#honestly not just her relationship with jung but like out of life in general

[auraleeknow]

ok so i didnt realize the tags have a limit nor did i realize i wrote thirty fucking tags and i still wasnt done. so. tags cont 🥰🥰🥰

and like, idk it sounds like the wedding was all out, so like YEA. THAT'S A BIG THING TO JUST CANCEL. so ofc she had reservations about calling it off the closer they got, but im so glad she left him. cause like in the missing ring scene, it felt like she was more scared of *jung* and how he'd retaliate for the ring being lost more than the ring itself. like baby, forever isn't supposed to feel like a scary life sentence, and im so glad she realized it while spending time with min again. and idk! part of me does still think that maybe min should have taken time to go to his parents. that maybe just a little bit of time, just a little, for both of them to clear their heads and sort out their feelings. mc just kept digging and digging and digging this hole deeper and deeper and while yes, she did eventually dig herself out, she's still exhausted and covered in the debris of it all. and I know minho would hold her, clean the dirt off her himself while she rests in his arms, safe and loved and protected, it's so unfair to minho that he continuously has to be the one to bear the weight and the pain her emotional immaturity causes. like his frustration at the end where he was like *so u waited until the day before ur wedding to say something 🤨* I WAS LIKE RIGHT?????? like idk i just feel like he has every right to be wary of how mc actually feels about him, about them, about everything they'd been doing for the last two months, when she couldn't even be honest with herself for years.

i really do think this story feels *the most* human out of all your fics ive read so far. there is just so much realistic flaw within the mc and the people around her, and its not just magically changed or fixed or disregarded by the end. its there until the last moment, but minho looks at her and still wants her, mess and all. god.

also jung get fucked u stinky little man. he sounds like hes got the emotional maturity of a 10 year old with holographic pokemon cards or something like wtf. LIKE IDK IF I READ THAT PART WRONG BUT WHEN HIS BUDDY WAS MAKING THOSE COMMENTS DURING GOLF???? AND TOUCHED MC WITH THE CLUB????? mc is better than me bc i would have SWUNG. and jung didnt say shit!!!!! he was laughing!!! hes so fucking gross mc baby what did u ever see in this stinky little clown man

anyways this was a banger and once again im asking for ur hand in marriage bc wtf star ur so good at this AND IM SO SORRY ABT THE LONG TAGS AND THE RANT DOWN HERE I JUST HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABT THIS FIC

Begged & Borrowed

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 30.2k

Warnings: infidelity, drinking, smoking, use of pet names, unprotected sex, breast/nipple play, dry humping, clitoral stimulation

Synopsis: A turn of events causes you and your longtime best friend Minho to confront your true feelings for each other- except you’re already getting married to somebody else.

[this work was based off a request from “🌷” anon - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

For as long as Minho has remembered, he’s been in a constant state of grieving. But no one’s passed, nor is there any reason to believe something should happen. Nonetheless, the feeling remains, a cruel reminder of the phenomenon when it hits him suddenly, eating away at his thoughts and boring into his flesh.

Like a seed planted deep in his body, one that suddenly sprouted, and won’t stop growing, and growing. And in his mind, this grieving takes its form in viridian hues of ivy, thin stringy stems that wrap around his bones and constrict him to a life lived within the cage of his own body. Rubbery leaves of green with venules that mirror his own veins and seem to mock him as they replace what’s left of him. And Minho can do nothing except coexist with this heavy sense of grieving, let the ivy strangle him in its unsuspecting embrace and rob him of his last breaths. He’s still in there, trapped somewhere, breathing in labored breaths and stiff at the limbs. But he can’t breathe, and he fears one day this grieving is going to kill him.

*

Minho exhales deeply, balancing a small cardboard box which houses a white cylindrical cake in his hands, his eyes darting nervously over the crowd inside. There seem to be 20, maybe 30 people, already acquainted with the space, chatting amongst themselves with glasses of champagne in hand. He’s tried your cell phone twice, to no avail- of course he knows you’re probably making your rounds, chatting with guests and double checking the hors d’oeuvres are to your liking. But he tries one more time just in case, bringing the phone up to his ear and letting it ring once, twice, three times- voicemail.

There’s no way around this but to go inside and socialize for the next hour, Minho’s personal idea of hell on earth. He grips the box a little firmer with one hand, using the other to slip his cell phone back into his pocket and make sure he can access it easily, just in case he needs to look busy. And with one more deep sigh, he begins the journey inside, mentally preparing to pretend as though he cares about any of this.

The venue interior is spacious, and admittedly a breathtaking view at this proximity, much to Minho’s stubborn dismay. Round white tables line the wooden floors, wrapped in velvety cream tablecloths and glowing in the dim lightning of tea candles. Similar cream-colored lanterns line the ceilings in neat rows, parallel to the strings of bohemian bulb lights that serve more as decoration than to actually brighten the place. And by the marble wall fountain at the back of the open space, there’s you, all dressed up and chatting enthusiastically with a group of women. Minho pauses for a moment, not yet proceeding, as he takes in the sight of your elegant appearance. Your figure is hugged delicately by a slim-fitting dress, a pair of strappy heels complementing the loose curls and simple makeup you sport. And he sighs again, feeling as though this is all going to be in vain the second he approaches you.

Yet he doesn’t even have to- you spot him from across the room first, whispering something in another woman’s ear before making your way toward him, an enchanted smile on your face and such purpose in your step as you near him. Minho’s heart quickens in his chest the way it always does when he’s around you, though his demeanor seems to relax fully once you’re in front of him, your arms extending for a hug as he shoots you a saccharine smile and pulls you into his embrace.

“You made it!” You exclaim enthusiastically, your arms wrapping around the broad shoulders he flaunts under his white collared button-up. He smells familiar, a comforting mix between fabric softener and his musky cologne, and it brings you right back to your days spent alongside him in college, catching late-night movies together and hitting up all your favorite fast food joints.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Minho replies sweetly. He chuckles a little as he speaks, lost in the striking glow of your eyes at this proximity, your long eyelashes fluttering as you smile in response and nod.

“Thank god you’re here,” you voice, glancing around the room inconspicuously. “I think Jung’s friends have had one too many shots. And I asked for pink flowers on the centerpieces- do these look pink to you?”

You gesture to the bouquets of very magenta floral arrangements, shaking your head as Minho laughs in response.

“Hey, remember this is just to celebrate everything being finalized. You can get nit-picky when the wedding rolls around- for now, let’s just enjoy the magenta flowers.”

You smile up at him, always endeared at the way Minho finds the good in everything. He has a special way of taking your fears or reservations and making them seem so insignificant in contrast to the world around you. And he’s been that way for as long as you can remember, quick to fix things and stay by your side through the hardships whenever they crept up on you.

Like the time your car got impounded and he walked nearly two hours with you to get it back because neither of you could afford a taxi. Or the time your holiday office party was all but sleep-inducing, and he didn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing to take you out for burgers, instead.

And of course, being by your side throughout this very burdening wedding process. Minho’s the first person who got the news of the engagement when it happened, nearly shattering the dish he washed during a session of old cartoon reruns and fast food while you were out at dinner with Jung. And it was the last thing he’d expected, too, remembering how the week prior was spent lending a kindly ear to you as you ranted about Jung’s stubbornness and his poor temperament.

“Married?” He’d spoken into the phone, like the proposition of getting an engagement ring implied literally anything else.

And when you saw him again an entire week later, the marquis diamond hugged by delicate prongs and a sterling silver band around your fourth finger confirmed the words, as if your excitement over the phone hadn’t done so already. At first Minho was angry, declining invitations to hang out and forcing himself to stay asleep so as not to feel the sheer pain and regret that came with the news. What does she even see in him? He’d asked himself a dozen times a minute, mapping out the factors you complained about to him and weighing them against the likelihood that you’d actually follow through with this wedding.

He’s messy. He doesn’t like spending money on fancy dinners, so sometimes we’ll only do sides. My parents think he’s a little arrogant and when he’s with his friends, it’s like I don’t exist.

All signs point to negative. There’s no way you’d actually follow through with marrying Jung- at least not if it’s up to you. Maybe you had stars in your eyes, couldn’t say no to the sparkly ring and had thought back to the first date when he first got down on one knee. That has to be why you said yes.

The prospect of marrying him contractually is a headache when Minho thinks about it- and that’s not even inclusive of the idea that comes with spending the rest of your life cooped up in a house with him, with children and in-laws. It would mean years of him talking back to you, undermining you and rubbing his superiority complex in your face. Minho isn’t sure he could stick around for a lifetime of that.

At least he wasn’t sure before- and now, with just two months out till the wedding, Minho is panicking. It feels like some race against time to knock an ounce of sense into you, but the stars in your eyes are still there when he catches you glancing at your ring, or moved by Jung’s actions that scream the bare minimum.

“Did you see the champagne glasses? They’re iridescent! Jung got them just for tonight.”

Maybe that’s what you see in him. His noble trait of picking iridescent champagne glasses over clear ones.

“Cool,” Minho responds, giving you a small nod.

“What’s in the box?” You ask, gesturing to the small white box in Minho’s hands still.

“Oh, just a little something,” Minho replies a little softly, watching as you slowly lift the thin cardboard lid and peer inside. And the smile that grows on your face makes everything worth it again.

“From our favorite bakery? Minho! That place is so expensive, you shouldn’t have!”

“It’s a special evening,” Minho replies with a smile, watching as you admire the intricate icing display for a moment. White fondant ribbons and candy pearls line the frosted surface which enreathes decadent layers of chocolate- all your favorites. As Minho begins to close the box, he’s rudely interrupted by a finger prodding itself into the dessert, swiping across the frosting and moving the carefully placed cake toppers into complete disarray.

“Is this chocolate?” A voice asks from behind Minho, coming forward to sprawl an arm over your shoulders and lick the frosting off his finger. “Damn, that’s good!”

And Minho can practically feel every ounce of hope in his body dissipate as he watches you giggle enthusiastically.

“Hi, Jung,” Minho says flatly, observing your destroyed cake briefly before shutting the box again.

“What’s up, man? Thanks for the cake. Hey, wedding’s in two months- I hope you have your tux ready!”

Minho responds with a thin-lipped smile, not saying anything as Jung laughs loud enough to fill the awkward silence amongst the three of you.

“What do you say we go cut some real cake?” Jung asks, turning to face you as his grip around your shoulders tightens.

You smile back at him, turning to Minho and cocking your head toward the table by the wall fountain.

“You wanna join? We got a variety of pastries, too. There’s those little cream puffs you like, and macarons from the French bakery.”

Minho extends his arms, passing the box of cake to you and giving you both a small bow.

“I actually just stopped by to gift you the cake. I have a work thing really early tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving?” You question, a small pout on your face as Jung scans the room around you, desperate to ditch the two of you, but also stubborn about maintaining his dominance in front of Minho.

“We’ll catch up soon,” Minho replies, trying his best to convey a smile that will make it seem like nothing’s bothersome.

“Okay, okay,” you respond, separating from Jung’s hold on you and pulling Minho in for another hug.

“Thanks for the cake, anyway. I’m still glad you stopped by.”

“Of course,” Minho says, averting his gaze from Jung. “And congrats on finally getting all the wedding plans finalized. That’s a really big deal.”

“She’ll be hitched in two months!” Jung chimes in loudly from behind you. “And then we’ll be on an island celebrating married life!”

Minho just nods at him, shooting him the same thin-lipped smile and bowing to both of you.

“Catch you later,” he says, finally pivoting to exit the way he entered. And he can still hear Jung’s obnoxious laughter from halfway across the room.

*

Fridays were always your designated days with Minho. In college, they meant movie nights and greasy takeout food. Post-graduation, they involved bars and gossiping about your entry level positions and your bosses. And after Jung came into the picture, they quickly became every other Friday, which soon turned to Sunday brunch on a monthly basis, which then transitioned to catching up over the phone or in brief passing. Jung made sure you were always busy doing something with him, his arm slung possessively around your shoulders and speaking far too loudly about your relationship for the whole world to hear.

Minho began to ditch the Friday group dates when Jung started inquiring about his own relationship status, getting drunk off one-too-many jägermeisters and slurring questions and demands about when he’d finally bring a girl to the function. And Minho never had the heart to tell you why he stopped showing- he simply conjured intricate excuses for every instance you invited him out.

I have a headache. I have an early day tomorrow. The cats are lonely these days.

Of course, perhaps Jung could see right through him into the green leaves of ivy that enwreathed his bones and swallowed him whole with this grieving. Grieving for you, grieving for himself, grieving for this life he knew was bound to come to a close the minute Jung made his move. Which Jung did, practically setting the relationship in stone so that Minho would now be subject to a lifetime of his offensive slurred speeches and unsettling presence. And although the grieving grew heavier after the engagement, it’s always been there, perhaps even longer than Jung’s even been in the picture.

“Jung said no male strippers at the bachelorette party, which is a bummer if you ask me. But we are having an open bar, so I’ll be too drunk to care about naked men anyway.”

Minho chuckles softly, bringing the straw in his iced coffee up to his lips and taking a sip from the corner of his mouth.

“But he’s having strippers at his bachelor party, isn’t he?”

You shrug casually, brushing off the question as you take a sip of your coffee, too.

“I don’t really care, either way. I mean we’ll be getting married regardless, so he can look at whoever he wants. I just need him to show up in a tux on the day of, and stand at the end of the aisle crying when I come to meet him.”

Minho doesn’t reply, a string of questions circling his mind, which he chooses not to ask in order to maintain the peaceful silence that now falls over you both. It’s one of the only days this month you two have been able to get some time alone, although it did require Minho taking off work early and you lying to Jung about your whereabouts. You find yourselves at the coffee shop you’ve been meeting at since your college days, an iced americano in Minho’s grasp and a latte in yours.

As Minho takes in his surroundings, everything feels vastly different than it used to- the distance between you two feels much greater, like there are miles separating the beverages you consume at this proximity to each other. The baristas don’t shoot you curious looks like they used to when they were certain you two were an item. And the shiny ring on your finger makes an appearance every sip you take, glistening under the beams of sun that dance through the windows and fall over your enthusiastic figure.

“What are you up to this weekend?” You ask finally, meeting his shy gaze as he taps his fingers on the wooden surface of the table.

Minho shrugs, toying with the lobe of his ear as he thinks of a random commitment to voice back to you.

“Oh, you know,” he stutters. “Moving stuff.”

And he’s completely unsure, himself, of what the words imply as they escape his lips.

“Moving stuff? To where? Where are you moving?”

“I’m not moving,” he emphasizes. “Just… moving stuff. Things. I want to rearrange some picture frames. And maybe reorganize my bookshelf.”

You sigh in response, a small smile tugging at your lips as Minho does his best to maintain the bogus narrative.

“Minho, you never leave the house anymore. Why don’t you go out with Jung or something? He’s doing a golf thing with some of-”

“No, thank you,” he interrupts quickly. “I’m not a golfer.”

And you sigh again, cocking your head at him.

“Okay, mister ‘moving stuff.’ Will you at least call me when you’re done moving your stuff and your things?”

“I’ll call you,” Minho reaffirms.

“I mean it. I’m gonna call you when I get home from the party and you better not be asleep on the couch again.”

“I promise to answer,” he echoes.

You smile at him again, and Minho mirrors the action with a small smile of his own, his skewed teeth exposing from behind his plump lips as he grins sheepishly.

“Moving stuff,” you repeat, mocking his excuse.

“Moving stuff and things,” he emphasizes, chuckling lightly across from you.

*

Bachelorette parties are supposed to be one of two things: freeing, and cathartic. Luckily for you, yours checks both boxes, the two-day retreat to a luxury hotel in the city providing ample time to relax, and the shots you down at the open bar in your venue fulfilling the cathartic part of it. Your girlfriends shower you in presents, ranging from expensive dining sets and clothes, to humorous sex toys for you and Jung to try on your honeymoon. Even the bartenders join in on your two nights of dancing, parading your event with handmade signs and getting everyone in the bar to sing to you. And for the first time since the stress-inducing year of planning has begun, you feel excited, ready for your new life as a bride alongside Jung.

Husband and wife have a nice ring to it, you think to yourself, as you kick off your shoes and lie back on the thick white duvet of the hotel bed. And though you’re still a little tipsy, you keep your promise, selecting Minho’s contact in your phone and giving him a ring. The phone rings once, twice and then three times, before you conclude he’s definitely fallen asleep on the couch again, probably while moving around his stuff and his things. But you’re proven wrong on the fourth ring, a gentle click echoing in your ears as you hear him press the phone to his ear and speak in a tired voice.

“Hello?”

“You’re asleep on the couch, aren’t you?”

“…no,” he responds, after a short pause.

“You’re so predictable,” you chuckle back at him, shaking your head as you sigh into the phone.

“How was the bachelorette party?” He inquires, sitting up on the couch he definitely wasn’t asleep on, to speak a little clearer into the receiver.

“It was amazing,” you reply with a dreamy sigh. “We did karaoke, and danced and even the bartenders were wishing me good luck. It was like something from college.”

“I’m glad,” Minho responds, nervously picking at the hem of his ratty old t-shirt.

“I’m a little drunk,” you say with a gentle laugh. “But I couldn’t help but wish you were there. The girls are great, of course, but I feel like bars were our thing.”

Minho blinks nervously a few times, pondering your words and keeping his gaze locked on the array of neatly-placed picture frames on the wall across him.

“Yeah,” he settles on replying, his breath hitching in the back of his throat.

“Do you miss me?” You query, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. And Minho can’t comprehend what’s got you acting like this, flirting with him in the phone line while Jung isn’t around.

“I do,” he responds after a brief pause.

“I’m serious, Minho. As your best friend, I’d hope that you miss me sometimes.”

There it is- the clarification is enough for him to exhale the deep breath he’s been holding in all this time.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I miss you, as a friend. And I’m glad the night was enjoyable.”

“You hate bars,” you say to him. “But you used to let me drag you out to them. I miss you.”

And he nods on the other end, repressing the real emotions that eat away at him like, you might see them over the phone if he feels too deeply.

“I miss you, too. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say sarcastically. “Goodnight. Thanks for answering.”

“Sure thing,” Minho replies before ending the call. And the room is eerily quiet now that he’s awake, the clock on the living room wall ticking with the passing seconds, as the ivy in his chest constricts a little tighter now.

*

Jung’s bachelor party is nothing short of insufferable. It’s loud, it’s rowdy, and it’s neither relaxing nor cathartic. Unless you define the two as getting lap dances in a smoke-filled limousine driving down the freeway a million miles a minute.

Minho sits quietly on one side, refusing every advance from the female strippers as they flaunt their beautifully-sculpted breasts in his face and dance to the loud rap music. He pretends to use his phone, having no service in this part of town, and yet still resorting to switching frantically between the compass feature and the weather app. And then he tips each stripper a generous amount, apologizing to them profusely as he gets off at the first stop and orders a cab. Where exactly the limousine is taking them, he doesn’t even care to know. Jung questions no part of it, not even having wanted to invite Minho in the first place. And while Minho waits for his taxi, he calls you, frantically wishing he could remind you Jung’s possibly the worst person you could have chosen to marry.

“Hi Minho,” you speak into the phone, shuffling about on your end as you tend to some household work. “I thought you didn’t get reception wherever you were going?”

“I found a way,” he responds, lying through his teeth.

You narrow your eyes, pausing your work to listen in to the phone call a little more closely.

“Minho, did you… leave?” You question, taking note of the way there’s not a sound in the background of the call- not Jung’s booming laughter, nor any music of any kind.

“No,” he says quickly, and you let out a deep sigh.

“Now you’re lying,” you remark.

“I’m not-”

“You’re talking in short responses, and I can’t see you but I know you’re doing that blinking thing. Why would you leave?”

Unfortunately for Minho, you know him like the back of your hand, always quick to clock when he’s lying to you through his nervous habits. The same habits you’ve studied since your days together in college, and ones he’s never been able to stop doing no matter how hard he tries. Minho lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, it’s just not my scene, okay? I’m still going to the wedding, it’s not like ditching a bachelor party is going to ruin your marriage.”

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“What am I going to do with you? Why are you so opposed to just bonding with him?”

“I’m not!” Minho exclaims. “He wanted to go swimming. I can’t swim.”

Another lie.

“Look,” you begin. Would you just come over if you’re not going? We can talk about it here.”

Minho nods eagerly, the idea of spending time by your side sounding much more appealing than a weekend with Jung.

“I’m just waiting on a taxi,” he says. “I’ll be there soon.”

And when he hangs up, you stare briefly at the contact phone of you two, running your fingertips over the dimly lit screen. It’s an older photo, of you guys in college out at a bar, Minho smiling enthusiastically and giving you a piggy-back ride. And although it’s still Minho, it doesn’t feel anything like the version of him you know now.

*

“I don’t want this to set the precedent for the rest of our relationship.”

“Don’t want what to set a precedent?” Minho questions back.

“This! You running away from Jung every chance you get so that we’re only able to bond when he’s not around! You’re my best friend, Min. Why can’t you guys just make it work so that I don’t have to divide my time between the two of you like this?”

“You had no problem learning to divide it when we were in college,” Minho says frustratedly. “Now that you’re engaged it’s like I’m engaged to him, too. I don’t like the guy, okay? Whatever we make of that as friends isn’t in my hands, but it also doesn’t mean I’m gonna jump at the chance to go golfing with him every weekend.”

You’re quiet for a moment, his frustrated speech circling your mind as he remains sprawled out on your couch. He’s right, to some degree- you know very well that the two of them never got along well. And try as you might, they’re just incompatible in every way possible. Jung’s loud, he’s stubborn, he’ll never say no to a social outing and he’ll only make an effort to get along with someone for a finite amount of time before he’s disregarding their existence, much like he does Minho’s. And Minho is quiet, soft-spoken, only social when it comes to you and takes his stance on a person just minutes after meeting them. They’ve already reached the stubborn conclusion that they despise each other, and at this point in your life, there’s little you can do to change it.

“I just want to know things are okay between us,” you remark.

“Things are okay between us.”

“We haven’t had a proper hangout in months, Minho. I get married in a few weeks and then I’m afraid we just won’t see each other.”

Minho seems to understand the seriousness in your tone, sitting up from the couch to finally meet your gaze. You look disheartened, an expression Minho is used to seeing when you try to set him up with a date or when he can’t make it out to an event. But this time it seems like it has more weight to it, the way you sag your shoulders as you slouch over one of the barstools in the kitchen, completely terrified at the prospect of losing your best friend.

“I’ll tell you what,” Minho breaks the silence. “How about we plan something, just us? It’ll be like old times, and we don’t have to worry about Jung or your friends or anyone. Just for a weekend.”

You meet his gaze, too, promptly glancing at the ceiling as you think over his proposal.

“I don’t know, Jung probably wouldn’t like it-”

“This is exactly what I mean!” Minho interjects. “Everything you do is based on what Jung likes or doesn’t like. We used to go out together all the time- if you only want to hang out when he’s around then yeah, things might be a little different from here on out.”

And the words pierce through you like a dagger, yet again filling your mind with all the regrets that will come with shutting him out for the purposes of pleasing Jung. Minho is right- he’s been your best friend for years. Jung might be your future spouse, but that doesn’t mean your relationship with him has to be any more important than the lifelong commitment you’ve made to your best friend, too.

“Where would we go?” You ask reluctantly.

Minho shrugs casually, lying back down on the couch with his hands behind his head.

“Anything,” he responds. “Your pick.”

And you think over his offer again, mentally mapping out your schedule at work and what you guys might be able to do on a quick weekend together.

“Camping,” you say suddenly, straightening your posture.

“You hate camping,” Minho retorts, chuckling lightly.

“Yeah, but you love camping. I’m just doing this to spend time with you, Min. I already spent my weekend in the city. Let’s do something you like and we can have an old friend trip like we used to.”

Minho can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips, endeared by the way you always let him drag you to his favorite places just like you used to drag him. And he knows you’re a city girl through and through- you’ve always been very vocally opposed to accompanying him on his camping excursions. But maybe going together, you’ll have some change of heart if it means you won’t have to listen to Jung share all of his unwarranted opinions.

“Let’s do it,” Minho says confidently. “You’re gonna love it.”

“I’m only doing this for you,” you reply with a smile. “I still maintain that I’m going to hate it.”

*

A yoga retreat.

Jung is made to believe you’re at a yoga retreat, three hours out from your shared apartment, with a close girlfriend you haven’t seen in months.

And maybe it’s because he genuinely believes you, or he simply doesn’t care, but he doesn’t press you for any information about the event, sending you off with a chaste kiss and turning his attention back to the sports he watches on television. He doesn’t even inquire about why you fail to bring your yoga mat, leaving it folded neatly in the closet of your bedroom alongside all your workout clothes.

You do pack warm clothes, blankets and even a matching set of flashlights for when it gets pitch dark like you know the mountains do at night. And as you make your way to Minho’s house with your backpack slung over your shoulders, you’re actually a little excited, the idea of getting some fresh air sounding like a well-deserved treat after the week you’ve had in the city.

“Well aren’t you all ready to go camping,” you say to Minho in an amused tone, admiring the outfit he’s put together for the occasion. He sports a simple white t-shirt and a loose-fitting pair of jeans, coupled with a black cap he wears backwards over his brown hair. He looks a lot simpler than usual- in fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen Minho in a cap before today.

“You look nice,” you voice to Minho, as he loads his duffel bag in the trunk of the car.

“Me?” He questions, furrowing his brows in genuine confusion. “I’m just dressed for comfort.”

“Yes, you. That cap looks good on you. God forbid I compliment my best friend.”

He chuckles lightly, helping you load your backpack into his car and closing the trunk when he’s finished.

“Ready?” Minho asks, turning to you with a small smile.

“Ready,” you echo, climbing into the passenger seat beside him.

The drive to the campsite is just over an hour long, taking Minho’s vehicle through narrow paths of dirt roads surrounded by trees. The treacherous drive doesn’t seem to faze him at all, as he keeps just one hand on the wheel, while the other rests casually on the car console. You can tell he’s done this drive a number of times before, judging by the way he needs no form of navigation and doesn’t stop to read the directional signs at any point.

“Do we need to pitch a tent when we get there?” You ask, and Minho laughs in response.

“That’s how I can tell you’ve never come here before.”

“What?” You reply with a chuckle of your own. “It’s a totally valid question.”

“Yeah, maybe if we were on Survivor. There’s tents all over the campsite. And picnic tables, and bathrooms and I think there’s a gift shop somewhere.”

You nod at his response, a little more intrigued now that you know it’s not going to be as hands-on as you thought. And when he pulls into the parking lot, he’s right- there are cabins that span the perimeter of the parking lot, presumably bathrooms and information centers about the place.

Minho puts the car into park as he helps you gather your bags, and then you both enter the cabin closest to you, being greeted by an older woman who sits at an information booth.

“Welcome!” She exclaims in a cheerful tone. “Are you folks staying overnight?”

“Yes,” Minho answers, hoisting his duffel bag further up his shoulder. “We’ll be here for two nights.”

“Wonderful!” she replies, gathering a thin stack of pamphlets. She uncaps a red pen, circling a little graphic that indicates a tent, and then slides it over to Minho along the counter.

“You two will occupy this location here- it’s just a few minutes up the hill there. The bathroom is attached to the unit, and there are a few clean towels in the drawers there.”

She slides him two more pamphlets, gesturing to their titles and keeping her gaze on the infographics.

“There’s a guide on plants to avoid, and some wildlife you might run into. Any questions?”

Minho shakes his head, stuffing the pamphlet into his pocket and giving her a small nod.

“No, thank you,” he says, looking over at you.

And the woman shoots you a smile now, gesturing to your hand.

“That is a beautiful ring,” she states, clasping a hand over her heart emotionally.

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile. “I’m getting married.”

She laughs lightly, shooting Minho a thumbs up.

“Enjoy it while you can!”

You’re quick to shake your head at her, taking a step away from Minho.

“Oh god, no, he’s not my fiancé. He’s just a friend.”

And Minho takes a step away, too, giving her a nod.

“We’re just longtime friends,” he echoes your words.

“My apologies,” the woman is quick to say. “Enjoy your stay regardless.”

*

“It never ends,” you say to Minho as you exit. “I can’t believe people still think we’re a couple when we go out.”

“It’s just a common equation,” Minho responds. “Two people. Engagement ring. Camping trip.”

“I know,” you emphasize. “It’s just so weird being so close to my own marriage and still having to tell people we’re not a couple.”

Minho swallows nervously, not entertaining the discussion any further as he takes your aversion to the idea of it as answer enough.

“It’s just up here,” Minho says, gesturing to the narrow dirt path that leads up to your tent.

The tent is a long, rectangular space, the beige tarp even accompanied by clear vinyl windows that zip up for added privacy. The inside houses a small birch wood table pushed against the side, two white folding chairs, and a single bed, just larger than a twin-sized one.

“One bed?” You say as you scan the room, dropping your bags and looking nervously back at Minho.

“All the units have one bed,” he explains casually. “I’ll take the floor.”

“You’re not taking the floor, Minho. It’s freezing.”

“I’ve done it before,” he says, unzipping his bag and pulling out a smaller pouch. “I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s so awkward to have you on the floor while I get a whole bed to myself.”

He disregards your concerns, tossing the pouch to you, which you catch in two hands and examine.

“Bait,” he says with a small smile.

“Bait?” You echo. “You mean like…”

“Fishing,” he says confidently. “We’re catching our dinner tonight.”

*

It’s a fair assumption to say you hadn’t taken Minho’s liking to camping very seriously. Sure, you knew he was partial to the great outdoors and to catching his own dinners. Of course he knows how to pitch a tent and gut a fish. But seeing him do it in action, string a spinnerbait onto his fishing rod and cast his line, watching meticulously as the bobber pulls underwater and he checks if he’s caught a bass yet, you’re admittedly pretty impressed. He looks completely in his element like this, uttering remarks about his “monofilament fishing line” that you don’t understand in the slightest, but you listen to regardless. For a brief moment, you can’t help but feel bad, seeing how much this interests him, when all you’ve ever done in the span of your friendship is drag him to clubs and get takeout together. Maybe you should’ve taken this whole thing more seriously. Maybe you should have accompanied Minho on one of his offers for a fishing trip when you still had the chance to do it without being under Jung’s watchful eye.

“We may need a smaller hook,” Minho says, as he adjusts his rod and stares out at the lake. The atmosphere is lazy and restful, the gentle lull of the lake’s deep blue water sloshing against the rocks that line the shore and swaying with the breeze. There’s a distant buzz of cicadas at this hour, and the swallows circle the vast green trees overhead that rustle in syncopation with the water. You and Minho remain seated on the flat rocks that line the shore, a cooler of ice and a small pouch of bait between the two of you.

Minho’s gaze remains set on the lake, attentively watching the bobber and praying for a bass to latch onto it so that he can instruct you on the de-gutting and cleaning process. But there seems to be no sign of fish anywhere, the only movement being the little ripples that vibrate with the sporadic activity of water bugs.

“When was the first time you went fishing?” You ask Minho suddenly, catching his gaze as he turns to you.

“First time?” He echoes. “I don’t know, maybe age seven? My dad taught me.”

You nod in response, picturing a little Minho alongside his dad, learning the ropes of monofilament fishing lines and all that jazz. You can’t help but smile at the thought of it, knowing Minho was probably so quiet, yet full of curiosity, the same way he is now.

“I wish I would’ve come,” you say finally, letting out a small sigh as you speak. “I wish I came with you on one of these trips.”

Minho shakes his head and waves you off. “Solo camping is one of my favorite things in the world. I didn’t need it to be ruined by all your city girl antics.”

“Hey!” You exclaim with a small laugh, hitting him lightly, and Minho hits you back.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, admiring the way the sunlight glares overhead and sets the water aglow with glints of light that make it almost hard to look at. Minho takes notice of the more casual look you sport, too, void of any makeup and your hair tied back loosely. Similarly, the little imperfections that mark his skin remind you of the Minho you met in college, back when you were both riddled with zits and drank cans of soda for breakfast. And now across from you, acne scars and a handsome face he’s grown into so well, you can’t help but feel your heart swell at the fact that he’s still here, this many years later, regardless of the roadblocks your relationship has taken you through. It’s a miraculous thing to have someone stick by your side knowing you’re getting wed to a person he despises. And you refuse to part ways with him, too, despite the amount of outings he declines in the name of nothing important. What a fascinating prospect, to be reminded that your most unconditional form of love comes in the form of a best friend more than even your fiancé on most days.

You open your mouth to say something, being promptly interrupted by the reel of the fishing line being pulled back, the rhythmic buzzing of the handle startling you both as it’s pulled in circular motions to indicate a catch.

“Oh my god, what do we do?” You exclaim to Minho, a sense of urgency present in your voice as you await his instruction.

“I’ll teach you,” Minho says, as he rises from his spot and gestures to the fishing rod. “Grab the handle, like- yeah, just like that.”

And you do as you’re told, approaching the rod to steady the handle in your grasp. He guides you through the careful motions, steadying your hands a comfortable distance away from the reel seat, pulling back the handle with slow, yet purposeful movements and raising the fishing line away from the gentle current of the water.

“There’s a lot of resistance,” you comment, as you pull even harder.

“Really?” Minho remarks, his hands on his hips as he looks out upon the water. “I wonder if it’s going to be a big one. Keep pulling.”

And you do, heaving the rod desperately away from the water to pull in your catch. There’s heavy resistance at first, and then a generous amount of give to the force, as the line finally glides across the water and begins to pull up toward you.

“Get ready,” Minho says excitedly. “It’s probably going to be a little skittish, just hold tightly and don’t let go.”

As he watches you pull, he takes note of the way the line struggles to move past a barrier in the water, sending ripples down the shore as you continue to pull, to no avail.

“I need help,” you voice frantically. “Minho, take the rod-”

“Just relax,” Minho echoes, coming around behind you and placing two hands over yours. He stands close behind you as he helps steady the rod, gripping tightly and helping you reel it in.

The two of you watch with bated breath as the line finally begins to move again, erratic ripples of water vibrating in the otherwise still lake as you reel in the catch.

“Here it comes!” Minho exclaims, as he continues to reel over your hands with his, his veins protruding with every slight motion as his slender fingers work around yours.

And then the fishing line is promptly pulled out of the water, swinging in front of your view and slowing its swaying motions as you take a gander.

It’s a large, juicy, vibrant hunk of moss.

No fish in sight, no catch of the day, unless for a bottom feeder. Minho says nothing for a moment, placing his hands on his hips again as he takes in the sight of the forest green mass. And then you break the silence with laughter, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh at the ridiculous view.

“What’s so funny?” Minho inquires with a breathy chuckle, transitioning into his own fit of giggles.

“It’s fucking moss,” you exclaim, gesturing to the fishing rod and laughing again. “We’ve been here for hours and we haven’t caught anything besides a fucking byrophyte.”

Minho laughs, too, setting the rod down to clutch his own stomach.

“It’s not funny,” he says between laughter. “We don’t have dinner tonight.”

“Yeah we do,” you say breathlessly. “We have moss.”

And the two of you almost collapse on the gravel, holding your stomachs as you laugh endlessly at the ridiculousness of the situation. The fishing rod remains propped up against the rocks, the slab of moss dangling and dripping murky water back onto the gravel.

When your laughter dies down, Minho sprawls out onto one of the big rocks, the palms of his feet flat against the warm stone as he meets your gaze again. You occupy the spot beside him, your knees bent too, keeping your gaze locked on his as you smile.

“I missed this,” you say after a moment of silence. “I missed hanging out with you.”

Minho responds in a breathy chuckle, running his hands through his hair and rolling his eyes in a joking manner.

“You should’ve come camping with me ages ago,” he says. “We could’ve been eating moss for dinner instead of fast food.”

You chuckle too, and the sunlight beams over your listless bodies sprawled out on the rocks, glints of light hitting Minho’s golden-brown hair and his sparkling eyes. He looks so angelic in this atmosphere, so at peace with the nature around him and in tune with his emotions. For the first time in a long while, there’s nothing present between you and Minho that hinders the relationship you have to each other. He’s just as important to you in this moment as you are to him. And not even the knowledge that you’ve lied to your fiancé to be here with him can come between that.

*

Lucky for you, Minho always comes prepared. Of course he’s dealt with the situation of catching nothing while fishing and needing a plan to fall back on for dinner. So it’s no surprise to you that his backpack contains cups of instant ramen and bags of chips.

“Shrimp or chicken?” Minho asks, as water boils on his portable kettle.

“Surprise me,” you shoot back, getting comfortable in one of the two camping chairs across the bed. You feel a wave of tiredness wash over your body instantly, but you also feel fulfilled, having bonded with Minho more in the last few hours than any of your double dates with Jung and one of Minho’s picks from a dating app.

Minho shuts off the kettle, tearing open packets of vegetables and mixing them with your noodles as he pours hot water in both cups.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Minho remarks, handing you a cup and sliding a pair of chopsticks across the table to you.

“Today was fun,” you say to him, as you blow on a generous serving of noodles and guide them into your mouth with the wooden chopsticks.

“You’re not half bad at fishing,” Minho states. “I think it’s just emptier this season. But your technique’s good.”

“Really?” You query. “I feel like you did most of the work.”

Minho shakes his head, slurping a portion of his noodles before speaking.

“Maybe if you ditched your lame golf nights with Jung and came camping with me more, you could get some practice.”

“Ha ha,” you muse sarcastically. “His golf nights aren’t lame, they’re actually pretty fun. You’d know if you came out to one.”

“Please,” Minho retorts, gathering more noodles with his chopsticks. “Artificial grass and polo shirts aren’t really my thing. Of course they’d be Jung’s, though.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means even his favorite sport is as fake as he is.”

“Minho!”

“What?” He says in a breathy chuckle. “You asked what I meant.”

You shake your head, stirring broth around in your cup with your chopsticks. You normally don't entertain Minho when he insults Jung like this, knowing he’s just going to get mad and list everything he despises about him. But tonight, being so far away from Jung, it somehow feels permissible. It’s not like Jung is going to materialize out of thin air and find out about his little remarks. You don’t get cell reception out here, and it’s possibly one of your last few intimate moments with Minho to just let loose and joke with him. So you don't say anything, allowing him free reign as he cracks jokes about Jung at his expense. And you don’t feel bad about it, either, knowing Jung wouldn’t hesitate to do the same back at Minho.

The tent falls quiet for a moment as both of you finish your meals, the only noises present between the two of you being slurping the remainder of your noodles and setting the cups aside. Minho runs his hands through his hair and spreads his legs out in front of him as he slouches back in his camper chair.

“I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married,” he says with a breathy chuckle. “That’s still so weird to me.”

“Imagine how I feel,” you emphasize. “The word ‘wife’ still kinda grosses me out.”

“Well you have about a month to get used to it,” Minho replies. And then he gets quiet, averting his gaze from yours as he blinks. “Or a whole lifetime, I guess.”

You stay quiet, too, pulling up your legs to cross them in your chair and nodding reluctantly.

“Yeah. ‘lifetime’ kinda sounds like a scary word, too.”

Minho purses his lips, and then he turns to meet your gaze again, a solemn smile on his face.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he voices. “It can also imply a lifetime of happiness. And of love. Permanence isn’t a bad thing.”

You smile at him, comforted by the optimism he brings to the atmosphere, despite his dislike for Jung, and especially the prospect of you getting married to him. He doesn’t change- he’s still the Minho you know very well, the one who takes your problems and makes them seem so small, so unimportant, until you can’t, in good conscience, worry about them anymore.

“You’re right,” you say back at him. “I’ll remember that when I say my vows.”

You think over his words momentarily, and then you meet his gaze with a knowing smile.

“Do you remember when we had to write an essay about where we’d want to travel if we won the lottery? In our literary analysis course?”

Minho’s eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks for a moment, and then he nods.

“Yeah. You wrote about Europe or something.”

“I did,” you recall. “And you wrote about that one historical town. What was it called again?”

“Shirakawa,” Minho responds. “Small mountain village in Japan where it snows a ton and there are little farmhouses everywhere.”

You chuckle lightly, remembering the countless images Minho had shown you when he was producing his paper on the subject. You can still picture the little brown houses and the vibrant green hills in the summertime. And the winter photos looked like something out of a Christmas movie, fresh snow blanketing the village and painting the town with bright hues of white.

You think over his essay for a moment, remembering just how many times you’d peer edited each other’s papers, and Minho wound up getting the best grade in the class for how poetically he spoke of Shirakawa. He talked about it for several months after the assignment, too, always voicing his desire to visit one day and see all the farmhouses for himself.

“I wish we still had time to go,” you say finally. “I always pictured we’d go one day.”

Minho purses his lips in a thin line, your statement echoing in his ears and the words stinging. It’s moments like these he’s especially regretful you’re getting married to Jung- all the stupid, likely intangible plans you made together and promised you’d fulfill sometime down the line. And now with Jung’s obnoxious presence indicating that of permanence, Minho knows there’s zero possibility you’ll be able to fulfill any of the plans you made together.

“You have a whole honeymoon planned on a tropical island,” Minho says somberly. “That’s far better than little old Shirakawa.”

You say nothing in reply, nodding at his words and thinking back to the plans you and Jung have already booked for your honeymoon.

Honeymoon. Even that word sounds foreign.

“Maybe we’ll plan for when I get back,” you tell Minho. “Little camping excursion in the farmhouses. We can get shitfaced and pet all the little goats.”

He laughs lightly, giving you a smile.

“Sure,” Minho affirms. “We can do that.”

And then his gaze darts to his backpack which sits on the floor, his eyes widening as he sits up.

“Speaking of shitfaced,” Minho says. “I think I brought boxed wine.”

“Boxed wine?” You repeat with a chuckle. “Jesus, we really might as well be back in college.”

He rises from the camper chair to make his way over to his backpack, unzipping the larger pouch and pulling out two small black cartons of wine, giving them a small shake before scanning the room as though he’s looking for something else.

“What?” You query, waiting for him to say something.

Minho says nothing, standing up again and taking long strides to where his fishing rod is, grasping it in one hand and fiddling with the hook.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching as Minho’s expression turns serious again. His slender fingers toy with the small hook, the two cartons of wine balanced in his other hand.

You watch as he unfolds one tab on the box of wine, and then brings down the fishing hook to pierce it through the thin cardboard and string it through securely. When he’s finished, he gives it a little tug, and then raises the box of wine as he lifts the fishing rod once more, reeling the handle in the counter direction to move it out toward you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You ask again, chuckling softly as you watch Minho struggle to balance the carton of wine.

He reels the carton out further, and then slows as he drops it into your lap, moving the rod around in erratic motions and pretending to stabilize the line.

“Get it!” Minho exclaims. “It’s getting away, you have to get it!”

You play along, grasping the carton of wine in your two hands and pretending to steady its slippery grip as it flaps around helplessly.

“It’s slippery!” You exclaim back, holding it up with two hands and angling it toward Minho.

Minho gasps, and then sets his rod down to applaud you generously.

“Congratulations,” he says in a proud voice. “Your first catch. You caught your own dinner.”

And the dark night around you seems to be set aglow as laughter fills the entirety of the tent.

*

Two hours later, it’s half past midnight, empty cartons of wine on the table between you as you talk through your starkly different lives.

Minho shares tales of work you’d missed out on, dating app horror stories and recounts days from college when you’d go to nightclubs together and use fake IDs. You listen attentively for the first time in a long time, no sense of urgency present, nor the desire to set him up with somebody else. It’s you who wants to be here alongside him, rekindling your friendship and reliving your glory days. And Minho feels the same way, a gentle buzz swirling his mind from the cherry merlot and your sweet laugh in response to his tales.

“They so thought we were lying when we turned 21,” you say through laughter. “In hindsight, it’s pretty lucky we didn’t get thrown in jail for a night.”

“Yeah, only because you flirted with the bouncer,” Minho says. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t throw you in jail after offering you a drink.”

You laugh lightly, remembering the bizarre encounter, and then you slouch back in your chair as you shut your eyes.

“We should get to sleep,” you say to Minho. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” he responds. “I’ll get my sleeping bag on the floor.”

“Don’t be such a fucking drag,” you protest.

“What?”

“Just sleep on the bed with me. It’s big enough and there’s less of a chance that you’ll wake up with a broken back. I’m not listening to you complain about your fucked-up joints on tomorrow’s drive home.”

Minho laughs lightly, and then he gestures to the bed.

“If you snore, I’m throwing you to the bears,” he says plainly.

“Yeah, well you kick me, I’m dumping you in the lake.”

*

Minho brushes his teeth over the small steel sink in the corner of the room, swapping out to fix the bed sheets while you brush your teeth, too. When you’re finished, you meet him at the foot of the bed, pulling your corner of the blanket down and climbing in beside him. The ceiling of the tent is barely visible in this level of darkness, just an indistinguishable outline of fabric visible as you cross your hands over your chest and exhale deeply. Minho does the same, and though he’s right beside you, he feels miles away, his exhale sounding distant as he focuses on the ceiling of the tent, too.

“It’s really dark,” you comment.

“Yeah,” he says back. “That’s the outdoors for you.”

He thinks for a brief moment, and then he breaks the silence that washes over the two of you.

“Are you excited for the honeymoon?” He asks quietly.

There’s no answer for several moments, the only sound coming from the gentle sway of the trees just beyond your tent.

And you are excited, but you’re more nervous, uncertain and disappointed knowing that everything will be so different upon your return. It’s like exchanging an old life for a new one- one that could be far worse, for all you know.

“I’m nervous,” you say candidly.

“Why?”

“Because marriage is a big deal. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m even doing the right thing.”

It’s Minho’s turn to remain quiet now, his hands folded over his chest as he ponders your words.

“Are you happy?”

There’s no response from you. Not now, not after a minute and not even after several minutes have passed. And you are happy, but you’re still much of the same- nervous, uncertain and disappointed that this new life implies change.

“Jung hates me,” Minho says suddenly.

“He doesn’t hate you-”

“He hates me,” Minho reaffirms a little louder. “The way he looks at me, or interrupts us whenever we’re talking. I’m sorry that I’m so distant from you when he’s around. The guy hates me.”

You stay quiet, knowing he’s right, but not wanting to fuel the fire that burns between the two of them.

“He probably thought we had something going on,” Minho says. “He’d kill me if he knew I was in the same bed with you.”

You scoff lightly, dismissing Minho’s claims with a wave of your hand.

“Please,” you emphasize. “He hasn’t even touched me in a month.”

And you regret the words the second they leave your lips, bringing two hands up to cover your mouth as Minho props himself up to look at you.

“What? Why?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, I genuinely want to know,” Minho reiterates, keeping his gaze locked on yours. “You’re getting married and you haven’t had sex with your fiancé in a month? Who does that?”

“He told me it was a punishment,” you say in exasperation. “We had a fight, and he told me he wouldn’t touch me if I didn’t admit to being wrong.”

“What?” Minho says, turning audibly irate. “Are you serious? What kind of cruel and unusual punishment is that?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? Let’s just not talk about it-”

“There go your excuses,” Minho says. “Your future husband won’t touch you, and you’re still defending him. Jesus Christ, it’s worse than I thought it was.”

“Would you stop?” You say to him, sitting up as he slings his elbows around his knees and shakes his head.

“Stop what? Stop being concerned for my best friend who’s clearly suffering at the hands of her own fiancé? Not gonna happen.”

“I’m not suffering,” you relay to him.

“Sure,” Minho says sarcastically. “So you never wanted to have sex in the whole month he’s kept this punishment going.”

You say nothing, swallowing nervously as you keep your gaze locked on Minho’s. He’s at a painfully close proximity to you right now, one strand of hair falling loosely in his face as his eyebrows furrow together in anger. His plain black t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders as he sits up, his basketball shorts riding up to expose a generous amount of his toned thighs. And his lips remain parted, waiting for you to say something, which you don’t. You simply stare at him blankly, your eyes darting over his gaze, down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

Minho’s expression turns serious, too, unable to look away from your conflicted expression as you watch him.

“Not… really…” you manage to say in short words.

“Maybe not…” you continue, leaning into him a little as his arms loosen around his knees.

He somehow looks so tantalizing right now, in a way you’ve never seen him before. Sure, you’re aware Minho is good looking, and he always has been. And maybe your fleeting crush back when you first met him was short-lived, quickly moving on to date somebody else you met at a party. Maybe you were a little jealous the time his former girlfriend remarked how good he was in bed, or that she got to touch him when he wore that suit you loved so much at graduation. Maybe you even touched yourself once or twice to the thought of him, conjuring some stupid fantasy in your mind for the sole purpose of getting off to it. But nothing was ever going to come to fruition, not when he’s been your friend for years, you have Jung and you’re about to get married.

…At least not with any intention besides being fucked by him the way Jung has neglected of you for a month now.

“Maybe not until now,” you finally breathe out, your heart beating erratically in your chest as you await an answer from him.

Minho’s gaze flickers down to your lips, and then back to your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he makes sense of your words.

“Are you drunk right now?” He asks simply.

“No,” you’re quick to respond, shaking your head to affirm the answer.

“Good,”’Minho says. “Me neither.”

And the two of you meet in the middle, his lips crashing against yours roughly as you kiss him for the first time, hands flying to tug at his t-shirt as he brings to hands around the small of your back.

He tastes like wine, transferring the robust flavor of cherry merlot back onto your lips as you kiss him, his plump lips working perfectly against yours as you pull him closer. You want so badly to position yourself differently, to adjust your body’s awkward spot on the bed so that you can be a bit closer to him, so that you can cup his face and pepper it in breathless kisses. But you fear that the minute you pull away, Minho’s going to somehow realize that it’s you he’s kissing, his best friend of so many years, one who’s already engaged.

It’s Minho who pulls away briefly first, getting a little closer to you, while you scoot further back and lie flat on your spot on the bed.

“This is just to prove a point,” Minho says breathlessly, as he hovers over you now and steadies himself over your body with one strong arm. “It’s not cheating,” he emphasizes, and you nod eagerly at the words, suddenly aware that it’s not even the cheating aspect you were worried about. It was solely the possibility of ruining your friendship with Minho, who’s always been so vocal about his distaste for disloyalty.

“It’s just to prove a point,” you repeat, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him back down to kiss you. “Nobody has to know.”

Minho grins against your lips, pressing repeated, chaste kisses to your already swollen lips and trailing down to paint a line of kisses down the column of your neck. Your heart beats in ways you’ve never felt before, a rapid arrhythmia brought on by the sheer terror of being found out, by the knowledge that this is the one person who could single handedly ruin your engagement to Jung. And yet you couldn’t care less in this moment, as his teeth take your flesh between them and suck bruises down your neck, a generous purple color painting the goosebumps that rise upon your skin.

Are either of you in any place to return with hickeys painting your skin like you spend the weekend at a frat house? Not in the slightest. And yet you can’t help but feel this is what you missed in college all that time, the same actions Minho repeated with the few girlfriends he ran through. Fucking them sweetly in his dorm bed, roping scarves around their necks when he’d send them off and his ears turning a bright shade of red when you’d point them out in your 7am college lectures.

Was there ever a hint of jealousy present between the two of you? Maybe, you think to yourself, as a string of spit connects Minho’s lips to your bruises, peppering them in light kisses. You could never help but wonder what it was like, what those girls had experienced each time they disappeared from his dorm in the early hours of the morning. And Minho, being the gentleman he was, was never one to kiss and tell. The sex was intimate, private, the details living and dying with him only, even if the relationship went awry or fizzled out suddenly.

“We probably shouldn’t go any further,” Minho interrupts, pulling away from you to maintain eye contact. His eyes are hooded with lust, his lips pink and swollen from kissing you so passionately. And his eyebrows arch up in a state of concern, mostly worried you’re going to protest him taking it any further than this. But it’s all you’ve occupied your mind with now, wanting so badly to know what little tricks Minho wears up his sleeve, if he’s just as intrigued with the idea as you are, if he even wants to have sex with you.

“It’s not like we’re dating or anything,” you say to Minho, desperately searching for the words to indicate how badly you want this. “It’s just… some drunken hookup. It’s probably nothing Jung didn’t do at his party last week.”

“But we’re not-” Minho begins, promptly silencing himself. He begins to tell you that he’s not drunk, and you aren’t either- but he’s already caught on to your little plan.

“Yeah,” Minho then says. “I’m a little tipsy.”

“Me too,” you say with a soft chuckle. “Too much wine.”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning into kiss you again. “And I get really horny when I’m drunk.”

“Me too,” you say between kisses. “It’s not like we can just leave each other hanging. Unless you want me to rub one out beside you, and that would be more awkward.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Might as well… help each other out, right?”

“Right,” you affirm, pulling down your panties as Minho separates to pull off his shirt.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, already having witnessed him in this level of undress at every pool party and when you’d come over to his dorm unannounced. But it feels different at this proximity, his tanned skin hovering over yours and brushing against your flesh with every eager kiss.

Minho begins to ask you if he can touch you, but you’re faster than he is, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your aching clit, letting him circle two fingers around your bundle of nerves as he pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“Jesus,” Minho remarks. “You are wet when you’re drunk.”

And your breath hitches in the back of your throat as he rubs you gently, a smirk growing on his face as you let out little whimpers. It’s been so long since somebody’s touched you like this, Jung hardly even giving attention to the foreplay on most days. His nimble fingers rub at a steady pace, his eyes boring into yours as he makes you writhe in pleasure beneath him. Minho’s eyes are sparkling at this proximity, his big brown pupils exuding curiosity and tenderness as he gauges your every reaction to his touches.

“Minho,” you breathe out desperately, arching into his touch to chase the friction.

“What?” He asks sweetly, his expression shifting into that of concern as he waits for you to speak. But he knows what you’re going to ask, also aware of the tent pitched in his boxers as he works you.

“Don’t make me ask,��� you say with a sheepish chuckle.

He chuckles softly, too, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling his hand away.

“Let me get a condom,” Minho says in a serious tone. And you’d completely forgotten about protection, not even having used a condom in ages, since your only partner for several years has been Jung.

With the painful ache between your legs, you wish so badly you could ask him to fuck you raw and help ease the weeks of waiting you’ve had to do just to feel some sense of relief. And a part of you can’t help but think back to your days of college, when Minho would always ensure he kept a new one between the crisp bills in his wallet. Ones that were put to use with other women, Minho always so careful not to make any stupid mistakes or take risks the way you and Jung often did.

But you can’t let him fuck you raw, being in the middle of nowhere, no access to pills and admittedly not the most punctual at remembering to take your birth control. The last thing you can do right now is show up to your own wedding with Jung- pregnant with Minho’s child.

Minho’s cock is fully erect as he fishes around his backpack for a condom, pulling out his wallet and sorting through the bills for one. You briefly wonder what would happen if he didn’t have one- you’d likely ask him to fuck you anyway, and to finish on your face or your tits. But it’d be such a waste not to let him finish inside of you, not when you’re both this aroused and desperate for some sense of relief

You silently pray he won’t think too hard about any of this. Don’t think about who I am to you. Don’t think about how this will complicate things, and don’t think about the fact that I’m engaged to another man. Just fuck me, and we’ll deal with whatever consequences arise tomorrow.

“Got it,” Minho voices, and you feel yourself exhale the breath you’ve been holding this whole time.

Minho approaches you again, pinching it between his two fingers, tearing open the silver packet with his skewed front teeth and pulling out the white rubber. You watch with bated breath as he rests a knee on the bed beside you, steadying himself with one hand and rolling the condom onto his length with one hand.

It’s the first time you’ve properly taken note of the appearance of his cock, and he’s bigger than you’d imagined. His thick, veiny girth is tinted a bright shade of red in anticipation, his head leaking a bead of precum as the rubber grazes his tip and coats every inch of his flesh. You’re a little disappointed at the sight being obscured by the protection, but you take a sharp breath, anyway, wanting nothing more than to just feel it inside of you.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Minho asks, as he hovers over you again and props himself up with two hands. “If you think we’re making some mistake-”

“We’re not,” you say quickly. “It’s not a mistake. I promise you I’m not drunk or out of my mind or anything. I’m just really fucking horny.”

Minho chuckles lightly, and then he leans into graze his lips over yours just barely, delivering a painfully light kiss as he positions himself in front of you.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another light kiss to your lips. “I promise I won’t get mad or anything.”

You nod eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, and then you both maintain eye contact with his hands as he carefully guides the tip of his length inside of you. You feel like you could cum at the sensation of his tip alone, your walls contracting around him desperately as he shuts his eyes in pleasure.

“Jesus,” Minho breathes. “You’re tight.”

“It’s been a month since he fucked me,” you admit shyly. “I haven’t even touched myself.”

And Minho takes it as a signal to snake a hand down between your bodies, latching the pads of his fingers to your clit once more and rubbing in gentle circles.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Minho says plainly. “What a fucking joke.”

You weave your fingers in his golden brown tresses pulling him in for another kiss as he begins to thrust in and out of you with gentle movements so as not to hurt you. And it feels heavenly, like nothing you’ve ever felt with Jung before. There’s so much fear circling your mind, but it simply elevates the arousal you feel at the same time, your mind and body contracting in syncopation to echo the same sentiment that maybe you have indeed, been jealous of some of the other girls he’s fucked. Maybe your jealousy forced you to shut out the idea of anybody being pleasured like this by your best friend. You silently pray it never felt half this good for any of them, that he simply couldn’t get hard for them or maybe he’d neglected the same parts that drive you crazy in this moment. Because the thought of his cock inside of anybody except for you drives you mad, it feels so unnatural to think about when he’s fucking you so sweetly in the privacy of your tent, here in the middle of nowhere. Virtually impossible to feel an ounce of guilt when the nearest human is likely miles away, made even harder considering the only man who’d even care is much, much farther.

And Minho hopes you can’t feel that he’s been trying to stave off his own orgasm for the better part of 20 minutes now. His cock twitching with every thrust, his eyes shutting tightly to give attention to the sensation of your cunt clenching desperately around his thick girth. He can’t remember how he’d imagined it all those years, but he knows this feels much, much better than any fantasized version of you that ran rampant in his thoughts. One he had to stop himself from staring at a little too long when you’d opt to wear short skirts and tight little shirts to the clubs you’d frequent. A version of you he swore would one day come around to the realization that Jung isn’t meant for you, that he doesn’t fulfill you emotionally, or intellectually or even physically. Even a version of you that found exhilaration in fucking Minho behind Jung’s back, because having any version of you belong to Minho in one form or another would always take precedence over your inevitable absence following the wedding.

“Talk to me,” Minho says, as his thrusts slow a little. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You,” you’re quick to respond. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Minho captures your lips in a drooly kiss, gasping into your parted lips as he thrusts in again and holds it there for a moment.

“Is it still okay?” He asks, like he hasn’t already been fucking you for several minutes now.

“It’s more than okay,” you respond, folding your leg at the knee beside him so that he’s hitting an entirely new angle.

“Jesus Christ,” Minho breathes, squeezing his eyes as his cock grazes your cunt even deeper.

Your breaths are labored now, involuntary gasps escaping your mouth with every thrust inside of you. His cock is completely buried to the hilt inside of you, the condom completely coated in your juices and working out of you with complete ease as he fucks you.

And he fucks you like he’s yours, like he’s the one getting married to you, perhaps subconsciously to prove a point to both you and Jung. He could never fuck you like this. I’m willing to bet he never has. He could never want you the way I do so passionately and unrelenting.

“Minho,” you call to him, arching into his touch as he moves a strand of hair out of your face.

“What is it?”

“This is okay, right?,” you state, though your tone takes the form of a plea, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “It feels so good, I don’t want to ruin things-”

“It won’t ruin things,” Minho emphasizes. “We’re drunk, remember?” he says with a light chuckle.

His face is promptly buried in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along the flesh and whispering promises against you that exist only in the intimate space of your shared tent.

“I’m just helping you out while we’re here,” Minho repeats. “And then you have a wedding to run off to.”

You smile up at him, fingers massaging his scalp lightly as he stays still inside of you, his cock pulsating lightly inside of the rubber as you take him.

“I would’ve asked for help a lot sooner if I knew it’d be this good,” you say with a saccharine smile, allowing your fingers to loop in his hair and tug lightly.

Minho chuckles down at you, his smile instilling an almost immediate sense of comfort once more as he begins to move again, his cock grazing your cervix with every slight movement as he lets out little gasps over you.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you breathe through labored pants. Your tone sounds surprised, almost, at the prospect of your best friend coaxing an orgasm out of you.

And maybe you are, never having thought that this camping trip would end up with him inside of you, making love to you the way you picture the events of your honeymoon to unfold. Your best friend since college, and the most vocally displeased person at the reality of your engagement to Jung.

And the moment Minho’s been fantasizing since he first confronted his own feelings for you, a time completely unbeknownst to him now. Maybe it was the time you let him stay in your dorm bed when he wasn’t feeling good, or the time you baked him his favorite cake for his birthday most people seemed to have forgotten about. But the pinpointed time doesn’t matter right now- he’s here, your entire being is his for the night, and love or not, he’ll take any form of you he can grasp so desperately at.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, too,” Minho says back, his hands digging into your waist as he moves a little faster.

For several moments, nothing else is said between the two of you, only the echoing sounds of skin and drool and his toned body working itself in and out of you teeming around the dinky little tent like an erotic film on low volume. The sounds are muffled, both of you doing your best to remain hushed in your words and your breathy exchanges to each other, almost as if it’ll all be too real if you voice it any louder than this.

But all of this is very real, the actions serving as a sealed promise between the two of you to maintain this remarkable relationship you’ve developed with him. One in which you traverse the complexities of dating a man who’s never quite fulfilled you the way Minho caught on to very early on. And in turn, Minho uses the opportunity to fulfill you in every way he’s able to, whether it means being there at 3am to lend a kindly ear, concocting your favorite dishes after waking up hungover as a result of drinking to mask Jung’s shortcomings. And even to fuck away the stress Jung instills inside of you. To meet you halfway with his version of intimacy, one Jung has withheld from you for so long, and to remind you that although the marriage implies permanence, things could still be so, so different.

“Cum for me,” Minho says to you, leaning in to keep his lips pressed to yours. “Just let go of everything. Don’t think about him right now.”

And somehow it’s those words that assist you in reaching your finish, the subtle command to eject Jung from all your thoughts and replace him with Minho and Minho and more Minho.

It’s Minho easing the pain, Minho kissing you so tenderly, Minho thrusting his hardened cock in and out of your soaking cunt as you whimper helplessly beneath him.

And it’s Minho who finishes first, squeezing his eyes tightly as he feels his tip releases strings of cum into the constriction of the rubber condom, the finish feeling as though it’s the heaviest he’s had in months.

And the gentle pulse against your flesh coaxes out your own release, contracting around his wet girth and dribbling cum along the length of the condom as he fucks you through your fervent moans.

“God, you’re amazing,” Minho voices, as he pulls you in for a much gentler kiss. He holds his lips there momentarily, grazing them softly over yours, every part of him wanting to stay right here inside of you.

But as his cock begins to soften against him once more, he pulls out without another word, stripping off the condom while you watch him.

Strands of sweaty hair hang loosely in front of his face, framing his flushed appearance as his nimble fingers work to tie the condom off. He looks so attainable, so forgiving as he moves, and every part of you wants nothing more than to pull him close again and keep him tangled in your needy embrace.

“Minho?” You ask, as you sit up on the palms of your hands to meet his gaze.

“Hm?” He hums in response, discarding the condom and running two hands through his disheveled hair.

“Would you stay like this?”

He chuckles softly, occupying his spot again and pulling the blankets up to his chest.

“I’m not taking the floor anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, would you stay... close to me?” You ask shyly, your eyes flickering over his figure as he lies beside you.

He sits up to meet your gaze, reaching a hand out to you, his palm facing upward as he shoots you a sweet smile.

“I can stay close to you,” Minho reaffirms, pulling you close to his chest as he lies flat again, your head resting on his broad chest.

His chest rises and falls with every breath, his eyes shutting gently as he revels in the sensation of you seeking comfort beside him like this. And he can’t help but press a series of soft kisses to your temple, smiling when he hears a soft giggle escape your lips.

When the tent falls quiet once more, your listless bodies welcome the sleepiness that washes over you, euphonious melodies of crickets engaging in the sounds of nightfall outside. And Minho’s hand rubs gentle back and forth motions along the small of your back, reassuring for one last time that you have nothing to feel guilty about.

*

It’s like a moth to a flame, the way you’re drawn to Minho in the morning, despite the promise of it being just one night with him.

You’re hypnotized by the way he pulls on his sweatpants, chuckling as he nearly trips over himself in the confined space of the tent. His veiny hands working nimbly to chop vegetables and crush herbs as he prepares you one of his signature omelets. The silence that falls over you both while you eat, two fascinated gazes stuck on each other knowing very well you’d let him do it all over again if you weren’t so pressed for time. And when he’s helping you hoist your heavy backpack over his shoulders, the pressing urge to kiss him is present again, as though you seek a reminder that what occurred was indeed real and not some lucid dream conjured up within the darkened campsite.

An urge which you act upon, leaning into press your lips to his as he turns to ask if you’re all packed. And one which is reciprocated with a smile from him, grinning against your lips as he takes his time cupping a hand to your cheek and grazing his fingertips along your skin tenderly. With no real purpose, no sexual implication, no rush. Simply a kiss to conclude the trip, which may very well have been everything you needed as it precedes the wedding.

And with shared smiles between the two of you, Minho leads as you make your way back through the informational center. The same woman is sat at the desk, except she says nothing as you pass her by, a scowl on her face at the sight of you. You watch as she bows politely to other guests, inquires about their stay and offers them hard candies from the glass jar in front of her. Except she says nothing to you, almost appearing to shake her head as you pass her by.

“She was nicer yesterday,” you voice to Minho, your concerned gaze scanning his expression for a reaction. But he doesn’t give one, shrugging lightly as he holds the door for you on the way out.

“She’s probably having a bad day,” he says back. “Don’t worry about it.”

And it’s not until he takes your hand in his again that you realize it- this woman who you’d so confidently corrected on the fact that Minho is not in fact your fiancé, has witnessed you kissing him and holding his hand on your way out. Like a scarlet letter you wear upon your chest, except it’s you who put it there. Confirmation that you’re disloyal- a cheater, simply put. You want to defend your actions, but realistically, to whom? Not to Minho, who actively facilitated it. Not to Jung, who would kill you both if he knew.

And not even to the elderly woman, who you can’t explain it to, because it’s different. It’s not cheating, not when it’s Minho. He’s not some drunken hookup from a dive bar, or someone who’s relentlessly pursued you despite your protests. He’s your best friend, one who did you a favor in the absence of your fiancé’s desire to satisfy you. It’s different, you want to say to her. It’s not cheating with Minho- he’s different.

But you settle on the uncomfortable silence that remains when you climb into the passenger seat of Minho’s car, watching the trees melt into a blur of green hues as he backs out of the parking lot. And his hand meets yours over the center console, intertwining your fingers to put your mind at ease like he can somehow read your mind.

Perhaps he can, being the person who’s known every one of your thoughts so intimately since your time in college. And he also reads into your dismissal of the event when you finally let out a gentle sigh, lacing your fingers with his and allowing him to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

*

The arrival home is a non ceremonious one, Minho dropping you off a block before your shared apartment with Jung to avoid the interrogation he knows he’ll get.

He assists in gathering your bags, consolidating your items to ensure you can comfortably carry them up the block. And for a minute, the two of you say nothing as he sends you on your way, a kind of sparkle present in his eyes as he stares at you. He looks different today, a saccharine smile on his face and a much calmer demeanor overall. Every bone in your body wants to jump him and pepper him in kisses, to thank him for relieving the pent up sexual frustration in you and affirming that your fears surrounding this wedding are valid, but they don’t imply that you won’t enjoy married life, either. They’re just… feelings, ones you often find trouble confronting in the presence of Jung, and ones that you realize you’ve probably never confronted at all, if not around Minho.

The fears are valid, and they’re not fleeting in the slightest. But they are lessened with the reminder that Minho’s beside you every step of the way- regardless of how it manifests in your relationship. And the silence remains, as Minho shoots you a small wave, his eyes flickering briefly over the distant outline of your apartment.

“Hey,” you call out to Jung, who’s lazily sprawled out over the sofa, his feet laid flat upon the coffee table.

“How was the trip?” He asks enthusiastically, not taking his eyes off the sports channel that echoes loudly in front of him.

“Oh, you know,” you reply casually. “Just yoga. Always good to see old friends, though.”

“I’ll bet,” Jung replies, chuckling sarcastically as he speaks. “Seems like the only person you’re around these days is Minho.”

And then he reaches for the remote, lazily flipping through channels as you set your bag down.

“He’s my oldest friend,” you say casually, hoping he won’t notice the audible shakiness in your tone. It feels like he can hear how loud your thoughts are, the fears circling your mind, an expression on your face painted with incrimination. You think of your heart racing while Minho kissed you, the way his cock felt inside of you, your clit pulsating gently at the mere memory of it.

“Yeah, well, change is good,” Jung finishes. As you turn the corner, to meet him in front of the couch, you take note of his lap- a small, white cardboard box propped upon his sweatpants, the top ripped to keep it open and his hands working and out of it in rushed motions.

It’s the cake, you quickly realizing, your heart sinking a little at the sight of the frosting in complete disarray, almost half the dessert either smeared around the sides or piled on the fork he brings up to his lips.

“Listen,” Jung says, between a mouthful of food. “I have a golf thing this week and I want you to come see a couple buddies of mine.”

“This week?” You echo, your mind pondering all the potential excuses you can use against him. But nothing comes to mind, as Jung sets the box of cake aside and stands up from the couch.

“Yeah,” he says casually. “My buddy from college is gonna be in town, and he wants to get together before the wedding.”

You want so badly to protest his offer, knowing very well that Jung’s friends are nothing short of insufferable. They very seldom like you, openly voicing their concerns with your flaws, and they’re protective of him, as though Jung is the one who’s sacrificing more by being wed to you.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, a small smile on your lips to offset the anger that could very well erupt in response to your statement.

But Jung just brings two hands up to your shoulder, rubbing the sides as he turns his attention back to the television.

“Not really. Hey, the game’s on again but make sure to clear your calendar on Thursday for me. And let’s bring that wine we got recently.”

“The white one?” You question, sagging your shoulders a little at his lack of hesitation to offer your favorite wine as a housewarming gift to his friends.

“Yeah, that one,” he says plainly, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and slinging his body back over the couch.

“By the way,” Jung voices, motioning for you to move out of the view of the tv screen. “Where’s the cake from? Shit’s good.”

Your gaze lands on the box again, completely torn apart, the icing letters indistinguishable and the fondant ribbons in disarray on the cardboard. You can’t help but think of Minho and his careful attention to detail- the way he picked all your favorite colors, the flavors he knows you love, all from your favorite bakery you very seldom even visit because of the steep price points.

“Babe?” Jung calls again, spooning a layer of frosting into his mouth. “I asked where the cake was from.”

And you shrug casually as you pivot on your heel to exit the room.

“Minho picked it,” you say as you stride away from his still-slouched figure. “I wouldn’t know.”

*

“You have to freeze your cake and eat a piece of it every wedding anniversary,” Jung’s friend Kwang explains, as he brings a cigar to his lips and inhales generously. “That’s what we did, and we still have enough red velvet to last fucking years in there.”

“I love it,” Jung replies in a chuckle, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nudging you harshly. “Course, I’m not sure this one could stop herself from eating the rest of our cake for a whole year. She’s got a bigger sweet tooth than I do.”

You distance yourself from Jung a little, fiddling with your golf club as the men share echoing laughter between puffs of smoke.

The golf course Jung frequents is massive, spanning several hectares of land, which means you’re often stuck here for a long while during his golf sessions. His friends are the same detestable group of men he’s usually out with, all old friends from college you’ve since been forced to get acquainted with. And together they talk each others’ ears off about sports, food, making subtle digs at their own wives or partners, and of course, golf. The blinding shade of green hills contrasts harshly against a pale blue sky and depicts an almost cartoon scenery, and you can feel the headache in your temples worsening with every loud chuckle that escapes Jung’s lips.

He hasn’t asked once about your yoga retreat- which may be a blessing of sorts when you recall the events that unfolded. But you know it’s got nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the fact that he doesn’t give a shit.

He probably doesn’t even remember you were gone, nor does he care to fill you in on the details that unfolded while you were away. And it wouldn’t matter, because you know it would be exactly some version of this- his obnoxious friends, golf, sports on tv and bragging about his proximity to a married life with you. Strangely enough, you’re normally able to stomach these conversations when you’re forced to go out with Jung. But somehow today, every word he utters aggravates you, and you’re desperate to find some excuse to make it home again.

Except you also know very well that it’s something else eating away at your mind this afternoon.

“Y/n?” Kwang questions, and you snap your head to look at him, realizing you’ve tuned out most of his talking points up until now.

“Yes?”

“It’s your turn,” he says, gesturing to your golf club. Jung watches you and chuckles, almost embarrassed with you, as he mirrors Kwang’s gesture.

“Go on,” Jung says condescendingly. “Remember how I taught you last time.”

And with the golf club in your timid grasp, you approach the tee, positioning your club out in front of you and doing your best to mimic the way Jung taught you. Or rather the way he yelled at you to memorize, always taking his sports endeavors far too seriously.

The club head rests gently against the golf ball, pulling back momentarily as your hands shift and tighten around the grip again. And Kwang exhales another puff of smoke, a light chuckle escaping his lips as his eyes bore into your standing figure.

“Her form’s gotten a little better,” he remarks to Jung.

“Yeah, because of me,” Jung says back.

“And good thing, too,” Kwang voices. “If she’d gotten better without your help it’d mean someone else was helping her.”

He laughs as he finishes speaking, transitioning to a coughing fit as you turn to meet Jung’s gaze. But Jung doesn’t look back at you, he simply pats Kwang’s back and exchanges laughter of his own.

“That’s true!” Jung echoes through a fit of laughter, like it’s the best joke he’s heard all century.

“Could you imagine if she pulled up here better than you?” Kwang says, flicking stray ashes off his cigar. “Some other man doing your part for you?”

Jung chuckles again, pulling a box of cigars from the pocket inside of his blazer and thumbing at a fresh one. You watch as he flips open a small bronze Zippo lighter, a small metal clink emitting from behind his cupped hand, as he brings the cigar head to the little yellow flame and holds it there momentarily.

“Fuckin’ A,” Jung remarks with the cigar hanging between his lips.

When it’s lit successfully, he pockets the lighter again, taking a generous puff and blowing smoke just past the direction of Kwang’s still-laughing figure.

“They say that’s how you know your wife’s disloyal,” he remarks. “Her sports form never worsens.”

You stand awkwardly, your fingers grazing the rubber of the golf club grip as you say nothing. Their laughter continues to swirl the atmosphere around you, the sound of the birds and the buzzing cicadas drowning out amidst their cackles. The sun beams entirely too bright down over you, the artificial grass seeming to turn an even more obnoxious shade of green as you wait for them to finish.

“Better hope this one’s not disloyal,” Kwang says amidst his jokes, nudging your upper thigh with the tip of his own golf club. “That’s a lot of planning down the drain.”

And somehow the words trigger the familiar arrhythmic beat in your chest, flashbacks of Minho crossing your mind instantaneously. It’s like they know, the way their jokes seem to run on forever, their wicked cackling taunting you with every passing second. They speak of your form and your position, and you can’t help but picture the way Minho had you sprawled over the bed for you, his toned body looming over yours as he fucked you like he was consummating a marriage.

Beads of sweat trickle down your forehead as the sun glares over you, and the feeling is reminiscent of your sweaty bodies tangled together in the confined space of the tent. Was it you who came first? Was it Minho? The details are a little blurry right now as you try to steady your breathing, every single fear coming to life as you use your golf club to keep upright.

Disloyal. Another man. Cheater.

Their words replay in your mind and produce offspring of new ones, alluding to implications of broken trust and shattered plans. Hypothetical talks of one whole year of planning down the drain, another man with his hands all over you fulfilling Jung’s role in his absence and improving your form.

They know. They know you cheated, this is Jung’s way of humiliating you in front of his closest friend before he publicly calls off the marriage. He’s going to confront you about it any second now. He’s going to drag Minho’s name through the mud, and possibly also his corpse when he’s done with him-

“Y/n?” A voice interrupts, and your head snaps in the direction of their still gazes. The atmosphere is quiet now, birds chirping overhead once more, cicadas buzzing rhythmically in the distance again.

“Huh?”

“You want to forfeit your turn?” Jung asks with a chuckle. “We’ve been waiting for you to start for ten minutes now.”

Your gaze falls down to your hands, gripped tightly around the rubber of the club still, the ball remaining immobile on the little red tee.

“Uh, sure,” you reply, handing the golf club to Jung as he shakes his head.

You watch with an embarrassed expression as Jung grasps the club skillfully, pulling back and twisting his heel as he produces a robust hit, the ball lifting off its tee and soaring into the distance over the green hill.

“She can’t be disloyal,” Jung says with a chuckle, as he prods you with his golf club for the nth time today. “She can’t even complete one round successfully. Any other man would’ve taught her that’s not how you golf.”

*

At the one week mark since you’ve seen Minho, he’s aware something is wrong. You haven’t picked up his calls, haven’t responded to a single one of his texts, and you feign tiredness or some made up illness when he offers to stop by at hours he knows Jung isn’t home. But you don’t entertain any of it, fearing still that Jung knows, and that this is going to be the end of your marriage.

A fleeting physical endeavor caused by your fiancé’s stubbornness, and yet it’s effectively going to be the end of what was supposed to be your entire future. Seeing Minho will only reignite every fear present inside of you, causing it to coax the truth out of you and confront your fears in the presence of Jung.

The fear of what a lifetime of marriage implies. Are you meant to feel like teenagers in love for the entirety of it? Do the fights last a lifetime? Are you supposed to find a middle ground, or will there always be a need for somebody like Minho to provide some clarity and help you rekindle things to the best of your abilities?

What if in a week, you hate the cake flavor you’ve picked? What if you find yourselves so comfortable it doesn’t feel like love anymore? What if you spend a lifetime picturing it’s Minho fucking you instead of Jung, just to get off at night?

What happens to the marriage then? Does the love fizzle out until it’s a comfortable state of tolerance, one in which you’re sacrificing happiness for stability? Or does it simply exist somewhere else- or with somebody else? What’s implied by a lifetime of this?

Minho’s always been a worrier at heart, though, and he won’t let up until he’s certain your relationship to him isn’t at risk of dissipating, too. So at 11pm on a Friday, when he knows Jung is out with the same group of friends, he makes his move to confront you.

The living room is completely quiet at this hour, a soft ticking noise from the clock overhead as you flip past a page in your book. A romance novel, one littered with smut and cheesy dialogue, true to the lonely housewife you’re already conditioning yourself to be. And as your gaze falls over the first sentence of a new chapter, a knocking at the front door interrupts you.

It’s not Jung- it can’t be at this hour, his return home always signaled by his loud stumbling through the doorway, the jingling of his keys and drunken steps over the shoes he so conveniently forgets to put on the shoe rack.

You wrap your arms around the knit holes of your sweater, approaching the door hesitantly. It’s likely one of Jung’s friends, late to the party, or even one of your own girlfriends, here for a late night gossip session. But when you unlatch the door and pull it open, your heart drops at the sight of Minho, his hands shoved in his pockets and his figure standing slouched as his head looks up to meet your gaze.

“Hi,” says Minho, giving you a thin-lipped smile.

You give him a small nod, unsure of what to reply.

He looks handsome tonight, in a dark denim jacket and a pair of jeans. His golden-brown tresses fall loosely around his chiseled face, and his eyes look a little tired, like he hasn’t gotten much sleep.

“Minho,” you say plainly, fidgeting with a loose hem on the inside of your sleeve. “What are you doing here?”

Minho shrugs, peering into the doorway behind you, and then his eyes lock on yours again.

“I never taught you how to gut a fish,” Minho replies.

“I was just- what?”

“A fish,” Minho repeats. “I never taught you how to gut one.”

“Yeah, because we didn’t catch any,” you reply, a short chuckle escaping your lips.

“I know,” Minho says. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over and gut one.”

“Now?” You reply, glancing at the darkened street behind him. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, and Jung isn’t home until early morning. There’s a salmon defrosting on my counter as we speak, assuming the cats haven’t gotten to it. And I was wondering if you wanted to gut it.”

And he’s doing that thing again, where he takes the problem at hand and makes it so much more miniscule than it actually is. This state between disloyalty and tension you feel toward Jung, and the conflicting feelings you have toward Minho and the trip’s subsequent events. But he doesn’t address any of that- instead, he takes issue with you never having gotten to gut a fish. And that’s a relief, when you think about the other option of verbally confronting the emotions you keep at bay.

“Is it messy?” You ask with a little smile.

“It’s messy,” Minho replies.

“What if I’m bad at it?”

“Then you’re bad at it. But I’ll help you. Mess and all.”

You turn around to peer back into the hallway, at the book lying open and flat on the couch, the second hand on the clock moving painfully slow and the dim lamp illuminating the room around you. There’s not much of anything to stick around for, not when Jung’s still going to be out for hours on end. And not when a part of you is dying to confront the situation with Minho in the privacy of his place.

“You can’t laugh if I’m bad,” you say to Minho as you turn back to face him, slipping on your shoes in the process

“I won’t laugh,” he retorts. “No promises, of course.”

*

Two hours later, the kitchen is littered with napkins, plates, gloves, filet knives and scales. Minho walks you through how to remove the roe and the milt, discarding them for you as you prep your filet knife. He verbally instructs you how to descale the fish, and when you make minimal progress, he guides your hand up and down the length of the salmon with his, giving a little nod as the scales fall off with ease and uncover the smooth finish beneath.

He’s understanding when your reluctant hands fail to cut through to the back bone, chuckling lightly as he helps you cut that, too. And when you successfully pluck the remainder of the pin bones with tweezers, he nods proudly, giving you a thumbs up as you dispose of the fish parts and slide the plate of pink slabs to him across the counter.

“You did really well,” Minho says comfortingly. “You’re very attentive to detail. I don’t think there’s a single pin bone still on there.”

“It’s a little gross,” you say, shaking off your hands and chuckling lightly.

“But the end result will be worth it,” he replies. “Somebody plucked the pin bones off every filet you’ve eaten.”

You hit his arm lightly, as he laughs, coating the slabs in seasoning as you pull your gloves off.

“Minho,” you voice nervously, as he keeps his attention on the plate of fish in front of him.

“Hm?”

“Should we… talk about what happened?”

He sprinkles dried parsley atop the filet, not looking at you as you hold your breath for an answer.

“We can talk about it,” Minho replies simply. “Or we can choose not to. It was just a favor I ran you.”

You nod in response, watching as he swaps out parsley for onion powder and sprinkles lightly.

“Can we talk about it?” You say finally, twiddling your thumbs together.

Minho sets down the glass jar, turning to face you and pulling off his gloves, too.

“Sure,” he says, leaning back against the counter and giving you his undivided attention. Your heartbeat quickens momentarily at the sight of him focusing solely on you, and you struggle to find the words to say. But Minho is faster, taking reins of the conversation and breaking the deafening silence between you two.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Minho finally says, a kind of sadness evident in his tone.

“I was scared,” you reply. “I felt like Jung knew. It could ruin all of our wedding plans.”

“There’s no way he can find out,” Minho says. “I haven’t said a word to anyone. Unless you felt inclined to say something-”

“God, no,” you reply quickly. “I wouldn’t dare say anything.”

“Good,” Minho then says. “Then it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment. There’s nothing to worry about.”

And somehow the words sting a little, this conclusion that the affair was a mistake. Was it a mistake? You’re not sure- though you are sure of the complete sense of ease it instilled in you, and the fact that it hasn’t left your mind in a whole week.

“Are we okay?” You ask him, a nervous expression painting your face as you wait for an answer.

And Minho nods confidently, pulling on a fresh set of gloves as he reaches for the salt and pepper shakers.

“We’re fine,” Minho reassures. “If you think anything is getting in the way of a decade of you being stuck with me, then you’re mistaken.”

You laugh lightly, pulling on another pair of gloves too and joining Minho in front of the plate of fish.

“You want to pan fry this?” Minho asks, changing the subject. “I’ll walk you through it.”

Your eyes scan the well-seasoned strips of salmon, and then Minho’s comforting figure beside you, as he slides you a pair of tongs.

“Yeah,” you say to him. “Let’s finish this thing.”

Minho’s right- the end result is worth it. The fish is tender, well-seasoned, paired beautifully with his favorite bottle of white wine over an old comedy movie.

And everything feels like it’s back to normal once more as you sit beside him, your plates completely void of food as you finish your glasses of wine and sit back comfortably.

As the end credits roll, Minho lowers the volume, but he doesn’t shut off the television yet, taking another sip from his glass as your gazes fix on the names disappearing on screen.

Your eyes scan Minho’s mostly-vacant walls, at the things and the stuff he’s moved around. And he has, a couple new photographs displayed neatly on the wall in gold frames.

Most of them are black and white photographs you recognize to be cityscapes. And among the collage, placed right in the middle, the only photo with an ounce of color catches your eye.

“Shirakawa,” you say to Minho, cocking your head at the photograph.

It’s a wide shot of the town, bright green grass contrasting the traditional brown farmhouses that span the entirety of the landscape.

“Mhm,” Minho affirms, giving a little nod as he looks over the photograph, too.

You remain like that for a moment, reveling in the view, and then you finally break the comfortable silence once more.

“Could you tell me about it?” You ask him sweetly. “Just anything.”

Minho thinks back to the facts of Shirakawa he stores in the corner of his mind for a moment, sorting through facts and tales he’s held onto since college. Little stories he’s always wished to pass along again one day.

“Those are called Gasshō-Zukuri houses,” Minho says. “Which directly translates to hands in prayer.”

You cock your head in the other direction, nodding at his words, and seeing exactly what he speaks of. The houses do resemble two hands in prayer, the triangular thatched roofs almost reminiscent of a church’s.

“The roofs were designed to prevent heavy snowfall,” he continues. “Which the town is notorious for receiving. But apparently it’s like a little winter land when you’re there.”

His voice trails off a little at the last syllable, getting quiet again as he folds his hands in his lap.

“Which is pretty cool,” Minho finishes, pulling back from divulging too much information about the town he could go on about forever.

And he doesn’t know you’d gladly listen to him talk about it forever, being continuously fascinated with his appreciation for the centuries-old town across the world from you two. You nod in response to his words, imagining the winters those tucked away in that little town must experience- blankets of snow and freezing temperatures, and yet so warm inside those historical homes loved by people all around the world.

“We’ll go one day,” you say to Minho finally, turning to meet his gaze.

He turns to look at you, too, a somber expression on his face as he listens to you speak.

“We’ll go to Shirakawa one day. I promise it.”

Minho swallows nervously, well aware of how close you are to him on the couch now. Your face at such a close distance to him, your limbs resting right beside each other as his eyes flicker over your parted lips.

Minho engages in the nervous habits he always does, blinking nervously a few times and toying with the lobe of his ear. But he doesn’t act on anything, not wanting to push the boundaries you’ve practically just set in place. The same boundaries that concluded it was a mistake in the heat of the moment. So then why do you feel so inclined to kiss him all over again, let your body tangle with his and ease your stress as he assists in confronting all your fears preceding the wedding? Why does the idea of a lifelong commitment feel so much less intimidating when you’re in the presence of Minho? And what are you doing having these thoughts about your best friend when you’re getting married to somebody else in a month?

Thoughts that fail to induce an answer from you- instead interrupted and subsequently silenced by your lips on Minho’s again, kissing him with such desperation the way you did before.

And though desperate, it's still tender, his eyes shutting instinctively as his hands cup your cheeks and pull you closer. And you’ve nowhere to go but his lap, straddling his waist with your legs as you refuse to break away from the kiss, your kisses turning hungrier by the second as his hands find your waist.

This implication to fuck you is far greater this time, a pressing urge between the two of you to mirror the night’s actions and confirm it really did happen. That he did fuck you that night in your tent, and that you both came with each other and for each other, your bodies releasing the pent-up frustration you’re now certain has existed for years.

“Is this okay?” Minho begins to ask, his hands grazing your sides, and your kisses trail down his neck to provide a clear answer to his concern.

“Please,” you plead, nibbling a light bruise into his flesh. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty-”

“I don’t,” you say, moving to meet his lips again. “It feels so right with you. Please, could we do it again?”

Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as you palm him over the fabric of his jeans, his erection already visible for you.

“I want to,” Minho gasps. “But you’re getting married. I don’t want you to make another mistake-”

“It was never a mistake,” you say breathlessly. “Not the first time, not now. It feels so different with you. Do you feel it too?”

You pull away momentarily, hands cupped around the back of his neck as you wait for his answer. And Minho shoots a nervous smile in response; sheepishly toying with his hair as he struggles to voice his feelings.

“I… do,” Minho begins. “But I want you to-”

“Don’t worry about me,” you say, leaning in to resume pressing kisses along his neck. “Just fuck me like he doesn’t exist,” you finish, your lips working against his once more and guiding his hands down to your waist.

Although you were the one worried of getting found out, you can’t keep your distance from him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you all over again. Coaxing your own arousal out of you, encouraging you to forget all about him the way you’ve been trying to do in the absence of Minho. But with him here in front of you, you know the only way to shut Jung out of your mind is to fill it with thoughts of Minho, and Minho and more Minho.

“I… can do that…” Minho says with another nervous chuckle, as you unzip his jeans and palm him through his boxers.

“Call me something other than my name,” you say to him, pressing a series of chaste kisses to his lips. “Say it like I’m yours.”

And Minho reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away again to look into your eyes.

“Baby?” He questions nervously, eliciting a smile from you.

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Yeah, baby?” He says again, reciprocating confidently now as you stroke him over his boxers. “You want me to make you forget about him?”

“Please,” you beg again. “You’re so much better than him.”

And amidst the ego boost, Minho can feel his cock swell, painfully hard in your firm grasp now as you stroke him.

“Wait,” Minho says, wincing slightly as you slow your movements. “I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Then hurry up and fuck me,” you smirk down at him, looping your fingers in the waistband of his jeans and tugging slightly. And Minho sits up straighter, smirking back, as he moves to press you down against the couch and hover over you.

“You want me to fuck you?” Minho asks, using one hand to tug his jeans down to his thighs. “God, you haven’t stopped thinking about it, haven’t you?”

“Not once,” you admit, wrapping two arms around his neck and pulling him down toward you. “I would’ve asked you to fuck me years ago if I knew what I was missing out on.”

The two of you share giggles as his jeans are discarded on the floor, followed by his t-shirt, and then your pants and your t-shirt, leaving him in just his boxers, and you in your bra and panties.

Minho lowers himself against your clothed core, rubbing ever so gently against you to provide some relief to his aching shaft as he works his kisses against your drooly lips. And he smiles in between every slight movement, completely satisfied at the fact that it’s him rubbing against you like this and taking care of you instead of Jung. For the second time this month.

The idea that Jung is completely clueless to this game you play behind his back, that he still comes home thinking you belong to anyone except Minho. Both in mind and body, your entire being is intertwined with Minho in every way possible.

And you both know it, judging by the way you grab at each other like a pair of horny teenagers on a first date, trying everything in your ability to hold onto the feeling. Also by the way he’s so patient and forgiving with his movements, stil careful not to move too fast in case you decide you want to stop. And an unspoken promise between the two of you, that no matter what happens, the friendship will remain, that it simply can’t slip through your fingers after a decade of promises to each other.

“Let’s go to Shirakawa,” you say to Minho in a whisper, finally tugging his boxers down and freeing his erection against abdomen.

“You want to?” Minho asks, tugging your panties down, too.

“Yes, I want to,” you reply. “We’ve talked about it for so long. Tell me what we’ll do there.”

“Well we’ll definitely go fishing,” Minho begins, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he discards your panties on the floor beside you. “And I’ll help gut all the salmon with you.”

“Mhm,” you voice in a dreamy tone, massaging his hair with the tips of your fingers.

“And then we can see all the animals there,” he continues, positioning himself over you and lifting your leg a little to get a better angle. His hand massages gentle circles in your inner thigh, careful not to enter without ensuring you’re comfortable first.

“And when it snows,” Minho says. “We’ll be trapped inside. But we can occupy the little attic space, where the walls slant inwards. And I promise to make love to you until it stops snowing.”

“When does it stop snowing?” You ask, as Minho pumps his cock gently over you and positions himself in front of your entrance. He chuckles lightly as he leans in to kiss you, your entrance quickly swallowing his tip and caressing his girth with your arousal as he leans in to push himself even further.

“It doesn’t,” Minho replies finally, thrusting himself into you and letting his hands find the small of your back to steady himself. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, quickly drunk on the feeling all over again. The mesmerizing sensation of his body hovering over you, of his cock inside of you, exactly the way you remembered it from the other night.

And it’s not right, but it feels so right to have him those close to you again, your best friend closing the gap of uncertainty between you and shutting you up with the confirmation that your souls have always belonged to each other this way.

“Fuck, Minho,” you breathe out, beads of sweat dripping down your temples as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and holds it there, pulsating harshly against your cervix.

“Will you go faster?” You ask him, running your fingertips down his back in encouragement.

“Are you sure?” he says between labored breaths, still careful not to hurt you.

“Please,” you practically beg. “I’m so eager for you, please just do something about it, baby.”

Minho’s eyebrows raise a little at the utterance of a pet name. He’s never heard it from you- not in all your years of friendship. He’s hardly secured a nickname from you in all that time. And yet here you are now, taking him so fully obediently, throwing words like baby at him and begging him to fuck you so that you won’t have to think about Jung.

“Baby?” Minho says curiously, capturing your lips in a kiss.

“Baby,” you reply, rutting your hips up against his as he begins to move a little faster. “Baby, and honey, and fiancé.”

Minho chuckles a little at the last word, cocking his head as he digests your response.

“Fiancé?”

“Yeah,” you say back between little moans that escape your lips. “If we were in Shirakawa I think we’d be engaged. And you could fuck me whenever you wanted to.”

Minho feels his cock twitch at your words, his mind running rampant with the fantasy of being engaged to you. The implication of a lifetime of this, fucking you sweetly in the comfort of a shared home and coaxing all your stress out of you. And furthermore, a lifetime of you- of being dragged to all your favorite bars, takeout meals and cheap comedy movies, camping when the leaves turn orange and gutting salmon alongside you.

A lifetime of security, stability. One of sheer, unwavering happiness.

“What a dream that would be,” Minho voices, moving a little faster at your words now.

“You think?”

“I know,” he affirms, his hands finding the mounds of your breasts and cupping them gently to unclasp your bra.

“What a fucking dream it would be to have you like this every night.”

Your bra is promptly discarded alongside you on the couch, the cool air grazing your erect nipples as he brings his mouth down to latch around one in gentle sucking motions. You can feel yourself clench around his cock, taking in the sight of his drooly lips wrapped around your chest and working you in eager motions. It’s still the same Minho you recognize from years ago- still the dorky, yet handsome figure of permanence always present somewhere in your life. And it feels even less unnatural than the last time you slept with him, simply instilling another wave of eased stress and tranquility deep inside of you. It’s like this is supposed to be the relationship between the two of you now- you live your life catering to the stubborn, unmoving personality of Jung’s. Minho tends to his monotonous life away from you. And when you reunite once more, relishing in tales of your separate lives from each other and laughing over glasses of chenin blanc, he concludes the night with a slow, intimate session of love-making, one to seal the promise between your souls that regardless of where the future takes you, this is still permanent.

Neither the college girls Minho’s fucked so well, nor the shitty men you promise yourself to could come between that. And it’s a comfortable truth you both come to terms with as he gives himself to you so lovingly and wholly.

“Are you close?” Minho asks, moving to your lips once more and indulging you in a slow, sensual kiss.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, wrapping your arms around his neck a little stabler and bringing your gaze down to his cock, where he disappears inside of you with complete ease.

“Where do- fuck- where do you want me to finish?” Minho asks, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “I don’t want to pose any risks to you right now.”

And he’s right, both of you knowing very well that just because you’ve addressed your mutual attraction to each other, doesn’t mean you can run around with Minho’s arousal catching in your walls like you just aren’t engaged.

You still have a wedding to tend to, another person to return home to and a promise in the eventual holy sanctity of marriage that Jung is your only lover. But right now that no official certificate holds you to that, you can’t find it inside you to care, wanting nothing more than to be filled by Minho, and Minho and more Minho, and yet knowing it’s simply not a possibility.

“Wherever you want,” you finally breathe out, placing the option in the hands of Minho. Your breasts, your mouth. Inside of you. You don’t care- all you care is that he’s here, and he’s upholding his end of sealing the permanence between you two.

Minho gives a few particularly harsh thrusts, and then he brings a hand to the base of his cock, pulling out carefully and wincing as he staves off his orgasm. Your hands remain wrapped around the back of his neck, your gaze fixed on his as he works himself in quick strokes and leans in to kiss you.

“Can we go to Shirakawa?” You ask him again tenderly, as he continues to pump himself over your lying figure.

“Of course we can,” Minho responds with a sweet smile, his breaths labored as he nears his finish. “We can go wherever you want.”

“As long as you’re there,” you say to him, smiling up at him as he leans forward to kiss you again.

“As long as it’s the two of us,” Minho clarifies. “We can go anywhere.”

His eyes shut once more, his long eyelashes grazing his eyelids as his lips part open, and then he lets out a whimpered moan as he finally reaches his finish, coating your stomach in the milky white release of his orgasm. He kisses you when he finishes, smiling against your lips as he brings a hand down between you and rubs your clit in gentle, circular motions.

Your moans turn whimpered, too, as you reach your finish, clenching around what you wish was his cock and letting go for him.

And the credits on the television reach their end, transitioning to the hushed echo of a commercial playing. But neither of you are in any rush to leave or clean up just yet, allowing your listless bodies to intertwine lazily on the sofa as your giggles fill the quiet space between you and reverberate off the walls with such mutual fondness.

*

Mondays are heavy with work. Tuesdays, Jung works late. Wednesdays and Thursdays are dedicated time for his friends from college, and every day after that is a toss-up, but they’re often days you spend with Jung, watching movies in your apartment, going on little dates or in uncomfortable silence alongside him as he spills details of his work and his friends.

And he believes this to be your schedule, because he’s clueless otherwise.

Mondays are really for late-night phone calls with Minho, where you run off to the patio for a few minutes of privacy while Jung catches up on sports broadcasts. Tuesdays, Minho cooks you intricate meals at his apartment, alongside old comedy movies and concluded always by his gentle love-making to you. Wednesdays and Thursdays feel like college again, Minho finally agreeing to accompany you to all your favorite bars again and paying for your drinks as he watches you dance for him, his hands all over you as the two of you exchange needy kisses for everybody to watch.

And though the lights by the bar are far too dim for anybody to recognize you’re out with somebody beside your fiancé, a part of you doesn’t care.

Bastard. Facilitator of cheating. Homewrecker.

Sometimes you and Minho joke about the names they’d call him if they found out. Every derogatory term under the sun, like they haven’t already thought it of him for being quieter than Jung’s douchebag friends. And yet they also fail to see he’s more kind, more attentive and more loving than any of them could ever bring to the table in the presence of their own wives.

You also know they won’t find out- not when you’re virtually invisible to Jung and his friends when he’s not showing you off like some trophy to be won. When corporate holiday parties arise, or the need for an even number of golf participants makes itself known, Jung’s there without hesitation, grasping your hand between his clammy fingers and recounting days of when you’d met.

And yet none of his stories involve the present you. They fail to include your successes at work, or the books you’ve taken a liking to recently, or even the valiant efforts you’ve put into decorating your shared space with him, despite his complete lack of assistance. His stories of you exclude the liking you’ve taken to “yoga retreats” recently. And they definitely don’t know you can gut a fish like your life depends on it.

“This wine is better than the last one,” you say to Minho, as he pours himself a glass and slips a crystal stopper into the spout.

“It cost me less than the loaf of bread,” Minho replies with a breathy chuckle. “I don’t think we’ll ever stop favoring cheap convenience store wine.”

You swirl the cherry red color around in your glass, admiring the way the liquid forms a little whirlpool and settles once again, the strong scent wafting upward in the process.

“Notes of cherry, wood, french vanilla and… pocket money,” you say to Minho wafting the scent up even further with a wave of your hand.

He laughs at your words, taking a sip from his own glass and smacking his lips together once.

“Undertones of fruit and nuttiness. And maybe penny pinching, like in our college days,” Minho replies, the two of you chuckling as you set your glasses down.

You look out at the view from his balcony window, the darkened sky providing little to see at this hour, but still outlining the silhouettes of the trees and the bushels that line his apartment terrace.

“The time passed us by so fast,” Minho says in a somber tone, not turning to face you. You keep your gaze on the trees outside, thinking over your shared actions over the past few weeks. It’s been nothing short of thrilling going behind Jung’s back the way you do, but you’re also aware that with every meetup, you’re a day closer to tying the knot with Jung, preparing for a lifetime of permanence alongside the same person you’ve never felt so unsure about before now.

You turn to face him finally, a sad smile on your face as he waits for your answer.

“I wish we did something about this earlier,” you respond finally, taking note of the glow in his eyes as you speak. He looks marvelous at this proximity to you, so attainable and so enchanting all at the same time.

“Did something about what?”

“This,” you emphasize. “Us.”

Minho blinks nervously a few times, and then he cocks his head slightly as he waits for you to continue, too scared to affirm your words with thoughts of his own first.

“All this time I was trying to validate the fears inside of me surrounding this wedding,” you explain to him. “And then there was you, the same person who makes them nearly nonexistent. I wish we did something about it earlier so that maybe the fear was just lessened to begin with.”

Minho nods nervously, as he understands very well now that you’re on completely separate pages.

Minho, who wishes he could shake some sense into you and confess that this isn’t just some physical endeavor soul-searching the way it is for you- that he’s so madly in love with you, and that he chases the reminder of your permanence because the ivy that constricts his veins will surely kill him in your absence.

And thus, he takes what he can get- you, at your most vulnerable moments, unloved and uncherished by Jung, just seeking a kindly ear and maybe a warm body to remind you that there is some semblance of comfort to be felt in the interim.

And yet you, who only partakes in this fleeting act of physical yearning because you’re scared of commitment to Jung, who maybe doesn’t fulfill you every way you wish he would all the time. So you go behind his back, and you chase the fulfillment yourself, and you act upon the fears and the anxieties that have always circled your mind in the presence of Minho.

Maybe he likes you, maybe he’s jealous, maybe he wants to fuck you.

Statements you’ve heard throughout the entirety of your friendship, ones you couldn’t help but ponder, too, as Minho would grow painfully quiet with Jung in the room. But ones you always brushed off, telling yourself that the two just don’t click. And yet the arousal present with the fear makes for some of the most pleasurable moments together in the privacy of Minho’s home, albeit for Minho, on time begged and borrowed from you. The affair with Minho is not indicative of permanence in any form, and yet it exists to confront your very fear of permanence.

Selfish? Surely. Contradictory? In every sense of the word. The concerns raised to you by Minho himself in any way? Never.

So it remains, this tragic cycle of sleeping with your best friend behind your fiancé’s back, blind to the fact that he’s irrevocably in love with you, in a comfortable state of mind knowing that at least you’ll have felt this state of peace for even just a finite amount of time before you give yourself away to the marriage completely.

And yet it’s a beautiful thing in essence, this shared love between the two of you. A trust instilled so deeply on both sides to give yourselves away to each other every night and close a chapter of what once was, regardless of the differences in how it’s perceived.

The incandescent glow Minho’s tender embraces bring forth in you, no matter the fact that he’s simply grieving a very real, living love that still exists between the two of you. Green leaves of ivy that constrict his throat and force words back down them again, so that he may never admit that he’s jealous, and it’s you, it’s always been you. The same suffocating feeling he ponders late at night, asking himself why he’s been so magnificently cursed to only love you under these circumstances, and never in ones that promise him your permanence in return.

But when you're across from him, a glass of cheap wine in hand and your gentle laughter accompanying his, he can’t help but embrace the grand feeling- tarnished, but still grand.

“Maybe it worked out the way it was supposed to,” Minho settles on saying. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be more than this little period of time.”

And there’s a pang of pain in his chest as he utters the words, but he’s met with your small nod in response, visibly comforted by the prospect of his implications.

“Hey,” you say after a moment of silence, sitting up straight and swirling your glass of wine around in your hand again. “There’s a dinner thing Jung’s hosting with some people from the guest list. Don’t say you didn’t get the invite.”

Minho exhales with an audible groan, slouching back in his chair and running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t even like his cooking,” Minho admits frustratedly. “He’s just going to make me feel like an idiot the whole night.”

“But I want you there,” you say to him in a pleading tone. “You’re my best friend. I can’t do this stuff without you.”

“I know you can’t,” Minho replies. “And I don’t want you to have to. But it’s going to be awkward, and painful.”

“I won’t let him cross any boundaries,” you reason with him. “I’ll diffuse anything that comes up. I just want you there, even if it means you’re going to sit there and say nothing. Even that would make me happier than seeing your empty chair all night.”

Minho groans again, swirling his own glass of wine around in his hands and averting your gaze. He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he speaks again, in a reluctant voice.

“He would kill me if he found out, you know. We would never see each other again.”

You feel your heart sink at his words, even the thought of it beyond unnerving to you.

“Why do you say that suddenly?”

“Just… thinking,” Minho finishes.

“Well he has no way of knowing,” you console him. “And I promise to keep things civil.”

Minho thinks for a moment, wanting to press you for more answers about what this even is, about why you’re choosing to let him waste his time like this and what possessed him to agree to attend your pre-wedding dinner as the other man.

But he says nothing, letting a generous sip of alcohol serve as the answer to the requests you press him for- yes, of course he’ll be there, albeit with his long list of fears and reservations. But he’ll do anything, twice even, at your behest.

*

The ebony wood dining table looks particularly elegant when it’s set up for guests. You line the seats with ceramic white platters, shiny silverware and iridescent glasses, paying special attention to even minute details, such as the direction of the prongs for each fork you place on white nylon napkins. Mixed peonies and birchwood make up the long centerpiece, and tall white taper candles are lit in the bronze candleabras.

And the mood is largely set by the guests, who laugh loudly around the table with glasses of expensive beverages in their hands. They speak of their jobs, and their spouses and pop culture references you can’t be bothered to pay attention to. Your eyes scan the emptiness in their eyes, most of them living lives you can tell they’ve simply settled for. And you wonder, briefly, if they’ve ever experienced the unwavering happiness you do in the presence of Minho. Do they ever crack open a bottle of convenience store wine? Do they still let loose at clubs every now and then? Could they gut a fish if they caught one?

You respond to their stories with little nods and fake chuckles, and your head snaps in every direction past your guests to the front door.

Minho’s fashionably late tonight, or at least you hope he is, still holding on to the promise that he’s going to be here. And Minho’s many things- but he’s not dishonest. He’ll show if he says he will, albeit for a few minutes each time when it involves Jung. But he’ll still show, dropping by with a timid smile and greeting the audience before sending you off with a lousy excuse again and leaving his spot vacant for the remainder of the evening. But tonight is different- tonight he’s here as the other man. And you can’t decipher whether that indicates a change in his subsequent actions, that perhaps he won’t show after all, and you’ll be left to your own devices with Jung and his obnoxious friends.

“… And one of our clients is an intern this quarter,” Jung says loudly, as he rants about his work in typical fashion. “Which means I’m going to be carrying most of our partnership.”

The guests laugh and raise their glasses, and you can’t help but wonder how on earth the comment warrants even an ounce of laughter. As Kwang’s wife begins to voice a response, the doorbell rings once, and your head snaps in the direction of the echoing bell.

“I’ll get it,” you say quickly, rising from your seat and smoothing down your skirt. “Excuse me.”

The guests glance briefly in your direction, and then turn their attention back to Jung, who begins to voice another chronicle of his inadequate colleagues. As you march down the hallway, your heart quickens in your chest, admittedly a little nervous to confront Minho after the recent events. You wonder if he’s going to be more awkward, or maybe even shut down entirely around the group. Maybe he’s just here to drop off another cake and send you off with a wave. Endless possibilities you’ve never had to consider when you weren’t actively sleeping with him. You unlatch the front door, taking a deep breath, and then pull it open, your gaze falling instantly onto the standing figure.

And it’s a wave of comfort when he smiles at you, his eyes forming little crescents as he grins and exposes his endearing set of skewed teeth, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as he does. He’s much more dressed up tonight, in a black collared button down and a black tie, his light brown tresses framing his chiseled jawline so well. And seeing him is more exciting than any other guest you’ve seen tonight, a present urge to pepper him in kisses and remain right here alone, with him.

“Hey,” Minho says in a shy voice.

“Hi,” you respond, trying to stifle the giddy expression on your face from the guests around you who might be looking. “I saved you a seat,” you continue. “Come on.”

Minho enters reluctantly, glancing around the room and giving a small nod to the guests as you direct him to the vacant seat beside you. And somehow, he looks a little more confident, his posture much straighter and a knowing smile on his face as he occupies the seat beside you.

“Hi,” he says to the guests as they meet his gaze, and he even gives a small nod to Jung, who shoots him a subtle scowl.

“Jung,” Minho voices, gesturing to the table. “Pleased to be here.”

Jung just nods at Minho, and then goes back to telling a story of his business accounts.

But your attention is everywhere except for Jung’s story, hardly even able to take your gaze off Minho’s. His eyes sparkle under the hanging pendant lamp, his lips pulling into a little smirk as you watch him with such fascination. There’s something so enticing about the prospect that nobody here knows he’s fucked you, several times since the last time they saw him, and he’ll likely do it tonight when Jung thinks you’re out with a group of girlfriends. They don’t know the world you two have effectively built together, romantic nights of cooking intricate dinners together over glasses of cheap wine. And they don’t know the history you two share, years of walking through your fears and uncertainty alongside one another and bettering yourselves in the process. He’s your other half in so many ways, and you’re not sure it’s something anybody except the two of you could even begin to comprehend.

You watch as Minho picks up a bottle of wine from the table, rotating it in his grasp and examining the contents. It’s one of Jung’s favorites, an expensive bottle of zinfandel he picks up from a special market a few hours out of the city. And it all tastes the same to you anyway, pairing just fine with steak or fish or even fast food at 3am. In fact, it’s subpar in comparison to Minho’s favorites, which taste like safe intimacy, laughing at comedy reruns and love-making under the warmth of his blankets.

“Anyways,” Jung voices loudly, finally garnering your attention from beside him. “We’ve never been more ready for this honeymoon. I need tropical weather and some margaritas.”

“Amen to that,” Kwang chimes in, raising his glass for the nth time tonight.

I hate warm weather, you want to say. I wish it was Shirakawa, under the safety of the prayer hands thatched roofs and blankets of snow.

“If we don’t come back, just know we opted to stay,” Jung then says. “I’ll stay golfing on the beach and you guys can tough out the rest of winter here.”

Cue the obnoxious laughter, fake smiles, raised glasses.

“You’ll have the whole trip to help on her form,” Kwang says loudly, gesturing over to you with the wine bottle in hand.

“We went golfing the other day, and let’s just say there’s ample time for improvement.”

Roaring laughter, unsightly grins and clinking glasses.

And Minho glances over at you, who keeps a smile on your face at the stupid remark.

It’s exactly this that keeps him from acting upon the urge- you look content. You don’t argue, you don’t maintain a blank expression. Instead you smile, and you agree with his friends and your eyes look like they’re still on the same page of devoting entirely yourself to this less-than-desirable relationship you flaunt. Minho knows he’s just a stepping stone in this chapter, and that he’s going to come out of this hurt. But he also knows that despite your fears, you’re content, and he’s not going to insert himself between the love that you deserve, though it may take a while to materialize fully.

You glance over at Minho with a nervous smile, silently hoping he’ll say something. Just ask me to run away with you, you want to say. Tell me to run, and I’ll meet you there. Wherever.

But you know he won’t dare, too set on the idea that this is still what you want. So he’ll remain like this, in the unfamiliar atmosphere of a dining table you share with another man, and he’ll let himself face what becomes of it in due time.

“Are you okay?” Minho asks quietly, leaning in to fill your glass with more expensive wine.

“Peachy,” you say with a smile. And one he returns, shooting you another gentle smile and nodding at your confirmation.

The two of you listen as Jung segues into another story about his business client, and Minho’s leather heel finds your ankle under the table, grazing it softly as you stifle a smile.

There’s no sexual implication rooted in his actions, maybe not not even romantic implication, as his heel moves up and down the back of your bare calf. It’s just a reminder to say this will always be of permanence.

*

Minho’s hands work up and down the sides of your waist as he kisses you, smiling against your lips as you slot yourself between his legs and grasp the back of his neck.

He kisses Jung’s expensive wine back into your mouth, the flavor complementing the mouthwatering look he sports this evening, and you have to remind yourself several times to slow down.

“This looks so good on you,” you say with a smile, fidgeting with his tie and loosening it from around his neck.

“It’s the same one I always wear,” Minho says with a chuckle. “I can’t be bothered to buy a new one.”

“Don’t buy a new one. I want this one. I want it to be this one every time.”

Minho laughs lightly, a form of verbal agreement, and then he pulls you a little closer to him, rubbing little circles in the small of your back as you stay close in his embrace. He’s sprawled out on his couch, strands of hair hanging delicately in his face as he steadies you in his hold over him, his pink lips visibly swollen from having kissed you for the better part of an hour now.

“Tell me something about Shirakawa,” you ask him innocently, unfastening the first few buttons of his collared dress shirt.

”Anything?” Minho responds, bringing an arm up to rest casually behind his head.

“Anything. Something dreamy.”

“Hm,” Minho hums in response. “There are rice fields, and lily ponds and green orchards,” he says finally. “We can walk through all of them without a care in the world, and we can get drunk off little glasses of sake.”

“And the whole town can be ours,” you chime in, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his toned chest.

“The whole town,” Minho echoes. “It can be whatever we want it to be.”

“As long as you’re there,” you tell him, trailing your kisses lower and undoing the line of buttons as you near his navel

“Anything you want,” Minho exhales in a dreamy tone. “Say it and it’s yours.”

His eyes shut instinctively as the last of his buttons are undone, exposing his chest to you and promptly covered in eager kisses as you trail down to his hardening cock in his pants.

And his arms rest lazily behind his head, feeling completely taken care of, so needy always for your delicate touch. Your nimble fingers work to graze in slow back and forth motions over his flesh, and then you hoist yourself up a little higher to straddle your hips over his crotch.

“Thank you for showing up tonight,” you say to him in a sweet voice. “It means everything to me.”

“Anything you want,” Minho says for the second time tonight. “Say the word and I’m there.”

“You’re my best friend,” you voice to Minho. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

And the utterance of a friend doesn’t even sting for him anymore. It’s fact- you belong to each other, time and time again, as friends, and lovers in the evening, and everything else in between. He doesn’t fight it, because he’s grateful for any role he can play amidst the grand role you play in his.

“Are you hard?” You ask a little quietly, a knowing smile on your face as you rock your hips gently over his.

“A little,” Minho replies, though he’s in no rush to have you take care of it. It’s enough exactly like this, your bodies intertwined together and infatuated with each other in the secrecy of his home.

“You want me to take care of you?” You then ask, one hand trailing up to wrap lightly around his throat.

And as your slender fingers graze the column of his neck, it’s clear to you at this angle. Sticking out like a sore thumb, so glaringly wrong and indecent from this proximity.

Your left ring finger, completely bare, your engagement ring nowhere to be seen.

At first you’re sure you’re hallucinating, pulling your hand back quickly to examine the thin tan where your finger meets your knuckle, one that’s usually covered by the gleaming jewelry. But as you rotate your finger around under the dim lighting, you confirm it’s not in fact some illusion- your engagement ring is gone.

Minho sits up a little, craning his neck a little to examine your worried expression.

“Y/n?” He questions, taking note of the way your eyes remain fixed to your hand. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s not here,” you say simply.

“What? What’s not here?”

“My ring,” you say a little more panicked, climbing off him and glancing around the coffee table.

“Where’s my ring?” You question, moving aside stacks of books and magazines atop the glass table. Minho sits up, glancing around too, searching desperately for the little piece of silver jewelry.

“Let’s stay calm,” Minho says as he stands up. “It has to be around here. When was the last time you saw it?”

“I can’t remember,” you say in a panicked tone, now scrambling to the kitchen and searching the marble counters.

“Okay,” Minho says calmly. “Was it- do you ever take it off to wash it?”

“I never take it off,” you reply. “I never take it off, why the fuck isn’t it on my finger?”

“Let’s stay calm,” Minho repeats. “It has to be in here-”

“Calm?” You finally retort, turning to face him with tears pricking your eyes. “You want me to stay calm? Jung’s going to kill me, do you know how fucking expensive that thing was?”

“Of course,” Minho says, buttoning up his shirt as he continues to search. “Which is why we’re going to find it.”

And you don’t reply for several moments, still frantically scanning the kitchen counters for any sign of your ring. But it’s a moot point, every napkin you unball containing nothing, nothing in the trash cans Minho searches through, even the dishwasher thoroughly searched, to no avail.

And you can’t help but to cry, tears falling nonstop from the corners of your eyes as you rush about the kitchen and think of every worst-case scenario. This is it. Confronting Jung about it means he’s going to know what’s been going on, chew you out about the cost of the ring and your carelessness toward it. And then call off the wedding, and every single one of your friends will know you’re a cheater and a liar.

“It’s not fucking here,” you cry out to Minho, halting your movements to bury your face in the palms of your hands, letting yourself emit muffled sobs into the sleeves of your sweater.

“It has to be,” Minho says, glancing once more around the room, and then approaching you to pull you in for a hug.

“Don’t,” you order, pushing him away from you, and Minho furrows his brows together. “Just don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Minho gives a breathy chuckle, thinking at first you might be joking, and then his expression softens as he realizes you’re being completely serious.

“What- seriously? That’s it?” Minho questions.

“What?” You say with a choked sob. “I can’t find my fucking engagement ring. The one I was given to get married, in case you forgot. Sorry I’m not in the mood.”

Minho scoffs lightly, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. And then he meets your gaze once more, a solemn expression on his face.

“What are we doing?”

“What?” You query in response.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Minho repeats. “What the fuck are you doing here if you’re getting married?”

You shrug frustratedly, wiping tears with the back of your hand and saying nothing in response.

“No, answer me,” Minho commands, his voice raising a little. “What are we doing, going behind his back like this? You come here almost every night spewing your bullshit about Shirakawa and suddenly it’s my fault that you can’t find your fucking engagement ring? I mean, who even cares?”

“Who cares?” You retort. “I do. I’m getting married-”

“Exactly,” he interrupts. “So then what the fuck are we doing? Go get married, for fuck’s sake. Will you just leave, for good then?”

“You want me to walk out of your life just because I’m getting married?”

“I want you to leave because I’m in love with you,” Minho says finally, and a deafening silence washes over you two.

For a moment, all that’s heard are your echoing sniffles and Minho’s heavy breathing, as he struggles to find the words to continue.

“You really don’t see it in the way I look at you? You really haven’t realized I’m only okay being the other man because I’ll take any fucking version of you I can get at this point?”

Your gaze fixes on his, taking note of the way tears prick at the corners of his eyes, too.

“I’ve been in love with you for all these years,” Minho says, his voice coming out in a choked sob. “And what a waste, all these talks of Shirakawa when I’ve known all along it was always going to be him in the end.”

His words circle your mind with a sense of urgency, as you struggle to respond.

You have known it, maybe even reciprocating by this point, but knowing that you can’t, not when you’re getting married in mere weeks. You’re happy, and you’re safe here with Minho. But in terms of love, this isn’t permanent. It’s a fleeting thing, one that has to end like this as you approach the next chapter of the rest of your life.

And yet it hurts, like a knife pierced deep into an existing wound, like thick vines of ivy that caress your veins and pull tightly with every thought of it being Minho all this time, all these years.

“I love you,” Minho says almost sheepishly, throwing his hands at his sides in defeat. “I’ve always loved you. I love you in loud bars and over cheap bottles of wine. And I’m jealous- god, I’m jealous,” Minho admits in a choked sob. “And it’s killing me. I can’t do anything about it except watch you plan a life with somebody I’ll spend the rest of my life wishing was me instead.”

Your lips part to say something, but you can’t, simply wiping the tears that fall onto the sleeve of your sweater.

“I love you in the hands of another man and I’ll still love you if you choose him. But I can’t do it at this proximity to you anymore.”

“Minho, please-”

“There’s nothing else,” Minho says, gasping back his tears. “This is it for us.”

You watch as he exhales deeply, wiping his tears and gesturing back to the kitchen.

“Did you check the soap dish?” Minho then says in a quiet voice.

“What?”

“The soap dish,” he clarifies somberly. “For your ring.”

And Minho watches as your gaze falls to the stainless steel soap dish across the room, a bristle pad sponge occupying the rectangular dish, alongside the familiar glint of your silver engagement ring.

One you removed to ensure you didn’t lose it among the plate of pin bones from the cod you helped Minho prepare. And one you hadn’t even realized has been missing from your finger for several hours now.

Your gaze falls back to Minho’s before you retrieve the ring, and his eyes are swollen and mournful. There’s not a glint of hope present between you two- not in friendship, and certainly not in love.

And neither of you say another word as you pivot on your heel to collect the symbol of yours and Jung’s ode to permanence.

*

The polyester-spandex mix of your reception dress is much itchier than you remembered it to be. It’s a simple white piece, long and cascading behind the heels you’ve chosen, a generous v-cut enhancing the curve of your breasts as you adjust the hem in the mirror.

“Is it more comfortable than your wedding dress?” One of the bridesmaids questions with a smile.

You shoot her a somber smile, nodding at her and fidgeting with the long sleeve of your dress.

“Yeah. It is.”

“It should be,” she responds kindly. “Remember, try not to step on the bottom or we’ll have to get it cleaned off before the real thing.”

You nod at her, checking your reflection once more in the full-length mirror across from you. You love the woman you embody- she looks elegant, and sure of herself and well on the path to a lifetime of stability and happiness.

And yet the girl inside of you can’t feel further from the perception.

You want nothing more than to climb out of the tight-fitting dress and leave all of this, damn this rehearsal dinner to hell and call off the wedding. But this is it- the final stretch. Guests at every corner assume their positions and practice where they’ll stand and how they’ll move about so elegantly as you say your vows.

Jung seems so sure of himself, adjusting the cuffs of his suit and shooting you a wink from across the room as you stare blankly. And you can’t reciprocate, still far too preoccupied with the events of last week to care about any of this. Minho sending you off, the ultimatum to choose between your fiancé and the best friend you’re in love with.

Of course you couldn’t choose Minho, whose role in most of this has been to help lessen your fears and prepare you for a lifetime of giving yourself to Jung. And yet somewhere along the way, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was even true, completely smitten with every part of him, too. The fact remains that you’re in love with him, and yet you’ve both been so magnificently cursed to keep it at a comfortable distance and pray that in some version of this story, it’s you guys in the end.

Your family saunters about the venue in their fancy dressed and suits, and your guests chat amongst themselves and sample the foods that have been laid out for them. And your mind circles with images of Minho, and Minho and more Minho. And what he would look like, instead of Jung, waiting at the end of the aisle for you with a toothy grin and tears in his eyes. The cheap wine you’d choose to cater, just a handful of guests the way you know he’d want it. And an innocent, undemanding love shared between the two of you, sealing your promise to each other with a tender kiss and his breathy laugh.

Yet the fantasy is fleeting, it’s rooted in the delusion of a cheater, in every sense of the word, and it would effectively ruin your life had it come to fruition.

“Which way do we go from here?” Jung questions loudly, and your head snaps up in his direction.

“From here you’ll go to the right, just past the foyer there,” a coordinator responds. “Make sure to smile when you’re walking down an aisle at any given point.”

Stupid. The whole thing feels stupid.

“Did you get that?” Jung questions, and you nod meekly.

“Sure.”

“Let’s take five,” a coordinator says, clasping her hands together.

Jung resumes a conversation with the groomsmen beside him, and your eyes fall to the vacant seat across the table, where Minho’s meant to be sitting. A small white folded card rests delicately on a white platter, his name scribbled in loopy cursive to reserve his spot.

Lee Minho.

And you read his name over a dozen times, replaying every last word of your conversation in your head and wondering what he’d do if he were here. Probably criticize the wine, or make faces at Jung’s phony speeches. And love you from afar, but with his entire heart, regardless.

“What do you think so far?” Jung leans in to whisper.

“Yeah,” you reply, nearly evading the question altogether.

Your eyes scan the room at the carefully placed decorations- rows of lantern lights, white tablecloths and organized dishes for the guests, tapered candles are lit at every table. And in the center, bushels of magenta flower arrangements in cylindrical glass vases.

Magenta.

Your eyes do a double take, carefully examining the color as you furrow your brows. Magenta. Neon, obnoxious shades of magenta at every table. Nothing within the realm of the baby pink you requested. Harsh on the eyes and contrasting repulsively against the rest of the decor.

“The flowers are magenta,” you say to Jung quietly.

“Hm?”

“The flowers,” you repeat. “Are magenta.”

“Yeah,” Jung says, audibly a little confused. “They’re nice, right?”

“I said pink,” you respond. “Baby pink. These aren’t pink.”

Jung furrows his brows together, and then he cocks his head at the floral displays set upon each table.

“You’re right,” he then replies. He snaps his fingers at a staff member, and then he gestures to the floral displays.

“These aren’t pink,” he says harshly. “She requested pink and not magenta. Could we get these swapped out, please?”

A coordinator jots something down in a small notepad, and then gives him an understanding nod.

“That’s what we’re paying you guys for, right?” Jung asks sarcastically. “Come on, don’t let us settle for magenta flowers.”

And when he turns back to you, his chuckles get quieter as he observes the displeased expression on your face.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” You ask him quietly.

“What?”

“Why are you ordering them around like that? They’re just flowers.”

“What? But you just said-”

“You never make things feel like less of a big deal,” you say quietly, a little scoff escaping your lips as you speak.

“What are you talking about?”

“You just take something and run with it. You don’t make things feel like less of a problem than they are. You’re supposed to comfort me, or find the good in magenta flowers. Not yell at the service workers.”

Jung laughs nervously, taking your words for a joke at first, and other guests begin to stare across the table as they watch you rise from your seat.

“And why is the wine so fucking expensive?”

“Please, sit down,” Jung says nervously, waving the guests off as they shoot him concerned looks.

“No, I don’t want to.”

And as you search for the words to say, your heart beating erratically, you realize it’s exactly this that you’ve stopped yourself from doing all this time. Fighting back. Using your voice the way Jung so comfortably weaponizes his against you. Letting your emotions spill out from the years they’ve been bottled up inside of you, and finally coming to terms with the fact that this isn’t the life you want at all.

It’s Minho you love, it’s always been Minho and it’s always going to be Minho.

“I don’t want this,” you say to Jung, as you smooth down your dress and stand up.

“Please, sit,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” you say in a shaky voice. “You don’t fulfill me, you haven’t touched me in weeks, I don’t think you even know that I asked for baby pink flowers, because you’re too busy showing off to all the shitty people you call friends. I don’t think we have ever been friends.”

All of the guests keep their gazes on you, taken aback by your words, but you don’t care, continuing your rant while they watch in horror.

“I hate expensive wine,” you say to Jung. “I want to go on a honeymoon somewhere it snows. I want to watch comedy movies, and go camping and be so madly in love it hardly feels like it some days, because we’re also such good friends when we’re not completely infatuated with each other.”

Jung doesn’t say anything, glancing nervously around the table as the coordinators maintain their silence, too. Your chest rises and falls with gasped breaths as you try to hold back from crying in front of them. And then you shrug, before finishing your speech.

“At the end of the day, there’s the man who tells me how to golf,” you say in a shaky voice. “And there’s the man who guts a fish alongside me, mess and all.”

Jung frowns at your words, visible confusion painting his features.

“What?”

“I have to go,” you say to him, sparing him any sort of explanation.

The hem of your dress is balled into the palms of your hands and pulled up to give yourself room to walk, as you kick off your heels and begin to exit the venue. And before you do leave, you pivot around one last time, letting your gaze meet Jung’s visibly irate expression.

“Here,” you announce, pulling the silver band off your ring finger and setting it down on the tablecloth.

“If you’re going to make a big deal out of anything, at least let it be this.”

*

The polyester-spandex mix of your reception dress isn’t made to run in. It’s much too long, the fabric bunches up at the sides and its bright white color begs to be kept indoors only. And yet you run- and you don’t stop, not even for a second, until the reception building is completely out of your sight, disappearing beyond the trees and the tall grasses that surround it.

Your bare feet scrape the squelching mud that surrounds the grassland after the recent rains, and overhead, the piercing blue sky and a harsh sun beams down over you in encouragement. And you normally hate blue skies and green grasses like this, always equating them to Jung’s stupid golf courses and the corporate events he’s dragged you to for years.

But today it serves as a sort of blessing, like the world is brighter, lighting your path and guiding you to the beacon that is Minho, and all his unconditional, unwavering love for you. Maybe it took you years to finally acquaint yourself with your emotions like this, and maybe you hadn’t even realized what true love was until Minho. And there’s the possibility, of course, that you’re also too late, and that Minho has already settled on the tragic fact that Jung would always remain a part of you.

And that’s true- he will maintain a role of permanence in your life. He was your first serious boyfriend throughout college, your first fiancé and your first true love before you understood it in a less superficial form. And yet he will also permanently remain the man whose life you walked out on, because he helped you realize he’s nothing near what actually fulfills you.

Once the paved roads are in view again, you waste no time waving down a taxi and uttering Minho’s address to the driver with such urgency. Your dress is caked in mud up to the ankles, and your hair is in complete disarray as you glance out the window at the rows of cars, all belonging to guests here for your dinner rehearsal. And you chuckle briefly, at the thought of them emptying the lot and walking out of your life forever.

Contrastly, Minho’s apartment is in complete disarray, too, as he hoists the last of his immediate belongings into a leather bound suitcase and latches it shut.

What a waste, he thinks to himself. What a waste to have spent so much time comfortably in love with the idea of a finite soulmate, and at such close proximity, too. You’re probably off at your rehearsal dinner, sampling finger foods and laughing at all of Jung’s surface-level conversation.

And he’ll never know you the way Minho knows you. He will never comprehend your fears, your reservations, all your little quirks and the things that make you tick. He’ll never fully understand the prospect of being so bound to somebody in both friendship and love that it’s almost indistinguishable what you are to each other. Perhaps that’s where you went wrong, too- because Minho knows it, that his role in your life has always been to love you, near, far and at every point in between. And yet you deem it just a fleeting thing, one implying an end.

There is no discernible point between the end of my friendship and my love for you, Minho wishes he could tell you. Just like the promise of my friendship to you, it’s a blossoming thing, this beautiful phenomenon. And we can run with it, or we can let it die like this- but it will always remain of permanence.

The chestnut suitcase is hoisted into the trunk of his car, also littered with boxes and duffel bags of his belongings. It’s a vulnerable feeling, to pack up and move on like this. Not forever- just for the duration of which you’ll be uttering your vows to Jung. He can’t bear to be in the same city as any of it, he refuses to let himself love at the proximity of you dolled up in a wedding dress, in the sacred environment of a church surrounded by your family. How could a higher power accept the felicitations of the same man who’s been fucking you behind the groom’s back? Within the four walls of which transforms hate to love, and sin to virtue?

What a waste, Minho concludes again. What a waste to have loved this deeply, and to pacify your fears only for another man to reap the benefits. Try as Jung might, he’ll never know you the way Minho does. And the vast trench that separates you from Jung, one which paints a clear divide of friendship and his superficial love for you- that will remain permanent, too.

As Minho starts up the engine, the last of his belongings all packed and ready to go, he glances around the neighborhood with a somber expression. The sun glares down on the empty concrete roads, birds circling the sky like there’s any reason to celebrate. Maybe they’re ravens, and maybe they circle in a mourning ritual. The only event fitting for an afternoon like this one, as Minho prepares to leave for his parents’ house- like the coward he knows he is.

His apartment grows smaller with every passing inch he drives down the concrete road, and a trembling hand reaches up to adjust his rear view mirror, letting out a deep exhale as he prepares to leave all this behind.

And as the faint outline of his apartment grows smaller, a white figure behind him grows bigger.

It starts as a fleeting blur, maybe a shadow, or perhaps the glint of the sunlight in his mirror. But as he quickens the push of his foot to the gas pedal, it grows faster, too, catching up to the drag of his car along the concrete and approaching him with such purpose.

An apparition of sorts, he thinks momentarily.

I’m fucking seeing things. I’ve officially lost it.

But as the frantic call of his name floats through the air and into the crack of his car window, his eyes widen, the lag of his brain finally reaching a halt as he slams on his brakes and throws open the door.

And in rushed motions, he’s climbing out to face you, doubled over as you catch your breath and hold a hand up in surrender.

“Stop!” You shout, waving your hands and motioning for him to cease his movements.

And Minho’s eyes don’t get any smaller, maintaining their shocked expression as he waits for you to speak.

Your white dress, tainted brown up to your knees in mud and grass. Even your face is muddy, streaks of it painting the otherwise stunning face of makeup you flaunt. And you speak in pleading gasps as you finally break the silence between the two of you.

“It’s you,” you say to Minho sheepishly.

“What are you-”

“It’s you, it’s always been you,” you breathe out. “I was so stupid, and I left as soon as I could comfortably come to terms with it. It’s you I love, Minho. Not Jung and not the idealized version of that life I created in my head. I can’t do any of this without you, and I can’t live the rest of my life without having said something. I love you- now, and in ten years time and I want to spend the rest of my life gutting fish alongside you- mess and all.”

Minho doesn’t say anything for a moment- in fact, he wears a poker face as he watches you continue to catch your breath. And then he scoffs lightly as he shakes his head.

“You waited until the day of your wedding to say something?” Minho retorts frustratedly.

“Rehearsal dinner,” you correct him. “This is just a dinner dress.

“Regardless,” Minho says. “I mean, what are we doing? There’s another man waiting for you, and we’re here doing something we should’ve done years ago if it was meant to be in the slightest.”

You feel your heart drop at his words, confirming the theory you’d feared the most. Too late.

“Please,” you beg, and Minho shakes his head.

“We’re terrible people,” he then states, his voice trembling in the process. “Cheaters, and liars. And this is far too rooted in dishonesty and selfishness to be love.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you watch Minho scan your expression. And perhaps he’s right- but it can’t be anything except for love, not when it feels this right with him.

“Where are you going?” You ask Minho quietly, moving a strand of muddied hair out from your eyes.

“My parents’ place,” he replies.

And you give him a small nod, pivoting on your heel to walk out of his life, forever.

Except it’s the realization of this that causes you to turn back around-

There is no forever in the absence of Minho- not when he plays a role of permanence.

He will forever be the man you fell in love with, the man you’ve been in love with for years, one you risked your life to come find and one who’s defined the limitations of what it means to be a best friend and simultaneously a lover.

That will remain with you always, and near, far and everywhere in between, the love will exist the way it always has.

“Loving me was the most selfish thing you ever did,” you call out to Minho, and he turns back around to meet your gaze.

“And yet you did it anyway,” you continue. “You made love to me and you drank my fiancé’s wine and we’re in love so selfishly at this proximity to each other. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re in love, and that I’m not going back to Jung. And leaving here- depriving yourself of the love you’ve wanted for so long, that’s also a selfish move. You can go as far as you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that the love is still here between us.”

Minho’s lips part to say something, but he doesn’t, instead blinking nervously as he waits for you to finish.

“And at the end of the day, there’s the man who tells me how to golf, and there’s the man who teaches me how to gut a fish, mess and all,” you finally finish.

Minho stays silent, pondering your words, and scanning your expression.

And truth be told, he wants to take you in his arms and run, hearing the words he’s longed to hear all his life. But he stops himself, instead emitting a breathy chuckle from his lips and shaking his head.

“Well what do you propose?” He finally asks, cocking his head as he awaits your reply.

And his response is a weight off your shoulders, as you sigh deeply and shrug in his direction.

“I propose we let ourselves be selfish,” you say to him. “And we spend the rest of our lives seeking forgiveness together.”

Minho chuckles, taking careful note of the way your eyes sparkle as you approach him. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so relaxed before, and certainly not so sure of yourself. You look like the woman he’s loved both near and far, exuding confidence and passion and unwavering comfort in your demeanor. His best friend and his lover, he thinks encouragingly, as he cups his hands around your cheeks and pulls you in for a tender kiss, one that confirms your proposal and implies all of this permanence.

The roads are still empty in the dull afternoon of the hour, Minho maneuvering the car with one hand as you sit beside him in the passenger seat, your hands intertwined over the center console as the harsh blue sky and bright hues of green grass melt into blurs of color beside you. And he speaks only of Shirakawa as he drives, promising you beautiful snowfalls and chilly walks along the lily ponds upon your arrival.

You can picture everything as the tales escape his lips, full of life as you imagine the brown farmhouses and green hills, where you and Minho promise to love selfishly under the prayer hand thatched roofs, the very place your forgiveness will coincide alongside the permanence.

And as he brings the back of your hand to his lips for a chaste kiss, he can feel the green vines of ivy loosen around his soul, but this time you feel it too, viridian leaves finally putting distance between your venules and their harsh grasp. And perhaps it wasn’t grieving all along, but love for you- love which you’re full of, too.

And the vines tangle themselves beautifully between your seated figures, blossoming flowers and color and placing life back into you both.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Minho can finally breathe.

[biletdoux]

stages of love | j.jh

Pairing | jung jaehyun (nct) + female!reader Rating | M Genre + Tropes | college!au, romance (angst, fluff, smut) Warnings | explicit language, alcohol consumption, instant love?, sexual content (drunk sex, receiving and giving oral, penetration, cow girl position, nipple play), greyzone fidelity Length | 15k+

Summary | A playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart

(Or; your relationship with Jung Jaehyun in ten songs.)

Note: ahhhhhhh!!!! we finally did it boisssss. this fic has been a long time coming and honestly im sick and tired of jaehyun. i’ve spent too long thinking about him for this fic smh. this is also my first time writing smut so we’ll see how that goes lmao. anyway this was a long labor of love so please let me know what you thought of it !!! <333

1. Peach by IU

smitten at first sight.

“How can I explain this feeling?”

“Alright, I think that sums up about everything we need to cover for today’s lecture. Remember, most of this will be on your final exam. Any questions before you’re all dismissed?” 

Your professor looks up from the board, scans the room and all he sees are most of the students waiting with bated breath, itching to leave the class, and half of those students having already packed their belongings in anticipation. He held them back an extra twenty five minutes today, which is notably longer than previous lectures in which he delayed dismissal.

“Okay, you’re free to go. Chapters nineteen and twenty are due the next time we meet.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, ready to head out with the rest of the class. You like Professor Jang and find that he makes history somewhat digestible, but he has a tendency to lose track of time, which is inconvenient, but more so today since you have agreed to meet up with Yeri. You glance at your phone to see text notifications and curse to yourself. You’re already ten minutes late and Yeri is many things and impatient is one of them. 

You’re one of the first out of the small lecture hall and you shoot her a quick reply before making your way to the oncampus cafe. Through quickened strides and shortcuts engrained from cross-campus treks from class to class, you arrive in record time. You’re slightly out of breath and impressed by your speed, but you stop, frozen in your tracks when you see Yeri’s displeased face. You find her situated in a small, but cozy corner next to the windows, already unpacked with notebooks and papers strewn on the desk ready to review for exams. It's one of the best study spots in the cafe and you immediately know your best friend had to come extra early to nab such a sought after table. 

“About time,” she scowls, “what took you so long?”

You shoot her an apologetic look, “aww, Yeri,” you pout your lips a little too dramatically, “I’m sorry. I just came from history and you know how Professor Jang is.” 

Yeri looks at your jutted lips in disgust, but then her face softens in consideration. “Hm, I do know Jang.” She scrunches up her nose remembering her time in his class last semester. “That old man can talk for days on end and he never lets anyone leave class early. I guess I’ll let you go this time.” 

You beam at her knowing she’s no longer angry for your tardiness. “Great, drinks are on me today. It’s the least I can do for being late.” Yeri forgives as easily and as quickly as she loses her temper. You learned this after a few weeks of being her roommate. 

Yeri says nothing in silent agreement and you place your stuff down across the table next to the chair she reserves for you. You pull out your wallet and weave through the packed cafe to head to the order counter. The line is long and you patiently review the menu. Your roommate has consistent tastes and always orders a vanilla frappuccino regardless of which cafe she goes to, but you base your decision on your mood. You mull over your choices and by the time you reach the barista taking your order, you decide you’re in an ‘iced Americano’ kind of mood today. You have exams on top of exams you need to review for and a stronger caffeine kick is much needed.

After paying, you head back to the table with two drinks in tow. Yeri takes her drink and after you both take a few sips and catch up for the day, you dive straight to work. The two of you decide to review for statistics. 

Between re-summarizing chapters and answering review questions, you muse to yourself about how your college experience thus far hasn't been that much different from your high school life. You didn’t necessarily hate high school, per say, but it was safe to say you didn’t enjoy it. Your heart was in the arts, specifically music, and you had found studying the core subjects to be boring and tedious. You remember being ecstatic to have been accepted and enrolled in a performing arts college, foolishly thinking your days of solving differential equations and memorizing chemical formulas were over. You specifically remember daydreaming of your hours being filled with keyboard practice and composition notes and only such things. Somehow the reality of mandatory general education courses slipped your mind when you constructed such fantasies.

Despite frivolous and preconceived notions of college, you have already survived a semester and you are nearly through your second. 

“Hey, do you remember when this stats assignment is due?” Yeri’s inquiring voice snaps you out of your brief reverie and you search your cluttered brain for a date.

“Uh, I think it’s due, like, a few days before the final, but I’d have to double check.” 

Yeri nods. “Alright, well let’s take a small break. We have some time till then, we don’t have to finish all of it today.” 

You happily agree and set down your pen. Yeri takes a sip of her frappuccino and you lean over the table to get closer to her. “Anyway, did you hear about what happened with Jiwon and Youngjae from the entertainment management department?”

Her eyes glisten with wicked interest. “No. Do tell.”

Break time is always synonymous with gossip hour between you and Yeri. 

You spend the next fifteen minutes dishing what you know and Yeri offers her own input whenever she feels fit. 

“And they think they’re being discreet, but the whole dorm knows they’ve been sneaking around, but guess wha─” Before you can finish your sentence, you are cut off by a loud and energetic voice calling out Yeri’s name.

The two of you look up to see a slim and boyish brunet waving to Yeri and excitedly making his way to your table. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it, so you let it go.

He smiles happily at Yeri and greets her. “Hey Yeri, how’s it going?” He notices you there and gives you a polite wave, which you return in the same manner.

Yeri replies back breezily, but with her full attention. “Good. Did you need anything, Mark?” 

He flushes just the slightest bit, but it doesn’t escape your eyes. “Erm, nothing I just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting for the music theory project tomorrow at four. I would’ve texted, but I forgot to get your number in class, and I saw you here and thought it was a good opportunity to tell you.” 

Yeri’s eyes widen, “ah right! I completely forgot about it. It’s a good thing you found me here today, huh? Here, I’ll give you my number.”

She reaches her hand out her hand expectantly, and Mark is confused before scrambling to pull out his phone. You can tell Mark looks flustered while Yeri is calmly putting in her contact information. After finishing, she hands his phone back, “okay, all set. Just shoot me a text so I have your number as well. Thanks for reminding me today or I probably would’ve forgotten and not have shown up or something.” 

Mark smiles again, this time a little more sure than before. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeri.” 

They wave goodbye and you watch Mark scamper from the cafe. Your eyes follow him, but Yeri is already focused on you again, paying Mark’s retreating form no mind. 

“So…” you start.

“So?” She returns.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “I barely know him though. We have music theory together, but this is the first time we’ve talked all semester and we’re only talking because we got paired up for a project.”

Yeri seems apathetic and you study her closely. You notice she’s acting a little too stiffly carefree to be truly indifferent to the situation. You can’t help, but to tease her a bit. “Well, make the most out of this project then.”

Yeri gives you a hard look and you decide to let it go despite finding your best friend’s situation to be amusing. 

“Anyway, keep telling me about Jiwon and Youngjae. You never finished.” Yeri changes the topic, knowing that you might decide to pester her again if she doesn’t.

“As I was saying,” you started up again. A figure outside catches your attention and you peer outside through the window past Yeri’s shoulders. You realize it’s Mark and you watch with interest as he gestures excitedly, pointing to something in his hand, you assume his phone, to some of his friends. From there your eyes wander absentmindedly from one person to the next, and it’s when you see him. 

The reaction is almost instantaneous. 

“Like you were saying?” Yeri urges, but her words fall on deaf ears, for all your attention is captured by the boy next to Mark with heart-shaped lips.

When you see said boy laugh, you notice he has moon for eyes and you unconsciously suck in a sharp breath. You must have been staring too intently without noticing because he turns his head in your direction and you two hold direct eye contact. Like a deer caught in headlights, you freeze and lose all rational thought. Your head is completely blank. You have never seen someone so beautiful and your mind does not know how to process any sensory information at the moment.

Someone calls the boy away and the entire group of friends leave. It’s only then do you find yourself releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding onto so tightly. Your heart is pounding and you feel as though blood is rushing through your ears. 

“Hello?” Yeri sounds annoyed, but you struggle to find the words to answer her. 

You feel a sudden heat rush to color your cheeks a vibrant red and a feeling surges through you that leaves you out of breath and weak at the knees. A steady warmth washes over you quietly and you feel it deep within yourself and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

How silly, you muse. Not to be dramatic, but you think you’re in love.

2. Shadow by f(x)

adoration from afar. 

“I’m really really into you.”

The next few weeks are packed to the brim with assignments and papers, but despite this, you still find time for your personal research into the boy who was with Mark that day. 

Being the obvious first and easiest option, you beg Yeri to ask Mark directly about his friend, but she immediately shoots you down. 

“No. Absolutely not. At least not anytime soon anyway,” she huffs. “I’ve barely held two full conversations with him, like hell the next is gonna be about his friend just cause my best friend started thirsting over him after one glance. I mean come on, girl.” She shakes her head at you. 

Yeri’s right and you apologize to her for being thoughtless of her situation. She doesn’t say it, but she seems really hopeful about the music theory project and what might bloom from it. You would not want to impede on such possibilities of happiness for your friend, so you let that option go, but Yeri promises to help in other ways and she does. 

Somehow between caffeine fueled cram sessions and sleep deprivation, you, with Yeri’s help manage to find out more about the boy. You casually ask around in your contemporary writing and production department and she offers help by searching her vocal performance department. 

You find out his name is Jung Jaehyun and he’s a third year in the musical theatre department and that he’s a member of the local chapter of the performing arts fraternity on campus. You also discover his Instagram handle and you find yourself skimming through his page throughout the day more often  than you’re willing to admit to any living soul. 

You occasionally see him around campus since you first saw him at the cafe and each time, you can feel your heart hammer in your chest and you become so flustered to the point of your sympathetic nervous system activating. Unfortunately for you, your body unconsciously chooses flight each and every time at the sight of Jaehyun because you can always feel your knees go weak and your body lurch away to escape in any direction that isn’t Jaehyun’s. You kind of hate yourself each time you do, but you can’t help it. He’s just so pretty that it’s intimidating!

You try to think positive after the bouts of shame you experience after each escapade. 

Well there’s no way to embarrass yourself in front of him if you run away before having the chance to, right?

Even thinking about it now in the comfort of your bed, you can’t shake your self-consciousness and bury your face in a large pillow resting on your knees. Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to do. 

“Hey, why don’t you just talk to him, instead of moping all day and stalking his profile like a creep.” Yeri’s crisp words cut through your musings and you glance up to see her entering your shared room in the dorms.

“Shut up. It’s not like I have a benevolent match-making professor who happens to pair me up with my crush for an end-of-semester project.” You retort back before sighing dramatically, “I literally have no excuse to talk to him. We’re not in the same year or major. We don’t even have mutual friends. Unless, y’know, you and Mark hit it off, who knows.” 

Yeri sits down next to you on your small twin bed, resting her head on your shoulder while letting out an equally dramatic sigh, “yeah, well, Mark’s so dense, all the divine intervention in the world isn’t going to help me.” 

You let out snort, “what’s up with you two anyway?”

“Y’know, I could’ve sworn he was into me and I had a chance with him, but every time we meet up we literally only work on the project and nothing else. Every time I sort of tried to do something I get shot down. Like I told him I was kind of chilly today in the library, and he looks all thoughtful for a moment but all he ends up saying is ‘yeah, all the buildings on campus are always cold, huh? Good thing I always bring a jacket with me. You should bring one too next time, I don’t want you getting cold.’ And then he just turns back to the project like nothing. Can you believe him?” Yeri complains and you swear her annoyance is palpable. “And every time I text him to hangout, he thinks it’s to work on the project. I honestly can’t tell if he’s really that stupid or if he’s just not into me.” 

You laugh at her unfortunate, but undeniable state of love affairs. 

“Really? That bad? I remember him being all blushy when he asked for your number,” you recall. “And you should’ve seen how he looked when he showed off he got your number. Well that’s what it looked like anyway, I could be wrong.”

“Well, at least I’ll get a good grade though. Mark is nothing if not diligent and hard-working, with him being a double major and all.” Yeri sounds resigned however, she sighs again, this time more frustrated and you hear the determination in her voice. “Alright, after finals, for sure we’re gonna hit the clubs. We need to let loose, have some fun.”

You agree with her to appease her short temper, but deep down you feel disappointed. You feel sorry for your friend, having genuinely wanted Mark and her to work out, but a small and selfish part of you felt sorry for having no bridge to Jaehyun at all if it didn’t work out between Yeri and Mark. Looks like you were stranded now and you’d have to find a way to Jaehyun one way or another, but your line of help ends here.

Shaking away such negative thoughts, you think to yourself how soju bombs and dance floors don’t so bad after such an intense exam period after all. It will definitely take your mind off of things for sure.

And even though you say this to yourself, you know your mind will still be plagued with Jung Jaehyun no matter how much you try.

3. What Is Love by EXO-K

careful contemplation. 

“I can’t explain what I feel.”

“Mark, tell me you did not.” The disbelief in Johnny’s voice made the situation all the more hilarious and even Jaehyun, who’s the calmer of the two, couldn’t suppress the guffaw from escaping his lips. 

The tips of Mark’s ears flush a light pink and he tries to deliver a convincing argument, but all that comes out is a meek stammer, further driving Johnny up the wall.

When Mark came up to his and Johnny’s room asking for advice, Jaehyun had an idea of where it was going to lead, considering Mark’s clueless disposition and inexperienced track record, but Jaehyun had no idea it was going to be this bad. 

Mark, having developed a crush on a fellow vocal performance major in his music theory class, came to Johnny, his frat big, to spill his guts and ask for advice constantly. Being Johnny’s roommate, meant Jaehyun was also privy to all the details of Mark’s love life and he had no problem giving advice to the amusing first year student, which Mark appreciated because going to Johnny meant a clowning session before he could get any useful nuggets of information. 

When Mark’s music theory professor randomly assigned the two for the end of semester project, Mark was one part excited and two parts nervous, resulting in a frazzled mess. He has been going up to the second room on the right of the second floor of the frat house almost every other day to ask for advice since then. 

Johnny was thrilled when he initially heard of the project, already envisioning his little’s love prospects, stating something along the lines of “my little’s gonna get laid!” 

However, now looking at Johnny rubbing his temples in exasperation, Jaehyun can tell that his roommate’s initial enthusiasm has dissipated. 

Mark’s daily roadblock today consisted of his crush giving him the cold shoulder and being much more snappy than before in the project meet up earlier. Mark recalls Yeri’s anger toward him and racks his brain for an answer. Even Johnny and Jaehyun are stumped at the sudden behavior, assuming that things were going smoothly from Mark’s previous reports filled with clumsy, but endearing and ultimately positive signs. It’s only when Mark offhandedly mentions her so-called ‘strange’ comment about the temperature, does it become clear why Yeri’s attitude suddenly shifted so drastically.

“I mean, I don’t know what I did wrong.” Mark’s second attempt to defend himself has Johnny flaring his nostrils in indignation and Jaehyun has to turn away in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Dude, she’s so into you. Or, at least she was, I don’t know about it anymore.” Johnny starts after calming down. “She left herself wide open for you to take a clear shot and you effectively said to her face, ‘thanks but no thanks’ and then walked away. No wonder she’s pissed, I’d be pissed too.” 

“Well, what was I supposed to do then?” Mark counters. 

“Mark,” Johnny begins, his tone dry and coarse, “you’re killing me.”

Jaehyun deems this the perfect time to step in, the laughter about done coursing through his system at this point. He clears his throat before offering his input, “It’s not too, too bad. Johnny’s just being dramatic. If she likes you enough, she’ll probably forgive you if you play your cards right from here on out.” 

Mark perks up, his attention solely on Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun hums absentmindedly to himself, gathering and organizing his thoughts to properly explain exactly where and how Mark went wrong and what to do moving forward. When Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, Mark is glued on to every word and Jaehyun can see the gears in his brain whirring at high speeds. 

By the time Jaehyun is done, Johnny has calmed down and Mark nods his head fervently in understanding. 

“Ah, that makes so much sense now! I got it now.” 

Despite his assurances, both Johnny and Jaehyun know Mark will be back soon. 

“Alright little, listen up,” Johnny starts. “Here’s the game plan from here on out.” 

Johnny goes off on a sermon, determined to help his little ‘get some’ as Johnny so delicately puts it. Jaehyun can see it’s not the most tasteful of word choice for Mark to hear, but the youngest says nothing. 

Lounging lazily in the bean bag on his side of the room, Jaehyun knocks his head back and thinks of a few weeks back when he accompanied Mark and some other frat members to the rec center for some basketball. Jaehyun remembers Mark was bemoaning the fact he forgot to ask for some girl’s number and it was as if a higher entity heard the boy’s laments and felt especially gracious, because right as they were passing the cafe, Mark stopped in his tracks and suddenly ran off into the busy building. 

The group of frat boys watched him excitedly weave his way through the crowd of bodies and occupied tables to reach a table with two girls. When they saw the girl putting her number into Mark’s phone, Johnny elbowed Jaehyun, and like a proud parent Johnny exaggeratedly acknowledged his little. “They grow up so fast, don’t they, Jaehyun.” Johnny even wiped an imaginary tear from his eye to really send the message home.

It was only a few moments later and Mark came bounding out of the cafe, eager to show everyone how lucky it was that he happened to see her. “I mean what are the odds, right?” the said boy exclaimed so happily, his cheer so infectious, Jaehyun couldn’t help himself from letting out a laugh of his own. 

Jaehyun turned to give Mark an encouraging pat on the back and it’s when he notices a pair of eyes on him. He turns fully to come in the direct line of sight of a girl whose eyes, Jaehyun imagined to have been very warm, had they not been burning holes into him. Her intense gaze slightly unnerved him, but not to the point of pulling away. He found himself entranced and the only thing that broke the quick spell was Johnny’s voice, calling him to move it along. 

Jaehyun recalls easily breaking eye contact and giving little thought to the strange girl with fire for eyes, but as the days passed, Jaehyun couldn’t shake the thought of her from his mind. 

Even now in the comfort of his room and with Johnny and Mark not even a foot away, carefully planning Mark’s love endeavors, all Jaehyun’s mind can really focus on is the thought of you. 

Jaehyun is sure he’s only looked at you for less than a minute, but somehow he’s able to clearly trace out the image of you that day, like a perfect snapshot. 

“Yo Jaehyun,” Johnny calls. “You good? You’ve been spacing out, bro.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jaehyun answers offhandedly, before contemplating to himself. Was he good? Jaehyun wouldn’t necessarily say he’s bad in any way, but it isn’t normal for him to have the thought of a girl remain so clearly engraved in his mind for so long, and even less common for it to actually be a girl he doesn’t even know nonetheless. It’s not a pressing issue, but it does bother him. He weighs over the next steps in his mind. 

“Alright, just making sure.”

With one last thought, Jaehyun concludes to himself that it’s time to tackle his concern at hand head-on. 

“Actually,” he starts, “Mark, do you remember the girl next to Yeri the day you asked for her number?” 

Mark quirks his head in thought and Jaehyun can see Johnny raise his eyebrows in sudden interest. 

“Uh kinda,” Mark answers. “I think she’s a CWP major. I’m pretty sure we shared an arranging class last semester, but like, I don’t know her personally or anything; it was a large lecture. To be honest, I don’t even think she recognized me at all, judging from her reaction that day. Why, what’s up?”

Jaehyun nods, absorbing the information, giving Johnny ample time to fire away. 

“Yeah Jaehyun,” Jaehyun can visualize the glint in Johnny’s eyes just from hearing his mischievous tone. “What is up? I haven’t seen you ask about a girl in a hot minute. Thought you suddenly went abstinent without telling me or something.”

Jaehyun isn’t quite sure how to reply. Without a doubt you were cute to Jaehyun and he wouldn’t be opposed for things to happen between the two of you, but he doesn’t even know you! Well, not that it’s been a problem for Jaehyun in the past, but your lingering presence bothers him in ways he cannot communicate. Why is that the thought of you won’t leave him and why does it bother him so much?

Jaehyun decides to be straightforward, as straightforward as his muddled brain allows him to be. “She’s cute. I wanna get to know her.” 

“Okay, Jaehyun.” Johnny whoops obnoxiously. “I see you.” 

Mark is surprised and suddenly Johnny is all fired up again. Abruptly, Johnny shoots up and the determination that burns in his eyes is admirable. 

“I’ve got it!” He declares proudly. 

Jaehyun and Mark are quiet, waiting patiently for him to continue. They say nothing, knowing there is not a thing that can reach him when Johnny gets like this. 

“We’re throwing a party and you bet your ass your two girls are gonna be there.”

4. Heaven by Ailee

walking on Cloud 9. 

“When I hear your voice, it feels like I’m dreaming.”

You look up at the two-story house before you and wonder how you got here. Actually, you don’t wonder at all because you know exactly how you ended up at the steps of the local performing arts fraternity at your college, but you sigh regardless, as if someone had weaseled you into being here. Your nerves gnaw at you and you feel your stomach doing all types of aerobic tricks, the feeling reminiscent of the sensation before the roller coaster drops. 

Yeri grabs your hand and pulls you excitedly to the front door. You can feel the thrum of music emanating from the building.  

You recall how Yeri almost jumped you to tell the good news. 

Finals flew by without any major hitches, ignoring sleepless nights and caffeine crashes. You don’t know how you’ll do, but you’re satisfied with your exam performances. You were in the clear and were just waiting for Yeri to present her joint music theory project before the both of you could finally let loose as a celebration to end the school year. 

You waited for her outside of the classroom building as promised, playing with your phone to past time until you were suddenly engulfed by a delighted pair of arms. Yeri hugged you tight; she was in high spirits, seemingly from acing her presentation and you hugged her back in congratulations. She pulled at you closer and whispered in your ears, “just say yes.” 

You were confused, but looked up to see Mark headed toward the two you. Yeri released you, leaving one arm still slung casually over your shoulder.

“Hey guys. My frat’s throwing a party tonight to celebrate finishing exams. I was wondering if, uh, you guys wanted to come? I mean you don’t have to, it’s totally optional.” 

You didn’t say anything at first and Yeri interjected, “Of course!” She smiled at you innocently despite harshly pinching you to respond, her action hidden from Mark’s sight. “We’d love to, right?”

“Uh,” you answered distractedly. “Y-yeah, sure.” 

“Great.” Mark beamed. “Party starts at eight. I gotta go help set up, so I’ll see ya there!” 

And with that, he left as soon as he arrived and you looked at Yeri questioningly for answers. “I thought we were hitting downtown tonight. What happened to club hopping?” 

Yeri smiled devilishly, “change of plans. I’ll tell you more about it later. The most important thing is finding the perfect outfit for you tonight, cause Jaehyun’s gonna be there.” 

And so, here you find yourself dressed in high-waisted shorts and a cute top that took an embarrassingly long time to decide on. You are greeted by the fraternity president at the door of the house, Taeyong you think his name is, and he gives you two a quick verbal tour of the place, really emphasizing where to get drinks. Yeri thanks him for the both of you and you enter the crowded house. You think at least half of the performing art majors must’ve been here judging by the sheer volume of packed bodies. 

You remember Yeri explaining how she and Mark may have been making a breakthrough and this party was imperative for its success. You were completely okay attending for that reason alone, because after all, what kind of person sends her best friend to a frat party alone? However, your resolve to go was set in stone after she explained that the frat that was throwing the party just happened to be the same frat Jaehyun was a member of. 

“And y’know, seeing as how you’ve been obsessing over him the past few weeks, it’s the perfect opportunity.” 

You frown remembering her words and make your way to the kitchen with Yeri in tow. Various beverages, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, crowd the table and you recognize the guy standing nearby idly chatting with others. It’s Jaemin, an acting major in your history lecture with whom you frequently exchange notes with when either one of you decides to flake for the day. You vaguely recall him mentioning his fraternity association, but didn’t realize it happened to be this one. He sees the two of you approaching the drink table and he smiles widely.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” Jaemin greets casually. “Didn’t expect to see you here. How’d you think you did in the history final?” 

You groan. “I don’t even want to talk about it. What’s important is that we’re finished and I won’t ever have to think about the WWII timeline for, hopefully, forever.”

“Amen,” Jaemin laughs. “I’ll drink to that.” He raises up his red solo cup to cheers, before realizing both you and Yeri had nothing to drink. 

“Oh shit, I’m a pretty bad host, huh? First thing I should've done was get you two something to drink.” He chides himself, but his tone is playful. “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Before you can think about what you want, Yeri cuts you off, her tone matching Jaemin’s. “How about some shots to start off and we’ll forgive the lack of hospitality.”

Jaemin laughs again. “Alright, I like it.” His hands are adept at weaving around the table and finding the paper shot cups and the vodka. “Svedka’s okay, right?” 

“We’re not picky.” You and Yeri agree. You take the shot in one gulp and the unpleasant burning in your throat makes you wince. 

“Can I get you two anything else?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I think another shot and then a mixed drink. Anything’s fine, but preferably on the stronger side.” You look over at Yeri and she nods in agreement.

“Coming right up.” Jaemin agrees easily. 

He pours the two of you another shot and you think he must be a generous guy because the shot is overflowing. You and Yeri cheer once more while Jaemin gets to work mixing a cherry bourbon with some Coke. He tops off the drinks with some ice before handing it over to the both of you. “Here they are. Enjoy, ladies.”

You thank him and take a sip before excusing yourself to make your way around the party. The drink is sweet and the smoky aftertaste of the bourbon gives it a pleasant edge. You and Yeri are attached to the hip as you drift from one part to another around the party, making easy going small talk along the way. You are sufficiently buzzed by this point and feel much lighter as though the party was somehow two degrees removed from your senses. You look over to check on Yeri and she’s noticeably drunker than you are, giggling about the simplest of things and slurring her words just the slightest bit. You make a mental note to ease the drinking, wanting to be sober enough to look after her in case anything were to arise. 

The two of you are at the base of the stairs when you hear Mark’s voice calling Yeri’s name. You turn your attention upward to see him ambling down the stairs with excited fervor. His cheeks are flushed, more so than usual around Yeri, and you can tell it’s due to alcohol because Mark is holding her hands and you know he can never be so bold without the help of liquid courage. 

“Yo Mark, slow down there.” A voice calls out and you look up again and you feel your breath caught in your throat. 

There in front of your eyes is Jung Jaehyun in the flesh. He looks heavenly dressed in simple jeans and a white tee. You unconsciously swallow the lump in your throat and your heart beat gallops a mile a minute in your chest. Your mouth goes dry and you mindlessly gulp down swigs of your drink. You know Yeri would’ve sniggered at your current state had she not been so tipsy and completely preoccupied with Mark. 

Jaehyun catches up to Mark and when he reaches the base of the stairs, he notices the two of you.

“Oh Jaehyun, lemme introduce you guys.” 

As promised, Mark introduces everyone quickly and Jaehyun shoots a smile that seems to be aimed at you. “Nice to meet everyone.” 

“Cool, now that everyone knows each other,” Mark starts. “Yeri, can I show you something?” 

“Uh, y-yeah.” 

You give Yeri a hard look and she takes your hand to squeeze it in reassurance. She looks at you pleadingly and there’s a confidence in her eyes that you can’t argue with. You relent and let her go. 

Mark takes her by the hand and leads her up the stairs while you watch, slightly worried. 

Jaehyun seems to have sensed your apprehension because the words that leave his mouth snaps you out of your perturbed state. “Don’t worry. Mark’s a good kid, you have nothing to worry about. You have my word on it.” 

And suddenly the situation dawns on you. The boy of your recent all-consuming infatuation stands here before you, and it’s just the two of you alone. Any social skills you have, leave you and you’re unsure of what to do. 

Jaehyun notices the awkward tension in the air and works quickly to dispel it. “Your drink’s looking low. Can I get you something else?” 

You look down to your drink to see that he was right. Only a few sips remain. You didn’t realize you had drank so much at the sight of Jaehyun. 

“Um, some water would be good. I don’t want to be too hungover tomorrow.” You answer shyly. You also need to be sober enough to look after Yeri, but you decide to leave that out.

Jaehyun chuckles, “sure thing. Here, come with me. I’ll get you some water.”

Jaehyun leads you to the kitchen with ease, seamlessly weaving through the crowds of people. Every group of people he passes greets him loudly to be heard of the pounding bass of the music. You are not surprised to see how popular he is. 

Once in the kitchen, he grabs you a bottle of water and a beer for himself from the fridge and you thank him. The cold water is refreshing, but it does little to cool your nerves. The awkward tension is high and still ever present. You feel as though you’re drowning in it and you also feel like running away from here despite this being what you’ve wanted for more than anything for weeks on end. 

“So,” Jaehyun starts, clearing his throat. “Mark told me you’re a CWP major?” 

“Uh, y-yeah, actually.” You hate how you’re so flustered around him. “How’d he know? Did Yeri tell him or something?” 

“He said you guys shared an arranging class last semester.” Jaehyun recalls.

“Wait, really? I had no idea.” You start going off on how you could’ve missed such a thing and Jaehyun smiles. You’re much more comfortable when a rhythm has been established and the words flow out of you easily. You’re not as relaxed as where Jaehyun wants you to be, but he thinks it’s a good start. 

You continue with small talk from there, much less uptight than before and you feel glad. Jaehyun is as radiant in person as he is in your imagination. You find him to be very kind and your heart flutters even more. Jaehyun mentions he’s a musical theatre major and you do your best to act surprised despite it being one of the only things you know about him prior to this moment.

Before he gets a chance to tell you more about himself, a tall boy with long limbs calls out to Jaehyun that it’s his turn to join the next game of beer pong. Jaehyun looks reluctant to leave and you don’t want him to leave either, but you’d hate to hold him back from prior engagements. 

“Would you,” Jaehyun licks his lips in consideration, “like to play with me? I don’t have a partner.” 

You nod your head and readily agree, eager to spend more time with him.

You’ve only played beer pong a handful of times and being around Jaehyun makes you nervous, so you miss the first few shots. You feel embarrassed, but Jaehyun is patient and assures you that it’s no problem at all. His little words of encouragement mixed with the beer you drink helps melt your tension, and halfway through the game, you’re whooping and hollering with everyone watching the game. 

You high-five Jaehyun without a second thought after nailing a perfect shot and Jaehyun smiles even wider. The two of you are leading when Taeyong comes in to kick everyone out. 

“Sorry guys, party’s over.” 

Groans of complaints could be heard throughout the crowd, but Taeyong’s words are firm and he ushers everyone to leave. He has a few other frat members behind him helping out. He reaches the beer pong table and pulls Jaehyun aside. After a few exchanged words, Jaehyun nods in agreement and ends the game completely, apologizing to his opponents. 

You’re confused, so you carefully ask Jaehyun what’s going on. He sees you and his gaze softens, he quietly explains, “apparently, the campus police have received multiple noise complaints and since the fraternity already has a strike, Taeyong doesn’t really want to risk another. “

“Ah, I see.” You nod. You’re saddened by the turn of events, having finally eased into a relative comfort around Jaehyun and you yearn for more. “Well, I better go look for Yeri then.” 

This is a goodbye and you’re unsure of what else to say to him, your disappointment mixes with alcohol making you feel even more miserable. You want to ask for more, but can’t find the words to reach him. Luckily, Jaehyun does it for you. 

“Are you free sometime this week?” He asks. “I feel like we didn’t get a chance to really talk and I’d like to.” 

Your heart hammers and the blood rushes in your ears, but you still find yourself uttering a mousy agreement.

“Great,” his smile is dazzling and you feel dizzy. “It’s a date then.”

5. 24 Hours by Sunmi

rushed minutes. 

“Time goes by so quickly.”

“Hey,” a distant voice calls out and Jaehyun looks up from his phone to see your approaching figure. Your cheeks are rosy from the summer sun and stray pieces of your hair escape from your loosely styled updo. Jaehyun takes all of you in with careful appreciation.

“Hey yourself.” Jaehyun chuckles, slipping his phone casually in his pocket and standing up straighter to greet you properly.

Jaehyun sees the red of your face flush brighter, the soft color bleeding across your cheeks and onto your nose. Cute, he thinks. He watches as you tighten your grip on your clutch, knuckles white with nervous tension, in an attempt to gather your composure and calm your nerves. You clear your throat, “I didn’t know you’d be here so soon. You should’ve texted me.” 

“It’s all good, I finished early.” Jaehyun notices you no longer stutter around him like the first night you two met. He’s glad the days and nights of sober texting after exchanging numbers at the party did wonders to make you feel comfortable around him. He’s not too worried about your current ‘first-date’ anxiety, knowing it’ll be dispelled soon enough. “Shall we?” He moves to open the door and the cool rush of air from the cafe greets the two of you. 

The cafe is quaint and cozy, tucked away in a small corner of intersecting back streets and crowded buildings. Jaehyun discovered the little spot not too long ago and something, Jaehyun assumes his instincts, compelled him to take you to it for the first official date. It just felt right.

The two of you walk to the order counter and you take it all in. You can hear the quiet chatter of the cafe occupants mixed with the rattle of espresso machines being put to work. Your eyes scan over the decorations and several potted succulents hanging from the ceiling. It’s incredibly homey and you feel at ease. 

“Hiya, I can help the two of you whenever you guys are ready.” The barista is cheerful to a fault and Jaehyun watches you shoot her a grateful smile before your eyes move to the menu to decide on what to get. 

Jaehyun knows what he wants, so he waits patiently for you to decide, but seeing your eyebrows scrunch together in indecision, Jaehyun chuckles to himself. “I hear the iced lattes here are really good, particularly the caramel latte,” he offers. 

You perk up in surprise, but you recover quickly, “okay, that sounds good then. I was between that and the iced cocoa.”

“No problem, I’ll order then. Today’s on me.” Jaehyun says. 

Jaehyun walks up to the barista and quickly places the order. He reaches for his wallet after the barista recites the order, but he falters slightly when he sees your gaze glued to the cake display, particularly the crepe cake. 

“Can I get a slice of the chocolate crepe cake over there too?” 

“Of course! Here’s your new total,” she turns the touch screen display over to Jaehyun and he readily inserts his card to pay. When finished, Jaehyun turns back the screen and after a few taps from the barista, a receipt is printed and she hands him a buzzer. 

“Your order will be out shortly.” She informs him.

Jaehyun smiles and says a small ‘thank you’ in return before turning his attention to you. You look up to meet his eyes and you smile, “can we sit over there by the window?” 

You head to the little corner table first with Jaehyun steadily in tow. You sit at the chair that leaves your back to the window and Jaehyun is mesmerized by how the afternoon sunlight refracts through your silhouette. You’re glowing and Jaehyun swallows thickly. 

“So,” he starts. “What have you been up to?”

“Celebrating finishing my first year of college in one piece.” You laugh lightly. “I got by with passable grades, but other than that Yeri and I just finished moving into our new dorms. We’re no longer freshmen, so first year dorms are off limits. I’m gonna miss the convenient location.” You jokingly mope. 

Jaehyun laughs easily with you and before he gets a chance to reply, the buzzer goes off so he excuses himself to go pick up the order. 

A different barista places down a tray with your two drinks and a small slice of cheesecake with two dessert forks resting on some napkins. “Enjoy your order!” 

Jaehyun smiles in thanks and picks up the tray to bring it back to the table. He can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see the mille crepe cake and true to his expectations, your eyes light up at the sight of dessert. 

“Surprise.” He says. “I saw you looking at it earlier.” 

Jaehyun watches as you immediately grab a small fork and try a piece of the cake with unrestricted child-like excitement. Your eyes light up at the taste of the delicate layers of fresh whipped cream and thin crepes and the smile you shoot in his direction has Jaehyun’s heart beating a little faster than he’s willing to admit. 

“Thank you!” You look up at him. “It’s so good, you should definitely try a bite too.” 

“Yeah? I’ll try some then.” Jaehyun sits down and leans even closer to you over the table, his mouth open and expectant and his eyes staring straight into yours. 

You try your best to bite back the scarlet fighting to stain your cheeks as you cinch off a small section of the cake with your fork. Your hand falters just the slightest bit when delivering the small confection to his awaiting mouth, but you push through and feed him despite the embarrassment you feel. 

Jaehyun chews slowly and deliberately, taking his time to lick the stray whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. You lose the game of chicken, breaking eye contact first. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s good. We should definitely come back.” 

You let out a little awkward cough, desperate to ward off your cloud of emotions. “Uhm, yeah sure.”

Jaehyun has always thought you were cute, but he thinks you’re especially cute today. 

“Anyway,” you start. You want to change the topic because you don’t think you can survive this tension without your brain frying. “I feel like I’ve just seen you around recently. I should’ve run into you a long time ago since the performing arts college is so small.” 

“Oh,” Jaehyun is a little taken aback. “I used to be over at the East Campus. I was a business and administration major for two years before I switched over to musical theatre.”

“Wait really?” Your surprise erases any tension you felt earlier. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It doesn’t really come up in conversation.” 

“Why’d you switch over? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Jaehyun contemplates his reply for a second as takes a sip of his coffee. “Well, when I entered college, I didn’t really know what I wanted, so I just followed whatever my parents wanted me to do. I actually knew I liked musical theatre for the longest time, but it took time for me to build up the courage to switch. My parents weren’t happy with it at first and we fought for the longest time, but I think they’ve warmed up to it enough by now. I’ve never really talked about this though, I just tell people I transferred from a different college and the conversation just ends there I guess, but it’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you for telling me this, Jaehyun.” Your voice is sincere and Jaehyun believes you.

“What about you, hm?” Jaehyun returns. “Why CWP?” 

“I don’t really have one point that changed my life and helped me find my calling or whatever,” you ponder with a tilt of the head and the taste of cream dissolving in your mouth. “But ever since I was little, I always knew I was gonna end up doing something in music. I was never good at singing though, so vocal performance was out the door and I wasn’t that interested in classical instruments either, so that helped me narrow stuff down. Actually, what really helped me decide was during orientation, my group leader was a contemporary writing and production major and she told me all about it and I’ve been sold ever since. I really like it though, and have no intention of switching.”

“That’s good. Sometimes I wish I switched earlier.” Jaehyun muses. “I feel so behind sometimes. Most people in my class have already been in at least one musical and an internship, except for me. I think about it a lot, but I try not to let it get me so down.” 

“You shouldn’t feel that way!” You try your best to cheer him up, and Jaehyun appreciates it a lot more than he thought he would. “Everyone has their own pace, that’s what college is all about! Nothing is ever wasted time. You can think of your time as a business admin major as a way to help you make up your mind on your true passion. You told me you’ve always liked musical theatre, but I’ve bet without the time in business, you would’ve never known you liked it enough to pursue a career out of it.”

Jaehyun laughs at your earnesty. He thinks you’re a touch naive, but your words make him feel light. “You’re right. I can say for sure I wasn’t happy as a business major.”

“See? Nothing is ever wasted time if you can discover your true happiness out of it.” 

The two of you exchange easy chatter after that and between small bites of cake and sips of coffee, Jaehyun thinks you’ve become prettier and prettier.

“What was it like?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Hm? What was ‘what’ like?”

“Being a business and administration major.”

Jaehyun has to think about it. He recalls constantly dressing up for group presentations and boring lectures, but his mind wanders to his activities outside the classroom. He remembers the constant partying and the blur of faces that helped him keep his bed warm. He remembers brief flings and relationships cut short. He doesn’t want to think about those things when he’s next to you. “Uhm. It was okay, nothing special, but that reminds me–”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why, what’s up?”

“Great,” Jaehyun smiles while taking the last sip of his coffee. “I’m having a housewarming party at my new apartment. You should definitely be there.” 

--

The day of the long awaited housewarming party rolls up sooner than expected between settling into your new dorm with Yeri and the occasional small ‘get-togethers’ with Jaehyun. They’re actually dates if you're being honest, but you don’t want to put a title on anything in case he wasn’t on the same page as you. Being with Jaehyun made you giddy in more ways than one, but that means the anxiety that pools at the base of your stomach grows larger each day when the relationship between the two of you goes unnamed. You feel greedy when you desperately grasp at the shred of time you share with him, always unwillingly to let go.

“Are you ready?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your small reverie. Her hand is poised, ready to knock on the black door of Jaehyun’s apartment, waiting for you to gather your composure. Yeri is dressed to the nines in a cute skirt with a top to match. She wants to look good for her new boyfriend and you teased her endlessly for it when the two of you were getting ready.

“Mark’s one lucky guy.”

“Shut up. Worry about yourself.”

“All I do is love you, yet you’re so mean to me.”

Regardless of her harsh words toward you, she helped you toss your closet inside and out for the perfect outfit to woo Jaehyun, even if it meant showing up late to the party. 

The two of you leave your dorm twenty minutes later than you intended and it also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s apartment was difficult to find, tucked away in a small building between towering skyscrapers, but now is finally the moment of truth. 

“Yeah, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you mutter as you watch Yeri knock on the door. 

It takes a minute before the door creaks open and Jaehyun’s head pops out. His smile is radiant and you’re absolutely ensnared by the way his fringe falls over his forehead. 

“Hey, glad you two could make it.” Jaehyun opens the door wider to allow you and Yeri to enter. He greets Yeri with polite warmth while he wraps an arm over your shoulders. When Yeri heads in the apartment first with her back against the two of you, Jaehyun steals a quick peck to your temple and whispers, “you look pretty tonight.”

His touch is fleeting and he pulls back quickly, as if you imagined the whole thing, but his cheeky smile tells you that it really did happen. Your heart hammers and you force yourself to focus on the steady thrum of mellow R&B that reverberates throughout his apartment to calm yourself. You take his apartment in steady strides with your full attention. It’s sleek and modern with a few pops of his personality here and there in the form of trinkets decoration choices. 

“Hey!” Johnny calls over from the couch. He has a beer in hand, but he’s far from tipsy. Flanked on one side is Doyoung with another beer to match and on the other is Sicheng. Seulgi, the girl, who you assume is Sicheng’s significant other, by the way his arm is casually wrapped around her waist, is also there and she nods at you in greeting. You've come to know about all of them after hanging out with Jaehyun so much. “Did you guys get lost or something?” 

“Yeah,” Yeri replies as she moves to sit next to Mark who’s on the adjacent loveseat and resting a drink on the coffee table.  “Something like that.”  

She places a sweet kiss to the corner of Mark’s mouth in greeting and you swear you can hear him crooning at the attention. 

“Doesn’t matter, Johnny. The important thing is that they’re here now.” Jaehyun interjects. “Do you guys want anything to drink?”

“That’d be nice.” You hum.

Yeri laughs in agreement, “yeah, the two of us could never say no to a drink.”

“Alright, I’m on it.” Jaehyun calls while moving to the kitchen. “Any preferences?”

“No,” you say. “Surprise us.”

Jaehyun works to mix drinks and you take a seat on the floor next to the coffee table to observe the party. Perched on the shelf of a slender bookcase in the corner of his living room is a bluetooth speaker playing music, the rhythm quiet and bass steady as everyone chatters away once introductions are made on the sofas. You remember him offhandedly mentioning that he doesn’t want any noise complaints on his first week in the new place and it makes sense. Jaehyun’s housewarming party is a quiet affair that is far different from the wild party at the frat house in which you met him, but you think this vibe fits Jaehyun more.

Jaehyun returns shortly with two drinks in tow for you and Yeri and sits himself snugly next to you on the floor. He picks his idle beer from the coffee table and once Johnny realizes that everyone in the proximity has a drink in hand, he raises his voice and beer in a toast. “It sucks that Taeyong couldn’t make it tonight, but here’s to having fun without him. We’re gonna get twice as fucked up to make up for his absence, cheers!”

Everyone lets out a chuckle, but obliges to humor him anyway and joins to connect their drink to his in cheers. 

You pull your cup back and take a big gulp of the drink. It’s sweet and carbonated, but the sting of alcohol at your throat leaves you wincing just the slightest bit.

A few pleasantries are exchanged here and there, but it’s only then does Doyoung pull out a deck of cards with a devilish glint in his eyes that deceive his looks. 

“Ring of fire, anyone?”

--

After who knows how many rounds of ring of fire (and maybe a few other drinking games here and there) with too many drink refills for you to remember, you somehow find yourself splayed on the couch and leaning over Yeri’s shoulder in support. Seulgi is on the other side of you leaning on you for support, the same way you’re doing to Yeri, but you don’t mind it one bit. The three of you have grown surprisingly close with one another throughout the night.

Your mind is lucid enough to still be conscious and completely aware of where you are and what you’re doing, but the alcohol in your system eats away at the details in your memory. 

You vaguely recall ridiculous punishments that involved Johnny twerking on the dining room table and Mark taking a shot of Jack Daniels mixed with ketchup, and you can’t help but snicker to yourself. 

“I think we should get going now.” Sicheng is the first to speak as he moves to help Seulgi up. “It’s getting late.”

Doyoung looks a little groggy, but when he checks the time, he perks up immediately, “oh shit, you’re right. I need to get going too, I’ve got something in the morning.”

With that everyone shuffles to clean the remnants of the party with as much grace as they can muster while intoxicated, which wasn’t much, but in twenty minutes, Jaehyun is already walking half the party to the door in goodbye. Only you, Mark, and Yeri are left. 

“Hey Yeri,” Mark calls softly to Yeri as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Are you ready to go too?”

Yeri is still sprawled on the couch with you, but mumbles a small response. “Yeah, I should be. Give me a second.”

She turns over to you and nudges you just the slightest bit. “I’m gonna go back to Mark’s tonight, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her. “I’ll be fine, just go have fun.”

“She’s free to rest here until she’s ready to leave, don’t worry. I’ll call a cab for her when the time comes.” Jaehyun pipes up. 

Yeri gives you a look, but you squeeze her hand one last time to give her some peace of mind. “I’m a big girl, Yeri. I’ll be okay, promise. I’ll walk you to the door, Mark’s waiting.”

You give Yeri a tight hug in goodbye and you find your way back to the couch. The fact that you’re all alone in Jaehyun’s apartment doesn’t hit because of the remnants of alcohol in your system melts away your nerves. 

You’re pleasantly buzzed, lost in your own thoughts when Jaehyun comes up to you with a glass of water in hand. “Here, so you don’t feel as bad tomorrow morning.”

You accept it gratefully and take in big gulps, the water refreshing, but your skin feels hot. 

Jaehyun takes a seat next to you and the proximity makes your head spin. You turn to look at him, and he flashes you a smile.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You might’ve mentioned something.” You tease. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well,” he hums. You’re not sure, but you think the distance between the two of you is decreasing. “You really do look stunning tonight.”

You flush at his words, but you look straight into his eyes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Yeah? I try to impress.” Jaehyun’s eyes are hooded and your throat goes dry. “Can I kiss you?”

You say nothing at first, his words not registering into your muddled brain, but when you feel his breath ghost over your lips, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you. 

His lips are slightly chapped and you can taste the vodka on his breath, but to you it’s perfect. Jaehyun’s perfect.

Jaehyun kisses you with reserved passion and practiced expertise. His tongue sets the rhythm against yours and his roaming hands have you feeling as if you’ve been set ablaze. He pulls back just the tiniest bit and the intense longing for his touch that hits you is indescribable. 

You pull him back in your arms and your lips reconnect in a desperate fervor. Jaehyun adjusts his arms around you and the next you know, you’re in his embrace and he’s carrying you to his bedroom. He places you down gently, his bed is plush and comforter soft. 

Jaehyun’s touch is gentle as he gathers your face in his hands. He kisses you again and you wrap your arm around his neck to pull him closer. He pulls back and looks at you earnestly. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Everything’s moving so fast and you’re dizzy, but you don’t want whatever this is to stop. You want to be as close to Jaehyun as possible.

“No,” your voice is hoarse. “Don’t stop. I want you, Jaehyun.”

He kisses you again, this time unrestrained. His tongue is hot, but you can only savor it for a minute before he starts trailing kisses down your neck and tugging at your shirt. You let out a breathy moan in response to how his touches make you feel. 

Jaehyun reaches at your shorts and makes quick work at unbuttoning them. You help him remove the article of clothing and his slender fingers dart inside your panties. You’re slick to the touch and Jaehyun must be made of magic because you think you’re seeing stars. You unravel before him embarrassingly quick, but he kisses you at the base of your clavicle in sweet reassurance. 

Your chest is heaving, but you want more. You grab at Jaehyun’s shirt, urging him to take it off. The expanse of his abdomen is a sight to behold, but Jaehyun is cruel and doesn’t give you the time to take it in. He’s on top of you again, lips crashing onto yours once more. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and while he’s pre-occupied, you unbuckle his belt and steal a moment in his boxers. He feels thick and hot in your hands as you run your finger over the tip to feel a drop of pre-cum. He buckles just the slightest bit and it emboldens you. 

Jaehyun helps himself out of his jeans and you push him onto the bed wanting to be on top this time. He’s straining against his boxers and you want to help relieve the tension. When you pull off his boxers you can feel his inaudible groan. You stroke his length gingerly and look up to see him with hooded eyes look right back at you. 

This excites you so you take him in your mouth in a moment of unfiltered courage. Your tongue starts at the base before tracing your way up to his sensitive head. You tease him accordingly to his quiet grunts and groans and when you feel like he’s had enough, you take all of him in until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. You gag a bit, but push through.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun stutters out between stacatoed breaths. “Babe, you’re so good.”

You hum in pleasure at his praise and he grabs your hair. This goes on for a few more minutes before he reaches down to stop you. “Not that I don’t love this,” the look in your eyes nearly has him faltering his words, “but I don’t want to cum just yet.”

You relent with a slick pop and Jaehyun shifts over to rummage for a condom in his nightstand. You settle back down in his pillows. Jaehyun gives you a soft kiss on the lips before he enters you. 

“Tell me when it’s okay to move,” he whispers and you place a small kiss at the base of his neck. 

He starts off slow to let you acclimate to his size, but neither of you are very patient, so he ends up pounding into you a lot sooner than he anticipated and you find yourself getting caught up in the pleasure.

It feels like you’re dreaming, but if this was a dream, you never want to wake up.

6. Hush by Miss A

shh, no talking, just us.

“I can’t think straight.”

You and Jaehyun don’t become official until a few weeks later. 

He asks you one day when you’re naked and out of breath. You’ve gone one too many rounds with him and a thin layer of sweat coats your body as you lay on his heaving chest. You absentmindedly draw shapes on his skin and he gives you a chaste kiss to your temple.

“We should date.” He hums. “I think I’d make a good boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” You raise your eyebrow in teasing.

“Yeah,” he ascertains. “Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”  

“Hmm,” you pretend to think it over as if this wasn’t you’ve been hoping for since the first moment you laid eyes on him. “Okay. Let’s give it a try, boyfriend.”

Jaehyun laughs and you feel the world fall into its right place. “Alright, girlfriend.”

And the rest is history as they say. 

Jaehyun isn’t your first, but you experience many firsts with him. You’re not exactly inexperienced, but he really opens your eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans into your neck. His hands grip at your hips to help guide you along, but you’re fully in charge. “You’re doing so good, babe. Just like that.” 

You didn’t see yourself as someone who liked to take charge during sex, but after that one time Jaehyun asked you to top, you’ve never looked back since. 

You roll hips into him and at a pace you know drives Jaehyun wild and you pull him into a sloppy kiss. It’s all tongue and no grace, but you love it the same regardless. You capture his bottom lips between your teeth playfully before pushing him flat on his back until he’s firm against his plush mattress. You place a hand on his chest and the other on his thigh to balance yourself and Jaehyun immediately knows you’re close. 

A hand rests on your hip to steady you while the other snakes over to play with your clit to further stimulate you toward your climax. Jaehyun knows what you like and his timing is impeccable, so before you know it, both of you are reaching your highs together. You collapse on his chest and you allow yourself to stay in his warmth long enough to have your breaths synchronize before you extricate yourself from him to head to his bathroom. 

When you come back out, he’s disposed of the used condom and opens your arm wide for a hug, which you gladly indulge in.

Time stops when you’re in his arms.

--

On the surface, it looks like Jaehyun likes to mix it up. He seems like  an elusive guy with varied tastes, but the more time you spend with him, you realize he likes the control of seeing you unravel before him.

He likes the intimacy of missionary. 

The close proximity to your body has him looking into your eyes and leaving you feeling the most vulnerable of ways. He has full access to your neck, which he lovingly claims as his own and you chide him the next day when you see scattered purple blooms. Jaehyun changes his pace on a whim and you fall to his mercy. When he takes you fast and hard, you see stars, but when thrusts in you with languid leisure, he has you begging for more. 

He likes the intensity of taking from behind. 

When you’re on your knees with your ass in the air, he takes it as a guarantee to fuck you senseless. Your muffled moans makes his dick twitch and you swear you can feel him fuck into you even faster. Jaehyun always makes sure to wrap his arms around you to finger your clit until you go into sensory overload and he doesn’t stop pounding into you until there are tears in your eyes. He kisses each one away before taking your lips in his and you can taste the salt water on his tongue.

He likes the dominance from eating you out.

He laps at your core like a starved man and makes good use of his adept fingers until your head is spinning. Jaehyun makes it a habit to eat you out until you’re satisfied before he gets his turn. When your thighs are on either side of his head and your hands tangled in his hair, he swears he can stay there forever.

Above all, Jaehyun just likes you. He likes being with you and he definitely likes fucking you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

--

“Mmmh,” you breathe out.

Your back is flush against Jaehyun’s back as you rock your hips back and forth on his dick. You grind your ass back even harder when he pinches your nipple between his fingers. 

He kisses your shoulder blade from behind and bucks his hip upward to meet you in the middle. 

The afternoon sunlight is streaming in from the gaps of his blinds and you want to take it nice and slow today. The television in front of you is playing a movie, but you’re too enraptured by the feeling of him filling you to the brim to pay it any mind. 

“I love it when you’re on top, babe.” he hums as he plays with your clit. 

You let out another breathy groan before you can find the composure to bite back at him. “What happened to no sex today, hmm? I thought we were just going to have innocent quality time together and watch a movie.”

Jaehyun must’ve not liked your sass, so he bucks up harder. He’s telling you to pick up the pace and you oblige. Before you know, you’re practically bouncing on his dick and you can feel your impending high about to crash down on you. He can sense it too and maintains his tempo. When you cum, Jaehyun rides on the tail of your climax in pursuit of his own. He cums shortly after with stuttering hips and a bite on your shoulder. He gathers you in his arms and runs his tongue soothingly over where he bit you and the various love bites that he’s littered on the expanse of your skin. 

“Just being with you is quality time in itself.” He says. “Besides, class is starting soon, so I won’t get to see you as much.”

7. Disturbance by BoA

a ripple on the surface.

“I didn’t know at first.”

“So I do have a roommate after all,” Yeri’s voice calls out and you turn over to see her standing by the doorway. You roll your eyes at her, but quickly turn back to gather your things. 

She lets out a chuckle, but you don’t miss the sour edge to her tone. “I thought I got a single dorm since it’s so empty all the time.”

“You say that, Yeri,” you retort. “But I know you’re over at Mark’s constantly so I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

“Yeah, but I make time to come back here and I always let you know when I’m going out. I feel like I’ve only seen you maybe once or twice the past few months. I feel like the only reason I see you these days is ‘cause of classes.”

“You’re just exaggerating, don’t be so dramatic. Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

She looks displeased, but nothing leaves her lips as the two of you head out for the day.

--

It’s late. 

When night falls, shadows come out to play and your college campus is riddled with them. The school auditorium is situated in the far corner of the campus and the lamp lights of the main walkways do little, but you pay it little mind. Jaehyun should be getting out soon.

It takes another ten minutes to see him emerge from the double doors and you perk up immediately at the sight of him. He looks a little shocked to see you, but greets you with a warm hug and small peck regardless. 

“Hey,” his voice is small, almost reserved. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I was finishing late tonight.”

“Oh, you did, but I still wanted to see you.” You explain, eyes bright and tone undeterred.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he licks his lip. “But it’s really late and I still have more stuff I need to work on. I’ll see you some other time, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, babe. Next time.”

--

“Oh hey,” you smile, but Yeri’s fury is palpable and cuts through you.

“Don’t ‘oh hey’ me.” She spits out. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Sheepish, you reply, “oh sorry. I forgot to fully charge it before leaving and Jaehyun and I have different phones, so I couldn’t charge it at his place.”

“You were at Jaehyun’s?” Yeri is glaring at you at this point and you feel a bit peeved. 

“Yeah. What of it?” 

Yeri’s been getting angry at you recently, losing her temper at the drop of a hat, and you can’t seem to pinpoint why. You’re getting tired of being her punching bag. 

“We made plans to go shop for Seulgi’s gift today. You promised you’d be there, don’t you remember?”

“Oh shit.” It completely slips from your mind and you open your mouth to apologize, but Yeri cuts you off before you get the chance.

“Forget it. I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Yeri turns to leave before you can say anything back.

8. Symptoms by SHINee

something’s wrong.

“The worse it gets, the more exhausted I get.”

Jaehyun feels off.

He can’t pinpoint exactly what he is that he’s feeling, but he thinks it’s reminiscent of his world being tilted by six degrees. It’s not immediately jarring and takes little time for his eyes to register, but he’ll occasionally bump his toe, signalling that this isn’t right. Things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. His head spins just the slightest bit and he feels woozy, but he doesn’t know why.

Jaehyun just feels off.

--

Jaehyun checks the bulletin board of his school auditorium almost religiously. 

Each time before and after class, he’ll swing by and peruse the flyers that hang from haphazardly stuck on pins. He ignores the tutoring offers and the part time jobs scams, his main focus is almost always on the center of the board where they post the upcoming musical theatre production and eventually, the cast list. 

This semester, the chosen production is La La Land and Jaehyun has been dead set on landing the role of Sebastian Wilder. He stays back extra late each day to practice the script and to work on his singing and annunciation. 

On the day of the audition, he’s sure he’s nailed it and thinks to himself the world must be ending if he weren’t to get the leading role. 

When he leaves the auditorium in a rush, excitement flows through his veins and he drinks in the night air as a toast of victory. He’s tipsy on his excitement and wants to laugh out loud, but in the corner of his vision, he sees you. Your eyes light up the sight up, outshining the moon and the stars, but your visage does not elicit the reaction he thinks it should. He expects his heart to swell and burst, but somehow he feels heavy. 

He pulls you in for a hug and a quick kiss to quell his weighted heart, but he thinks he’s starting to sink so he calls you off for the night. He’ll see you next time. 

Yeah, next time will be better.

--

You’re snuggled up close and personal on Jaehyun’s chest. Jaehyun notices you fill every nook and cranny of his being perfectly to a tee, and yet that feeling. It’s there again. 

Jaehyun feels off. 

You laugh at something one of the characters say and you cuddle harder into him. He feels heavy again and it makes his throat itch, so he swoops down and captures your lips.

It’s hard and fast to scrub away at his uneasiness and before he knows it, his clothes are missing, but so are yours. The foreplay is brief and almost impersonal, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to be inside you. 

When Jaehyun has you begging and writhing, he feels like the world is where it should be. No longer is he living at a slight angle when he’s buried to the hilt inside your warmth, so when he sees you, he does what he can to get you out of your pants. 

Today is no different from any other. 

After a satisfying session you roll on his chest. Your kiss is soft and sweet despite the sweat that covers both of your bodies. He hums quietly as he taps melodies on along your exposed spine.

“Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

Ah. Jaehyun thinks he’s getting it now, why he’s feeling off.

Jaehyun thinks he’s being suffocated.

--

To the surprise of no one, and especially not to him, Jaehyun gets the leading role of Sebastian Wilder in La La Land. He was a shoe-in for it anyway and he made sure to put in the work to get it. 

His leading lady is someone by the name of Park Sooyoung, but at the first rehearsal she introduces herself as Joy.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She offers her hand out in a friendly greeting. “Here’s to a successful show together, Jaehyun.”

Her smile is blinding and he thinks Joy is a fitting name. He grasps her outstretched hand, grip firm and sure. 

“Yeah,” he smiles back. “Here’s to a good show together.”

--

Rehearsals span over blurred minutes and long hours. 

Jaehyun sees less and less of you and spends more and more time with her. 

During a quick water break, he scans his phone briefly to see a text notification from you. He takes another swig of water and returns to the rehearsal.

It’s okay, he can always text you back later.

9. Before U Go - TVXQ!

letting go.

“I will leave now.”

“Come on!” You tug both Mark and Yeri along excitedly. “I want to get good seats.”

Yeri rolls her eyes, but obliges anyway, pulling Mark along. It’s opening night for Jaehyun’s big musical and you wanted to be there no matter what to support him. Johnny, Doyoung, Taeyong, Sicheng, and Seulgi are already inside waiting and you’re not sure if they were able to save the three of you a spot. 

After a long chat with Yeri, you apologized profusely to her. You did get blinded by your relationship with him and prioritized him over everything, forgetting your friends and other responsibilities in the process. Yeri forgave you easily and helped keep you in line when you went to head over heels for Jaehyun. 

However, after patching things up with Yeri, you begin to notice a shift in your relationship with Jaehyun’s. You’re not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost feels like a distance almost. 

You chalk it up to his busy rehearsal schedule and choose not to dwell on the topic, in fears of your wandering imagination. It should be fine. After his musical is over, he’ll be less busy and things will fall back into place. 

Right?

“Over here!” Seulgi waves over excitedly. 

The auditorium is starting to fill up and you want to get comfortable before the show starts. 

Everyone greets each other in hushed tones and soon enough, the show starts. 

Right. Everything will be fine.

--

Jaehyun does amazing. 

Your eyes are trained on him the whole time and his singing has goosebumps pricking your skin. You can see the passion pour through him every time he’s on stage and you couldn’t be more proud. 

A nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach points out the undeniable chemistry between him and his co-star, but you push it deep down and suppress it. 

They’re actors, and they’re good at what they do. 

Yeah. They’re just acting. Yeah. Acting.

--

When the curtains close, you’re the first to shoot out of your seat, eager to meet him backstage. You weave through the endless crowd of people, murmuring your ‘sorry’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ as you pass by. You reach the base of the backstage and shoot a message to let him know you’re waiting. You hum to yourself when you happen to overhear a conversation playing out. 

“You did so good, Jae.” 

“No, you definitely carried the show.” 

You turn up and you see them. Her eyes are almost soft and loving as she pulls your boyfriend in for a hug. They linger in the embrace longer than necessary and you clear your throat to catch his attention. 

He jolts just the slightest bit when he sees you and immediately lets her go. 

“Everyone’s waiting,” you say quietly. 

“Okay,” he nods. “Let me go get my stuff in the back.”

Jaehyun leaves the two of you alone and you wait for him to get back. 

When you leave, he waves goodbye to her and she smiles back.

--

Jaehyun’s celebration party is rowdy, but it’s to be expected when Johnny is the one hosting. 

He books a table at the local club and even orders bottle service. The eight of you work your way through two whole bottles of tequila and are already on your third. Jaehyun is downing the shots at a quicker pace than usual and you’re a bit concerned, but you’re unable to say anything because when you try, he whisks himself away to the dance floor and strikes up a conversation with someone else. 

You’re perturbed, but you say nothing. This is his celebration night and he can choose to enjoy it how he wishes. 

By the end of the night, Jaehyun is noticeably drunk and you haul him outside to get a breath of fresh air in hopes of sobering up. He’s heavy, but you make it out the side door. You prop him up on your side as you lean on the grimy brick walls. 

Months have passed and the weather is chilly. 

Jaehyun’s body sways and he murmurs something in your ear. You don’t catch it the first time, the overwhelming smell of tequila overtaking your senses. 

“What was that?”

He grumbles beneath his breath, steps staggering once more. He tries again, this time his words are crisp and clear and they cut into you in more ways than one. 

“I think we should end it.”

For someone so drunk, he sounds so sober.

You’re at a loss for words. A part of you knew this was coming from his lack of enthusiasm around you and his decreased texts. Even the cold night air couldn’t keep your heartbreak at bay. You say nothing, but you understand the both of you knew it was a silent agreement.

You breathe out wisps of chilled air as Jaehyun’s inebriated body stays slumped over on your side. 

--

You volunteer to take Jaehyun home.

You tuck him gently in bed making sure to prop him on his side in case he vomits during the night. You pour a glass of water and place an ibuprofen on his nightstand drawer for him in the morning. 

You kiss him on the forehead one last time. You hope it conveys all of the things brewing in your heart at the moment, but you know it doesn’t. 

Later, you leave his apartment with all of your belongings that you ever left there with the stars as your witness. 

You never return to his place again.

10. Coffee Shop by B.A.P

what could’ve been.

“So without knowing, like a habit, I came here.”

Jaehyun wakes up to an empty bed.

Morning sunlight streams through his blinds and burns at his skin as a sign to get ready for the day. He blinks the drowsiness from his system and stretches his weary joints before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

On his rare day offs, he allows his body to go on auto-pilot. He completely shuts his brain off and allows it to do whatever it chooses.

Today, it takes him back to the cafe. 

His body knows where it’s going before it registers in his mind. 

The barista manning the order counter is different, but the decorations are the same, still the same succulents hanging from the ceilings. He mulls over the menu and goes up to order.

“Can I get an iced caramel latte?” Jaehyun doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he’s feeling nostalgic today. 

“Of course! Here’s your total.” 

He pays with a swipe of his card and the barista goes to work making his drink. He waits around by the counter and soon enough, his drink is ready. That particular table is empty, so he grabs a chair to sit. His first sip is overly saccharine, but he appreciates how the flavor mellows out by the end of it. 

It’s been nearly a year since that night. 

Jaehyun remembers waking up to a splitting headache and a dry mouth. He thought nothing of the prepared setup as he gulps the ibuprofen and the glass of water in one go. Nothing seemed amiss really until a few days later. 

No one mentioned your name around him and he caught Seulgi giving him a look every now and then. Mark didn’t say much either, but Jaehyun felt him drifting away.

He thought he’d feel a lot more, but he didn’t. One day you were a part of his life and then the next day you weren’t. It really was that simple.

He kept in contact with Joy even after La La Land was over and maybe they were something more, but it didn’t last longer than a few weeks. 

It didn’t feel right when he was with her. Again, something felt off, but a different kind of off.

Joy was the one to end things with him, but he didn’t mind too much. 

He filled his days with study and practice and it wasn’t until he landed a job at his local theatre company that he realized.

It was you. It was always you and perhaps it still is you. 

Maybe you were different. Maybe you were the one, but Jaehyun didn’t try.

He recalls feeling smothered. You were always there at the beginning, but he took that for granted. 

There are a lot of things he regrets, but above all, he regrets not talking with you. He regrets not trying to work on it. He regrets being a coward and running away at the first signs of true emotions. 

You weren’t perfect, but neither was he, but he should’ve stayed so the both of you could work it out together. Jaehyun always did take too long to find the courage to pursue what he wanted.

With a final sip, he finishes the drink and moves to throw it away. Then, he sees you. Here, in the flesh, in almost a year. 

Your hair is longer, but your cheeks are still as rosy as ever. You walk up to order and Jaehyun thinks it’s a sign. He moves to greet you, but the doors open again and in walk Yeri and Seulgi. He watches you greet them warmly with wide open arms. 

You always did give the best hugs.

Jaehyun watches the three of you chatter away and he feels acutely out of place in the little cafe. You look happy and he should move on. 

He throws his finished cup in the trash can and moves to exit through the side door, but he moves too slowly.

“Jaehyun, is that you?” You call out. He looks into your steady gaze and almost feels shy. 

“Yeah,” he’s quiet. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has,” you agree. “You look well.”

The smile you give him has him believing in second chances and maybe he’ll get it right this time.

Note: i am so sorry that the second part is a hot mess express smh… there were a lot of things i planned and intended that didn’t happen, but i’ll just take this as a learning experience and write and better story next time. thanks for taking the time to read this !! <3

masterlist.

[impalementation]

Hey, firstly I really want to thank you for the buffy analysis you're providing. I'm just now emerging into the world of writing and am utterly humbled by your comprehensive media analysis skills. I'm really curious how you got there. My question is related to s5 and its dichotomy of self. If Dawn is supposed to represent Buffy's inner child or human aspect of her personality, then is it fair to say that Glory represents Buffy's slayer identity and consequently her shadow in particular? I recognise that they, for the most part, have a foiling relationship in the narrative, but Glory's interactions with Buffy have always seemed a little "shadowy", obviously not in the same way as Faith and Spike, both of whom actively tried to bring out parts of Buffy she tried to conceal, but more in alluding to Dawn(human side) as Buffy's vulnerability I.e. the thing that stops her from being as strong as Glory way, if that makes any sense. The visual resemblance between the two really drove it home for me as intended mirroring. I could totally be misunderstanding the concept of the shadow, so forgive me if this is a stupid question.

Thank you!! Honestly, and not to be glib, I just got here with the usual combination of time, practice, and passion for the subject. I started reading and writing media analysis at a young age and never stopped. I also don't want to overstate my authority or anything. I'm often wrong or uninformed. I miss things all the time. I appreciate that people respect my arguments and opinions but I also hope that they're taken as interpretations to either be persuaded by or not, rather than as a definitive statement of ultimate truth or anything. While I take my writing seriously, it’s still something that I’m mostly doing for fun (or more like, because I can’t help myself). It’s riffing I’m doing to try to figure out this thing I like so much, and it makes me nervous when stuff I wasn’t making an effort to properly argue for is taken too authoritatively. 

Anyway, not to barf my anxieties all over your ask. Hell yeah the season five dichotomy of self. I actually agree completely that Glory is associated with the shadow side of Buffy, but I also want to be careful about what I mean by that. People often seem to mis-use the concept of the shadow (no doubt I’ve misused it myself, since it’s only in the last year that I’ve actually begun the work to understand Jung properly), when what I think they’re actually looking for is the concept of a foil. You already seem to understand what a foil is, but for anyone else: A foil is a character that has things in common with another character, but then diverges in a way that illuminates the other character's traits. So Kendra in season two is a foil for Buffy, because both of them are Slayers--they have that point of commonality--but they react to being the Slayer in different ways. Which highlights Buffy's traits like rebelliousness and independence. In general, the villains of each season always tend to be foils for Buffy. The Trio in season six are foils for Buffy and the Scoobies for example, because like them, they are young people new to adulthood and struggling to grow up. But while Buffy and the Scoobies ultimately choose to do the hard work of growing up even though it’s painful and relentless, the Trio cheats with things like crime and violence.

So, Glory in season five is a foil for Buffy because she is a superpowered being who feels that her human half, Ben, is a weakness. Ben is similarly a foil for Buffy because he is a human being who feels that his superpowered half controls and has destroyed his life. Together, they represent Buffy’s dichotomy of self that you’ve already pointed out. Throughout season five, Buffy feels weak in the face of human problems like a boyfriend who leaves her or a mom who gets sick. Moreover--as you’ve said--Dawn, who is her human, child, self is Buffy’s point of vulnerability all season. She is seemingly what makes Buffy weak, because Dawn can’t protect herself. On the flipside however, her superpowered half is also what makes Buffy afraid that she is cold and disconnected from her humanity. The two halves are seemingly incompatible, and seemingly destroying the other half.

So one of the reasons I say that Glory is associated with the shadow side of Buffy is that Buffy’s shadow side is frequently associated with the supernatural, especially in season five. In my videos I’ve discussed how the Hellmouth can be seen as metaphor for the unconscious in general. It is this gaping wound beneath the town, that everyone ignores, and which specifically attracts supernatural beings. I also discuss in more depth in episode two how vampires are presented as “other” early on, representing the way that Buffy sees the shadow side of herself as “other” at that point in the show. In other words, vampires and the supernatural are associated with the shadow firstly because they’re associated with the unconscious, and secondly because they are an element of the unconscious that Buffy rejects. Vampires are scary, soulless monsters. How could you be a vampire?

Over the course of the show, Buffy’s primary shadow self becomes steadily more monstrous--first Cordelia, then Faith, then Spike--as she delves deeper and deeper into her unconscious. One of the reasons I think season five is so marked by the dichotomy of self is because it is the season in which Buffy begins to truly address the shadow part of herself, which means that the shadow becomes markedly opposed to her humanity. The fact that it seems villainous and incompatible with her Self becomes explicit, a problem that is now on the surface. I see Glory as linked to Dracula in the first episode, who taunts Buffy with her dark side and tricks her mother and Xander (both associated with Buffy’s humanity), or Harmony in the second episode, who is also blonde and “bitchy” and kidnaps Dawn just as Glory will kidnap her. I think it’s purposeful that Buffy describes Glory as “kinda like Cordelia, actually” and Glory has a bath scene that parallels Faith’s in “Who Are You?” There’s also the fact that Buffy is shown irritated by Glory being a “super-strong little women who [isn’t] me” (the line is in reference to April but clearly includes Glory), and by the suggestion that Glory could be “prettier” than her, which is similar to Buffy’s feelings of rivalry with Faith.

Of course, the point is ultimately that Buffy’s shadow is not incompatible with her humanity, and this is why I see Spike as Buffy’s true shadow-self--instead of merely associated with Buffy’s shadow side, as Glory is. Unlike Glory, who threatens Buffy’s humanity, aka Dawn, Spike actively safeguards it. Like Buffy and Glory/Ben, Spike has a dichotomy between monstrousness and humanity. But unlike Glory/Ben he is eventually able to achieve that same thing that Buffy does: a mix. Like Harmony and Dracula he is a vampire, and therefore aligned with the scary supernatural “other” shadow. But unlike them, and like Buffy, he comes to protect Dawn out of love. In other words, while Glory might represent Buffy’s fear or perception of her shadow, Spike is the character that actually represents Buffy herself. He is her actual, personal shadow, which is why Buffy needs to integrate with him and not with Glory. This won’t happen completely until the end of season seven, but does happen in a partial form in “The Gift” by her choosing to let him into her house. Ie, into her Self, given how Buffy’s house (as I bang on constantly in my videos) is the the recurring symbol of Buffy’s Self.

In general, I’d say that although Buffy’s main antagonists each season may be foils for her, they do also seem to be associated with Buffy’s shadow side too, the way that Glory is. Even if Glory, as you mention, is particularly “shadowy” because of her similarity to Buffy’s previous shadow-selves, and because season five is particularly concerned with Buffy’s inner dichotomy. Buffy’s villains all represent some negative way of solving a problem that Buffy is struggling with. People often use the term “shadow” in a narrative sense rather than Jungian sense to refer to a negative foil this way. But in the Jungian sense, you could also say that they represent a path that Buffy is tempted by, and is afraid she could go down (a side she might go down if she doesn’t confront it, ie if it remains unconscious). Therefore it’s a side that Buffy thinks she has to repress or reject when she encounters it in herself--hence her antagonistic relationship with her more personal shadow self figures.

[eggsaladstain]

so i really liked season 1 of pachinko overall but i also kind of wished they’d figured out a better way to tell the story in just 1 season with more than 8 episodes

one of the things i struggled with in the book was feeling disconnected from the characters as a whole since it jumped across multiple generations of this one family and once you got to know one family member it seemed to move on to the next family member’s story with little fanfare

conversely, when watching the show, i was immediately drawn to sunja and sympathetic to solomon’s struggles, and i love the way the show jumped back and forth in time so we could see both kim min ha and youn yuh jung’s portrayal of sunja as well as the way her struggles and choices tied directly to her grandson solomon’s life

but starting around episode 6 i feel like sunja got sidelined a bit as the story focused more on solomon and no disrespect but i just don’t think his story is the most interesting in this show and even the emotional beats with hana in the finale kind of fell flat for me because the only other time we saw her was when she was being a bad influence when they were teens and so i never really bought into or cared about their relationship

and i think part of the problem is that it feels like old sunja’s story concluded with her emotional journey back to korea and so once that plotline wrapped up, it felt like she didn’t really have much to do, and in episode 8 especially, it seemed like all youn yun jung was doing was looking sad in the background, which is just such a waste of her talent, though i will say i don’t think i’ve ever seen a granny peel an apple with such gravitas and emotion

and i get that there’s still noa’s story to uncover, which will undoubtedly be fleshed out in season 2 but i feel like this show could’ve told a more cohesive story about belonging and family if it focused solely on sunja because the parts of episode 8 where we see sunja come into her own and the last scene where she triumphantly sells her kimchi were so good and so compelling and i was once again left wanting more of her, more of her story, more of how she turned from a young, naive mother to a weary but loving matriarch and so i was really bummed that we never got to see her learn how to be a mother for the first time or see how her relationship with isak developed and honestly i wish we’d gotten to see that on screen instead of all the agonizing scenes of hana slowly dying

i mean, i get wanting to be true to the source material, but i feel like this is an instance where they could’ve improved on the novel by tightening up the story and honing in on sunja, especially considering the talented actresses they got to play her

all that said, i LOVED the first half of the season and liked the second half well enough and pulling in the real-life stories of women like sunja to end the first season was so poignant and such a lovely, respectful note to end on

[creatingnikki]

Start Up

This was the first k-drama where I legit thought that the 2nd male lead was actually the first male lead until half-way through the show. While I do really like Nam Do-San’s character, I think  Han Ji-Pyeong made me feel WAY more. Especially in terms of the romantic chemistry. 

In the beginning, I was so satisfied with the show. But then I think somewhere around the 12th or 13th episode I started to get bored and disappointed. I think that’s mainly because halmeoni suddenly became a side side character and even Ji-Pyeong didn’t have as much screen time. I also feel like there were some sub-plots that were highly unnecessary because they weren’t fleshed out well and felt disconnected like the friend’s brother who died and he wanted revenge, the whole Alex California 3 year time-jump thing. Like that really slowed down the show and made me go ???  The finale however redeemed the show for me!

There were solid side characters in this k-drama, something I generally appreciate about k-dramas as a whole. The character development was also solid and sweet. I think the one that most touched me was Seo/Won In-Jae’s character development. 

I found more depth in her character than even Seo Dal Mi’s. I loved how she changed her name and then visited her grandmother because she just couldn’t do that before it. I get it. I really do. I think we all take our time to do the things we should/want to and that’s completely okay.

Which brings me to the point that Seo Dal Mi, especially towards the second half, felt like a very basic character. I think she was perhaps the only one who didn’t have much development. I honestly didn’t even find her and Nam Do San’s romance to be great or swoon-worthy. 

The most touching connection for me in this kdrama was  Han Ji-Pyeong and halmeoni’s. Like OH MY GOD. Whether it was when he was a child or even as an adult, their scenes made me cry.

 It was the most wholesome, sincere relationship in the entire show! Whether it was her taking him in and thinking he would rob her money in the shop or him thinking that she gave away his investment profits to her son - and both of them being wrong. The scene at the bus station where she gives him a new pair of shoes and tells him only to contact him when he is upset/alone/ill. 

The fact that she calls him good boy. Ahhhhhh. EVERY bit of it. Like even in the finale when she goes to his house and breaks down when she recognises he is sad + lonely I couldn’t stop my tears!!!!! It’s like he can be his true self with halmeoni.

And can I just ramble on about Ji-Pyeong? Firstly his dimples. I can’t deal. 

Secondly his acting. Thirdly his dialogue and his character arc. The way he was so smart in investing and work. The way he could give real feedback and the way he could be honest with Nam Do-San at the end. Aso the fact that he asked him to stop feeling inferior - ahhhhh. Someone really needed to tell Do-San to feel confident and enough and the fact that Ji-Pyeong did that meanth EVERYTHING. Everything about Ji-Pyeong had my heart! His conversations with Yeong-Shila and his drunk moments. And everything in between. I am really heartbroken that he ended up alone. To be honest, by the end of it I really wanted him to end up with In-Jae. I think they as a couple would surprise all of us. 

I know this may be a controversial opinion but both In-Jae and Ji-Pyeong were such strong characters and I feel like they would have easily overpowered the actual first leads (individually and together) if some more attention was paid to them. Which is probably why it wasn’t? But I feel like had the writers of the show leaned more into these two characters. They were smart, mature, emotionally more complex and that’s probably one of my major disappointments with Start-Up. 

But anyhooo, I really appreciated that the last scene was Nam Do-San and Seo Dal-Mi walking to their investor meeting and not their wedding scene. Because yaaaas power couple! I also love how her being the CEO didn’t make Do-San feel inferior or have some sexist ego complex. 

Talking about other side characters I really appreciated Seo Dal Mi’s mom’s redemption. It warmed my heart. I loved how Nam DO San’s father at the end put up the Samsan Tech sign board in the living room and said that the next time he thinks his son is doing something he doesn’t approve of he will look at it 3 times and wait it out/support him? Jung Sa-Ha and Lee Chul-San’s romance appealed to me a lot more than the leads’ romance - no kidding. 

Some of my FAVOURITE scenes were between Nam Do-San and Ji-Pyeong. Like in one of the first few episodes when they are at that conference/party where Nam Do-San shows up as a hot-shot entrepreneur for Dal-Mi and then the two guys move aside to show that they are talking and know each other and Do-San is like what do we talk about? ANd Ji-Pyeong is like let’s just recite the national anthem! I DIED. And then at the end when he invests in Cheonymyeong and they shake hands, how initially Ji-Pyeong only shakes with his two fingers. They both individually and together were beautiful. 

Also can I just say how cool I found the founder and CEO of sandbox just struck me as the COOLEST woman? She’s the kind of person I’d want as my mentor and friend if I was starting a business. And Dal Mi-s father’s backstory is just so very s ad with him finally getting an investment but also like dying the very same day. Sandbox really feels in some way his legacy? 

And I also low-key found the relation between Ji-Pyeong and park Dong-Chun endearing. Like ho Dong-Chun aways recommends all these lovely start ups that aren’t really profitable but he just cannot resist it! And how Ji-Pyeong finally personally invests in the start up for kids who leave orphanages at 18 in the end :’) I was waiting for him to finally personally invest in something like this because he’s rich and he can and I loved it. More than the investing, his meeting with the CEO of that start up was funny and how he wasn’t harsh towards him and how also said he wants a few kids that he can mentor! My heart!

Nam Do-San. I love how he had SO many insecurities because I have always associated that with the female leads whether in kdramas or just generally in the world of fiction. And the fact that he didn’t have any toxic or abusive outlets for his issues is what made me adore him. The friendship between him and his two developer friends was also very heartwarming.

I did really like the business and entrepreneurship aspect of the show like how thye tried to include concepts like the J curve and why you should be a majority shareholder in your own business and what investors look for and stuff. Ofc I would have LOVED it to be more heavy on that aspect but I get that for the general viewership that probably wouldn’t have worked. 

One of the most striking things about Start Up was the relationship between the two sisters. I can’t tell you how much I was digging the fact that neither of them, especially Won In-Jae (at the time) tried to backstab or fuck things up for the other. Even though they had been away for a decade and clearly had made opposite choices in picking their parents and hence a lot of their life, they didn’t once sabotage the other. In fact, they were always concerned about the other when it really came down to it. And them reuniting and working together was a highlight for me. 

This is one of the few kdramas that got the finale done so beautifully. But since Ji-Pyeong’s 2020 life wasn’t really shown to us this is how I’m narrating it in my head. He and In-Jae get together and are this smart power-couple who can open up with each other and be soft and adorable. He also has formed meaningful connections with two kids who left the orphanage and their connection is as wholesome as his and halmeoni's. He and In-Jae live  together in his apartment facing Han River and keep cutely arguing over start up ideas and companies to invest in. Now any time he looks at Seo Dal Mi and Do San he feels friendly affection and this sort of protective vibe. He found some super eye specialist and got halmeoni's eye sight fixed. Her corn dog shop became a huge franchise cos plot twist In Jae and Dal Mi's mother is actually v strategic in business growth.

[readyplayerhobi]

Favourite Fics of 2019

So...I thought that I’d give you all a list of my favourite fanfic’s that I read in 2019! I’ll include the description that was given by the author and then give a brief commentary of my own! Please make sure to not only read the fic, but give it a like and reblog! Give it some of your own comments and too, and follow/tell the author!!

Authors - I’ve got some authors repeated so you might have more than one fic here!

Readers - ...there’s a lot of fics here lol

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Welcome To The Underworld by @spookitokki​

; Demon/Radio Show Host!Jungkook x  Human!Reader

; Synopsis: In a dark little second-hand shop downtown, stuffed in an alleyway you only stumbled into because you were lost, you found a charming antique radio. When you turned it on, it began to play what would become your favorite radio show, “Welcome to the Underworld”

; My Thoughts: I rec’d this fic very recently but I still remember it well. Demon Jungkook is weirdly caring for her despite her being human and him being demon from the Underworld. The reader...well she has no sense of self-preservation honestly haha. I enjoyed everything about this; the smut, the world building, the characterisation and so much more!

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Matters Of The Heart by @hobidreams​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: it seems not even the passage of half a decade can diminish the hold of Mr. Jung’s charms on your heart. but the rumors that welcome you home speak of his imminent marriage to an heiress, one who bests you in every infuriating, ‘ladylike’ fashion. just how, then, are you meant to interpret the undeniable sparks of desire in his eyes?

; My Thoughts: I maintain that I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH. I think it’s probably like...in my top list of fics all year. It’s just...amazing. The writing feels authentic to the era and the reader is a delightful rebel that we all love from Victorian eras after all. And of course...Mr Jung is just a ridiculously attractive man that I would like very much. Rain is apparently making a follow up drabble AND I AM EXCITED!

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An Abundance of Scrunchies by @jhspetitegf​

; Single Dad!Hoseok x Kindergarten Teacher!Reader

; Synopsis: ❝hoseok is a hot single dad and you’re the new kindergarten teacher that likes to piss him off❞

; My Thoughts: This series of drabbles has completely stolen my heart. Dae is adorable and the reader is delightful in how she loves her kids. And then there’s Hoseok, the grumpy businessman who’s incredibly rich yet adorably dotes on his daughter and doesn’t get mad at her. It’s just...fluffy and angsty softness. I love it so much, and the smut was...oof. I can’t wait to read more!

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Polaris by @junghelioseok​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: somehow, someway, he always returns to you.

; My Thoughts: I MAINTAIN THAT I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH AHHH. It’s so unique and beautifully written, such a delight to read and I enjoy it every time I do. The mixing of the ages throughout the years and how Hoseok evidently has knowledge of their future together but doesn’t tell her. It’s so sweet and yet so organic how they come together. It could be weird and creepy given the difference in ages continuously but it’s not. He’s always a gentleman and it’s just...it’s just wonderful honestly.

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Faded Love by @jamaisjoons​

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you.

; My Thoughts: Okay but like, I still feel the pain and sadness when I read this fic the first time :( the reader’s confusion and pain at being abandoned so thoughtlessly despite her efforts is so hard to read. I still hate Jimin for doing it, and I’m glad that he stopped and realised that he was making a mistake. But poor reader will never be able to fully trust him again and always be worried to some degree :(

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Lost And Found 01: Tick Tock by @fortunexkookie​

; Peter Pan!Hoseok x Captain Hook!Reader

; Synopsis: The only hope you had at ending your exile and earning your life back came in the form of an infuriating and uncatchable man: Hoseok. He seemed to love the endless game of cat-and-mouse you two played - so much, in fact, that you were unsure if you were the cat or the mouse. What he failed to realize was that there was a third player, and this one wasn’t after him. The Crocodile hunted you with an intensity that rivaled the way you chased Hoseok, but with one difference: the games he played were deadly.  

; My Thoughts: Okay so like...a lot of my favourite fics ever this year have been Hoseok based. You’re not surprised, I know you’re not. But this fic is just...I cannot WAIT for the second and third parts of it. The world is so richly realised and the characters have such phenomenal characterisation and development in just this one chapter. It’s so...involving to read, you just get lost in it. It’s truly a beautiful work of art that I can’t wait to see how everything goes!

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Jungle Park by @jimlingss​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah…once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

; My Thoughts: I looooooved reading this fic. Jimlingsss is basically why I made Flower a once a week thing, because when I was reading Jungle Park, I was always SO EXCITED for Monday’s because it meant I got to read a new Jungle Park! It’s such a slow burn romance but it’s so delightful and rewarding watching this cold and moody lawyer warm up to his bright and bubbly HR person. And then you learn the backstory between them and...I just loved it all!

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Magic and Mysteries by @jimlingss​

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Everything’s okay….EVERYTHING’S OKAY, YOU’RE FINE. Look, you just have one tiny problem. It’s an itty-bitty issue. Not that big of a deal. So what if you don’t have a familiar and you’re about to take on the ENTIRE family business. Oh, you have a name to uphold? Everyone’s depending on you? Great. That’s just fantastic. But it’s fine. You’ll get your familiar and you’ll run the best damn potion shop the world has ever seen. Everything will be fine, right?

; My Thoughts: Again, another Jimlingsss story but honestly, they’re always golden. I particularly remember this fic because I read it when I was in Korea. It’s so delightful and fun, reminding me a lot of Kiki’s Delivery Service. Jimin is a little rascal but I love that he teases her because he genuinely cares. It’s all just a truly wonderful fic and story put together in one delightful package.

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Love, Guaranteed by @gukyi​

; Taehyung x Reader

; Synopsis: with the celestial ball quickly approaching, kim taehyung is horrified to find out that you, his best friend, are dateless. to remedy this, he initiates The Match Project, a matchmaking service designed to find the most optimal date. to you, it’s an opportunity to meet someone else so you can stop pining after your clueless best friend. to him, it’s an opportunity to finally, once and for all, tell you how he feels.

; My Thoughts: I do quite enjoy reading Hogwarts fics, and I particularly enjoying reading Hogwarts fics with BTS as students as long as there’s no smut in it. Gukyi’s Hogwarts series was such a delight to read and I remember reading this fic with a smile on my face. Wanting to scream at reader because POOR TAEHYUNG OBVIOUSLY LOVES YOU. Poor guy trying so hard despite everything :(

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Lovers’ Fuck Rule by @prolixitae​

; Jungkook x Reader x Hoseok

; Synopsis: jungkook is still new to your established relationship with hoseok, which means he needs a little help feeling competent sometimes. especially when it comes to sex. alternatively, the span of a poly relationship over inaccurate amounts of fucking.

; My Thoughts: Okay look, I don’t do shipping or anything but Junghope is one of the best friendships/combinations there is. And this fic encapsulates why. Jungkook is so nervous with her whereas Hoseok is just...so unbelievably calm and dominant about it all. He knows exactly what gets his girl off and it’s sweet how amused he is by Jungkook. You can feel the slight insecurity almost off Jungkook because Hoseok has been with her for years but you can also feel the genuine love the reader has for him, along with the friendship Hoseok obviously has too. I really enjoyed it all!

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Get Wet by @prolixitae​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: sitting in on your boyfriend’s dance practice is probably your biggest kink. it’s also the reason you asked to be so shamelessly fucked in the locker rooms of his dance studio, in spite of the pending consequences. note: this is not an idol-verse fic

; My Thoughts: You know I love Hoseok, and this smut was just...oh my god wow. Bizarrely, I explicitly remember reading it while in the cinema waiting for a film to start haha. TNS Hoseok is amazing though and I really love him. In this fic he’s even more amazing though and I just...god I want him so badly. Urgh, 10/10

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Eating For Two by @park-moomin​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: He’ll have a Large

; My Thoughts: ARGH GOD I REMEMBER READING THIS. URGH, what is it about Hoseok that makes the idea of oral sex with him just so...amazing? Actually just any sex. Any at all. I love the idea of him being so...eager and desperate to go down on his girl, particularly when she’s pregnant so that she can still get some pleasure and fun out of it. Also, him cumming in his pants is just...the cherry on top haha

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The Devil In His Details by @park-moomin​

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it's a 5'8" pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you're the form you want him to come in.

; My Thoughts: Lawd, I remember this being one of the hottest smut’s I’ve read in a while and I still stand by that statement. It does make me laugh that this was supposed to be a 1k drabble cos...girl...this length reminds me of me haha. Still, I think Jimin got the blowjob of his life...probably every man’s life here. Well done Jimin, go back for more.

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Hot Rod by @kinktae​

; Greaser!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

; My Thoughts: The whole Rewind series that Rose has been doing but you all know I’m a Hoseok hoe and HOOOOO BOOOOOY GREASER HOSEOK IS SOMETHING ELSE. Everything about this fic was just...wonderful and it felt delightfully 1950s. The lingo and outfits, the cars and everything. It was hot and Hoseok deserves everything. I still kinda hope there’ll be a drabble or something in the future but either way, read this as it’s soooo good!

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The Boyfriend Concept by @kpopfanfictrash​

; Pornstar!Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot. 

; My Thoughts: Shanna always writes some of the best fics on tumblr and this is definitely one of them. You’d think with it being a ‘win a date with a pornstar fic’ that he’d be a little weird or something about it (there’s nothing wrong with pornstars but you can imagine it’d be odd) but Jimin is just...so sweet and kind and polite! He’s just...the perfect boyfriend honestly. It just so happens he does porn too...I honestly loved this so much!

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Beneath The Boughs by @gimmesumsuga​

; Dryad!Namjoon x Reader

; Synopsis: For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.

; My Thoughts: I still maintain that this fic is just basically Steph gushing about her love for Namjoon all over the page. It’s just...so sweet and soft. Namjoon makes the perfect dryad and I can easily imagine him being one. He’s such a delightful character who you just want to protect and teach about the world because he has that kind of delightful innoncence. I loved it so much!

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Sweeter Than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga​

; OT7 X Reader

; Synopsis: You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction.

; My Thoughts: This is like...the OG OT7 fic. The one that EVERYONE should read. It’s so close to finishing and I’m kind of mind boggled that it’s going to finish. It’s just...perfection. Jimin is delightful and Yoongi is sweet, it’s just so perfect, I love it all. Namjoon is still a dick, sorry Steph. I also maintain that I’m secretly marrying Hoseok. Everyone go read it and strap yourselves in for a long ride!

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Bump In The Night by @fortunexkookie​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: You’d spent countless nights terrified of the beast that lurked in the shadows, but as it would turn out, the monster haunting your home wasn’t a monster all. He was just a boy, and the only crime he’d ever committed was daring to love a girl from a different world.

; My Thoughts: Arrrrghhhhonaeouthnoetahnouenth this fic is just....perfect. I love it SO MUCH. Hoseok is a genuine monster in this, not just someone who thinks he is. He looks like a monster. But he’s a monster who gets a best friend in the reader and who slowly falls in love with her. I SWEAR MY HEART DIED WHEN THE THING HAPPENED :( Poor Hoseok, my sweet boy. But then...the end! And I was like ‘waaah’ I mean, I don’t know how she’s gonna live there but...I have hope for this odd couple because their love survived a lot <333

-

One Thing Right by @hobios​

; Jungkook x Reader

; Synopsis: “i’ve been wrong about a million times, but i’ve got one thing right.”

or, desperate to get your ailing mother into the best care possible, you ask your childhood friend turned enemy to marry you for his health insurance benefits. the only problem is it’s illegal. and he’s the sheriff. and you swore to hate him since the day he broke your best friend’s heart.

; My Thoughts: Ahh...this is such a well written fic and I enjoy it so much. Jungkook has such good characterisation in it and you can feel that the readers heart is in the right place! I really like it and it reads so well, like it actually reads like a legitimate novel tbh!

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Wall To Wall by @winetae​

; Pornstar!Hoseok x Pornstar!Reader

; Synopsis: Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

; My Thoughts: Okay look...this fic is just great. I’m eagerly anticipating the second part because the first was just written so well. It’s so unique in that the readers already has a boyfriend, Jimin, who is not only okay with her being a pornstar but is the one who films her! But then you’ve got Hoseok, the new guy on the block who’s ridiculously good. The sex is just...it feels so realistic and like it’s two people in a relationship having sex and not just being filmed on camera. God I want them together lol

-

Club Zombie by @floralseokjin​

; Seokjin x Reader

; Synopsis: In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

; My Thoughts: Look...I still can’t believe I read a fic with zombie sex and that I actively WANTED to read a fic with zombie sex lol. But disregarding that, it’s still phenomenally written and the world is built up so well! I loved reading this and it didn’t feel as long as it’s word count. The characters were interesting with little tidbits being thrown out there that made you a little more interested in their history.

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Defining Heaven by @akinnie75​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: “If I try to fly, will I make it to heaven, or will I fall straight down? But what exactly is heaven?” It’s a question that’s been in Hoseok’s mind a lot after cutting ties with his parents and ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. Dreaming is his fear, but you tell him that it’s not as scary as he thinks it is. Even in the depths of his own despair, you reach your hand out, but will he take it?

; My Thoughts: At this point, I think I just love anything by this author. But this fic was so...real and beautiful. The connection between two people who want more from life and deserve from life, who are both stuck. Hoseok’s story is heart breaking and getting to see him slowly come to life and learn to care for himself again was beautiful, while seeing the reader getting to care for herself by caring for him was just beautiful as well.

-

Florescence by @jincherie​

; Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader x Hybrid!Seokjin

; Synopsis: Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

; My Thoughts: I love this story so much :333 it’s such an interesting twist on hybrid’s in that there are ones who get discarded because they’re ‘defective’. It’s horrible to think about and I just want to love both of them. Jin is so...sweet and he tries so hard, being the one to put himself out there with the reader because Taehyung is just a sweet and shy bub. Seeing them come to life slowly is so rewarding!

-

 Moon Magic by @jincherie​

; Merman!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: You’ve never paid much mind to the moon, but you quickly learn that even though you’ve never really thought of the her, she has always watched over you. What better to heal an grieving heart, than the luminous, rippling magic of the moon? And maybe a merman, or two. You know, for good measure.

; My Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH AND I KNOW THAT YOU WROTE FOR ME AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I STILL LOVE IT. Hoseok is such a sweetheart and it’s adorable that you can see he’s falling in love much faster than she’s falling in love with him :333 the world is so realised, even though it’s just an island and everything is just...so perfect!

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We Float by @lamourche​

; Massage Therapist!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: Might as well get this over with. You sigh and raise your hand to knock, steeling yourself for patchouli and shell necklaces. The door opens. A face peers out at you. There’s no beard, no long shaggy hair. For a moment, you wish he did walk around shirtless. He’s handsome. He’s taller than you, with brown hair that almost falls into his eyes and undercut on the sides. Warm brown eyes and a cute nose. It’s fucking cute his nose. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and white crocs. Well, that’s better. He’s still handsome and his kind eyes make you want to confess some prior sin, but it’s easy to scowl at a guy in white crocs.

; My Thoughts: This is still such a wonderful and beautiful fic. Hoseok’s agoraphobia is dealt with tactfully and he’s not magically cured by the end, but it’s so lovely to see that he’s willing to try and combat it a little more because he loves her. And she loves him, accepting him as he is and not pushing for more than he’s willing to give!

-

Tip 143 by @minflix​

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: Even though he is everything you find attractive in a man, your friend and co-worker Jung Hoseok is just exactly that - a friend and co-worker. For some reason, you have never found yourself attracted to him even though all the girls and guys around you go absolutely crazy for him.But that all changes for you one night while scrolling through Heart2Heart, a sex live cam website…

; My Thoughts: AHHHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHHH. THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSEOK FICS ON THIS WHOLE SITE. It’s so wonderfully written and I adore reading it, even re-reading it. Hoseok is so funny and just...so light hearted. He’s not hugely bothered about anything and the way he goes along wtih the reader and even helps her to film her videos, even going so far as to...well going for her ;). And yet they both just think that they’re friends when nope, you’re idiots because you LOVE EACH OTHER. I genuinely love it so much, always a favourite and will remain close to my heart <333

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See Both Sides Like Chanel by @minflix​

; Namjoon x Reader x Hoseok

; Synopsis: You, Namjoon, and Hoseok are inseparable. Three best friends that grew up together since you were all in diapers.But lately, Namjoon has been drifting away…

So on his birthday, you and Hoseok remind him just how inseparable the three of you really are.

; My Thoughts: This couple...is perfect. I love them so much, they’re so well suited to each other. Rich brats who despite being rich and snobby, all genuinely love each other so much. Poor Namjoon when he felt like he’d been left out. <333 it’s okay Joonie, they both love you. I read this while I was in Korea and it just...made an impact. I want them all to live happily ever after with each other x-x

-

Euphoria by @btssavedmylifeblr​

; Jungkook x Reader

; Synopsis: At the end of your life, you are given one day to live again with the man you loved. A lifetime’s love story told in a single day. 

; My Thoughts: THIS IS THE SADDEST YET SWEETEST FIC EVER. Oh my god, it’s just...it’s so unbelievably bittersweet. Their love for each other and how she KNOWS that she’s dying and she’ll never see him again. How much she throws herself into the day with him and how much he clearly loves her. She knows they have their whole life set out for them and it’s just...wonderful...honestly.

-

Off The Deep End by @boymeetsweevil​

; Merman!Yoongi x Reader

; Synopsis: Your new mermaid friend, Yoongi, helps you navigate the treacherous waters of love, sex, and National Geographic.

; My Thoughts: Ngl, the main thing I remember from this? It’s beautifully written and also fish dick lmao. But seriously, it’s a great fic to read and watching Yoongi get to experience the human world is a delight. It’s very unique in how it’s written and the biology and culture of merfolk. A definite recommendation for everyone!

-

[bucksblr]

tagged by @leonzhng​ thanks for making me dig through my most embarrassing crushes 😭✋

i’ll tag @highwarlockkareena​ @yibobibo​ @lan-xichens​ @purplexedhuman​ @aheartfullofjolllly​ @lanzhansmiles​ @nyx4​ i feel like i tag you guys in everything i am so sorry please ignore this if u don’t wanna do it !!

putting this under a read more for reasons

MEN 2010 – 2016

literally nothing more embarrassing than falling on the same type of white man over and over again (with the exception of minho from shinee bless his heart)

tommy joe ratliff → he was the bass player for adam lambert during his glamnation era (think of songs like for your entertainment and if i had you) idk why exactly i liked him so much but i just did.... however i searched him up again quite recently and found out he’s one of those republicans that says the dumbest shit on twitter so Big Yikes

harry styles → “baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed, and when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell...” and BOOM 13-year-old me was sold for well over two years

louis tomlinson → basically i liked harry most until around 2013 when for some reason i started to like him a little less, and i got more focused on louis tomlinson, and although i didn’t like one direction anymore louis tomlinson always had a special place in my heart

ashton irwin → so ashton is 5sos’ drummer, i discovered 5sos through one direction & i stanned them until late 2014

harries twins → the harries twins (jack & finn) are basically the reason i started spending a lot of time on youtube, they were funny and pretty and they just had good videos in general, so for almost two years i’d watch their content regularly

choi minho → my first steps into kpop happened bc i was watching videos on youtube (most probably the harries twins) and suddenly i saw the sherlock mv in my recommended videos so i clicked on it and then 14-year-old me proceeded to fall for minho like an idiot

brooks twins → still youtubers, the brooks twins were 3/5 of the janoskians (jai & luke brooks, beau brooks, daniel sahyounie, & james yammouni), an australian youtube comedy group that was active from 2011-2018 though i was only around from 2012-2014 (when jai brooks was dating ariana grande)

jc caylen → surprise! another youtuber! jc caylen was part of o2l (our2ndlife) a youtube collaboration channel on which each of the 6 members posted videos on a certain day in the week (mondays with connor, tuesdays with ricky, wednesdays with sam, thursdays with jc, fridays with trevi (my 2nd favorite member bc she participated on the x factor), saturdays with ricardo, and then they had surprise sundays every week) and i remember how much joy jc & the others always brought me with their silly videos

misha collins → up next, you might know him as the gay angel that was sent to superhell after confessing his love to the homophobic hunter on supernatural, it’s misha collins! basically misha was a huge source of comfort for me, and i even went around calling myself emmisha for almost two full years (cringe)

henrik holm → he played even bech naesheim in skam and my crush on him reached that level of ridiculousness where i actually tried my hand at learning norwegian (i can only remember how to introduce myself and some curse words i would make a great first impression on him)

MEN 2016 – 2021

min yoongi → okay so my baby steps into kpop happened through shinee’s sherlock, but i only got really invested when yoongi dropped agust d 1 because Holy Fuck y’know??

kim namjoon → oh man i remember thinking namjoon was cute and a very good leader and then BAM he dressed like THAT at the 2016 mma’s and i fell in love. hard

park seojoon → i started liking park seojoon whilst i was watching hwarang (you guessed it, i watched it bc of taehyung), although he wasn’t my favorite character by far, but he was very silly off camera & i liked that (i’m not that into him anymore tho </3)

kim seokjin → OH BOY LET ME TELL U i liked seokjin from the very beginning (i got to know bts in late 2014) and i always liked seeing him perform and be himself and god once i realized i had a crush on him it just hit me like a mf truck, and he’s still one of my favorite people to this day

jung hoseok → god fake love era hoseok really hits different.... also yes i know i have all of bts’ hyung line on my list BUT bts was a really big part of my life for almost 6 years soooo honestly they deserve it i still think they’re great guys

choi san → when ateez made their debut in 2018 i immediately fell in love with san, he was such an amazing dancer and he captivated me right from the very beginning, to this day he’s still my bias in ateez uwu

xiao zhan → AND THEN, OCTOBER OF 2019 HAPPENS AND I WATCH CQL AND... i fall in love with xiao zhan, something i’d never expected would happen bc when i watched cql for the first time i wasn’t as invested in the story, but i really really really liked xiao zhan and one thing led to another and now here i am as a xfx

wang yibo → the thing is, i’ve known yibo since eoeo except i didn’t know cql yibo was uniq yibo (bc i’d forgotten his name) and when i looked it up i can tell you my jaw dropped to the floor bc holy shit????? also he is very silly and i love him loads ok

lee minho → ah, the man who has been my skz bias since 2018, not only is minho my bias i also kin him (there’s a lot of aspects of myself that i see in minho and vice versa) and he’s very comforting to me

bang chan → honestly, it was only a matter of time before i’d fall for bang chan, i knew the moment i got into skz again that i’d start biasing him and, well, here i am, double biasing chan & minho

WOMEN

this list is shorter bc i’ve in general always had less crushes on women than on men??? blame society forcing me into thinking i was straight for a LONG time

ariana grande → remember the 2011 layout of twitter?? where u could not only have an icon and a header, but also a background and ur twitter page was smack in the center of ur screen with the big ugly menu bar at the top??? yeah ariana grande was always my background for my l*rr* st*l*n*s*n layouts

perrie edwards → this was right around the time she was dating zayn & little mix was breaking out into the spotlight, yeah i just really loved her

andrea russett → okay so remember o2l?? andrea russett was kian’s girlfriend for a pretty long time and they always did videos together and i always thought she was super pretty

lily collins → maybe i don’t like clary in tmi all that much but i sure liked the way lily collins looked

alona tal → MY BISEXUAL AWAKENING, it’s only when i saw alona tal in spn that i realized, fuck i might be gay

park jihyo → i discovered twice (my 2nd jype group after day6) through the like ooh-ahh mv and red-haired jihyo really did something to my heart (i just rewatched it and god zombie bang chan is so mf cute)

kim jisoo → when bp made their square two comeback i was immediately smitten for red-haired jisoo in playing with fire, it’s also when i realized she was my bias out of the four members

shin ryujin → the reason that i have blue hair is partially bc of ryujin and her amazing intro in wannabe :D

xuan lu → her portrayal of jiang yanli was SO ON POINT and she’s just such a kindhearted wonderful person wow i want her hand in marriage

lee yoobin → god i’ve known dreamcatcher from back when they were still called minx and ever since i’ve always looked at dami that bit more than the rest, i was also able to see dreamcatcher live in october of 2019 and the whole experience was just so amazing !!

FICTIONAL CHARACTERS

there’s a whole lot more than just these 10 but i wanted to fit the evolution into one (1) slide as best as i could lmao

peter pan → this movie came out in 2003 (?) and he’s honestly the first fictional character i remember ever having a crush on

legolas → i was really doubting between placing haldir or legolas here but i only really got a vague haldir obsession when i was like 14

zuko → LOOK. ZUKO IN ATLA? HOT. ZUKO IN LOK? HOT EVEN IF HE’S AN OLD MAN.

will turner → man was annoying sometimes but i really liked him and his relationship with elizabeth was cute

jo harvelle → gosh i can’t believe she’s the only female character in here???? yeah she was one of my two spn faves and i’ll never forgive the screenwriters for the way they killed her off

castiel → does your fave ever get sent to super hell for being gay? no? well. mine did

kili → fili and kili’s storyline tore my heart out, spit on it, and then laughed straight in my face, KILI WAS LITERALLY MY FAVORITE DWARF

howl → i only watched this movie for the first time in 2020 so i kinda fucked up the tl cause i watched cql in 2019 but shh, anyways howl with his blonde hair was good looking but howl with his black hair just hits differently. i want a howl

lan jingyi → MY BABY BOY, TINIE LITTLE BABIE WHOMST I MUST PROTECT ok no but seriously this kid. i love him a lot

mu qing → BARK BARK. that’s all (that’s not all i love him a whole lot and it hurts me to see so many people misunderstand his character and only see the bad parts of him when they can forgive others for fucking up (eg. xie lian himself & feng xin) but bc mu qing doesn’t deal well with emotions suddenly he’s the bad guy??? i s2g if ppl are gonna do to him what they did to jiang cheng in the tgcf la i will RIOT)

[katierosefun]

hi so ive seen you been posting a lot about k dramas so it has me kind of curious. do you have any that you recomend starting off with if you want to get into it?

hi anon, you've come to the right place!!!!

i have a few posts about kdramas that i personally recommend: this one (which is just kind of a general list), this one (which is mostly,,,tcw characters but as kdramas they would probably vibe with), and this one (which is......kdramas that i think would make a good tcw au fic). they say what you loved as an 8-13 year old makes up a solid portion of your personality, and what i loved as an 8-13 year old was star wars, taylor swift, and kdrama, and it shows.

BUT if you don't have time to look at those lists, here's some kdramas that i recommend that literally anyone who wants to watch kdramas should look into:

1. crash landing on you (available on netflix): 'tis about a south korean woman literally crash landing into north korea. it's wonderful, lots of found family, a solid romance plot, really wonderful writing and an a+ cast. i cried literally so many times watching this. also just like...a good reminder that before anything else, north koreans are people with dreams and fears and like, of course the government is corrupt and terrifying and this kdrama doesn't let you forget that for a second, but like...also? north koreans have been so demonized for years, and i think it's just nice to finally have a piece of media that says "north koreans aren't monsters so stop acting like they are. they're literally just born on the other side of the wall".

i recommend this one mostly because it's incredibly beautiful and hits so many wonderful tropes (fake dating! forbidden romance! found family! there was only one bed! snow kisses! there's something here about fate!) that are so common in kdramas, but like...also just has so many strong characters and says a lot about korean culture as a whole, so i think this could very easily be a gateway to kdramas.

2. goblin (available on viki, which is free!): about a young woman who can see ghosts and an immortal being who won't know peace until his future bride pulls out the sword from his chest. honestly, this is known as one of the best fantasy kdramas out there, and for good reason. when i say that i think it literally changed the fantasy kdrama world, i mean it because i think literally every fantasy kdrama out there is still trying to live up to its standards. really wonderful cast, solid chemistry between the main leads, a beautiful plot between the secondary couple, and just like...really aesthetically pleasing.

3. hello my twenties! (available on netflix): complex, and this kdrama really goes into the power of female friendship. that said, there's also some romance subplots, but they all feel mostly really natural and like...typical of the relationships that you would find in college. that said, it's worth noting that this could be triggering for anyone who might have come out of an abusive relationship, because this kdrama def.a-20 episodes a kdrama usually has).

all of the characters are super complex, and this kdrama really goes into the power of female friendship. that said, there's also some romance subplots, but they all feel mostly really natural and like...typical of the relationships that you would find in college. that said, it's worth noting that this could be triggering for anyone who might have come out of an abusive relationship, because this kdrama def. also explores that!

4. school 2013 (available on viki but you would need to pay, dm me for a more accessible link): this kdrama's a little older, airing in 2012-2013 and all, but it's honestly...such a classic, and for a good reason! like hello my twenties, this kdrama isn't really romance focused and instead focuses on an unruly high school class. i'm someone who considers herself to have outgrown kdramas about high school (purely because i myself am no longer in high school), but i watched this kdrama in the span of two weeks and really, really loved it.

i think this kdrama is honestly a must-watch for anyone who wants to get into kdramas because i think it hits one of the most moving themes of kdrama, which is have a dream. there's teacher characters who really are learning alongside their students, and the student characters are all incredibly relatable, and this kdrama is wonderful in that it...really is sympathetic to teenagers and validates all of the problems teenagers, especially high schoolers, face. i definitely was sad to finish it, and i would recommend everyone to give this a watch, especially if you feel a little lost with your life. (i just think everyone could use a teacher jung or teacher kang in their lives.)

5. itaewon class (available on netflix): this is another kdrama that doesn't really focus too much on romance. that said, there's a romantic subplot, but the emphasis here is really on...just...fighting for what you believe in. the plot follows a young man who's building a pub...basically to avenge his father's death. there's this whole revenge plot, and brooo...korean dramas are SO good at revenge plots. like, wonderfully good and satisfying with revenge plots.

what i really loved about this kdrama though was that yes, there was a revenge plot, but like...the protagonist was so. fundamentally. good. honestly. he just wants to employ people who have been kicked down in society. so as you can imagine, there's quite a bit of found family here. additionally, there's a storyline that even explores what it means to be black in south korea, as well as what it means to be trans in south korea. i kind of wish the trans representation was better, seeing that the person who acted as the trans character was cisgender, but considering that south korea is still incredibly conservative when it comes to lgbt+ representation, i'm glad that this kdrama at least really fleshed out a trans character and gave her like...a really moving and compelling storyline. (as opposed to...treating being trans or being lgbt+ in any way as a joke, which is unfortunately the trend with a lot of kdramas. not in any of the kdramas i've recced above, obviously, but like. if you go back to a lot of older kdramas, that's the case, just as you would find with media in any other culture, i'm afraid.)

but anyways, this is just a solid kdrama. will 1000/10 make you want to do something good with your life. :')

[popsiclemania]

My 2020 in K dramas (+1 J drama)

I began watching k-dramas in 2018 but I’ve never watched as many shows, Korean or otherwise, as I have in this one. 2020 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I think what helps me really enjoy this over Bollywood+Malayalam+ American pop culture I grew up with is that a smirk on the wrong character’s face doesn’t make me seethe with rage and want to burn everything down. It’s not like growing up with SRK on screen and then having SRK wannabes leave you with lifelong trauma in reality. I can just move on. It’s removed enough from my everyday life but still familiar in a generic Asian family way. Does that make sense? It’s not perfect and it’s not free of its own harmful stereotypes and narratives, but there’s enough of the good stuff to make you stick around. This year I fell in love with Nana, Kim Hye Soo, Han Yeri, Park Eun bin, Ahn Eun jin, Kim Bum, Kim Yong ji, Flower Boy’s Go Dok Mi and Search:WWW’s Bae Tami. Cancelled Ji Chang wook (bye). Desperately missed Kim Jae Wook. Had thoughts on Hwang In Yeop, which were mostly heart eyes. Discovered J dramas and fell in love with Cherry Magic’s Adachi.

My year-in-review below:

LOVED

Into The Ring - I am so glad I saved this for a rainy day because it’s exactly the kind of upright citizen shenanigans my unemployed ass needed at the end of the year.

Goo Se Ra thinks the govt should work for the people but that doesn’t mean her own moral compass always points north. Her purpose is to make steady money, and I love seeing her go hard to survive and cobble together what she needs. The thing that really works for me is that she wants to be good, but she isn’t always. And you get to see her be disappointed, upset, embarrassed and hurt from being publicly kicked in the gut as she navigates a job where she appears, on the surface, to be a supremely confident, self-serving, accidental politician. What you see as her naiveté is mostly just her being a regular person in an environment dictated by backhand deals and rich people politics. She gets hit again and again, and you see what it does to her sense of worth to get back up again, how she grapples with her self. And through all this the show is funny?! Se Ra is what writers of manic pixie characters think they are doing and not doing at all. Love her friends, and Jang Hye-jin is *chef’s kiss*!

Hyena - Kim Hye Soo’s Jung Geum Ja is perhaps Se Ra’s older and darker contemporary.  Geum Ja is a survivor and will get what she wants and where she wants to, however many hells she has to cross. She’s single-minded about her success, ruthless and has no qualms about bending morals to get the outcome she needs. She’ll never compromise on who she is or justify how she lives, can build people up and also tear them down, but she also knows care and kindness.

I turned to Signal for more Kim Hye Soo but was disappointed in how the first few episodes seemed to shortchange her. May try again in 2021.

(Highly recommend @saltr0se​’s  fic series which just GETS Geum Ja so well. Fic writers are the best)

Search: WWW (Finished in 2020) - It took me half a year to finish this. I started watching Search in Oct 2019 and raced through the first 6 episodes because I couldn’t take my eyes off the rollercoaster of Bae Tami’s life. And then I had to take a break because it was a little too close to the frenetic pace of my own industry. As @drivingsideways wrote, a lot of Search is premised around ‘patriarchy? who dat?’, which is why watching its politics play out is so fascinating.  It’s also deliciously turmoil-y to watch a very clear-sighted, weathered Tami put on rose-tinted glasses for her romance and then frequently peer over them to evaluate whether it could actually meld into her life.

Catch The Ghost - Kim Seonho oozes charm and perhaps Startup was a showcase of how effectively he can be a typical male lead. But Catch is exactly not that. Go Jiseok and Yoo Ryeong have moulded their lives around to meet their most desperate wishes in life and in the process also left parts of themselves untended. There is guilt, pain and need. Now guess who will tend to whose wounds? Their dynamic is electric even when the central mystery flags towards the last few episodes of the show. I really hope Moon Geun Young is doing well and gets more amazing roles soon. She is so good here.

(Highly recommend @melonatures​‘s fic for putting that sizzling on-screen chemistry into words. HOW?!) Cherry Magic - Stories about painfully awkward people are my jam and Eiji Akaso gets Adachi’s shy, nervy energy so right. Cherry Magic is straight up just 12 hours of 🥺🥺🥺. 

Stranger/Secret Forest - I’ve been devouring the entirety of Agatha Christie’s work this year after Stranger reminded me how comforting murder mysteries can be. I love Bae Doona. I also love characters who don’t get social norms, not always because they are out to flout them but because that’s just not how their mind/brain works. (have to watch S2)

Flower Boy Next Door -  Honestly, the opening scene introducing Park Shin Hye’s character Go Deok Mi sold me on this immediately. An introverted, penny pinching copy editor living alone and working from home thanks to extreme social anxiety? Love. All the side characters are a lot of fun and I’ve never loved Kim Seulgi and Go Kyung Pyo more. It’s a warm show, slowly rounding off the sharp edges of every character.

JUST FUN

The Spies Who Loved Me -  It’s been a year of disappointing rom-coms and Spies kind of quietly turned it around for me. I want to be the fly on Yoo In Na’s wall as she figures how to play her characters. I’ve only seen her in 3 roles but somehow she always manages to be in character arcs that don’t short change her. Spies could’ve been and sometimes is the regular heterosexual fare, but In Na ups the ante over and over again, coming out on top as the smartest person in the room.

ENJOYED WITH *RESERVATIONS*

I have to watch A Piece Of Your Mind again because I don’t understand how Jung Hae In and Chae Soo bin built SO MUCH warmth and crackling chemistry with barely a kiss. I was iffy about how the whole AI thing started off and the tortured musician plotline (angsty male artists will forever be an eyeroll for me).

Park Min Young is a queen who never disappoints and When The Weather Is Nice is everything you want in a winter romance. My reservation was in how they explore so much of domestic abuse and the complex ways its traumatised the women in this family. I’m ok with the characters having imperfect ways of processing and understanding the violence, I welcome it. I’m not ok with the show dancing around whether the pivotal crime was justified/ self defence (it was).

A lot of dramas did this. I loved Han Yeri and Choo Ja Hyun in My Unfamiliar Family, I didn’t like the free pass the show gave their dad’s abusive character. 

Hwang Jung Eum’s comedy style is generally not my thing but she was pretty great in Mystic Pop-UP Bar. But I’m side-eyeing the sanctity surrounding motherhood. Maybe I should read more about babies and Korean folklore.

Hospital Playlist was my comfort watch through June and July. I think its wholesomeness and non-plot writing came at a good time for me. But I noticed then that the throughline for all main characters was moral superiority and hence what I then saw as *wholesomeness*. It’s kind of what makes it a grating rewatch in parts. Plus the real life of misogyny of Yoo Yeon Seok makes me want to push his angelic catholic character off a cliff. (For context, i was raised catholic). I want to continue loving Chae Song Hwa, and for that the showrunners need to stop cornering her with overbearing romantic interests (let that woman breathe! she literally ran away to another city!) 

Hospital is good at creating moments of comfort, so much so that I went to watch Reply 1988 after it, but had to drop it coz I couldn’t get into it. Maybe I’ll come back to it next year.

Once Again is what I call joint family propaganda. What it does well is lay bare the mechanics of living in a society that prizes the heterosexual family structure, the loops you have to jump through to hide when you break its rules and what happens when you are found out. I love the characters, their fights, their frustrations. I just don’t love the validation of joint families. (context: i grew up in an oppressive joint family lol). In my au, Nahee and Gyujin don’t get married again or immediately have children, but take the long route to figuring out how to love the person the other is. Gahee is openly dating Hyo shin and her parents have to figure out how to process her success and her romance. Young dal and Ok boon have to learn to stop dictating their children’s lives.  Joon sun runs his company from home, so his wife Hyun kyung can work on what she wants. Choyeon, Joori and Ga-yeon go back to being flamboyant AF and the market learns to not judge. Gyujin and Jaesok have to actually work on the relationship with their mother and what sent her into depression. Just a lot of learning involved.

Just Between Lovers was a nice watch, i just don’t get how Kang doo and Ha Moon So’s relationship will survive his constantly simmering anger. 

Crash Landing on You was so much fun until the main romance turned angsty, but it gave us North Korean soldier shenanigans and the epic romance of Seo Dan and Alberto Gu that we needed more of.

Tale of The Nine Tailed is probably what Goblin wished it was. I, however, will never be over Lee Rang. (Also, when can gods stop meeting their love interests as babies? Asking for my sanity)

I literally ignored everything in Oh My Ghost except Park Bo Young and Kim Seulgi and it was amazing. 

NOPE

Goblin, Dinner Mate, Oh My Baby and My Secret Romance were a whole lot of NO, NAHI, ILLAAA. 

I loved hate-watching The King:Eternal Monarch with the rest of k drama tumblr but someone please take away Kim Eun-sook’s access to gigantic budgets and all-star casts.

It was painful to watch Do You Like Brahms squander away its potential but I’m glad to be introduced to Park Eun bin. Age of Youth is next on watchlist.

More than Friends to me is only Ahn Eun jin. Someone give her amazing lead roles asap.

Why did Record of Youth do that to Park So Dam and her clothes? Just why

WANTED TO WATCH, BUT COULDN’T BECAUSE *INTENSE* 

World Of The Married, It’s Okay Not To Be Okay, Sweet Home, Extracurricular, Penthouse, Flower of Evil, Lie After Lie

WILL WATCH NEXT YEAR

SF8, Stove League, Birth Care Centre but I’ll start the new year with School Nurse Files coz it looks very good.

[seokth]

mother knows best | 13

— drabble 13 ; of breakups and bouquet tosses —

pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader

summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au

series index | general masterlist

It’s a fine day today, not too sunny, not too cloudy, either; yet Jung Hoseok finds himself blinking a few times because his eyes can’t quite comprehend the sight of you laughing with a bunch of his cousins here at his sister’s wedding.

His hand comes up to his arm but the sudden pinching sensation he feels is definitely not his own doing.

What?

He looks down on the thumb and index finger squeezing the flesh of his exposed forearms before realization creeps up on him.

“Eomma.”

“Hm?” Mrs. Jung hums innocently as her son breaks away from her hold.

“Stop pinching me. You’re not still mad, are you?” he asks, rubbing the sore skin.

“Oh? So you agree? There is something I should be mad about?”

Hoseok grimaces. Though his mother is usually gentle, the accusatory words coming out of her mouth weren’t exactly new. He sighs.

“Eomma,” he repeats. “There is nothing to be mad about. It was you who invited Y/N here.”

“As your plus-one!” Mrs. Jung retorts, not looking at him and instead glaring from across the room at what seems to be a cozy conversation happening between you and one of her nephews.

“O-kay?” he draws out the syllables in uncertainty. “If that’s your intention, then what’s the problem? She’s here, isn’t she?”

“No, my son,” she tuts at him, shaking her head despondently instead of angrily. “She’s not here,” she waves a hand at the empty space on her son’s side, “she’s there. Talking to your cousin. Laughing. Without you.”

He sighs. Both because his mother’s (and all the guys’ mothers’) antics were getting even more ridiculous now, and because while he usually wouldn’t have a problem granting his mother’s wishes, this particular request proves to be more complicated than most.

“It’s not that easy, Eomma. Not anymore.”

Another sigh escapes him. Though your romantic relationship ended all those years ago back in college, you both remained civil and friendly (and on a good day, close) with each other, being in the same friend group. But now that he’s thinking about it, this is probably the first time in a long time that you and him are in the same social setting together without the company of your six other friends.

Those weekly Sunday lunches always involved the other guys and the moms. That bungee jumping adventure was buffered by Seokjin. Come to think of it, there was never a time when the both of you were completely left alone.

Does he even want to be alone with you? Does he even want to place himself in what is sure to be a bit of an awkward situation? Can he even be alone with you, when both of you had shared parts of each other that most friends hadn’t?

Mrs. Jung softens at the contemplative expression on her son’s face.

“You’re overthinking things,” she says softly. “I know I keep badgering you to rekindle things with Y/N, but honestly? The best thing that could come out of this is you two being comfortable with each other again, just like how you were before.” She pauses. “Remember, Hoseok, you were friends first before you became a couple.”

“But how do I— What do I even say?”

“Well, you tell her she looks beautiful, for starters. Then,” she gives him a smile, “you tell her you’re glad she came.”

The double meaning isn’t lost on him.

So he gathers his courage and finally approaches you just as his cousin, the one you were talking to, moves away. You catch his eye when he’s a few steps away, and to his utter relief, you give him the brightest smile.

“Hi,” he says unsurely yet determinedly.

“Hi,” you respond softly yet welcomingly.

The soothing sounds of the acoustic guitar serves as a background noise for the both of you. Though the wedding guests are now clamoring as the bride and groom are taking their first dance, the two of you are stuck in your own bubble for a few short moments.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Hobi.” You see him grin at the nickname. “You look beautiful, yourself.”

“Thanks,” he says, chuckling. “Anyways, you made it!”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “I almost didn’t. Traffic was terrible! Almost gave up halfway and turned around, but I wanted to be here for you and unnie. You know, since the guys couldn’t make it today.”

He grins in appreciation. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “Even though it wasn’t easy, I’m… I’m really glad you came.”

The double meaning isn’t lost on you, either.

“Yeah,” you respond softly. “It… It was tough, but I’m really glad things happened the way they did.”

Something shifted in the air that moment. Something tells you that awkwardness, hesitance, and uncertainty aren’t gonna get in the way of your friendship’s full potential anymore. Something in the air tells you that your friendship, though already around a decade old, is only just beginning.

Just as Hoseok opens his mouth to invite you bungee jumping again (but maybe this time, without Seokjin), an all too eager form is clutching your arm excitedly and dragging you away to the middle of the dance floor.

“Eomma?!”

“Mrs. Jung?”

“Less talk, more walk,” she shushes both of you while beckoning her son to follow, as well. “It’s time for the bouquet toss! Y/N, dear, stand here.”

You both come to a stop in the middle of the dance floor in a sea of bride’s maids and other women.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Jung repeats, cupping your cheek to ensure your full attention. “That bouquet is yours for the taking.”

“What?” Your face is filled with questions.

“Don’t hold back, okay, sweetheart? I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. Just give it your all and catch that bouquet, got it?” She doesn’t wait for your reply before she leaves you standing there. “Good. Now, where’s Hoseokie? I need to get him ready for the garter toss…”

“But, Mrs. Jung, wait—”

Your words are silenced. Both because Mrs. Jung is already out of hearing range, and most importantly, because a beautiful, elegant bouquet suddenly fell from the air and right into your unexpecting hands.

[namjhyun]

Hospital Playlist | Winter Garden

*SEASON 01 SPOILERS ALERT*

Remember you can find all the Hospital Playlist reviews/analysis filed in “hospital playlist reviews” tag at the end of the post.

It would be very difficult to talk about Jung-won without mentioning Gyeo-wool and vice versa. Their respective journeys have been intertwined from the very beginning and in ways we didn’t even know until the end of the first season of Hospital Playlist. Theirs turned out to be a symbiotic relationship. So, I decided to dedicate a full review to them.

Jung-won’s life was one of the first mysteries in Hospital Playlist. The drama introduced his character little by little and almost always thorough other characters to give us an idea of the kind of person he is. So, when it was revealed that he is the youngest son of the CEO of Yulje Foundation and Hospital, we already got the general idea that he was a dedicated and hardworking doctor, with a very particular (and hilarious) family situation that put him in the spot to take over his father’s place. And that he didn’t want that position at all.

Still, it’s pretty obvious Jung-won has a head for business. You can tell by the proposal he presented to Chairman Ju in the first episode when he transferred his family’s hospital stocks to him. In exchange he got lofty jobs for his friends and himself, and even complete control over the money coming from the VIP ward in the hospital. This is a man that clearly thinks several steps ahead. A man that goes the distance. A marathoner.

Right after his father’s funeral (in March) and finally free of the pressure of having to run his family’s foundation, Jung-won put that determination into achieving his childhood dream of becoming a priest.

Enter Jang Gyeo-wool.

When we were first introduced to Gyeo-wool, I remember thinking she was the opposite of Jung-won. While she was presented as blunt and aloof, he was tactful and a bleeding heart. Because of this I always believed the two actually made a good team and that they could learn from each other.

Now that the first season is over, I think that was Writer Lee and PD Shin’s purpose all along: to make the viewers connect the two, at least in a professional light at first, so that we would eventually start picking up subtle hints that something else might be going on between them.

Of course, Hospital Playlist exceeded my expectations because things started to be not so subtle pretty fast. For me it really was when Jung-won said that Gyeo-wool wasn’t his “cup of tea” that I started to think about them in terms of a possible loveline. But it was the scene of the maggots that really solidify it and I told everyone “He likes her”. Not for one minute I thought Jung-won was going to go through with his priesthood plans after that.

Soon, Jung-won’s good deed of helping his friends get better jobs backfired on him spectacularly: Lee Ik-jun, MD and Certified Cupid, was trying to find ways to win Jang Gyeo-wool’s favor in order to get her assistance in the OR. And since Hospital Playlist spent the entire first season letting us know that Ik-jun always knows what’s up, naturally he realized Gyeo-wool had feelings for Jung-won. And that they might not be unrequited.

The journey was slow paced and frustrating at times. With each episode it was more and more clear that Jung-won was going out of his way to keep Gyeo-wool at arm’s length. He was resolute to keep on track with his decision to become a priest and I commend him for it... but this is when his smoking became a sign that things wouldn’t be going his way. For someone who wants to be pure and closer to the Lord, that’s a pretty nasty habit. One that to me was always a sign of doubt. Bottomline, it’s a sign of his humanity. Another sign? His headaches. He was suddenly overthinking things and questioning himself.

I’m not saying Jung-won wasn’t sincere about becoming a priest but if he had wanted to do it, a man with his kind of determination, would have got up and leave. Instead, when he talked with the priest helping him with his journey to Italy, Jung-won kept pushing the date of his departure over and over again. Always prioritizing his patients. This is when I knew that priesthood was a dream idealized from childhood and I believe that in some place of his subconscious he was choosing this path in order to runaway from the pain of not being able to help all the people he wants to help. Fact is that at some point in his life he had fallen in love with his profession as pediatrics surgeon but his soft personality put him through much pain, specially with the most difficult cases. He had given up on hobbies like photography because he couldn’t stand to see the photos of patients he lost, and almost never took time off to do any of the sports he loves so much. When he did it was to support a cause like breast cancer.

My point is that I understand why Jung-won wanted to quit: he is overworked, stressed and tired of having to carry on his shoulders an understaffed pediatrics department. Add to all that he was also running the Daddy Long Legs program by himself, getting calls from hospitals all over the country, and that he was in a passive aggressive fight with his Mother that didn’t want him to become a priest. The only down time he was getting was when he played the drums with the band and went out with his friends. But even then we saw him get up and help the people running the restaurant. Yeah, he clearly couldn’t go on like that. Something needed to change.

His first move was to delegate the Daddy Long Legs program to Song-hwa. A wonderful idea and the first hint that he was up to something. Like I mentioned before: Jung-won thinks several steps ahead. And this was also around the time he had his heart to heart talk with Ik-jun. At this point of the story, it was clear to Jung-won that his feelings for Gyeo-wool were not going dispel and that spending time with her, watching her work through her hardships and getting to understand her, were only making him fall deeper in love with her.

In return, Gyeo-wool spent that time growing as a doctor, learning from Ik-jun and Jung-won on how to talk to patients and their guardians. Something none of the other doctors bother to teach her before because they all considered her competent enough due to her OR technique. She shed off some of her shyness and started to show her warmth, became bolder and more proactive to try to find ways to connect with people around her. She went from eating alone to always share a meal with other residents and/or Dr. Bong. She sassed Min-ha on her make up, kinda told off Jun-wan and behaved like a cutie pie around her honorary big brother Ik-jun. Gyeo-wool remained steadfast and composed through every professional and personal hardship, and her bluntness was no longer a weakness but a strength. I honestly believe that by watching Gyeo-wool in action, Jung-won learned a thing or two about perseverance and not running away but facing your troubles.

I also think Ik-jun didn’t tell Gyeo-wool about Jung-won’s feelings for her because he didn’t believe it was his place. Sure, he had his fun trying to get reactions out Jung-won and giving his support to Gyeo-wool but, at the end of the day, he knew it was Jung-won and Gyeo-wool the ones that needed to take matters into their hands and have a proper talk about their feelings.

When Mama Rosa witnessed that sweet, sweet, moment all the shippers were waiting for between Jung-won and Gyeo-wool, she saw her last hope. A last-minute Hail Mary. And while I think Mama Rosa put Gyeo-wool in a terrible position by asking her to stop Jung-won from becoming a priest, this was the first time Gyeo-wool got any indication that maybe her love could be successful. That her heart and instincts were in the right place. And despite the uncertainty that followed her through the entire first season, she went for it. Like the complementary sprinter she is to Jung-won’s marathoner. Watch out Usain Bolt.

What none of us knew by the time episode 12 started is that Jung-won had already made the decision to stay after the family of a patient thanked him for going the extra mile for their daughter. The past months of being able to have the 99ers as a support system at Yulje and having Gyeo-wool around to help him with his work, made him felt happiness and a new sense of fulfillment. For the first time in years, he was feeling the weight on his shoulders was lighter and his good friend Song-hwa could see it in his face. She knew all along he was in a crossroads about his profession. That scene in Song-hwa’s office was significant because it was the first time he voiced out his feelings and to his surprise, just like Ik-jun, Song-hwa knew all about his Lady Winter.

So, when Christmas arrived and Gyeo-wool finally musters up the strength to go to his office, everything comes together. Even though she thinks Mama Rosa is wrong about him having feelings for her or that she knows it’s not her place to interfere with his decision of becoming a priest, she still can’t let go of him. Meanwhile, he had decided weeks ago to stay at Yulje, in no small part because of her, and remained silent. He held back. Again! And fret over how, when or what to say - just like he did in front of the ER’s door- because he didn’t know how to start the conversation. Why? Because the fool himself put them in a strictly professional relationship by refusing to have any kind of interaction outside the cases they shared or the hospital.

But in that final scene at his office, Jung-won sees a vulnerable Gyeo-wool. Suddenly her emotional resilience is nowhere to be found and she is wide open for him to witness how much he has put her through over the past nine months. Even worse he realizes that she knew all along about his plans and said nothing. Gyeo-wool’s bravery makes him see himself for the coward he has been for the past three weeks. For the first time in the whole season, he stops overthinking, FINALLY does as his heart is telling him and jumps into action. Jung-won answers Gyeo-wool’s confession and request with tender affection, longing looks -that communicate he too has been struggling-, kisses and a hug. He didn’t need to say anything. Like Gyeo-wool taught him: actions speak louder than words.

[worldwidemochiguy]

MFEEU! Second Generation Profiles 💕✨

↳ MFEEU! Tae Masterlist 

↳ Link to Yoongi’s MFEEU one shot and Hoseok’s 

↳ General Masterlist :)

The kids 

Jin

↳ No children (he’s happy being a godfather!!)

Yoongi

↳ Yoona 

Hoseok

↳ Seojoon 

Namjoon

↳ Namgyu 

Jimin

↳ Jihae 

↳ Jihyun

Taehyung

↳ Haneul 

↳ Haewon

Jungkook

↳ Minho

↳ Mina 

(wow i just realised i gave the rapline all one kid and the maknaes two kids huh)

When they’re born: 

first it’s Kim Haneul 

↳ the next year is Kim Namgyu and Park Jihae

↳ the next year is Park Jihyun and Jeon Minho

↳ the next year Jung Seojoon

↳ the next year Jeon Mina and Kim Haewon

↳ and five years after that... Min Yoona 

Profiles :)

Kim Haneul 

Tae and his wife’s first child

The eldest of all the mfeeu kids

Very protective of all her younger siblings, especially Haewon 

Minho has a crush on her for the loooongest time (she sees him as an annoying little brother) 

Abuses her privilege as the eldest to get all of her dongsaengs to do whatever she wants (apart from Jihae) 

She inherited her mother’s sincerity and tae’s determination 

Her and Namgyu are like the only responsible ones

Taehyung is very happy leaving the business in her hands once she’s old enough

As she grows older she realises the special feelings she’s always felt towards Jihae are different than how she cares for her sister

She loves Haewon of course, but with Jihae it’s different. She wants to always take care of her, spend every minute with her, kiss her. 

They start dating when Jihae turns 15. both Jimin and Jihyun tell her she better take care of Jihae or else. Haneul has no intention to do anything other than that.

Kim Namgyu

Namjoon and his darling’s first and only child

Strict with all of his dongsaengs but would let Mina get away with murder

He’d probably help her with it tbh

Haneul’s right hand man, slated to help her with the business once he’s older

He inherited his father’s intellect. He helps all his dongsaengs in their lil homeschool lessons and once he’s finished his work he’ll leave the classroom they have set up and go and sit with his father

(Namjoon is the softest dad ever oh my god 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺)

Namgyu has dimples that pop out every time Mina calls him ‘Namu’ 

Him and Minho have a brotherly relationship. He, along with Jihyun, help Minho to get over Haneul. 

He���s known that he loved Mina since she was 5 and he was 8, but of course he waited until she was 18 because of the age gap between them.

Mina had no such reservations. She asked him to date her when she was 14 and he had to gently turn her down because she was way too young to be dating a 17 year old. 

She would stubbornly ask him every year on her birthday if she was old enough to date him yet, and on her 18th birthday he finally answered with ‘yes’ and kissed her

That was probably the worst day of Jungkook’s life.

Park Jihae

Jimin and his girlfriend’s first child

Despite being one of the oldest, she is babied by the entire group, ESPECIALLY Haneul

She’s so soft like oml 🥺🥺🥺

she inherited her father’s stature so by the time they’re all teenagers she’s the most smol (along with Mina who’s only an inch taller than her)

(by the time Yoona reaches her teens she’s also taller than Jihae)

Jimin’s little princess

She barely leaves his lap for the first five years of her life

Shes so clingy as well 🥺🥺🥺

She follows Haneul around holding her hand bc she doesn’t want to get lost 

She really likes doing ballet. She tries to teach Haneul but they soon stop bc to put it lightly Haneul is hopeless

She is the softest big sister to Jihyun. 

The only time she gets mad at him is when he sometimes refuses to call her noona 

Once Mina and Haewon are born the trio has been completed

They are the unofficial maknaes of the group, along with Yoona who they treat like their own little dolly

They coordinate their clothes and everything. your squad wishes. 

She’s the most oblivious person though. she doesn’t even realise she’s in love w Haneul until her 15th birthday when Haneul kisses her. and then she’s like oh. oh.

they are the softest girlfriends ever bls i can’t 🥺🥺

Park Jihyun and Jeon Minho

Jimin’s second child and Jungkook’s first

I put them together bc they’re honestly inseparable 

They’re the troublemakers of the group, rivalled only by Mina and Haewon.

Jihyun was born two months before Minho, he insists that Minho calls him hyung

Minho refuses

Jihyun is the more responsible of the two, but barely. Namgyu’s kind of like their older brother, they both look up to him a lot. 

Seojoon is their dongsaeng who they lovingly bully

Minho has a massive crush on Haneul. 

He isn’t yandere for her, he just has a thing for noonas like father like son 

At one point he tries to have a rivalry with Jihae because Haneul likes her so much but it doesn’t work bc Jihae is so sweet she doesn’t even realise what he’s trying to do and also Jihyun is super protective of his older sister and he nips it in the bud

After that he resolves to get over Haneul because he doesn’t want anything to come in between him and Jihyun. 

Jihyun and Minho are definitely soulmates. Hoseok is convinced they will date at some point. There’s a betting pool which Jungkook refuses to enter bc he thinks its wrong to bet on his sons love life. Jimin on the other hand has lost almost a million won because he keeps betting that they’ll announce that they’re dating soon. 

Jung Seojoon

Hoseok’s pride and joy

He’s so similar to his daddy guys it’s adorable 🥺

He has so much energy all the time, it is common to see his little head popping over the edge of Hoseok’s desk as he jumps around the room

Namgyu loves him but he doesn’t understand him at all

Seojoon loves to play dress up with Mina, Haewon and Jihae

He is not trusted with Yoona bc, though his intentions are absolutely pure, she usually ends up crying 

Always breaking the rules. a loveable rascal we have here. 

He knows when to push boundaries but he’s largely well behaved bc his dad taught him well 🥰🥰 (unlike many of the other fathers who spoil their kids) 

Seojoon knew he loved Haewon since his fourth Christmas. Seojoon was hunting for the presents and when Haewon caught him, she joined him in searching instead of ratting him out.

From that moment on they were partners in crime. 

It was only inevitable they started dating, obvious to literally everyone except Taehyung who refused to believe his daughter was a rule breaker in any shape or form.

Jeon Mina and Kim Haewon

Jungkook’s and Tae’s youngest girls 🥺

I put them together for the same reason I put Jihyun and Minho together. They’re inseparable 

They were actually born within two days of each other. Haewon was born early and Tae always says it’s because she couldn’t wait to meet her best friend (besides him, of course)

Look Haewon even has his nose mole 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

They rival Jihyun and Minho in terms of general naughtiness 

Seojoon helps them out sometimes, and in that time Mina always giggles at how silly Seojoon and Haewon act around each other

but all Haewon as to do is mention Namgyu and Mina stops making fun of her and starts blushing

Haewon and Mina talk about Seojoon and Namgyu literally all the time

When they’re older they trick their parents saying that Haewon and Mina are hanging out together and Seojoon and Namgyu are hanging out together and then they swap

Namgyu would normally disapprove but it means he gets more time to spend with Mina so he’s not snitching 

Mina is sooo bitter when Haewon starts dating Seojoon bc Namgyu is apparently ‘too old’ for her so she can’t date yet

once Namgyu finally gives in on her 18th birthday and kisses her, she calls Haewon  up screaming with excitement (little does she know Namgyu at that moment is calling Haneul and freaking tf out)

when they get married to their boyfriends they have a joint wedding 🥰🥰 Namgyu was originally against it but Mina gave him her infamous doe eyes which she inherited from her father and he allowed it reluctantly

Min Yoona

Yoongi’s unplanned but very adored daughter

By the time she’s born, Yoongi is in his mid to late 30s

To be honest, Yoongi had been happy helping to raise his friends kids, i mean they were all practically his godchildren and there wasn’t a week where he wasn’t babysitting at least three of his friends children

But sometimes he would watch Tae teaching Haneul to dance standing on his toes, or see Hoseok playing hide and seek with Seojoon, and he would feel this strange ache in his heart

When they found out Yoongi’s wife was pregnant, they considered not going through with the pregnancy, but ultimately decided against it after one of the members let slip that Yoongi’s wife was pregnant and then all of the kids ran up to Yoongi with eyes as big as dinner plates, asking eagerly if they were going to have another little sister. 

As soon as Yoongi saw Yoona for the first time, he realised how stupid he was for not wanting children earlier. but he was almost grateful that he hadn’t had them earlier, because if he had then they wouldn’t be Yoona. And Yoona is perfect.

She’s babied by the entire group. Mina and Haewon are only five when she’s born and they love playing with her. She’s never left alone for a moment —  like Yoongi feared she would be since all of the other kids were so close in age and Yoona was so much younger. 

All of the children want their chance to play with Yoona and even the members love being able to play with a baby again after their children had outgrown it. 

If Yoona ever tries to start dating… oh boy. 

just to recap, the couples are...

↳ Kim Haneul and Park Jihae

↳ Kim Namgyu and Jeon Mina

↳ Jung Seojoon and Kim Haewon

[my-randominterests]

Older woman-younger man pairings, social hierarchy, and Hyena:

One of the things that immediately stands out about Hyena is the age difference of the main leads. In-drama, the age gap is lowered to about 4-5 years (I think), but in reality Kim Hyesoo is 12 years older than Ju Jihoon. 

It’s a type of pairing seen rarely in media, especially where the actress in question is 49. A lot of people were apprehensive about this casting too, with some being downright awful to Kim Hyesoo. (It’s sad, considering how naturally society accepts the image of much older men paired with younger women.) But it turned out KHS and JJH were so electric on screen together that, for many, this drama was something of a revelation, broadening their horizons of what is possible. 

Personally, I was already a fan of noona romances to begin with, but Hyena has definitely left me wanting more middle-aged actresses being paired with actors 10-ish years younger. 

As for why...there’s the draw of addressing double standards and society’s discomfort with older women to be sure, but honestly? I just find confident women and cute men appealing, and older woman-younger man couples tend to bring that dynamic out the most out of hetero relationships.

This is especially true for Korea, where age plays a big role in social hierarchy. Normally, women would be expected to abide by stronger social rules than men and overall act more politely. But age is a counter-force, and younger men have to act and speak more politely to older women. Age grants women confidence and a sense of authority in the relationship, and gives men the societal allowance to be a little more vulnerable and cute. That’s why "regular” romances often have shy, innocent young women as the main character but noona romances allow women to be more forward and worldly, and even take the lead. (It’s especially pronounced once the age gap gets bigger, and if the woman is on the older side.)

In this context, I find Hyena interesting because it fully utilizes, but also kind of ignores, the age dynamic. 

On one hand: The drama fully uses Kim Hyesoo’s older age and seniority in the industry to go bold as hell with Geumja’s character - and let her be as charismatic, shameless, and forward as Geumja deserves to be. I love that Geumja takes on a lot of aspects of the typical male lead in a Kdrama, and this wouldn’t work if she was younger.

And Heejae’s younger-man status gives Ju Jihoon and the writer more leeway for his character be childish and cute in an appealing way, while also helping to cover for his flaws. For example: I would feel differently about his jealousy if a younger, softer woman was his romantic partner. But with Geumja, I just found him cute. (Baby duck Heejae!)

But on the other hand, the drama de-emphasizes the significance of age. It’s not just about the drama being casual about Geumja and Heejae’s age difference, but the characters in general tend to show less regard for seniority than real life working members of Korean society. And significantly, Heejae talks to Geumja like they’re the same age. Heejae’s honestly being extremely rude to her - enough that Ju Jihoon said he was freaking out about saying some of his lines to Kim Hyesoo - but it comes off as appealing to Koreans rather than rude because:

Heejae does have a line he won’t cross - e.g. he calls her Jung Geumja, but never just Geumja. (Uhhh I don't really know how to explain why one is okay but other isn’t, but it just doesn't sound as rude?)

Geumja already has so much power over Heejae that it evens the playing field - It's his way of protecting his pride and making her take him seriously.

Tbh Heejae has the right to call her worse things.

Actually, taking this line of thought further - I find Hyena’s vision of Korea interesting. In Hyena, while Korean cultural rules still exist, they hold less power. Social hierarchies like age, gender, and class are less enforced, or sometimes ignored all together, and characters behave in ways that are not yet possible without huge backlash in real life. It’s a version of our world where women and younger, poorer people can actually climb up and play on the same field as powerful older men, without having to play civil. It’s not a revolutionary message - I’d rather see the established power systems dismantled instead - but it’s cathartic to see the characters say shocking, rude lines that other dramas would not have given them. (And admittedly a lot of fun to see the types of characters that were reserved for men be played by women.)

So Hyena ends up being a work that brings out a duality in me: I love the relative freedom from cultural bindings that the drama grants its characters but I also love that it really leans into the appeal of noona romances that comes from Korea’s age hierarchy. They seem rather contradictory, but somehow they coexist in this drama. And that is Hyena’s unique appeal for me. 

[cloudykaii]

Matter

pairing: jung hoseok x sister!reader [PLATONIC]

summary:  Hello, can I request a brother!hoseok imagine where like once bts rly took off he starts ignoring his little sister (reader) and the other boys gradually do as well so she tries to contact them and they hint that she’s annoying and they don’t want to see her... (if ur comfortable), reader going through depression and maybe self harming I know it’s hard but maybe fluffy ending ? Sorry this request is so loaded LOL

warnings: mentions of regrets, cursing, overuse of commas, neglect, bad brothers

The worst part of it all, is that at first you thought he would never do something like that. Not Hoseok, your older brother and you looked up to your entire life. You just didn’t think he had it in him. After he watched over you,and protected you for years growing up. you never actually thought that your brother and best friend would be the one to do something like this. 

Your friends saw it coming, which somehow made it worse. Every time you’d call him only to get his voicemail, or your texts would get left on read for weeks, and when he finally did answer, he’d give you generic replies. Every time your friends would say he forgot about you, but you would defend him saying he was busy, and even if he wasn’t the boys were like a family to him, so he was probably just relaxing with them. You defended him every time. 

But now you were wondering if it was ever worth it. Your friends had tried to tell you to stop trying to get in touch with you brother, because it only ever ended up with you being sad and him having the time of his life across the globe. You didn’t contact him this time, though. You thought he had called you. When the phone rang, and Hoseok’s name flashed across the screen, you answered immediately. “Hobi, you finally-”

But the sounds you got in return were less than desired. 

“Why do you look so upset? Y/N’s not calling you again, is she?”

You weren’t able to recognize who the muffled voice belonged to, but you heard the words enough. Did you really bother him that much? You heard chuckles on the other end of the line. 

“No, I told her last night I didn’t have time to talk to her. She didn’t need to know that it was because she gets on my nerves.”

You heard more laughs, bringing tears to your eyes. All you had wanted to do was talk to your brother. It wasn’t like you had unrealistic expectations. Did you? Were you really in the wrong for wanting to have a conversation with your brother?

“Well, that’s for sure. It’s like every time you sit down, her name is on the screen. Doesn’t she know when to stop?”

Your friend gently took the phone from your hand, which was good because you didn’t think you would be able to hear any more. “You’re a fucking asshole, Jung Hoseok,” you heard her hiss into the phone just before hanging up. She tossed the phone onto your bed, and looked at you with sympathy. 

“Oh, honey,” she pulled you into her arms, sitting on your bed beside you so she could comfort you. “He’s an asshole.”

“He’s supposed to be my older brother,” you whispered. “I just wanted to talk to him. He used to be there for everything, like I’m there for him. Why is it that now that he’s famous, he’s a whole new person?”

Your friend winced. She had a decently healthy relationship with her family; she had no idea what she should do. “I don’t know, Y/N,” she tried to soothe you as you started crying.

Your brother on the other hand, found himself waking up to sharp knocking on his door. “I’m coming,” he called sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he crawled out from under the blankets and made his way to his front door. “Dawon? What are you doing here?”

His older sister stormed past him inside his apartment, and turned to face him with the harshest glare he’d ever seen. “What is the matter with you? Genuinely, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He frowned. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Dawon crossed her arms. “Knowing that you made your baby sister think she wasn’t good enough doesn’t affect you at all? You’re fine knowing what you did?”

Hoseok frowned. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to Y/N.”

The laugh that left her was sarcastic. “You are honestly such an asshole. You ignored her for weeks, and then you had the nerve to call her annoying?! I went to go check on her this morning because I hadn’t heard from her in a couple days, and she’s been so stressed out with college, I was worried she hadn’t been eating again. I bet you didn’t even know that happened the first time, did you? Probably not, since Y/N didn’t even know you were in the country. Guess what I found when I got there? I was greeted by her roommate telling me Y/N had cried herself to sleep because you accidentally called her and she had to hear exactly what you think of her.”

His eyes widened. “No, wait, it’s not what it-”

His sister glowered at him. “She has been defending you this entire time. You will talk to me, or anyone else, but Y/N, and she hasn’t said a bad thing about you, yet. She looked up to you for years, and for some reason she still does. She thinks she’s a bad sister, and blocked you so that she couldn’t be a distraction to you, anymore. I have never seen my sister like this,” her voice broke, and Hoseok felt like the worst person in the world. “Fix this,” she pointed at him. “Fix this before we lose our sister.”

And then she left, slamming his door, and leaving her brother to stare at the ground and wonder just what the hell he had done. He didn’t know you had been overwhelmed by college. Had it really been that long since he had had an actual conversation with you? God, he fucked up. 

He had no idea how he was supposed to fix this, but he still found himself knocking on your door, and hoping he had the right place. He didn’t even know where you lived...

You opened the door, frowning, but you gasped when you saw him standing there. You grabbed his forearm and yanked him inside. “What are you doing here? You guys just released statements about fans following you and you show up at a college unannounced? What is the matter with you?”

Somehow, those words hurt more when they came from a place of caring within you. He grimaced as he shut the door. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

You chewed your lower lip. “If this is about what I heard the other day, don’t worry about it. i get it. You were probably stressed or something.”

You still managed to defend him, and the smile on your face broke his heart. “I wasn’t exactly busy..”

You brushed it off. “It’s cool. I shouldn’t be trying to talk to you so often. That’s got to be distracting. Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

Your brother ran a hand through his hair. “No, Y/N, that’s not it! I’m not too busy to talk to you, I’m just an asshole!”

“You’re not-”

“But I am,” he finally exploded. “I’m the worst brother in the world, and you’re easily the best sister, and I don’t deserve to have you as mine. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know that you got accepted to college! I promised that nothing would change, and I would always be there for you, even when we got big, and I didn’t keep that promise and I’m sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say as you wiped your face. When did you even start crying? “Hoseok, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“This time,” he muttered, still looking right at you, “But there won’t be a next time. I don’t know how many times you called me because you needed your brother, but I’ll be here now,” he said, nodding his head as if it helped make his statement final. 

You couldn’t help but shake your head. “That sounds great, but I heard what you said. You don’t actually want that.”

It was his turn to shake his head as he violently disagreed with you. “No. You’re not annoying and you don’t get on my nerves, Y/N. I was just being an idiot. I promise, I’ll be your big brother again. I don’t want to lose my sister because I made a mistake.”

You sighed, moving closer to hug him. “You won’t. But I can’t keep getting updates about you on twitter because you won’t answer my texts.”

He reassured you once again that he would be a better brother, and you smiled. This was all you wanted, just your older brother back. Now that you had him, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

“Okay, so tell me what all I’ve missed out on.”

“So there’s this one bitch in my class...”

[yarasun]

La Douleur Exquise; l.jn

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: For you so loved him deeply, but all he needed from you was to satisfy his venereal desires. Lee Jeno was the painful yet ethereal lust, while Na Jaemin was your salvation. To love Lee Jeno was to endure in agony, but what could you do when his own best friend made you feel what true love is?

Author’s Note: This is my second one shot under the “Heir / Heiress AU”. Special credits to the Kdrama “The Inheritors” where I got the business school idea from and also credits to the owner of the photo used as the cover. I hope you guys check out Lee Donghyuck’s Illicit Desire, the first book of this series. Enjoy!

His fingers burned your skin as it roamed all over your body. Jeno has always been the needy type. The way he pulls you closer to his body, his hand gripping firmly on your waist while the other tugs on your hair, you decide that he needed you. He needed you to be there when he was scared. He needed you to be there and kiss his lips, whispering soothing words and telling him he is not weak. He needed you to tangle your arms around his neck and make him feel like he is worth everything. In summarization, he needed you to be there whenever he pleases, for you were simply his best friend, and it was your duty to satisfy his needs, for you, fell in love with Lee Jeno.

"Jeno." You whispered as Jeno buried his head on your neck, inhaling deeply. He hums in response and proceeds to trail kisses down your neck. You shivered at his antics and tried desperately to avoid falling deeper for this devil in front of you. Lee Jeno was the majestic yet dangerous creature that the gods sent to wreck your life. He was gorgeous, a holy embodiment of a deity, but cursed with the heart of Zeus; wretched and damaged. He didn't care who he'd hurt, or what his actions could case, as long as he felt good about himself. As long as he knew, you'd still be there for him in the end, he didn't care how much he'd hurt you. For you so loved Lee Jeno, that despite the pain he brings into your life you'd still welcome him back with open arms.

"We need to go. I still have classes." You said and Jeno sighed. "Can't you skip classes baby?" He asks and nibbles on your skin. "Unlike you, I need to study hard to succeed. I don't get what I want on silver platters." You say and pried Jeno's hands off your body. You were a third-tier student in the school, which meant you were simply given a scholarship by your father's company president, which happens to be Lee Jeno's father.

Lee Jeno's family owned one of the biggest real estate agencies in Korea. Just like his group of friends, he was also an heir to the company's position of CEO. Jeno's older sister was supposed to be the heiress to the position, but she left the country to pursue her own career, thus pushing the title towards Jeno. He seemed unbothered by the decision, but deep inside, he hates his sister for being selfish. For she never asked Jeno if he would be alright with the responsibilities, she simply fled away one day, and only spoke to their father about the decision. Therefore, Jeno had no choice, but to comply.

Meanwhile you, were nothing like Lee Jeno. Your father worked for Jeno's company, he serves food and washed the dishes in the kitchen and cafeteria. Which was the sole reason you ever got the chance to study in such a prestigious school like this. Mr. Lee, Jeno's father, was a generous and kind man, he was thankful for your father's hard work for the company, and decided to award him, by giving you a full scholarship. Thus, you've always been guilty for going behind his back and having a relationship with his son. But then again, would you really call it a relationship? No, it was more like an affair, for Jeno was already set off to be engaged with his girlfriend. She was an heir to a smaller real estate company, and according to Jeno, she could be the key to expanding their business further.

Now, these were a few points you disliked about the whole business school thing. People use others, like their partners, or even other family members, in order to expand their business, and gain more money. It was and always will be about the money. Having emotions, or an attraction to others, could either be a benefit for the company, or a threat to it. And this, was the reason as to why you and Jeno could never be. For you were a threat to the company.

Jeno cupped your face in his large hands and placed a soft kiss on your lips. It was unlike his normal kisses; rough and full of lust. This one felt genuine, loving as if everything was set on the right track. You blinked your hopeless thoughts away and pulled away from Jeno. You and Jeno could never. You were not meant for each other. He belonged with his friends, his girlfriend and his family reputation. You belonged with your father, ragged clothes and in a maid sized apartment. You were polar opposites, and Jeno would never settle for someone so imperfect and messed up. He would never settle for you.

"I got to go Jeno." You said and picked up your bag from the floor. Zipping up your turtle neck jacket, you tried desperately to cover up the new marks Jeno left on your skin. No one knows about your little sessions with Jeno except for his friends maybe. And as friends of Jeno, they've always kept it from others, especially from Seo Yun, Jeno's girlfriend. You heard Jeno sigh but you didn't want to deal with Professor Jung's lecture about time management, so you left him in there and ran to class.

Luckily, you arrived a few minutes before the professor arrived. Taking your seat beside Na Jaemin, one of Jeno's friend, he gives you a soft smile and continues scrolling through his phone. You adjusted your jacket and placed your head on the table, trying to get at least a minute of rest. "Did Jeno call you to meet up early morning again?" You heard Jaemin's deep voice and peeked your eyes to look at him. "What?" You asked and Jaemin placed his phone in his bag and crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk crept up his beautiful lips

Na Jaemin, just like his friends were agonizingly beautiful. They walk in the campus and everyone has their heads turned, staring in awe as their holy presence graced each and every one in the school. Girls squealed and dreamt for them to graze their fingers against their skins, while boys hoped to be as good looking and talented as the Dreamies. All of them were pulchritudinous, as if torn off from pages of fantasy novels. Especially Na Jaemin, out of their group, he received the most attention from girls due to his soft smile that serve as a panacea, deep voice and well-built figure. Aside this, Jaemin was a sweetheart, he loved to be touchy and clingy towards his friends and he was always seen messing around with Lee Jeno. Maybe that's the reason why you and Jaemin were also good friends. Jaemin knew about your social status and your tier in the school, but he's never judged you about it.

"The tier thing in school is useless, I don't see the point in making a big deal about it. I believe everyone can be successful despite their social status. Therefore, Y/N, study hard and prove my belief." As said by Na Jaemin when he saw you washing dishes with your father in the kitchen of Jeno's company. He offered to help despite your persuasion that you could handle it. Since then, the both of you have been good friends.

"Look princess, we both know Lee Jeno has you all wrapped around his finger. So, what time did he bother you again?" He asked, and you groaned. "4 am." You answered and rubbed your eyes. You weren't able to sleep well last night due to the number of reviewers you had to go through in order to catch up with the lessons in class, and Jeno calling to meet up with you at 4 am, surely didn't help. Jaemin frowned at your answer and rubbed your back soothingly. He's always been an angel. Unlike Lee Jeno, Jaemin could never hurt you. As much as you think you might be delusional, it's true, Na Jaemin didn't have the heart to hurt anyone. Sometimes, you even wished that it was him. That you fell for Na Jaemin instead. But no, you fancied the idea of being friends with Lee Jeno, of having him call you anytime he wanted to make himself feel less vulnerable. You liked the idea of getting hurt for Lee Jeno, consider yourself a masochist, but it was true. There was no denying that you've already kissed the devil's lips.

"As much as I'd love to indulge in the comfort of you rubbing my back. Please have mercy on me, I would not like to get involved in dramas with your admirers." You said and Jaemin laughed. His hand left your back, and only then were you able to breathe normally. Jaemin's group of admirers were crazy. If you got caught being friendly with them, or even talking with them, expect rumors and hate to slap your face the next day. Honestly, not only does this apply to Na Jaemin, but the whole group. They were well-known and if given the title, would probably be considered the rulers of the school. The Dreamies indeed were majestic. They possessed such charms that were out of this world. It's like they were designed by Van Gogh, and brought to life. Despite the name, they were not as dreamy as they seem to be. For loving them is a nightmare. And you'd willingly drown in that nightmare, just to feel Jeno's skin graze roughly against yours.

___

"You seem really tired." Park Jisung. He was the youngest out of the group. Jisung was remarkably talented. He was an amazing dancer, the best out of the best for his age. You've always enjoyed watching their dance performances during events hosted by the school. The way they moved in sync with the music and each other, how their bodies seem to fly beautifully across the stage, watching the Dreamies perform was always worth it. But if you were to be honest with yourself, it was mostly Lee Jeno that caught your attention. How his toned body seemed much visible because of the plain white shirt sticking to his body caused by his excessive sweating. The way he breathed heavily after every performance, it lured you to falling deeper than the depths of Tartarus.

"Thanks for pointing it out. I never noticed." You deadpanned and Jisung scrunches his nose in the most adorable way possible. "Why are you here anyways?" You asked as you popped a piece of sliced apple into your mouth. Your classes were done for the day and you decided to sit by the bench in front of the school's football field. "Jaemin, Renjun and Donghyuck are still in class and Chenle left early today for he had to work on some matters with his mother." Jisung says and he steals a sliced apple from your lunchbox and popping it into his mouth.

As expected, Na Jaemin, Huang Renjun and Lee Donghyuck were obviously still in class. Unlike the other members of their group, the three of them were high achievers. Other students would simply have 10-13 classes, but the 3 of them decided to add 2 or 3 extra classes into their schedule just for the purpose of getting more credits. "How about Jeno?" You asked. Jisung shrugged and pointed over towards the school's parking lot.

Your eyes landed on Jeno's Selenite Gray Mercedes Benz SLC Roadster. He was leaning on the hood of the car where Han Seo Yun was sitting on. From afar, you can clearly see Jeno's hands roam all over her body, desperately trying to pull her as close as possible. You bit your lip to avoid showing any signs of emotions, especially with Jisung beside you. Although Park Jisung knew about your little secret with his best friend, you didn't want to talk to him about it. Jisung was too innocent, and dragging him further into the problem would just cause burden for him. So, the best thing to do was to act as if you didn't care. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with Jeno." He says and pats your back reassuringly. All of the Dreamies seemed to be so sweet and kind, except for Lee Jeno. You smiled bitterly at Jisung and simply stood up.

As soon as you were about to leave, you bumped into a stiff figure. You tilted your head up slightly to meet face to face with Na Jaemin and his perfect smile. "Easy their princess. Where are you off to in such a rush?" He asked and you glanced swiftly at the couple by the Mercedes Benz. Jaemin's eyes trailed after yours and pursed his lips. Grabbing your hand, he drags you out of the field and towards the parking lot. You tried desperately to pull your hand back, and run away for you had no idea what Jaemin was planning. He could expose you and Jeno and that would be the end of everything.

"Hey, tell the others that I won't be able to hangout. I'll be with Y/N." Jaemin says as Jeno and Seo Yun turn their heads to face both of you. Jaemin's hands was gripping on your wrist and you swear, if looks could burn, your wrist would be ashes by now. "What?" Jeno asks, clearly confused with the whole situation. He stared at Jaemin with such power, you felt the tension in the air. But why? What's causing such suffocating aura in the air?

"Or rather, just cancel the plans for today. Donghyuck will be with his girlfriend today. Chenle left early. Renjun might not be out until 9 pm tonight, and Jisung might visit Mark at his apartment to run over a few errands. I can't be the one to third-wheel with you and Seo Yun now can I? So, I'll be with Y/N.  We can reschedule next week." He says and Jeno simply kept his mouth shut. It was palpable that Jeno was completely appalled by the scenario in front of him. You were his. He makes it clear every time he sunk his teeth into your soft skin, by was another man holding your hand? And that man so happened to be his very best friend.

"Shall we go princess?" Jaemin's voice soothed your mind as his hand comes up to rest on the small of your back. You nodded and Jaemin intertwined his fingers with yours, slowly tugging you to walk with him. Before you could take more than 2 steps, Jeno grabs your hand and grips on it firmly. You stared at Jeno, unable to properly comprehend your emotions as his hand burns your flesh. There was a quick change in his emotions, something that passed his eyes for a swift moment, before disappearing once more. Was it pain? Disappointment? Guilt?

Before he could say anything, you pulled your hand away and followed behind Jaemin. You didn't know and you would never know the emotions that took over Jeno after that, for you decided not to look back. You decided to show him, that he couldn't control you as much as he pleased. To show him, that you didn't love him as much as he thought you did. But of course, that was all just an act, a semblance. For you loved Lee Jeno too much to turn your back on him, except for this day.

___

"Are you alright princess?" Jaemin asked and you nodded. Strapping the seatbelt over your body, Jaemin puts the car on reverse, and drives his Nightfall Mica Lexus LC500 out of the school's drive way. He leans over slightly to grab your hand and place it on the gear, his hand covering yours. Na Jaemin has always been touchy and clingy, so you relaxed into the warmth that emitted from his hand and stared out the window, buildings passing by in a blur.

You sighed and the scenario with Jeno, Jaemin and Seo Yun replayed in your mind. Jaemin's hold on your hand was gentle, and comforting. Meanwhile, Jeno's grip on your wrist was rough and you could feel the anger radiate off his skin. As if his blood boiled at the sight of Jaemin's hands intertwined with yours. But why would he be mad? Aside the hungry kisses and violet marks that decorated your shoulders and neck, there was no ties between you and Jeno. You were his friend, the one that he calls over to make out with, in order for his vexation to subside. Your little relationship is known as a mere "Friends with Benefits".

Na Jaemin's finger rubbed soothing circles over your hand as he held it up to his face and kissed it softly. Jaemin was beautiful, comforting and he had this feeling of home. You wished it was him you fell in love with, not Lee Jeno. For Jaemin would make you feel what true love was, Jaemin could teach you how fascinating it is to love, and to be loved. You've always felt right when you were with Jaemin, he made you feel accepted, valued and he made you feel that despite your imperfections, you were worth loving. However, you don't want that feeling of satisfaction, you want thrill, pain and risks. In which, only Lee Jeno could make you feel that way. You'd gladly burn in flames with Jeno, for you loved the affliction that Lee Jeno brought into your life. You would suffer for Lee Jeno, for he was worth it.

"Why did you do that?" You asked and Jaemin hummed innocently. He continued grazing your hand softly and you leaned comfortably on his leather seat. "Not only will Jeno get mad at me, but there's a chance he might argue with you." You said and Jaemin nodded as he pulled into the parking lot of Heio's. "I needed to show Jeno that you weren't his, and he had no right to call you his. Nor does he have rights to call you at 4 am to satisfy his sexual desires. You're not a tool princess." He was right, but what could you do? You've already fallen for Lee Jeno and his agonizing love.

You got out the car and Jaemin intertwined his fingers with yours. Not giving it any thought, you walked with Jaemin into the café, your hands swinging in harmony. Picking the booth beside the window, you left Jaemin to place your orders as you pulled out a notebook and pen. Skimming through the notes, you listed a few extra points to remember for your upcoming tests.

"Actually, it goes this way." Jaemin's voice rung in your ears as he places the tray with food on the table. There was a large sized caramel milkshake and a medium iced latte macchiato. Jaemin and his addiction to coffee, you smiled at the thought of it. Beverage aside, Jaemin made sure to order your favorite strawberry cake and some cinnamon rolls. As soon as he took his seat, he leaned over to explain to you a few mistakes in the topics. Jaemin was actually really smart.

In their group, Lee Donghyuck was the smartest one. He was the highest scoring student of the whole school in the previous year. It was no shock as to why he held that position, despite Donghyuck's stentorian and frolicsome persona, he was an achiever. You would often see him in the library with Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin, or in Heio's with a pile of books in front of him. In fact, all of the Dreamies were exceptionally gifted, but it was the three of them that stood out most in terms of academics.

A smile crept up Na Jaemin's lips as he placed his pen back into his pouch, and closing his notebook. Your head weighed down on Jaemin's shoulder as he moved around slowly, trying his best to avoid waking you up. After decluttering the table, Jaemin tucked a strand of hair off behind your ear.

Your milky skin tone, puffed and blushed cheeks, your pouted pink lips that he wishes to brush his lips against, and your long black hair that he wished to tangle his fingers in. You were a goddess sent from above, Jaemin couldn't help but stare in awe. The way you walk as if you were confident and independent, but deep inside, your calloused fingers and bruised neck and shoulders from Lee Jeno's bite marks, breaks his heart. Na Jaemin hated the way Jeno treated you, as if you were some toy that he could mess with whenever he pleased, and throw away when he was bored, he despised it. Jeno was his best friend, but you were his first love, and as much as it hurts, Jaemin could never do anything to break you away from him, for he knew how much you were infatuated with Lee Jeno.

"Princess, I'll drive you home." He whispers and you stirred, your eyes slowly fluttering open. Jaemin's heart swelled at the view, you were gorgeous, too fragile for this wretched and damned world. He hated seeing you cover up in your hoodies and jackets due to those bruises left by his best friend. Besides that, he knew how broken Jeno was, but it was no excuse to use two people at once. He hooks up with you to feel better about himself, while he uses Seo Yun for business purposes and maintaining his name and reputation. He never truly understood the point of it, but who was he to judge?

As soon as Jaemin pulled up in the basement of your apartment, he runs over to your side and picks up your bag. He wraps a protective arm behind your waist and escorts you into your apartment. You were too tired to be able to walk properly to Jaemin, the gentleman that he was, insisted on accompanying you until you were inside your home safely. Knocking on the door, your dad opened the door and welcomed Jaemin with a wide smile. He bowed slightly and brought you over to the couch, setting your bag down and allowing you to sit comfortably.

"I have to head home princess. Good night and please, have plenty of rest." He says and kisses the top of your head. Turning to your father, he bows once more and gives him a big plastic with food in it, "Sir, please accept this. It's my little treat for you and Y/N, I hope you enjoy the food." He says and your father pats his shoulder, giving him a thanks before he walked out the cramped apartment.

"Father, feel free to finish that. I already ate with Jaemin. Enjoy it. I'll take a rest now." You said and kissed his cheek, picking up your bag and walking into your room. Grabbing your cracked phone from your bag, a message popped up on the screen. It was from Jeno.

"Do you honestly think I'll allow you and Jaemin to get closer with each other? Baby, you're mine. And Jaemin won't be able to do anything about it. If I were you, I would not let some false fantasies of a happily ever after with Jaemin distract you. It will never happen."

[yeojaa]

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why.  Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds.  When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you.  "Yes."  Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic.  Always had been.  It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary.  You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  who knows, honestly.  the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.  

tags.  blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~3500

chapter 3.  

하루의 시작이 너로 가득 차서 혼자 남겨졌을 땐 괜히 불안해져 yeah 흐릿한 내 맘에 들려와 너의 따뜻한 목소리가 Baby I'm falling for you

The melody fills your senses, a sweet lullaby that sits just beyond your comprehension.  You're too focused on the sandwich board in front of the till, the daily offerings catching your interest even while you hum to yourself.  There's the croissant sandwich you love - always with turkey - but then there's also a new brûlée French toast and it's so tempting with the little chalk drawing beside it.

"Good morning,"  you greet the girl at the cash register with a kind smile.  She returns it, following your gaze, and you almost blush at how easily she reads your mind.  

"You should try something new."  You were definitely here too often.

"I know buuuut..."  The petal of your bottom lip is caught between two teeth and you look like you've been tasked with an impossible choice.  "I'll get the French toast to stay and the croissant to go.  Oh, and a cappuccino, please."  There, compromise.  You could stay at the café for a while.  You weren't due into the studio until later and you wanted to get some writing done, anyway.  You'd felt inspired since yesterday's events.  

The girl is ringing you up as efficiently as she always does, nodding politely at you as you take the ceramic cup set and step aside. 

You make a beeline for your usual spot by the window.  You're glad it's not too busy - the last time you'd been there, some students had taken it first and you'd had to make due with the booth farther in.  It hadn't really been that big of a deal but you were a creature of habit.  You liked your sunshine and the way the potted plants hung over your head, vines occasionally tickling your ear if you leaned too far to one side.

Kim Namjoon says "turn around" with a smiley face.

The voice makes you almost jump out of your own skin.  Goddamn Siri.

You're grateful you'd set your drink down, though the spoon still clatters noisily when you whip around.  Where was he?  

Narrowed eyes survey the interior, drifting from head to head.  There's once or twice that you think you see him before realizing that shade of grey isn't quite right, the pretty purple tone missing.  You huff and focus harder, gaze flickering from the farthest corner of the bistro to the table that's only a few feet away.  

That's when you see him.  Or them, rather.  All six of them.

Yoongi is a familiar face, platinum blond sweeping over his feline stare as he offers a brief smirk.  He makes no other indication toward you, instead flicking his attention to the other men grouped at his table.  You follow his line of sight down the back row of chairs.  

Namjoon is beside him, his mouth pulled into that signature tight-lipped smile.  There are crinkles at the edges of his eyes and mirth playing in the depths.  You don't think you've ever seen him so coy.  It's different though, more child-like amusement than the unbridled passion he exudes in the studio.  It squares his jaw, working the muscle there as if he's holding back a laugh.  You're suddenly suspicious.

Someone you don't recognize is next to him.  Even though he's a stranger, you can't help but gawk.  It's like looking at the sun he's so bright.  His auburn hair falls in soft waves, parted over his forehead.  He's got a daintily-upturned nose and sharp cheekbones.  You can only describe him as pretty.

Opposite him sits another stranger, though he's craning his neck around to look at you.  You're immediately struck with how soft he looks, from the pillows of his lips to the way his cheeks bounce when he smiles.  You resist the strangest urge to smooth his dove grey hair back, if only to offer you a better view of his eyes and the way they crescent.  "I'm Park Jimin."  His voice is nothing like you would've expected.  It's honey that seeps past his lips, mellowed and enticing.  You think you could get lost in it - in him.

But then you're noticing the person in the center because he's staring at you and you'd find his eyes in any crowd.  

"Kim Taehyung?"  His name rolls off your tongue in surprise and you're a little embarrassed by how breathless it sounds, like you've just run a marathon or pressed a million kisses into the frame of his mouth.  

You're not sure whether it's your imagination but he seems hesitant, more reserved.  It's a good look on him.  Still, his smile is captivating.  He rakes a hand through his dark hair, pushing it away from his forehead as he tries to find his words.  He certainly hadn't expected to run into you so soon. 

Whatever moment he has is stolen by the figure closest to you, whose voice sparks recognition and the most all-encompassing smile possible.  "Hi, Jiyeon."  Your former classmate is greeting you with the loveliest hue dusting the tops of his ears, his little bunny grin growing wider with each passing second.  You remember, immediately, why you'd fallen so easily for him.  

"Small world, huh?"  It's an understatement but you laugh anyway, meeting Namjoon's twinkling eyes.

You ignore the fact that you're still standing, hovering between your two tables.  You know your coffee is getting cold.  "Do all the good-looking guys in Seoul know each other?"  

You're rewarded by magenta sprouting like weeds across the faces of Jungkook and Jimin - you think that was his name - the colour draping over their cheeks adorably.  On the other hand, the stranger that hasn't yet introduced himself simply beams, flicking his bangs from his face in a devil may care motion.  Taehyung smiles, more to himself than you, shaking his head in the same instance.  Your two mentors don't react - they're used to your antics.

"Something like that,"  Namjoon answers, cool as a cucumber.  "You know everyone but Jimin and Hoseok then?"  He gestures to the two and you repeat both names in your head. 

"I introduced myself,"  the angelic one, Jimin, supplies with pride.  He sneaks a glance at you when he thinks you're not looking but your sights are on him.  He's so endearing you want to wrap him up and take him home.

"I'm Jung Hoseok."  The speaker salutes you from his spot because you're too far away for him to offer his hand and he was raised with manners.

"Nice to meet you both,"  you crow, waving sweetly. 

"What're you doing here?"  Ever the chameleon, Namjoon carries the conversation.

You're grateful, if not a little surprised.  While he was friendly enough - and an incredible teacher - your interactions with him had almost exclusively been limited to the studio.  You'd gone for dinner with he and Yoongi a handful of times, the three of you patting yourselves on the back with tasty braised ribs and lamb skewers when the notes came together just right.  He'd always been gracious, walking you to the bus or waiting for a cab with you, but you were hardly thick as thieves. 

"I thought I would get some work done before heading in."  You're about to continue, gesticulating toward your canvas bag, when you notice the waitress approaching.  You stifle your disappointment and take a step back, bowing ever so slightly.  "I should leave you alone, though.  Please eat well."

No one stops you when you scurry away and you can't blame them - they look ravenous.

"That's her, huh?"  Hoseok is the only one not stuffing his face because he, unlike the others, had indulged a full breakfast before his first class at six in the morning.  Still, he nibbles at his potatoes, pleased with the crisp edges before he shovels another one into his awaiting mouth.

Sounds of affirmation come from the two youngest, both of whom have been surprisingly quiet the entire time.  It's not enough that they'd been starving - there's something different about their silence.

"When are you seeing her next?"  It's Yoongi speaking, casually curious.  He prides himself on generally staying out of his friend's business unless they bring it to him but this situation is just so funny.  What a small world indeed.

"Don't know,"  Taehyung answers honestly, wiping at the side of his lips with his napkin.  He considers the question thoughtfully, shoveling another forkful of egg into his mouth.  It melts on his tongue.  So good.  "I hadn't really thought about it yet.  I still barely know her, so I don't know how to approach it."  

He hadn't expected this to elicit sudden advice from the men around the table, his head snapping up in disbelief.

"She couldn't stop staring at you.  I don't think you've got anything to worry about."  Easy for Hoseok to say, with his new adoring girlfriend.  It was always easier to dole out relationship advice when you felt you were still on cloud nine.

"You said she's a hopeless romantic, right?  Use that to your advantage."  Wise words from Jimin, because unlike the others, he and Taehyung had similar personalities.  They thrived on romance, found meaning in longing glances and butterfly kisses.  They wanted to present their adoration with a big white bow or on their sleeve for all to see. 

"Take it easy on her, though."  Yoongi, once again, but with an unexpected edge to his voice.  This catches everyone's attention.

It's obvious they're waiting for him to continue but he doesn't, instead turning his focus once more to his breakfast and cutting a small morsel to pop into his mouth.  They know he isn't going to say anything further when he does it again, staring straight ahead like he's in his own little world.  Typical.  Instead, they implore the only other person who seems nonplussed:  Namjoon.

The rapper's response isn't immediate.  In fact, it seems almost like he's not going to offer anything up either, just like a certain blond.  When he does, the table releases a collective breath.  "She went through a break up a few months ago."  Despite the din of the restaurant and the fact that you're very clearly caught up in your own world, large studio headphones pulled tight over your ears, Namjoon speaks carefully.  "She didn't talk about it but she asked us to help her with some songs."  He shrugs then, deeming that enough.

Yoongi doesn't mean his next words in any special way.  There's no pining in his voice or underlying emotion.  He's not the type.  "So don't hurt her."  Nonetheless, Taehyung gets the message loud and clear, nodding solemnly until the other's eyes have drifted off. 

The rest of breakfast carries on with little excitement, just the casual chatter of six men that have been best friends longer than they can remember.  Yoongi and Namjoon drift into their own little world, a laugh punctuating their interaction as the latter brightly claps the other's shoulder.  It draws a relaxed smile from the smaller man.  Hoseok is, surprisingly, buried in his phone.  A glance at the screen indicates a very active KaTalk window.  From the big goofy look on his face, it's easy to guess who he's messaging. 

It's only when he pushes away from his seat in a grand gesture that things refocus, everyone's attention trained on the dancer.  "I'm heading out.  It was nice seeing you."  With a cheerful wave, he's dragging his bucket hat over his tawny strands and making a beeline for the door.

This seems to spur everyone else into action.  

"I'm going to nap."  The statement is punctuated by a yawn, Jimin's gaze swiveling to his roommate.  "Are you coming home?"

Taehyung can feel all four pairs of eyes on him and he nods.  "Yeah, I'll come back with you."  It sounds halfhearted and a little wistful, especially when he hazards a glance in your direction.  You're still absorbed in whatever it is you're doing, pencil flying across paper in short bursts before being struck out with sharp lines. 

"We're heading to the studio,"  Namjoon speaks for two.

That leaves Jungkook, who has something of a grin on his face.  It's satisfied and a little bit indulgent, like the cat that ate the canary.  "I'll say bye to Jiyeon."  There are things he isn't saying, flickers of truth just beneath the surface as he offers a cheery wave to his friends.  "Later, hyungs." 

It's a dismissal as much as it is a goodbye.  

Both Jimin and Taehyung share a look - one that reads what the hell? - before they're being ushered out of their seats by their elders who, as always, are perfectly unbothered.  

You dimly acknowledge that their table has emptied but don't have enough time to consider it when you notice the looming figure to your left.  It blocks the light above you, throwing everything into faint shadow.  You almost say something but think better of it, figuring whoever it is will make themselves known or realize you're busy.

When the silence stretches on, you huff quietly and turn your attention skywards with as much sweetness as you can. 

You realize you're an idiot in the same instant.

Because it’s Jungkook standing there and his mouth is moving and he’s got that familiar smile on his face, nose wrinkled adorably.

“Sorry - I can’t hear you,”  you apologize as you’re tugging your headphones down around your neck.

He looks like he’d expected that, laughing as he indicates the chair opposite you.  “Do you mind some company?”  The question comes gently, like he’s genuinely unsure whether his presence is unwanted.  It makes you want to laugh, stirring a distant memory that slots, picture perfect, around his still standing frame.

“Only if you tell me something no one else knows about you.”  It’s the same thing you’d asked four years ago when he’d approached you and you watch, tickled pink, when recognition floods his expression.

He takes his seat immediately.  “I really like romantic comedies,” he parrots back at you once he’s settled, hands folding in his lap.  You notice the way the vines above him just barely tickle the top of his head, lost among the midnight strands that twist this way and that.  If he minds, he says nothing.  It's one of the things you'd always liked about him - he was so easygoing.

“Seen any good ones lately?”  You’re honestly curious, taking the time to mark your notebook and slide it closed before you turn your full attention to him. 

You’re heartened by what you see, because he looks happy.  Truly, genuinely happy.  His hair’s a little longer than when you’d last seen him, the ends curling around his ears and skimming across his cheeks.  His shoulders are a little broader, too, but still draped in varying shades of slightly darker black - something you’d come to expect from him.  The hollows beneath his eyes aren’t even that bad.  You’d even go so far as to say he looks well-rested.

It’s a far cry from the manic panic media student you’d spent long nights with, trading secrets through the glow of your screens.

You can practically hear his shriek from the time he’d accidentally jostled his power bar, his monitor descending into nothingness.  He’d really thought it was the end of the world and it was only when your voice had filtered through his headset that he’d realized he’d only dislodged the screen’s power cord, his semester-end project still safe. 

That had been an awful night but you’d gotten through it together.

“Love Simon is really good.”

A brow quirks, incredulous.  “That movie is two years old.  I said lately!”  Your tone is all crystallized sugar and citrus peels, saccharine sweet despite the teasing you lay on thick.

It’s nice how easily you fall into old routines.

“I’ve been busy!”  Comes Jungkook’s indignant response, though it only acts to spur your sarcasm on.

“With what?  I see you on Discord, Jeon Jungkook!  All you do is play Overwatch.”

“You check up on me?”  It’s not the point you’d meant to make and you feel embarrassment flooding your cheeks.  You’re sure they’re a vibrant pink, the same colour as the dumb little enamel pin stuck to the front of your tote bag - a one-of-a-kind find from a day of thrifting with a certain bunny-smiling boy.

You duck behind your cup instead of answering, grimacing when the now-cold combination of milk and coffee meets your tongue.  “I didn’t say that,”  you hum.

“You’re not denying it.”  Ever the pain in the ass, he tosses a grin your way and it's all teeth and crinkled eyes, equal parts endearing and endlessly frustrating.  For not the first time, you’re reminded of his absolutely insane duality.  You’d uncovered it in bits and pieces over your years of friendship but it still left you with whiplash. 

One moment, he'd be the pouty child you’d want to indulge and in the next, he’d be sharp-tongued and dangerous, the kind of person your mother warned you about.

That's why you'd learnt to pick your battles with him. 

"Whatever you say, Jungkook."  Whether your easy surrender is what he wanted, you're not sure.  He's staring at you with an unreadable expression, like you're the one who hung the stars in the sky and he can't really figure out why.  It's the same look he's levelled you with a million times before and it still makes you squirm.  "What?"  It comes out more guarded than you mean it to, all bark and no bite.

He doesn't even flinch, a picture of composure.  You'd give anything to get a peek into that pretty little head of his.  "You're just interesting."

"I bet you say that to everyone."  

"You know I don't."  

You:  Zero.  Jungkook:  One.

You scoff noiselessly and you practically feel the frustration bleeding out of his pores.  You're being difficult, you know, and now you've ruined a perfectly nice morning.  You can't help it.  You and Jungkook have a strange relationship, one that teeters strangely between more than friends and miles apart.  

He'd blame it on your poor communication skills;  you'd insist it was his refusal to open up.  Neither of you would be right.

"Can we start over?"  It's more fair than you deserve, paired with those big doe eyes.  Puppy dog eyes, you think, because you can't bring yourself to say anything but yes when they're on you like this.  He's so earnest, so eager.  You feel bad being the thing that keeps him down.

"Okay,"  you relent, huffing, like it's the hardest concession you've ever had to make.  You both know it isn't but it feels good nonetheless.  Feels more like your cheesy back and forth banter, the playful mockery that hooks syllables together and presents itself in every interaction.  A defense mechanism, without a doubt, but one the two of you heavily rely on to push past history you've never properly addressed.  A Band-aid for a wound that threatens to split open.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."  He's trying hard and you can't help but smile, palm moving to cradle your chin as you wait for him to continue.  He really is better than you ever game him credit for.  "I like romantic comedies.  And you're Cho Jiyeon, which I know for a perfectly normal reason even though we've never met before." 

There's laughter threatening to burst out of your lunges but you stifle it as best you can.  It still escapes in squeaks.  "Nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook.  Not weird at all that you know my name.  Very normal."

You're staring so hard at each other you're not sure whether you've initiated an unspoken contest.

He breaks first, entire facade crumbling beneath the weight of his glee.  You're rewarded by the blinding white of his teeth and dimples that cradle his grin - one of your favourite sights in the world, though you'd never admit it.  Not now.  "It's really nice to see you."  The words carry more weight than you expect, meaning laced into every lilt and turn.  It's very important to him that you know this. 

You're softening, like ice cream left out on a summer day.  It's impossible to keep your walls up around him.  You remind yourself that's why the two of you are the way you are now, foreigners in a half-built city of your own making.  

"It's nice to see you, too."  You've breached the distance before you can stop yourself, tips of fingers a hairsbreadth from his.  "I do miss you."  The admission is barely a whisper, made even more quiet by the cacophony of sound that exists within the busy bistro.  You're not quite sure if he's heard - it's hard to look him in the eyes - so you instead focus on the distance that barely exists between you and yet stretches like the Pacific. 

When his fingers curl around yours, knuckles knocking clumsily, you know he has.  You can't decide if that's good or bad.

notes.  the next chapter will deal with a bit of jiyeon and jungkook's history, so please bear with me!