, the sound of pebbles gently hitting against the screen, and you frown as you slowly force yourself up. You already know who the culprits are.

You open it as quietly as you can to not wake your parents, as you glare at them. Suguru smiles at you sheepishly. “We can’t end the summer without fireworks,” he says, Satoru stands behind him widely grinning, holding up his hands to reveal senko hanabi sparklers.

And you find it hard to stay mad, you weren’t mad in the first place, just annoyed that you were woken up in the middle of the night. You break out into a smile, telling them to wait for you as you change into some clothes.

Sneaking past your parents’ bedroom and out of the house is easy, you’ve done it many times in the past, tonight is no different.

“Why did you wake me up to light fireworks? It’s not the end of summer yet,” you yawn into your hand and Satoru quietly laughs, his hand reaches over to touch your hair.

“It is with you,” Satoru replies, “you’ve got bedhead.”

“Oh. You guys are going back soon, I forgot about that,” you try not to sound sad while saying this, saying goodbye to Suguru every time he visits always leaves you feeling blue. “And it’s because you two woke me up!” you exclaim, swatting his hand away.

“Geez, who sleeps during the summer? You’re supposed to be staying up late and having fun.”

“I do…”

“Need your beauty sleep, huh, princess?”

“Maybe you should try it sometime, Satoru.”

Suguru tells you he will visit you again soon, that he will send you gifts, you always tell him you don’t need them, but he insists, and you always check the mailbox in anticipation. Every gift, postcard, and handwritten letter is kept safe in a box hidden beneath your bed.

Far past midnight and the village sleeps so silently, walking to your secret spot feels a little slower than usual, a way that is relaxing. A blanket of stars keeping the dark sky company, black with hints of dark blue and purple, similar to Suguru’s eyes; when you look long enough, you will find yourself lost and comforted, a pretty shade of the darkest violet holding you. In the distance the moon is shining brightly, its reflection ripples within the crashing waves.

“Suguru, pass me your lighter,” Satoru says, reaching a hand out as his other hand opens the box of firework sticks. Suguru reaches into his loose pockets, taking out a silver lighter, passing it off into Satoru’s hand.

You grab an incense stick each as Satoru lights them, crouching down on the rock, waiting for the molten ball to form, once it does, the fire flower begins to bloom underneath you. The fireworks illuminate Satoru’s face, the orange sparks dance a heavy tune with the blue stars within his eyes.

You remember Suguru had told you about a special boy in their world — someone so special that the world sits beneath his feet. Everything about Satoru is so ethereal in their world, and you, an outsider, can tell. From the way his eyes shine and how he breathes, Satoru draws everything towards him, but there is something about him that seems so far out of reach.

“I feel like these used to be a lot brighter, prettier, back when we were kids,” you say, watching the fireball slowly making its way to your fingers, the sparks of little shooting stars burning the image into your mind.

Satoru replies, “I think sparklers are still pretty, they’re the beauty of summer.”

You know Suguru is someone special, too, because that special boy is smiling and playing around with him so effortlessly. Suguru is reflected in those ocean eyes of his, shining ever so brightly, brighter than the fireworks and stars above, from his thin brows to his soft lips, everything lovely in between, and like Suguru always does, he chases after the wave and drowns.

(Satoru stands up to spin the sparklers, running wild in the night as he spells out his name and vulgar shapes which makes the three of you burst out laughing. When his back is turned as he looks for the lighter to light some more, Suguru’s shadow engulfs your shadow whole, he presses a swift kiss to your lips, and Satoru notices, he always does, he can see everything, the sparklers in Suguru’s hands burn out without any of you noticing, the fire has long burnt out. Satoru never noticed the remains of ashes piled up below.)

You wish this summer would never end.

However, like all things do, it ends for you the next day when the sun peeks through the horizon, they are on the train back to Tokyo.

—

You are eighteen left alone in Tokyo. Satoru barely calls you, his visits are even rarer, it’s been over two weeks since he had last shown up. He is busy, he always says this, and you believe him.

You are eighteen, trying your best to survive in the big city of Tokyo, the roads are busy, full, too wide, you find yourself getting lost in the crowd. Your hands are becoming colder, summer is not coming around, nerves bite away at the remains of your broken heart, unable to find the missing piece. You take a deep breath, telling yourself you are okay, that you’ve got this, you are used to surviving on your own.

Everything will be okay, you repeat again and again.

—

That day and the following ones were a blur; they still are and Satoru can barely recall it, memories play out hazy and tinted dark gray, almost the darkest shade of black.

(Explain yourself… Suguru!)

Even with the words spilling from Suguru’s mouth, Satoru finds it hard to believe in them. To believe in Suguru’s cruelty. Suguru is warmer than everyone he has ever met; his soul shines brighter than everyone he has ever known.

(Are you the strongest because you’re Gojō Satoru?)

Satoru doesn’t understand how it started, when it all started, but he does know. It started in Okinawa, right when they flew back to Tokyo, once they entered past the bright red torii gates, a blade slashed through his chest.

How could Suguru not spare his own parents? He spared you. His parents were sweet, always smiling, dull eyes, warm food, loving—they were (were they?). They treated them nicely when Satoru visited two summers ago, they asked him about school and cooked warm meals to eat, everything was so unfamiliar and foreign, like things he has seen on television.

(Or are you Gojō Satoru because you’re the strongest?)

How could Suguru leave him behind like that? A blade twisted through his heart, a deep scar remains on his chest, a reminder of the day and ones to follow.

And you. The smile of summer morphs into one belonging to a girl much younger than you, to Suguru, who smiles ever so tenderly under the shining sun.

(If you want to kill me, kill me. There’s meaning in that too.)

There is no meaning in any of that. Those words trapped within his throat, unable to spill to a boy who refuses to listen.

Satoru needs to see you again. He needs to see you now.

—

“How is life in Tokyo?” Satoru asks you as he sits across from you at the table of a new café. The strawberry shortcake in front of him is already half-eaten, and the waitress comes over to deliver the strawberry parfait he had ordered a few minutes ago.

“Tokyo… It's really different. You said to come with you to Tokyo and then you ditched me,” you jokingly reply, before taking a sip of your matcha latte. You can understand why it is so popular, everything is made up of the best quality here, and only the best.

“Mhm, bet it’s better than that tiny village. It is, huh?”

You nod in agreement, it is better, even though you can’t help but feel anxious, like a shark is chasing after you and only you in the deepest pit of the ocean. “I decided to try and become a teacher…” you say. What you really wanted to do was become a counsellor or something similar for children, but you aren’t so sure if you would be good at it, if your fragile heart would be enough.

“We are so similar,” you look up when he says this, he is smiling at you as he leans his head on his palm. “I’m gonna become a teacher too. For people like me, though.”

A teacher. Satoru wants to become a teacher — he will become one, a confirmed future. You never knew he was interested in something like that, however, you know you don’t know Satoru well enough to judge. “We are. It must be the work of fate,” you say.

“That’s right, it’s the work of a young god,” he goes along with your little joke, shivers run down you, you drink your now cooled latte. You should’ve finished drinking it while it was still hot.

Satoru promises he will see you again soon, you smile, holding onto his empty promise.

—

Empty promises always remain empty. You don’t hold it against Satoru, that is just how he is. He still calls you from time to time, and you find yourself becoming too busy, drowning into your studies.

—

The next time you see Satoru is months later when he is sitting outside your doorstep despite knowing the passcode, he has the original copy of the key, too. He’s drenched from the rain, his white hair sticking to face, hidden eyes. His hair has grown out a bit over the months, messy and unkempt.

“Satoru, you should’ve let yourself inside…” you quietly say as you unlock the door, Satoru stands up, towering over you, yet he seems smaller than usual today. He only replies that he was waiting for you to come home.

You ask him if he’s hungry, you have leftover miso soup from this morning, and some ingredients to make chicken katsu (you don’t mention that you had eaten with a new co-worker earlier). You suggest he takes a hot shower so he doesn’t get sick, he remarks saying he has never fallen ill before, making his way into the bathroom.

Your mattress is much bigger than you are used to, a queen size bed, there’s so much space, yet Satoru is pressed up behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he keeps you close. You assume Satoru will be sleeping here tonight. It’s been a long time since you last slept beside someone, you remember the night so distinctly, as if it was yesterday.

And Satoru holds you so, so, so gently, it’s rather uncharacteristic of him, not like the Satoru you know. So tenderly if you closed your eyes an image of a face you haven’t forgotten would be there and you blink away the tears that want to form within your eyes. You think, his hands are too light, you can barely feel the callouses and constellations of little scars. His hand trails up your thin shirt, rubbing light circles against your skin, on your waist and beneath your breasts. Satoru holds you in a way that feels wrong, in a way you both know he shouldn’t — in a way he wouldn’t if he were here. However, he doesn’t stop, and you don’t stop him.

You turn over, meeting his eyes. The little stars in his eyes are crying to be seen. You lift a hand to his cheek, gently brushing the strand of hair that sits too close to his eyes, and Satoru only watches you silently. It remains like this for a moment, you carefully holding his face, warm and pink from the hot water that drenched his skin, his hand wrapped around you, travelling up and down your back, tracing little circles as he feels your soft skin against his hand.

“I used to wish to know his lips,” he whispers ever so quietly, those vacant eyes of his glimmering in the darkness of your bedroom as he flickers from your lips to your eyes. “The taste of them, the feeling… Sometimes, I still do,” he sounds a little sad as he says this, but he’s smiling, and you can’t help but smile sadly, too.

Satoru wants to kiss you, too. You can feel it in the way he looks at you, you can feel it in the prickling air. You expect Satoru to kiss you first, to close the distance between you, and he does, leaning in first, his lips are on yours, slowly moving against yours.

You were fifteen when Suguru had stolen a bottle of your mother’s favourite whiskey and the two of you had spent the afternoon in his room, door locked, the liquid burning your mouth and throat, cheeks flushed red, Suguru’s intense gaze slowly consuming you. He asked you if you ever kissed someone before, a question you both know the answer to, and you get annoyed thinking he is teasing you. He is quick to reassure you that isn’t the case. Maybe it’s the liquor running in your veins, because he leans in to kiss you, a small peck before he pulls back, a moment of awkward silence lasting only a few seconds, before he kisses you again. One with less hesitation.

You remember the taste, something you don’t like, to this day you still don’t, always avoiding whiskey, but you loved the feeling of Suguru’s lips on yours. Shy and giggly, teeth grazing, nose bumping. Trying to search for a proper pace, clammy hands awkwardly trying to find a place to settle.

Kissing Satoru doesn’t feel like that. He kisses you so slowly, deeply, you feel every movement and it tingles through your body and soul. Everything fades around you, all you can think and feel is his lips. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you softly gasp, pulling away for air, breathing heavily.

“Are you scared?” Satoru asks once you pull away from him, his breathing matches yours, his breath fans your face, a sweet scent lingers in the air. Like strawberry candies, sugary sweet, artificially sweet, Satoru’s favourite.

“No,” you breathlessly reply.

He chuckles, teasing you as he says, “your heart is beating really fast, though.”

“I-I know that…” you murmur, feeling shy and embarrassed, as if he doesn’t know you can feel how hard your heart is beating, how fast it races in this moment. It’s your heart, you know her better than anyone in the world.

“Mine is beating, too, princess,” he says, before flipping the two of you over, giving you no time to reply, you are caged between him, his pure white hair lightly brushing against your face. Lust fogging over his eyes as stares down at you, gray and blue. Matching everything around you. “Let’s take our time tonight, yeah?” Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down, linking your legs around his thin waist.

Lonely fingers woven together, he holds you so close, hearts intertwined, and kisses so intimately and intensely, you feel so wanted and loved by this boy who is known as a god in a world you do not know. A world you will never see. Kissing Satoru makes you feel like you’re not alone in the world. This is plenty, it is enough for you, you don’t want anything else, except for this. Only Satoru. You whisper this lie to your yearning heart.

—

“‘Toru? Wait, are you leaving?” you hastily ask while you watch him throw on his white dress shirt, the red lines on his back disappearing, your cheeks warm at the vivid memory, you feel shy, pressing your thighs together. You pull the covers higher as you sit up on the bed.

“Mhm, can’t stay tonight,” you pout at his words, feeling disappointed in him, Satoru knows your next question before you say it. “I’ve got kids at home to watch over,” he simply says, and you huff a small laugh at his joke.

“Huh? Did you take in some pets or something?” Satoru has always been fond of strays, you remember those times when he used to try to call over the wandering cats around your village and attempt to pet them, yet they only ran towards Suguru before disappearing into the bushes. Satoru would always get annoyed and pout about it, saying something about how his Pokémon on his gameboy would never do this to him.

Satoru lowly hums, “yeah, somethin’ like that. They’re so tiny, I think they didn’t eat much until I took them in. I gave them some cash, so hopefully they ordered themselves some fresh sushi or something for dinner… Is ten thousand yen enough for two kids?”

“Oh? Wait, you are serious… Satoru, you are taking care of actual kids? What, why?” you say in disbelief. You haven’t seen Satoru in months and he drops by unannounced, sleeping with you, and then tells you he’s leaving to go take care of some kids at his house. Actual kids, human kids.

The information slowly processes through your brain, you have so many questions on the tip of your tongue that you know if they spill, Satoru would never answer them. You decide to swallow them down.

“It was a request. A last one. I felt like I should grant it since nobody else can.” Nobody else but me, his unsaid thoughts are loud. So loud, your heart shakes, you slowly swallow.

Satoru turns around to look at you as he buttons the last button on his shirt and leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek which makes you scrunch up your face. “Maybe you can meet ‘em one day, you said you’re good with kids, right?”

You slowly nod your head, not really sure what to say, even by your lack of response, Satoru smiles. “Great. They’re still so shy, so one day. Soon,” he says, softly kissing your lips before he leaves, the feeling feels so faint.

Your bedroom door clicks with a shut. Even with you, his back still seems so lonely, as if the weight of the world sits on his shoulders.

Down the hall, you can’t hear his footsteps, everything about Satoru acts light. His footsteps. His breathing. Everything except his heavy presence, that is how you know he is there. Until he isn’t, and you hear the echo of a faint click of your front door being shut. Silence consumes the empty home and you’re left to sleep alone once again.

—

Turning twenty didn’t change anything. Neither did turning twenty-four, nor twenty-five. If anything, sometimes you feel more lost now than you did at eighteen, you thought you knew the world at sixteen. You are grown, yet sometimes it feels as if your physical appearance is the only thing about you that has changed.

It took a few years, but now you are used to the bright lights that never go out and the busy streets with crowds that never split. You love Tokyo, and all of the new things you have never experienced or seen before, you’ve grown used to living here. However, every once in a while, a memory of that village hits you so hard and the cracks in your heart begin to widen once again, just when you were able to put it back together again. A type of sadness that always lingers within you, settling behind your ribs, deeply in a place you could ever reach, and all you can go is try to pretend it isn’t there. Even in the middle of this city, sometimes you swear the scent of the ocean passes you by, you always remember Suguru in those moments, and shed a few tears.

You feel Satoru’s presence before you hear or see him, you hate it when he randomly appears in your apartment like this, you always tell him to use the front door like a normal person.

“Well, don’t you look so pretty today.” You smile when you hear this as he pulls you into a hug and you feel his hand running through your hair, causing you to glance up in confusion. “Why is your hair shining? Hmm, is this glitter?” he asks, his index finger in between both of you as a little sparkle shines against it, causing you to deeply inhale.

“One of the kids was playing around with glitter and got it in my hair, spent all night washing it out,” you explain, feeling frustrated all over again. “Is there still a lot? I thought I got all of it out…”

“There’s still some left.”

“What, where?” you ask, automatically lifting your hand to your hair, patting around for a feel for tiny pieces of plastic. “Help me, Satoru,” you plead, seeing him just stand there watching you.

Satoru leans down, his face right in front of yours as he grins, “they’re in your eyes, princess,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your eyelid. You huff at his words, biting down on your growing smile, unable to stop the blush rushing to your cheeks.

You lightly shove him away from you, asking, “why are you here?”

“I can’t come and see you without a reason?”

“Really, tell me why,” you insist on him coming over for a reason, you know he did.

“I want to go on a little trip with you,” he admits.

“I have work on Monday,” you reply, jabbing your finger into his toned chest, “and you do, too. No slacking off.”

“I know, I know. That was only once—”

“More than once,” you correct.

“Yes… more than once, you’re right, but it’s only for day,” he says, taking your hand in his. “Just for one night, so come with me?”

And you agree, the two of you already knew your answer from the very beginning, an answer destined from the beginning.

He takes you to Yokohama, only an hour away, he rents a free room in the hotel with the best view of the city, and takes you out to eat your favourite foods. By evening, he’s dragging you along, you try to keep up with his long strides, mentally cursing him and his long legs.

He takes you all the way to the pier, an overlook of the small beach, nothing compared to the one you grew up in. It smells of seaweed, and you can see across the water here, the sun slowly sets in the distance, an orange and red sky reflected in the water, your eyes feel heavy the more you sink into the view. Satoru never lets go of your hand, his steady hand holds yours firmly.

The younger you could never imagine herself in your position. Into the deep city, older with an ordinary job, watching a pretty sunset at an average beach. A younger you could never imagine herself living a life without Suguru in it. Many things have changed. Some things remain the same. Your feelings have never changed. The ocean always stays the same, it always will, and there’s a comforting feeling in knowing this.

You quietly sigh, feeling the need for a cigarette. His lucky cigarette. You long for the familiar bitter smell that you once used to hate.

Satoru only stares at the crashing waves. Unable to tear his eyes away from it; those eyes of his have always belonged to the sea. To the blue sky. To their youth. And there is no doubt that he’s thinking of Suguru right now. You know this because whenever you are by the sea, you can’t help, but think of him, too.

—

From a young age, Suguru comes to realise he is a small fish in a big pond. The world around him is much bigger than the cage he swims in. He grows more insecure when he comes to realise his family is different from others; that he is different from others.

He has always been sensitive to his surroundings. Sensitive to his mother’s silent presence and wishes, to every action and expression his father made and everything around him. For a long time he believed this village was haunted, that one day ghosts emerged from the sea and haunted him and the townsfolk. After all, he swore he was always being watched, every one of his actions was being judged and digested. And when he told his father that, his father laughed and said he didn’t think Suguru would believe his words for so long. He was only trying to scare him.

However, this feeling never goes away. The black shadow beneath his bed greets him every night with a snicker, hiding beneath the blanket causes the laughter to become louder, louder, until it screeches, like the sound of a nail running across a chalkboard piercing his ears, refusing to become muffled as he covers his head with his old pillow.

He is eleven when he sneaks out of his house at midnight, he finds it hard to breathe in there, desperately needing fresh air, and he meets you wandering along the empty dirt road. All alone. He knows of you, you are from the class next door, he has seen you walking in the hallway a few times. Apparently, you don’t get along with your classmates, rumours travel fast in this village through hushed whispers and mocking snickers, the stars this time are about your mother and father, and caught up in between the clashing meteors is you. In a way, you are similar to him, your eyes have a sadness to them that no child should have, however your smile is soft and warm, and Suguru can’t help, but feel drawn to you.

You bring him to the sea; walking across the shoreline to a little corner behind an area hidden by a bunch of huge rocks that you call your secret spot. You tell him it belongs to him now, too. A secret corner in this little big world only for the two of you. There’s a white fin he can see in the distance, the shark doesn’t make its way closer to shore. Suguru looks over to you, you’re looking across the vast sea so yearningly, the stars are twinkling in your eyes.

(He wishes he asked what you were looking at so beautifully.)

Suguru wishes he could go home, but he can’t, unable to run to the little safety corner at the end of the world. Not now. Everything around him is burning blue, he’s drowning himself in the screams and curses of hundreds of strangers, his hands are dripping crimson red. Everything is blue. Bright blue like the summer sky and glistening sea. Blue eyes. White hair. Carefree smile. Little white sundress and your innocent laughter muffled between the haunting cries. Splattered blood. Drifting white headband. A celebration for the dead. A cage for the living. The sound of clapping echoes within the crackling. It snaps, then pops.

Suguru can’t go home. Nowhere is home. Everything around him is burning blue. So blue, and he’s being consumed by the fire. He accepts this as his fate, he has to.

—

“Hm? Not in the water today?”

Sprawled out like a starfish, Suguru lays on the sand, where the water meets the sand, eyes closed and peaceful.

When there’s no reply, Satoru pouts, plopping down to lay beside him. He calls out his name, wanting attention, awaiting a response as he stares at him. Suguru doesn’t turn his head to meet his eyes, he just lays there, so listless, and Satoru softly sighs, a small smile gracing his face despite feeling a little annoyed. He closes his eyes, the sound of ocean waves crashing, cicadas calling out from the high branches in the distance and the seagulls' low mews create a summer melody.

“I’m listening to the waves,” he says, and Satoru smiles in amusement.

“From here?”

Suguru hums a reply and Satoru parrots it. Listening to the waves. How stupidly poetic, he thinks to himself, chuckling at how cute and childish Suguru can be. A hidden side of Suguru that is so endearing as it is entertaining.

The way the waves crash onto the shore — rather gently, reaching the brim of his jeans and Satoru hates it. He doesn’t understand how Suguru is fine with the water soaking his clothes and the sand that sticks onto their skin and hair. The water is strangely warm as well, adding to his annoyance.

“Do you have any dreams, Satoru?”

“What’s yours?” he asks.

“I asked first,” he knows Suguru is rolling his eyes, however, Suguru is kind enough to not push, he says, “I think one of my dreams came true already. I wanted to get out of here for a long time.”

One of his dreams. What are his other dreams? What does he dream of? Yet, instead of all the thoughts that shoot through his brain, Satoru finds himself asking about you. “What about her?”

Are you one of Suguru’s dreams? He needs to know.

“I am waiting for her in Tokyo,” Suguru says this in a way that Satoru is familiar with. Too familiar. Suguru calls out his name like this. “Once I graduate and make money from these missions, I will take her out of this place and bring her home.”

Satoru thought Suguru liked this place since he keeps coming back, maybe it is only to see you, and his parents. Maybe in this seaside village, Suguru only likes it here, this little part of the beach where nobody goes. It’s not so bad here, just a little lame, and very boring, but Satoru wouldn’t mind staying here with Suguru. And you, much to his surprise.

“I think she may wait for you for a long time. I took a peek at your bank account and—”

“Hey, why did you look at that?! Don’t snoop through other peoples’ belongings, has nobody taught you that? You are jinxing it for me.”

Satoru repeats his words in a mocking tone, earning a sharp elbow to his rib, a loud and painful groan escapes his throat.

“I was just joking! Really, I am!”

In a few days, they will fly to Okinawa. A pretty island that Satoru hasn’t seen before and he doesn’t know the exact details yet, Yaga hasn’t said anything, but he knows the mission will be one with Suguru. As expected, the two strongest sorcerers of this generation, it comes to no one’s surprise. It’s hours away from this place, hours away from Tokyo, yet the ocean is vast, reaching far out into the world, connecting right back to where you are.

Right back to the place Suguru had once called home.

[belovedstarrs]

new years day.

• pairing : yuuta x afab!reader

• tags : mdni, smut, creampie, drunk!reader, drunk!yuuta, afab!reader, aged up au

• a/n : heres a rare drabble for new years!! i dont write much due to me starting a project then i kinda just forget about it and/or have no more motivation to finish but i was able to get this done in one sitting 💪💪

• wc : 488

• inspired by new years day by taylor swift

you had just regained consciousness. you quickly looked at the clock 1:06 am. then it hit you what you were doing. yuuta was pounding into you with no mind. you both were drunk as hell and you dont remember how you got yourself here. you were at makis new years party with yuuta and a few guys were getting too close to you and yuuta didnt like that, so what ended you up in this predicament? you felt the coil soon to snap as yuuta kept pounding, squelching could be heard as the slaps from skin on skin burned, only for a quick second. you felt closer to your high as yuuta kept going balls deep, back and fourth.

"yuu-" you panted "im close" short, hot breaths that only made him go faster.

you soon felt yourself orgasm and yuuta followed suit, hitting his orgasm as well as all his cum shot into you. he pumped a few more times but slower and more sloppy, he fell on top of you soon after. you looked around to see where you were at, makis room. your gonna have to apologize for this later but nows not the time. you felt your eyes get heavy as yuuta was probably already asleep on top of you. you just sighed and fell asleep with him.

it was the morning. you felt yuuta run his hands through your hair a few times while lightly saying your name.

"y/n.. its time to get up. we have to go soon."

your eyes fluttered open as you looked at yuuta. you quickly sat up and regretted it quickly as nausea filled your stomach, here comes the inevitable hang-over. you drank too much last night and regret it horribly. you look at the time on the clock. 7:29 am.

you slowly got up and put your clothes back on. you walked out of makis room with yuuta and went down the stairs. there were a few girls carrying their heels. glitter all over the floor with candle wax from freshly blown out candles. you decided to help clean a few bottles on the floor before the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and cherry blossom reeked and you started to get a headache from the mix. you leaned your head on yuutas shoulder as you two walked to the front entrance.

you grabbed your own heels from the front entrance and put them on as your taxi arrived. you and yuuta walked out and got inside as he told the taxi driver to your house. yuuta held onto your hand in the back seat and squeezed it one, two, three times as you spoke to him.

"yuuta, please dont ever become a stranger to me. i want to spend my midnights with you."

he looked at you with a gleam in his eye as he muttered to you

"never, never would i leave you y/n."

made by @belovedstarrs do not copy or use in any way without permission

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 一人 ‧₊˚ NOT ALLOWED, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ he loves you so much. he just can’t understand why you don’t love him back. wc, 1.02K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. this story is based off ‘not allowed’ by tv girl and choso is obviously perfect for this idea i have. me and @5kstxrz were talking about the meanings of tv girl's lyrics and how deep they are. shit made me cry a bit...but i hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee (also, play the song while you read so you can immerse)

␥ tags. 90s AU, female reader, female anatomy, choso is in a one-sided love situation with reader, drinking, smoking, masturbation, jealousy, smut (?), lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

the acrid smell of smoke filled the small apartment, billowing up to the ceiling and swirling in an ominous dance. choso sat on the corner of the couch, playing with a switchblade in one hand while a cigarette dangled lazily from his lips. outside, the sky rumbled with thunder, and sheets of rain pounded against the glass panes as if pleading to be let inside.

the dim light cast shadows on the walls, making the atmosphere feel even more tense and foreboding. but choso remained unfazed, lost in his own thoughts as he absentmindedly flicked open and closed the blade in his hand.

the lit cigarette made a soft plop as it landed in the ornate, yet worn ashtray on the coffee table. it rolled around momentarily before coming to rest in a comfortable position. choso took a swig from his can of beer, lifting it to his lips and gulping down the cold, bitter liquid like a parched animal.

on the table in front of him lay scattered polaroids of you, your bright smile shining through the images. but in each one, there was also a man whose face had been scribbled out with a bold black permanent marker. you were always so beautiful, he thought to himself. why would you waste your time with someone who never even bothered to take you dancing, playing with your head?

choso gazed intently at the breathtaking backdrop of the spring season. the delicate cherry blossom trees adorned the landscape, their branches gracefully draping overhead like a string of luminous lanterns during the lunar year. the vibrant pink petals danced in the gentle breeze, filling the air with a sweet floral fragrance that intoxicated the senses.

as he observed this picturesque scene, choso couldn't help but wonder if this man you were so in love with was truly bringing joy and happiness into your life. did he ever make you cum? did he ever make you cry? he wasn't sure but, he was truly determined to change all of that for you.

those little wires in your mind were being sewn together, rubbed, and severed by the heat. you couldn't even begin to fathom how long choso could stare into your picture and wish that it was him instead of that parasite you call your crush.

choso knew he couldn't be angry. it wouldn't be fair for you. i guess it's different because you love him, he thought to himself as he took another swig of his beer, a thin trail of saliva stretching from his bottom lip to the metal of the can.

as the male drank, forcing himself to forget about you and how you were probably getting pounded into the mattress by someone who wasn't him, he decided to use his own sick and twisted imagination. his mind was always interactive, and his dreams were vivid and memorable. they always made him smile when you were in those dreams.

in a recent dream, choso found himself standing on your doorstep, his hot breath fanning over your forehead as he leaned in to lick the sweat from your skin. your fingers were tangled in his hair, gently tugging and guiding him closer. the air was thick with desire as leather jackets fell to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

as he reminisced about this dream, choso felt his hips bucking lightly against his fist, a low groan escaping his lips as he imagined it was your touch instead of his. he could almost feel your hand wrapped around him, slick with saliva as you teased and stroked him. or maybe it was your mouth, warm and wet as the pink muscle slid against his glossy tip, driving him wild with pleasure.

a chaotic mess of papers littered his room, each one filled with love letters, soulful song lyrics, and passionate poems - all written for you. he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever have the courage to send one to you or serenade you with a single sonnet. would you even appreciate them? he worried they would turn sour instantly, the words losing their potency once spoken aloud when he's only being honest.

his fingertips were stained with traces of his own release, a physical manifestation of the emotions and alcohol coursing through his veins. the weight of his head against the arm of the couch added to the sensation of being drunk, both from the liquor and his turbulent thoughts. his gaze rested on the landline phone hanging against the wall, its cord twisting like a snake in mid-air.

he leaned back against the arm of the couch, his head tilted upwards as if searching for answers in the ceiling above. the room was spinning around him, the only still object being the glowing numbers on the digital clock ticking away on the side table. you never called. and choso was starting to suspect that you don't intend to do anything you say at all. wasting your tongue with lame excuses and lies.

“fuck,” the curse slipped out between his gritted teeth as he glared at the relentless rain. it was like a physical manifestation of a third party that was blocking him from reaching you, his heart's desire. the sound of the downpour echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of his unrequited love for you as you remained locked away in your house, captivated by the shadows of clouds rather than the beauty of the falling rain or the sweet aroma it brought as it pattered against the asphalt, and it only added to his frustration.

choso berated himself for being foolish enough to fall for someone like you. but it was okay. even if he was sitting alone, watching from a distance as you dashed off with another man, he didn't mind remaining just your friend. just for a little bit longer. even if it meant having even a small place in your life.

as the rain continued its steady rhythm against the asphalt, he couldn't help but feel that it mirrored his own emotions - a constant and unyielding force that would never be satisfied.

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