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sungbeam · 11 months ago

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nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. “No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

“Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon <3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @sunramzi @deobi0412 @kflixnet

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kim younghoon x reader #the boyz fanfic #younghoon x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz imagines #the boyz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #younghoon imagines #younghoon drabbles #younghoon scenarios #younghoon oneshots #younghoon fluff

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years ago

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I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 2: The Eldest Sister, The Younger Sister, and The Youngest

A/N: This chapter is more on Diana and Claudine’s lives and backgrounds. I feel like most of the initial chap plans I have are. Weiss gets her background turn soon tho. She still has some thoughts from her point of view. Some observations. It’s kinda different for her since she’s actually been around Jacques as opposed to Claudine and Diana who have been away from the dude, practically not knowing him at all. Maybe around chapter 4-ish. Rubes, Akko, and Maya come in the next chapter, so I hope you all can hold out until then, haha.

I personally love this concept so much! Like really! I keep writing out plot lines and paragraphs ahead. This is clearly a self-indulgent fic, I apologize.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 2: The Eldest Sister, The Younger Sister, and The Youngest

For how shitty he was as a father- and a person in general, Jacques Schnee sure had the devil’s luck. It made perfect sense as he was basically a demon at this point with all that he’s probably done, both known and hidden from the light.

How could someone acquire so much fortune? Riches, intelligence and cunning brought about by his insane amounts of greed, looks (Weiss gagged so hard thinking about it, though it was relatively true), charm that deceived women… or deceit masked as charm? Anyway. He had it all.

Plus, he had three gorgeous daughters to boot.

Had he exchanged his soul for this amount of good karma?

Well, it didn’t matter.

If the angel of death wanted nothing to do with him, then it probably wouldn’t mind if three angel-looking ladies took care of the job instead… right?

They were certainly angry enough to kill.

Or at least Weiss was.

Weiss had been brandishing her sword for the better half of the last two hours as she remained seated on the couch next to an equally fuming Claudine, exchanging opinions about their insufferable… sperm donor, or whatever.

Diana lay peacefully unaware, head on the golden-blonde’s lap, still unconscious since fainting at their front door. The other two…sisters- gosh, it was so weird thinking about it- didn’t quite know what to do with her, so they simply moved her over so she could rest more comfortably.

At first, they had planned on moving to the kitchen area to talk things out, and leave their other sibling to the peace of a quiet room, however, as if sensing the lack of presence, Diana had begun to toss and turn restlessly, hands and arms seeking out something. Upon grasping the edge of Claudine’s shirt, it seemed as though she had no plans of letting go, and thus, they ended up in the position they were in now, all squeezing together on their decently-sized couch.

“-And so, he told me I wasn’t old enough to live on my own, and I was wondering what he meant, because I am most certainly over eighteen! And then he implied something about Japan and that-! That was how I found out about being sent here and… we’re here now.” Weiss had just finished telling her side of this ridiculous story, pissed off being an understatement as to how she felt.

She didn’t want to be a criminal, but Jacques Schnee had a neck that just looked so perfect to slice in half.

Claudine would have laughed at how red Weiss’ face had become, but she refrained, breathing in, readying the words to her own tale. They had broached the topic of how they got here while talking about the house and their first meeting, and so they backtracked a bit to their own backgrounds and history prior to their father’s decision of sending them all to this place in Japan.

“I used to study here, actually. It’s only been a little over two years since I left.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I studied at a music and arts academy and mainly dabbled in theatre.”

“You say, “dabbled”, but I wonder if it’s really just that.” Weiss chuckled, secretly studying her companion’s features. Something in the back of her mind told her that the name, ‘Claudine’ was one she’d heard of before, especially since it had involved music. But maybe she could look into it later. “Sorry, go on.” Weiss encouraged after realizing she had interrupted her sister’s story.

“I was offered a chance at an exchange program in the school that basically “made” my mother’s previous career. It was in Paris and…” Claudine looked like she had loved and regretted at the same time every inch of that experience.

“I get it.” Weiss whispered, not meeting the actress’ gaze. “The biggest opportunity of your life. It could change everything.” Weiss turned back to meet rose-red eyes in understanding. “But that change isn’t always the best.” Claudine nodded. “It’s kind of like that meme, the one that goes ‘but at what cost’.” They shared a light laugh at that, but it seemed as though their chatter was enough to rouse the bundle of British girl on Claudine’s lap.

“Hrrngghnmm… where…?” Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Diana blinked slowly, rising up to sit on the couch properly. She took in her surroundings, the unfamiliar interior, and the two people she could barely remember. She would have panicked and created as much distance between herself and the strangers, thinking she might have been kidnapped, but it was like she didn’t even have enough energy for that.

“Good morning to you as well.” Claudine jested, patting stray tufts of curly hair into place. “I hope you slept well, because we have a lot to talk about.”

Diana was still in the middle of processing everything in her drowsy state, so she could only nod in minimal understanding.

“Great. So Diana,” Weiss stole her attention.

“How did you-“

“Well, as you failed to introduce yourself to us right before fainting,” Diana visibly winced, and Claudine had chided Weiss on being a bit mean. The white-haired heiress rolled her eyes, but apologized anyway before continuing. “-we took the liberty of checking your pockets for any identification. Don’t worry, we didn’t take anything, and we didn’t snoop around important things that weren’t your ID. Rest assured. At least we respect privacy… unlike certain assholes…” She whispered the last part to herself.

A nod.

“Good, so. Now that introductions are out of the way,” Weiss stood up in front of the pair, hands on her hips. “It’s now time for some very important questions.”

“…such as?” Diana required some elaboration.

“Such as… whatever this thing is.” She stated, spinning her finger about in the air, gesturing to the three of them. “Between us.”

“But I thought…” Diana trailed off, instinctively looking to Claudine for support. The latter got the message.

“Aren’t we siblings? Sisters? Well… half-sisters, but,” she scratched the back of her head, feeling a little shy. “Sisters nonetheless.” Diana nodded in agreement, feeling a little warm deep down.

“Fine. So we’re sisters.” Weiss crossed her arms over her chest. “But there are certain things we have to agree on. After all, we don’t even know each other. Like, at all. How do we know who’s in charge in this house? Money concerns, I’m sure we all have individual banks and means. But things like property and document processes, who gives the rules and all that jazz… Or do we all just go on with our lives, each to their own.” She finished, awaiting the pair’s reply.

“I-…” Diana found herself lost for words once more. She couldn’t admit that she actually fancied the idea of having two new sisters, having wanted a family because she never really had one apart from her mother who had already long since passed. After that event, she had always been alone. She had been an only child, after all. She had always wondered what it would have been like had she had siblings, like her twin cousins. Her mother never married again, nor did she have the chance to as fate was so cruel. She was Diana’s only memory of family, along with a few of their servants who were loyal to them to the core.

But really, it was different when it was family that shared the same blood in their veins. Though quite a number would argue that some friends stuck closer than brothers, there were still instances where blood would prove to be thicker than water.

Even if it was diluted by half-built relationships.

Claudine noticed her distress. It was as though she always did. Placing a hand over Diana’s, she squeezed comfortingly before turning to Weiss.

“After speaking with you earlier, I’m sure we all need family of some sort. I don’t mind acting-“ Claudine caught herself, proceeding to shake her head. “-No, being sisters with you both. I think I’d actually like it. I’ve never had siblings as I was an only child. But then I did stay in a dorm in high school, and being around same-aged peers was truly a beneficial experience, living alongside people I grew to know and trust.”

Diana gave her a relieved smile, and the French responded in kind.

“I believe we could be the same if we tried.”

Weiss sighed, but she was smiling deep down. She had an older sister back home, and a younger brother as well, though they weren’t as close as she was with the eldest. Still, she knew they were all just struggling in their father’s grasp, forced to obey his whims. The two older sisters had managed to wriggle out one way or another, but Weiss sometimes regretted not helping Whitley be able to do the same. Maybe one day, she could introduce him to two sisters who looked like they had so much care and experience to share. Maybe they could all be a family together. Even if they all just consisted of siblings.

“I suppose I can be the eldest then.” It was neither proposition nor suggestion. Weiss was attempting to establish it as fact.

“Why you?” Claudine questioned with a brow raised.

Diana didn’t care who was in charge, she was happy enough to feel the inclusion in a family.

“Well, seeing as I’m the legitimate child here-“ It was like everything froze. There was a cut of silence in the air, kind of like those disc scratches you would hear often in videos when someone made a mistake, or a fumble and everyone realized. Yes, Weiss had suddenly realized what she had just said, and immediately regretted it.

And her string of apologies ensued.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were panicked, flickering quickly between Diana and Claudine’s shocked ones, a bit too shaken to come up with a comment or response. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I apologize. I deeply apologize.” Weiss throat ran dry, it was like she was choking. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes in her state of adrenaline with all the heightened emotions she had endured throughout the day.

She knew she had just crossed a horrible, horrible line. She bowed before them deeply, a perfect ninety degrees, not knowing what to do to salvage this situation. She didn’t know much of Diana’s story, but from what she’d gotten from Claudine’s side, as well as observing Diana through their interactions, she was fairly sure that they had been through so many bad things.

So many.

“I’m so sorry. Di-Diana… Claudine, I’m… I’m sorry.” She coughed out. “I can’t believe it… I’m just like… I’m just like that man.” She felt a tear slip out of her eyes, but before more could, a handkerchief was held out to her by a hand that slightly tremored.

“No. You’re not. You’re not like him.” Claudine was someone who was quite good at comforting others, Diana and Weiss realized. “We all aren’t.” All this time since they met, she had been the one to offer it. They had to be sure to thank her and express their appreciation later. They had all the time to. “We’ll do our best to reject his blood that runs through our veins.” She said with a conviction that the two could only agree to. But there was just something about that last bit,

“Pfft-“ Diana ended up cracking first. “I don’t think that’s possible,” She looked to Claudine, mirth in her gaze, something different from the clouds that had shrouded them this whole time. “but… we can at least deny his existence, if you’d like.”

The two blinked, Diana saying her first complete sentence, smooth sentence catching them unaware. It only took them a second to adjust to it however as they giggled along.

“Oh, I’d definitely like that.”

//-//-//-//-//

They ended up deciding who would be the “eldest” by asking each other’s ages and birthdates, something they should have done earlier, they now realized, sharing another laugh at their silliness.

They were all currently nineteen years of age, and about to enter their first year of university. At this revelation, they wondered why it was that their ages were so close to one another, particularly Diana and Weiss.

While the former was born in April, the latter’s birthday landed on the fifteenth of May. Claudine had the slightest gap from them, being born a few months later in august.

They tried to reason it out, Weiss trying to share bits and pieces of information she had uncovered after snooping around in her father’s office, as well as things she had heard during her mother’s many lamentations.

Over dinner, their talk led them to the deduction that on the particular year when they had been conceived, Jacques Schnee had a world-wide business operation going on, travelling from place to place constantly, checking on his various corporation branches almost monthly, staying for days to weeks on end in some countries.

Through the magical powers of the internet, they were able to dig up hidden articles that spoke of their biological parent’s notoriety for sleeping around in the many places he visited, and by the universe’s cruel plot, got the other two mothers pregnant around the time his wife was. Weiss had probably been conceived when he came back home from his visit to England which might explain why Diana was now the eldest.

“We should have him castrated.” Weiss proposed, and the other two only laughed nervously, knowing she was dead serious.

Despite this infuriating truth, they were somehow thankful that it allowed them to find each other. It was a mutual feeling that they believed they’d get along nicely.

Their dinner ended with them cleaning up the dishes and kitchen together before wishing one another a goodnight, separating into their individual rooms to unpack and get cleaned up to catch their repose from this stressful day.

Diana had finished quickly, now fresh from a warm bath and changed into comfortable sleeping attire. She fell onto the soft mattress that was a little too big for her taste. It was like the one back at home. Simply large and comfortable, but never comforting. Always so cold because Diana could never warm it all up. Or maybe that was just in her heart.

The peaceful rest she had wanted to attain did not come to her. Instead, she was plagued with nightmares of abuse. The abuse she had had to sustain while in the Cavendish manor, while in the branch house, everywhere that had the family’s eyes on her.

Cold blue eyes, freezing, burning. Yells and screams, screeches, insults, the pressured gazes, the false smiles of the peers and fans that surrounded her. The scrutiny and judgment. The rumors.

The emotional pains, the mental torture, the spiritual crushing, the social stress…

The whip that beat down on her legs, on her back, on her arms, and on her face at time.

And then-

Diana screamed.

In agony, in pain. A deep red gash on her hand never ceased in its bleeding. Her nerves stung, her eyes did too. The pain was searing, she couldn’t take it, it hurt so much. Her hands shook, they quivered, her body wretched and writhed, but still that unforgiving hand still raised the bloody tool for one more-

“I BEG YOU, PLEASE STOP-!”

“DIANA!” Claudine and Weiss had barged through the door, having heard the tormented cries of their housemate and had made a mad dash for her room.

“Diana?! Are you okay?” The said girl remained writhing, needily gasping for air. Claudine attempted to shake her awake. “Diana! Wake up!”

Eyelids flew open, revealing pained ceruleans, hazy from the dream and unfocused. Diana continued her sobbing, but now quieter as she slowly ran out of tears. Her sisters waited for her, understood that she was unable to speak, possibly for moments, possibly for the entire night.

They tried to get her back into bed, hoping she could get more rest at the very least. She must have been exhausted with whatever war she had in her dreams.

But Diana didn’t want to go back to sleep, clinging onto Claudine strongly. To her, it felt as though she was walking right back into the lion’s den, returning to torture’s waiting arms; but Claudine’s arms, she much more preferred. It felt of a motherly presence. When she realized this, Diana felt the embarrassment sinking in at the knowledge that Claudine was the youngest sister and she was the eldest.

And yet, here they are.

Still, she didn’t like being in the bed, she didn’t like how unfamiliar it was.

The girls agreed to move to the living room. While Claudine layed out a few extra foams and blankets for them to settle down into, Weiss prepared some warm, tea to help calm Diana down.

She wasn’t as good at Claudine when it came to dealing with people’s anxieties, Weiss admitted. But she wasn’t bad at it. So, offering Diana a cup gently, she tried to reassure her with a smile and a soft tone.

“It’s p-peppermint.” Damn stutters.

They sat in front of one another on a pile of warm blankets, no words, just the sounds of sipping and blowing of tea.

Claudine was fine with backrubs and handholds, and the like. But anything more than that felt like crossing a line, especially with strangers. Even if those strangers happened to be your family. Huh. This is what it was like to have awkward moments of being a family with strangers. She thought it was such a rare thing, usually portrayed only in books and television or in the plays she did.

But now it she was literally living that odd trope.

Huh.

And the silence continued. And continued. And continued… and still would have painfully continued, if Weiss could take the atmosphere still.

She couldn’t.

So what better way to break the ice than to talk about their horrible shared father?

“Ahh… My dad lied to me about a lot of things.” She began, stretching her arms up into the air, hand still holding her empty cup. That caught her siblings’ attention as they were taken into another conversation. “This place too. He said he had gotten me an apartment. I thought he was being pretty considerate to give me a place to live on my own- ah, not that I dislike staying with you both I just… didn’t foresee this development.”

“I doubt any of us did.” Claudine followed-up.

“This house… even if it’s smaller than the mansion where I grew up… It’s kinda big for just three girls, huh.” Weiss murmured, suddenly feeling the urge to apologize at mentioning wealth when she hadn’t a clue of the living situations her “sisters” had had to endure before this point.

They shook their heads, as if they read her thoughts, knowing.

Diana began murmuring coldly. “My mother’s family is very well-known.” Her younger sisters perked up at this, finally having the chance to hear the eldest’s background pre-incident. “We… were kicked out of the main house in England after, well… after me.” She hung her head low, as if she were shaed of her own existence. And she very likely was.

Diana jumped at the two warm touches on each of her hand, Claudine and Weiss taking one each, squeezing encouragingly.

Diana continued. “We lived in a traditional Japanese manor after moving to this country. A branch of our family used to live there, but at that time, it was unoccupied. It was fancy and large. Certainly made for the luxurious life. Though I never felt rich regardless.” The girls nodded in understanding, and Diana ended her piece.

Claudine then explained that while she understood their sentiments, she was rather satisfied with her life. She had everything she needed. Her adoptive father bought them a larger than average house, and they were a happy family together. Then she stopped.

This time, it was her who received the squeezes of comfort, Weiss now taking her free hand as they sat in this odd circle of angsty reminiscing.

“When he died, we sold the house, not solely for monetary need, but because maman couldn’t take the pain of being reminded of him.” Claudine finished. Weiss just had to comment, though.

“Maman…”

“M-mother!”

Everyone chuckled at that.

“Mothers. Fathers. Family, huh…” Diana tested the foreign words on her tongue. “I… I had my mother for a time, but after that…” She trailed off, a forlorn expression taking place on her features once more. “I’ve never had a family.”

“…”

“If you’ve never had a family, then we’ll be you family.” Weiss, ever the breaker of silence, declared.

“We will be your sisters, your mothers, your friends, and your fathers. We will be everything for you.” Claudine added, wanting to share these feelings, just like how her mom had made her feel when it was just the two of them remaining.

Those words were too good to be true. Too kind. Too rewarding a promise. Diana searched their eyes. She searched their body languages, their words, and their souls.

She searched and found their loyalty, sincerity, and truthfulness.

And she cried.

//-//-//-//-//

They woke up late the following morning, opting to have some toast with jam and hot milk. An easy fix from the things they found in their already stacked cupboards. While cleaning up after a filling meal, they heard a phone go off in one of the rooms.

Identifying it as hers, Claudine goes off to retrieve it, her sisters waving her off as they continued cleaning up.

A few quiet minutes passed, and then the actress came bounding down the hall. frantic in her running about. Once she reached her worried companions, she cries a heart-wrenching sob. The two elders asked what was wrong, and when Claudine says that she had received a call from the hospital, the two are willing to accompany her with no questions asked.

They soon learn of what Claudine had been unable to tell them the day before. Her mother who had been admitted in the hospital for a while, and had been the primary reason for the actress to return to Japan, had a critical attack that morning, and upon their arrival at the hospital, she now rested unconscious.

Diana and Weiss did not know how to comfort Claudine the way she did for them. When they met her, she was feisty, determined, willful, independent and strong. Able to stand on her own two feet, so to speak.

But now they realized she was only able to stand because she had someone behind her, supporting her always. Unconditionally.

And that support was now laying motionless on a hospital bed, the beeps of a machine eerily looming around their atmosphere, rousing such scary prospects.

Claudine sobbed hours upon hours straight, and the pair could only helplessly watch her do so.

They could do nothing, not while the girl’s mother was in such a critical state, no one knowing if she’d ever wake up again.

---

She woke up.

It was late in the afternoon, and Claudine had fallen asleep from all the crying, head rested on her arms on her mom’s bedside.

The woman blinked the sleep away, eyes scanning the room and landing on two strangers, two women who awkwardly bowed their introductions, trying to explain why they were in the room of someone they had just met today. “Hello, um.” They bowed slightly. “We are… well… we are S-Saijou-no… Claudine’s sisters.” One with streaks of mint in her blonde locks tried, scared of the older woman’s reaction to this news.

“I know.”

“What?!” Shocked, they listened to the giggling mother explain why.

She began to express her regrets with the man known as Jacques. It was a mistake. Everything involving him was.

It was a corporation party for a show she had performed in. And the man was one of the sponsors. She had been forced to drink, coerced, probably slipped something strange, and when she woke up…

Weiss face was contorted in disgusted anger. “That man should just get arrested already.” She seethed. They knew it would take a little more effort than just reporting it to police, however. Especially since it had been nineteen years ago. But hey, he had so many faults, couldn’t they just… get him for any of those?

And then she remembered why Diana and Claudine were claimed as his children in the first place. He always tried to look for loopholes out of prison. He just had so much undeserved power. Weiss hoped it would bite him in the ass one day.

They swapped stories until the orange sky turned dark blue, and visiting hours were almost coming to a close. Claudine was breathing softly, eyes puffy, body relaxed. Her mother petted through golden mane, leaning down to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. She then turned to her daughter’s sisters, rose-red eyes, making a life-time request, plea to them.

“Please… take care of her.” They saw her fist tighten for a moment, before relaxing again. “She is the love of my life.” If Weiss used to think that that title could only be applied to romantic partners, her perception was given a fresh wash.

Love of your life. To be able to call someone that, such a pure unadulterated love towards another human being... it was something special. And probably something she herself had yet to experience. Her younger sister truly was blessed, as she claimed. It was clear why she grew up, able to be satisfied with her family life. Claudine surely felt the same for her mother.

Maybe someday, they too…

They stayed a few more minutes, simply waiting until Claudine would wake up. She soon did, and they pushed her to spend the remaining time with her mom right until the last minute before visiting hours would officially be over.

They thought they would have to pry Claudine away from her mother as she had spent almost the entire time hugging her, speaking from time to time, but mostly just holding her wordlessly.

But the girl really was a mature, grounded lass. It was amazing, inspiring, and… a bit sad, they’d admit. What else had she been through to grow this resilient?

They walked home a slow pace. No one had said any word.

The nighttime breeze hit them coldly and they shivered. Then, each sister awkwardly took a hand, at the same time, as if they shared some form of telepathy. It made them feel warmer.

And so they continued their walk home together-

There was a collective growl of stomachs, along wlith blushing and chuckling.

And so they continued their walk to the nearest convenience store instead, grabbing a few chicken nuggets and hotdog buns, some juice, and a few chocolates. Then they went on home.

They learned a lot about each other today. However, it appeared as though there was even more to learn. There always was when it came to getting to know other people. And along with becoming familiar with each other, they’d discover many more of each other’s struggles and troubles.

They’d encounter their own as a family together as well.

But it really didn’t matter anymore, did it?

They could conquer anything. They really did believe they could conquer anything.

Together, they could.

A/N: It’s 2:15am and my brain is fried. I have to re-enroll for my second semester classes and make my mom’s modules haha. Anyway, The picture I have for this AU’s Diana is actually still reserved, but the soft kind around her sisters. She’ll be cold around other people tho. Kind of meek, in a sense, but that has to do with how bad she’s had it growing up. And although Claud is the youngest, she acts like the mother. Weiss, I can definitely see as the middle child haha. Weiss’ tsundere aspects and Claudine’s slightly prideful self make for a wonderful dynamic in interactions. I love it. Diana is like the regulator of their passionate bickering. It’s like icecream on a hot cookiebrowny. I think.

Comments, kudos, reblogs, let’s go? Please? I’m desperate for feedback haha.

~Shintori Khazumi

#fanfic #rwby x lwa x starira #rwby #starira #revue starlight #shoujo kageki revue starlight #lwa #Little Witch Academia #diana cavendish #weiss schnee #claudine saijou #saijou claudine #eventual pairings #family dynamics #crossover #au

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superrman · 5 years ago

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Buck Restarts

Summary: Evan Buckley struggles with his love for his best-friend, and his deep need to find family, he becomes convinced that Eddie doesn't think he is relationship material.Eddie Diaz is struggling to find the strength to admit his love for his best-friend, afraid he will realize that he can do better. All the while unaware that Buck is not only struggling with his place in Eddie's life, but his place at the one-eighteen and his unhealthy attachment to his job.A story where Buck tries to find self-worth and Eddie tries to figure out how to take a risk with his heart.

Additional Tags: Angst,Miscommunication,Jealousy,Leaving Home, Therapy

Word Count: 13440

AO3 LINK

Notes:

Just being upfront I hate the disregard of a therapist sleeping with Buck when he came to her with issues about sex. It was beyond a breach in ethics, and I hate how it was brushed off.

I am also not a fan of how the lawsuit arc both happened and was treated. #TeamBuck

___________

Buck's relationship with the one-eighteen is bordering on super unhealthy. I think families can easily love each other, but not be the best or healthiest head spaces. Just keep that in mind as you read!

But I hope you enjoy my interpretation <3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The station hadn’t changed much. Buck didn’t need much time to adjust to being back at work after the lawsuit. After fighting so hard to be back he wanted to make the best of it. He had missed it so much, the sounds, the smells, the moment of adrenaline he felt when he heard that alarm; the purpose it gave him. He went above and beyond every task, determined to make everyone proud. As always, he knew no one would ever cut him slack. But Buck was willing to prove himself, no matter what.

Just as he worked to be back to top form as a firefighter, he worked on his personal relationships, hoping to get back into everyone’s good graces again. Saving Christmas was just one example. But Buck liked making people happy, nothing made him happier.

The one relationship he worked hardest to repair was Eddie and Christopher.

Buck yearned for them. He hated the word yearn, it felt sad in a way - pathetic even, but he realized there was nothing more accurate. The way he loved Christopher, he had always wanted a family, there was nothing more sacred to him. Now he knew which family he wanted.

But he didn’t think Eddie wanted him in that way. Of course, he cared but... attraction and love were two very different things. Buck had learned that lesson already.

Buck had started to be flirtier, he figured he had almost died and lost them enough times - time was not guaranteed.

After everything they had been through it was time to make it obvious to Eddie that he was interested not just in friendship, but he was interested in him.

Buck knew that they could have a great life. He just had to get Eddie to give him a chance.

Flirting was second nature to Buck. Ever since he hit puberty, he realized he was good at it. The subtle touches, the looks, he was sure that he would be able to get Eddie to see that he was interested in him. Then he’d tell him how much he loved him. Ya know, step by step.

Buck did everything he could to get Eddie to see that he was interested. He took him out to a baseball game, asked him out for drinks, nothing serious, didn't want to scare Eddie off, but things that could easily be romantic. Eddie might flirt a little, but then he’d revert back to treating Buck like a platonic friend.

Maybe he needed to consider being bold.

Buck had it, he was going to cook for him. It worked on everyone. Maddie agreed cooking for a guy was a serious gesture. Now of course he had cooked for Christopher and Eddie before but this time he’d cook just for Eddie.

Being in Eddie’s home was natural, Buck loved it. He could see himself being so happy there. He knew Christopher was going to be having dinner with his Abuela, so tonight he’d make Eddie a nice steak. Eddie would see that he was interested in him, and then Buck would know. At this point Buck was worried that Eddie had realized he was interested, he flirted back, he was attracted to him, it was so clear to Buck. But that wasn't enough for Buck. He was worried he wasn’t enough for Eddie. Eddie was clearly not looking for just sex, did he not think Buck was relationship material? It was a deep worry of his. Everyone at the one-eighteen didn't think he was serious, maybe Eddie didn’t think he was relationship material either. He had heard enough horror stories, maybe he didn’t think…

Fuck.

Days like this hurt Buck, it reminded him that he wasn’t enough so many times in his life. He hoped he was enough for Eddie. He would work so hard to make him happy if he’d just let him.

The sizzle of the steak distracted Buck, he went back to preparing dinner, he set out plates, and tossed a salad as the steak cooked. He knew exactly how Eddie liked it.

Buck debated whether he should light some candles. That would set the mood. Music? Was that better, fuck, Buck debated with himself. He rushed and pulled some candles out and lit them, and then went to the speaker and played some jazz, that was in between right, not too romantic, but still nice right? Shit the steak. God, Buck ran over and pulled out the steak, it was done, it looked halfway decent. Thank god he didn't let it burn. Where was Eddie? He should have been home by now.

He pulled out his phone, and texted Eddie.

What is your ETA? Steaks ready?

Despite the fact Christopher wasn’t here, he and Eddie had dinner every Thursday, it was movie night. Did Eddie think that without Christopher, tonight wasn’t going to happen?

Bzzz

Eddie Diaz:

Just with Anna we got coffee, be there in 15

He was on a coffee date, with Christopher’s teacher no less. Of course, of course he was on a date. No wonder he never responded to his flirting, he was dating someone. This was a fucking mistake.

Okay he had 15 minutes, he needed to blow out the candles. Okay turn off the music. Don’t cry. He could do this.

“Fuck” Buck breathed out softly. He couldn’t do this. Putting himself out there with his best friend was hard enough but god, rejection. The only word he had was fuck.

No that’s what he needed to do. Waiting around for Eddie was hurting too much. Clearly, he was not interested. Of course, he wasn’t. What was Buck even playing at?

He was just a fuck up.

He couldn’t face Eddie not right now.

Buck texted Maddie.

Are you alone atm? Chimney with you?

For once please be alone he needed an alibi.

Bzzz

Maddie Buckley:

No, just got back from the store Chims with his brother.

Perfect Buck, thought, being siblings meant she’d have to cover for him no questions asked. She wouldn't tell anyone at the station he lied.

If anyone asks I came over because you weren’t feeling well tonight, cover for me.

Buck put the steak on a plate and put it back into the oven. Covered up the salad, and left it on the table, there was beer in the fridge, Eddie could enjoy the fruits of his labour. Hell he could bring, Anna with him. That’s what friends did for each other, they helped them with their relationships. He didn't want Eddie to realize just how pathetic he was.

Sorry to bail Eddie Maddie needs me Bring Anna there is steak Romance guaranteed

He turned off the lights, and grabbed his jacket, he had to get out of there. Right before he got into his jeep he checked his phone:

Maddie Buckley:

Sure thing, need to talk?

Eddie Diaz:

I hope she's okay, let me know if you need anything Thanks man, you are the best!

Eddie had no idea that he was breaking his heart. That was the worst part. He needed to get a drink like now. He had just cooked dinner for his crush, and date. Crush didn’t even sound like the right word to him, he was so in love with Eddie, and now he was firmly friend zoned.

Buck parked his jeep outside of a bar he used to frequent when everyone had dubbed him Buck 1.0. He knew he was a fuck up then, but at least Buck 1.0 didn’t sleep alone. He didn’t want to sleep alone.

Deep breath.

In Out In Out

Buck walked into the bar, and looked around, Thursdays were still packed. It was full of people drinking and dancing, they were having fun. What did that feel like again? Buck did miss some things from his Buck 1.0 days. Like dancing, he was so good at that.

Buck walked up to the bar and ordered a double gin and tonic. Gin was a quick way to bury the pain. A couple minutes later, he made eye contact with a cute girl, she was with her friends, but she was pretty. Her eyes reminded him slightly of Eddie. Buck downed his drink and walked over to her and asked her dance.

Walking onto the dance floor was wonderful, the way that bodies moved against each other, the connection. It was exactly what he needed. Buck danced for an hour, and then another hour, with men and women, who ever asked. He drank more. Switching to tequila, he was going to regret that in the morning. But that was tomorrow Buck’s problem.

As the night wound down, Buck saw him. He was tall, taller than him, and he didn’t remind him in any way of Eddie. Different hair, body, eye colour. All night things kept reminding of Eddie, he didn’t want any reminders.

Buck took him home. He didn’t even ask him his name. But it was okay, he didn’t ask him either. They both knew what this was. This wasn’t going to break Buck’s heart.

***

Dealing with a one-night stand had not gotten easier. The awkward pause when you both are sober. The rush to use the bathroom, and leave. Trying to decide if numbers and names should be exchanged. Buck had made it clear that it was just a one-time thing clearly, he had made a mistake. He was supposed to be reformed sex addict for crying out loud.

Shit shit shit.

What now? Mmmhh Buck didn’t know what to do. He walked around his apartment cleaning up the evidence of last night, washing the sheets, and putting the pillows back on his sofa. He had enjoyed last night, but now he just felt empty. And hungover, crap. He hated this feeling, he really did. But if he was being honest he had been hurting for a long time. Each day had felt so hard. Being in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way back is hard. But how could he blame Eddie? He deserved the best.

Everyone else was in therapy. Maybe he should give it a try again. But not the department one. He didn’t want to give them any excuse to get rid of him.

Carla knew good people, he’d send her a message.

After cleaning, and eating a power bar, Buck collapsed on his couch. He looked at his phone.

Maddie Buckley:

Still haven't heard from you, are you alright?

Eddie Diaz:

The steak was amazing Buck Candles and music helped too I owe you one man

Great he wasn’t the only one who got laid. Fucking hell he was pathetic. He had just helped get his crush laid. Buck was sure he was the definition of needing therapy.

***

Buck was amazed how fast Carla was able to set up an appointment for him. She had connections.

Walking into the therapist's office, he wondered how this would go.

Jacob Rollins. That sounded like a trusting name. Hopefully, he would be very straight.

“How are you today Buck? Jacob asked.

“I am good.” Buck half smiled.

“That’s good.” Jacob returned the smile. “What brought you to therapy?”

“Well...um…” Buck didn’t know where to start. “Look therapy was mostly because I went out and slept with some random guy, and I haven’t done that since Buck 1.0 days, but that’s just because I am now stupidly in love with my best friend and he doesn't love me.”

“Well, I can see that you are overwhelmed.” Jacob started jotting things down. “Would you like to tell me why you referred to yourself as Buck 1.0?”

“I was basically a sex addict. I just went around sleeping with people all of the time.” Buck looked down. “I mean for Christ sake I slept with my last therapist, she ended up losing her job as the department's therapist. I am a firefighter by the way.”

Buck made eye contact, and he saw Jacob look slightly angry. Damn, two minutes in and he had already fucked up his relationship with the new therapist.

“She absolutely should have lost her job, Buck, it was in no way your fault.” Jacob said it without any hesitation. Buck was confused.

“I mean I shouldn’t have hooked up with her in the first place.” When Bobby so casually mentioned she left, he had a sick feeling he had messed up her life.

“No she was in the wrong, as your therapist she took advantage of the situation.” Jacob stated again. “The first step Buck is we need to establish what is crossing a boundary line. And I can assure you any decent ethical moral therapist should never have crossed that line, especially with someone who was expressing concerns with sex. It is beyond a breach of ethics.”

Buck was surprised at his passion, but then again he probably didn’t like someone giving therapists a bad name.

“I mean, I guess I never thought about it like that.” Buck stated. There was something off about the fact he had never thought about her being wrong too. But sleeping with patients did seem wrong.

“Have you ever told anyone?” Jacob asked.

“I mean I told my team, and they all agreed that I shouldn’t have slept with my therapist.” Buck said. “And I guess Bobby, the captain must have complained, I just found out she doesn’t work for the department anymore.”

“I am sorry that your team wasn’t as supportive as you deserved in that situation.” Jacob was writing that down too.

Buck had never thought they weren’t supportive. Why should they have said anything? He was sleeping around a lot then.

“I mean I was sleeping around a lot, like I might have sort of, taken a fire truck to have sex.” Not his finest hour.

“Opening up to a therapist being vulnerable is a brave thing, and no one deserves to have that trust violated, no one should be taken advantage of.”

“I guess I had never thought about it that way.”

Jacob smiled softly at Buck. “Well consider thinking about it that way, that can be your homework of sorts for today.”

“Now, too the sex addict part of your opening statement.”

Buck sighed.

“Since the therapist in question was clearly not qualified, would you please tell me why you think you are a sex addict?”

Buck titled his head to the side, “well I mean technically, I self diagnosed, and sleeping with the therapist was a nail in the coffin, you know.”

“You are a healthy, attractive young male, most men don’t come to the conclusion that they are sex addicts, what made you think you were?” Buck knew that too, but also he knew he was out of control then.

“Well I guess, I kept sleeping around, and it was like I just couldn’t help myself...more than that I didn’t want to be alone.”

Buck hated being alone, he was not good at that.

“Did you lie to your partners?”

“OF course not!” Buck was not that kind of person. “I mean to be honest, I never really had to try, if I wanted sex it was pretty easy to find someone willing...”

Jacob laughed. “Not surprising.”

Buck felt like blushing. He was aware of the effect he had on people. Most people. Frowning he thought clearly not Eddie.

“Where did your mind go just then?”

“Well, see I have never had to try, except when it comes to Eddie, I tried and I tried. And I don’t know... nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jacob said. “Are you sure he is attracted to men?”

Buck chuckled at that, it was a nice boost to his ego, which was sorely bruised. “Yah, I mean to be honest he has the right...I dunno...physical reactions, like he’s for sure checked me out, and I mean we are best friends. Like he doesn’t normally lean towards men, but he told me that he has been attracted to them...so yah.”

“Have you told him how you felt?”

Buck took in a deep breath. “I mean I’ve told him how much he and his son Christopher mean to me, I have done everything I can to show that I will never let them down again. And then you know I flirted, made some suggestions... and then like three nights ago, I cooked this whole dinner for the two of us, and then I find out that Eddie is on a date, I couldn’t even face him, but of course I tell him to bring her over, and he ends up getting laid thanks to my hard work. Like come on, how unfair is the universe.”

“What did you do after this?”

“I mean I went out, and I hooked up, and I guess then I came here.” Buck groaned. “I just don’t want to become Buck 1.0 the fuck up the guy who can’t keep it in his pants, the guy that isn’t even close to good enough.”

“Interesting." Jacob nodded. “I do want to explore the earlier statement of the fire truck incident. But to clarify some things, when you are a sex addict it’s a compulsion. And stopping cold turkey is very hard, but that doesn’t mean using sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism isn’t a problem. So we will work to distinguish what you were struggling with.”

Buck nodded, he liked how sure Jacob sounded, he felt trustworthy.

“Why do you keep saying Buck 1.0?”

Buck rubbed the back of his neck. “It was stealing the fire truck, and sleeping with the therapist, and whole lot of people, and to be honest being pretty reckless I just I was pretty immature compared to now, so everyone at the station kind of started sayin the Buck 1.0 days, and I guess it sort of stuck.”

“Well I think first off, there is no such thing as Buck 1.0” the firmness in Jacob's voice surprised Buck. “It is normal for young people to be sexually active in their twenties, but the fact is not many people self reflect in that stage, you have been working on yourself, and that shows you have always had character, you choose a profession that requires great self sacrifice, another marker of character. I think you have always been a worthy person, but perhaps you have struggled to see that in yourself, and then not lived up to your own ideals.”

Buck wished he deserved that.

“Honestly, I keep fucking up though.” Buck stopped. “Can I say fuck in therapy, like is swearing allowed.”

Jacob laughed. “I am more confident you are a good person, and yes you can use whatever language you need to express yourself.”

“I made a big mess of everything, and I think the reason that Eddie doesn’t feel the same way about me anymore. And I can’t even blame him. I messed it all up.” That gut punch associated with the lawsuit made Buck want to curl up into a bawl.

“What are you referring to?”

“I kind of… sued the city... I couldn’t be a firefighter anymore and I thought at the time it was unfair, so I sued the city.”

“And you lost?”

“No I won but I dropped the lawsuit because well, I just wanted to be a firefighter, I didn’t want the money, but the lawyer got ugly, and basically I couldn’t see Eddie, and he felt abandoned, and so did Christopher his son who I love too, and Eddie was going through this horrible time, and I wasn’t even there for him.”

“I am confused, if you won the lawsuit, why do you think you were in the wrong?” Jacob was writing really fast now.

“It ripped the station apart, it was dirty, and it was wrong.” Buck was firm in this stance, he could see the confusion in Jacobs face.

“Look I don’t really want to talk more about this lawsuit, it's done, just the important part is it destroyed relationships, and I am trying to make them better.”

Jacob nodded, he made a note to return to the lawsuit, clearly it was important.

“Okay I think we need to return to a fundamental question, what is it exactly that you want out of therapy? We can start there?”

Buck thought for a moment. What did he want? Eddie to love him, the team to respect him, neither seemed likely anymore.

“I guess I want to not hurt anymore, I want everyone at work to trust me again, I want Eddie to love me, and if I can’t have that I want to be in his life without feeling like my chest is going to explode.”

Jacob smiled at him. “These are all important things. I will do the best that I can to help you.”

Buck nodded along, and smiled back, it was nice to have someone in his corner.

“This is a tough question, do you think Eddie loves you?”

Buck avoided eye contact. “Honestly, no.”

“Why not?”

“If I had been anymore obvious...let’s just say he said he wanted a serious relationship, and he clearly doesn’t think I am serious relationship material.” Buck sighed. “I flirted, I hinted, I told him how much he mattered, he’s responded platonically to everything. I just...I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“Unfortunately the only thing that can truly heal a broken heart is time.” Jacob smiled in sympathy.

“I was afraid of that.” Buck hated that expression. After Abby that’s what everyone said, instead that just felt like a separate wound, and now he had another Eddie shaped one.

“But moving on is healthy, perhaps not sleeping around per say, but talking to new people, going out. It is a good way to see that even though you might not be able to be the one you love right now, it doesn’t mean you can’t love someone again.”

Buck thought about it, and of course he knew that, after Abby he wasn’t sure he’d ever fall for someone again, but then Eddie and Christopher came into his life.

“May I ask what you do outside of work?”

“I hang out with my sister, with Eddie and Christopher, usually the team has a get together of some kind at someone's home.”

“I mean nothing related to work or family, your social life?”

“I mean there isn’t a lot of time for things like that, you know a firefighters schedule is busy, and we always have down time together.” Did that sound as lame as Buck thought it did.

“I think it would be a good idea if you started to expand your circle, just as a start. It would help create some healthy distance between you and Eddie, just until it doesn’t hurt so much. I can tell you are a big part of each other's lives, and you can still be there, but it’s okay to give yourself some time.”

Buck’s heart clenched at the thought of abandoning Christopher again. “I can’t not be with Christopher. I made him a promise that I would never leave him again.”

“And I am not saying that you need to abandon anyone. Buck you also need to be happy yourself, spend time with Christopher, perhaps not with Eddie as well. But find a hobby, or activity that is yours and no one else's. Socialize, enjoy yourself, you can’t punish yourself all of the time, you will break.”

***

New activities Buck could do that. What the hell should he even do? How did an adult make friends outside of work?

Google.

Activities for singles in LA

Oh that was not the right search, fucking LA. Why was everything the plot of a porno?

Bzzzz

Eddie Diaz:

Hey man me u and Christopher + pizza? 20 minutes?

Was he really that available? Buck hadn’t realized he was basically on call for Eddie. He didn't even ask if he was free. Damn he spent his entire day waiting for Eddie to text him. Maybe he really didn’t have a life. If Buck was being honest the idea of getting some time away from Eddie, gave him some relief, he just couldn’t face the rejection any longer.

I would love to but I can’t today. See you at work.

Buck knew that he wanted that family more than anything, and that was just too sad.

Adult activities in LA

What the hell was he supposed to search that didn’t result in the top result being star in a porno, or amateur porn?

Leisure activities in LA

Okay better.

Well yoga was clearly an option, maybe he should go to a gym outside of the station, or take a class. He had fun at that pottery class that Abby had taken him too, and loads of people had talked to him there.

Buck made a list of things to check out, and before he had realized he had basically scheduled a whole week of activities outside of the one-eighteen.

He still would see Christopher because of his drop off/pick up schedule. And he would make sure to take him out for ice cream after one of the pick up days.

Yes this was a start.

Buck sighed, he still needed ice cream. Why the hell did Eddie have to be so damn beautiful, inside and out. The idea of sunset yoga was nowhere near enough to get Eddie out of his mind.

*** The more time at therapy Buck spent, the more he was told that he was unnecessarily hard on himself. The whole reason he had filed the lawsuit was he felt he was being treated unfairly. Yes, he was rash. Jacob was big on self responsibility. But he was also a big fan of not taking sole blame. He was quick to point out that everyone else had made mistakes and the lawyer hadn’t lied once. That was something that Buck struggled with. Even now, he did notice that when Eddie had arrived he got away with a lot. He wasn't the only one who was reckless or acted because of emotions.

He had felt abandoned by the whole team. Jacob pointed out that perhaps his need for his team was bordering on unhealthy. After all he should have had a life outside of his work. Buck had realized he had built his entire identity on being a firefighter. He never thought he was worth much outside of that. Slowly, but surely Buck was walking up to the fact he was more.

Buck had always been good with people, but before LA he had never stuck around long enough to make friends for long. The cool thing about all the activities was that suddenly he was making regular friends.

The yoga classes were really relaxing and the entire class was big on going to live concerts, he was seeing a whole new side of LA, one he hadn’t taken advantage of enough.

Buck had started surfing and despite the clicheness of it all, surfer dudes were actually super nice. Hanging out after a surfer lesson on the beach with a beer was beyond relaxing.

Pottery was just as fun, he had a real knack for it. Wine and cheese nights made him feel all grown up. He really loved it.

Buck was thinking of joining a book club next, Sherry from Yoga was in one that was all about reading something super different every month, and that seemed cool. They went to a different independent coffee shop every month too, and that sounded fun.

Jacob was right, having a life outside of the one-eighteen, and honestly away from Eddie helped.

Buck discovered something else that he was trying to work through in therapy. Being at the one-eighteen was amazing, but he hadn’t been able to stop feeling like he was walking on eggshells, he would always be Buck 1.0 Buck the lawsuit guy, and as much as he tried, no matter what he did he always felt like he could instantly go back to being a pariah. Being with non-firefighters, people who just saw him as Buck, he felt relaxed.

Buck had no idea what to do with that revelation.

Next on his self preservation tour was to start dating again. That was still something that scared Buck.

Even though he had been trying to keep his distance from Eddie, he was still super involved in Christopher’s life that meant being around Eddie. Even though he and Eddie hadn’t been alone in nearly a month and a half, Buck still ached.

***

Eddie was sitting in the station, looking at Buck, it seemed like now he was always more interested in his phone than what was happening in the station.

At first Eddie hadn’t realized anything different, people get busy, and Buck was an amazing person, of course he had other things going on. But gradually he noticed that Buck was disappearing from his life, and the more Eddie tried to hold on the further he got away.

Buck had promised him he wasn’t going anywhere, and yet here he was sitting next to him a million miles away.

Sure, he came to dinner, but somehow he always charmed Carla into staying. Or he’d say ‘lets spend the afternoon together’, and of course it would be in a crowded public place. Before, even surrounded by people Eddie always felt like he was the only one with Buck, he had had a way about himself, but now...Eddie couldn’t place it.

It wasn’t just him, Buck just started to say no to more and more team activities. It was so casual that no one noticed at first. Buck would say something like I have drinks with a friend. Or meeting some people for coffee. Nothing odd about that.

But a couple days ago he said no to Athena and Bobby’s cause he had pottery class. Hen was sure he was joking but Buck just laughed and pulled out his phone and showed a picture of him surrounded by an eclectic group of people holding various levels of skilled vases. Eddie hadn’t even known Buck was interested in pottery.

Eddie felt this was different from the lawsuit, back then he was angry at Buck for disappearing, now he just ached, it was like Buck was drifting away.

Eddie had a terrible feeling that it was because Buck had realized that he had a crush on him. God he was so damn stupid. Of course Buck was just flirting with him because he flirted with everyone. When you looked like that, flirting was just second nature. Eddie had seen Buck charm everyone, everyone from a little girl, to a professional MMA fighter. The man didn’t even realize the effect he had on people.

Eddie had done his best to be careful because of course Christopher loved him. Every time Eddie saw them together, he wanted more than anything to be able to claim them both, to proudly say that Buck was with him and that they were a family. Eddie started to respond to Bucks flirting, he knew he wasn’t as fun or without baggage, but god he wanted Buck to give him a chance, he would do everything he could to make him happy. Just as Eddie had finally decided that enough was enough and he was going to ask Buck if he had any interest in giving it a shot with him, Buck had gone and disappeared.

Hell he had basically left a setup for seduction with Christopher’s teacher. Eddie couldn’t believe how easily Buck had pushed him at her. He wasn't even interested, but when Eddie had come home, after dropping Anna off, he had seen what Buck had left him with candles, smooth jazz and even side dishes...god Buck must have thought he was so helpless. He couldn’t let him know how pathetic he really was.

Ever since then Buck just wasn’t around, sure he was there but his charming self was gone. He wasn’t the only one to notice. Hen, Bobby and Chimney had begun to wonder. There was something different. But what could they say, the weirdest part was Buck was happy.

“Hey Cap, I think the team needs a group hang out, today has been a rough day.” Eddie knew he was a coward, he should have just asked Buck point blank to be with him tonight, he didn’t really need anyone else but he figured Bobby had a better chance at getting him to come out.

“I think that's perfect.”

Bobby turned to the group and announced “Mandatory drinks at Porters tonight, post shift.” Bobby said it with such finality, the funny thing is before he would never have used the word mandatory. It registered with everyone but Buck, who was oblivious in his own world.

“Excited Buck?” Eddie asked.

“I mean drinks sound nice, I was planning on checking out this theater that shows old school horror films tonight with some people, but I can reschedule.” Buck smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes the same way.

“Are you okay?” Eddie whispered, angling his body, shutting the rest of the station out.

“Yah, just kind of... never mind.” Buck brushed off. Eddie couldn’t stand it, before Buck wouldn’t hesitate to confide in him.

“No Buck if it bothers you, it bothers me.” Eddie wanted nothing more than to be in Buck’s life.

“Nothing.” Eddie reached out to touch Buck’s arm in reassurance.

“I am just tired.” Buck turned away, Eddie felt his arm just brushed away.

“But don’t worry, I know I’ll get my second wind.” Buck smiled the same way he had when they started talking, it didn’t reach his eyes. Eddie didn’t know how to reassure him at that moment. But he would figure out a way to fix this.

Eddie went over to Chim and Hen.

“Guys do you think Buck is avoiding... us?” He didn’t want to let on the fact that he was upset that Buck spent less time with.

“I think someone is being over dramatic, he probably just started dating again.” Chim laughed off.

“Dating” Eddie couldn't help but feel disgusted by that word.

"Maddie has been pushing him to date for a while, and she let it slip that he has been out on a few dates in the last little bit."

“Anytime Buck spends less time at the station, it usually means he has a new relationship.” Hen agreed.

“Don’t worry Eds, I am sure you're still his favourite firefighter.” Chim teased.

But Eddie had zoned out, no if Buck was seeing someone he would tell him. They had….they had something. That night Eddie was determined to get Buck alone.

The place was packed, a lot of first responders hung around the bar, it was kind of their place. Eddie was surprised to see how popular Buck was, normally when they came Buck would just join them at the table.

But tonight, he walked in and immediately got engulfed with people.

“Someone’s popular tonight.” Eddie mumbled.

Chim nodded, nursing his beer. “Like the good ol’ days.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie was trying his best to keep his face neutral; he didn’t want to sound like a teenager with a crush.

Even though there was nothing more accurate than that.

“Oh, back before you joined the one-eighteen, normally when we came here Buck would work the crowd.” Chim looked at Eddie, and Eddie hated that knowing gaze.

“What stopped him?”

Chim laughed. “I guess he started to like our company more.” The way he said, Eddie wanted to believe it had something to do with him, but clearly whatever it was, wasn’t enough for him anymore.

Eddie shouldn’t have been surprised how was he meant to keep the attention of someone as alive and carefree as Buck. The people he loved eventually realized he wasn’t enough.

Buck was the center of the crowd.

An hour passed, and Buck never came back to their table. Bobby and Athena had already ducked out, but they had kids. Hen was getting close to finishing her drink and Eddie knew she’d leave too.

If he wanted to not be so clearly desperate, he needed to talk to Buck now.

As he approached the group, it was full of guys from the one-sixty-seven. They were all laughing at something Buck said.

“So, man for real, you never thought about leaving the one-eighteen?” Roger Jackson asked. Eddie had always liked him, until that question.

“No of course not there my team.” Buck’s answer warmed Eddie’s heart, he was glad that it was crowded, and no one had noticed him. Buck’s certainty calmed the nerves Eddie was feeling.

“Well the way they treated you no one would have blamed you for taking the money, or at least transferring.”

Man, Eddie thought another member of the one-sixty-seven he was going to kill.

“Honestly, I didn’t think I had a choice in transferring.” Wait... Buck didn’t honestly consider transferring.

“Well you know that every station around would take you.” Roger put his arm around Buck, and Eddie wanted to snap it in half. The rage he normally contained until the ring was surfacing up, but he really couldn’t afford to get in a bar fight.

Eddie could see the look in Buck’s eye he was curious, and that’s when Buck noticed him.

“Thanks guys, if you could excuse me.” Buck walked towards Eddie.

“Hey Eddie.” Buck began but Eddie didn’t want to look at him. Not now, not when it was clear Buck was weighing his options professionally. Not when he didn't have his emotions under control.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pull you away from your friends.” Eddie walked back towards the bar.

“No it’s fine, they were just being nice. But I wanted to catch up with you.” Buck’s beaming smile just made Eddie angrier.

“Well, I just came to say goodnight, I have to relieve Carla.”

Normally Eddie would have asked Buck to come back with him, and Buck would show no sign of being sad about being pulled away from a lively bar, to take care of a kid. In fact, he’d look excited, and this warm sense of comfort would overtake Eddie. But not tonight, he just walked away from Buck, grabbed his jacket and left.

As he exited the door, he looked back to clearly see the hurt in his best friend's eye, before he turned around and re-entered the crowd.

Eddie sighed, no that was where Buck belonged, with people who could entertain him.

***

Buck was really enjoying therapy; it was nice to have someone on his side.

He understood he had had an unhealthy relationship with sex before, he had used to avoid a lot of things, intimacy and connection. That there were different types of vulnerability. It was important that he stayed aware of the difference between using sex to connect and using sex to hide.

Though he still regretted the consequences of the lawsuit, Jacob had helped him realize he wasn’t the only one who was wrong. He had made the effort to see everything for the one-eighteen side, and really Eddie’s side, but they didn’t see it from his.

Buck could still hear Jacob’s voice: If you were so wrong why did you win? You aren’t the only one in that station that has made mistakes?

It was nice to know other stations didn’t hate him. Being back at one of his old haunts was nice, Buck had worried that since he had gotten around and slept through a lot of the stations no one would want him besides the one-eighteen , and now well, it was nice to know he had options.

Maybe if being around Eddie got too hard he would transfer.

As for dating, he had been on a few, and he had to admit being out was nice. Buck loved everything about dating, the conversation, the excitement, getting to know someone, and of course the sex. Though he had yet to meet someone he felt like he could get serious about, it was nice to be back into the swing of things.

But he still missed Eddie.

***

The day started off as normal. They responded to a call, where a young girl's tree house was on fire. The little girl had taken a candle up there for a tea party, and sadly for her it ended with the tree house going up in flames. Luckily, it was a small fire. Buck didn’t have much to do so he hung around with the mom. She was cute.

And really sad.

“You can always build another one, the inside is burnt, but the tree is still fine.” Buck assured her, he was doing his best to keep her smiling, she looked close to tears.

“It was just, her father built it for her.” Buck put his arm around her shoulder, she leaned in.

“I am sorry.” She said, as a few more tears fell.

“My name is Katie, by the way, sorry for crying into your jacket.”

Buck smiled. “Not the first time, and not the last, don’t worry.”

Katie shifted back and smiled. “He passed, two years ago, and now the tree house being gone, I just don't want Lucy to lose anything else. And of course, I am the worst at anything construction, so I have to find out how to fix this. And just sometimes it's hard you know.”

Buck nodded, letting her vent. He hadn’t even noticed that the team had finished up behind him. They were all waiting.

“Sorry for just spilling this on you, clearly this isn’t your job.”

Buck was a sucker for someone in need.

“How about this, I am pretty handy, and I am sure I can free up a Sunday afternoon, I can help you fix your tree house.” Buck smiled, he wasn’t even angling for a date, he just didn’t like the thought of a kid without a tree house, Buck had always had a soft spot for kids.

“You’d do that for a stranger?”

“Well I always put out the fires, it would be nice to help fix the damage” Buck beamed, no idea that behind him Eddie was seething.

“Umm. I should mention that I am seeing someone who is also not handy. If...um” Katie couldn’t believe that this hot firefighter was falling into her lap, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

“No worries, I am still happy to help. Here I'll give you my number, if I text you the supplies, we can smash it out this Sunday.”

Katie smiled and gave him his phone. “Looks like your team is waiting.”

Buck turned and saw that everyone looked mad, he must be taking too long. “Right, thanks!”

Buck went towards the truck and shouted back. “See you Sunday.”

Buck got into the truck, and immediately saw Eddie frowning.

It was impossible to know what to say to him anymore. A small smile, Buck thought that was his best course of action, Eddie didn’t even look at him. They rode to the station in silence.

Buck wasn’t sure what the issue was, he literally did nothing on that call.

As they removed their gear, the weird silence continued.

Buck walked into the kitchen and started making a smoothie.

Bzzz

Hi, it’s Katie, thanks again for everything today. I really appreciate your offer.

Lucy is so excited, you're her hero.

“What are you smiling at, lover boy?” Chim walked in with a smirk.

“Oh, just Katie from the call, I am helping her rebuild the tree house on Sunday.”

Buck responded to the text, not noticing Eddie walking in behind Chim, primed for a fight.

It’s not a big deal, see you Sunday :)

“Seriously, angling with the kid to get a date Buck.” Buck couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“What?” No way Eddie would ever think he’d resort to something so pathetic.

“Getting in close with the kid to sleep with the mom, just seems a little desperate.” Eddie did think that.

Oh God, did he think he was doing that with Christopher. No.

“Wait, you are going out on a date with the woman from the call?” Bobby asked. Buck could just see the concern in his face. Great, he thought Buck 1.0 was back.

“I am not using the kid!”

Eddie brushed past Buck and went to the fridge. “Right you just decided to give up your Sunday to build a tree house for a hot chick’s kid.”

“Her husband passed, and she isn’t handy, I offered to help that's all!” Why was everyone making this into something it wasn’t.

Hen and Chim looked at him, and he could see the worry as well. Did no one think he had changed? Had they not noticed?

“You learned a lot about her huh.” Hen remarked.

Buck was angry now, why was he defending himself, all he had done was offer to help out a woman. He should just say it doesn’t matter. She has a boyfriend, but they’d all probably think he’d sleep with her regardless.

“You know what let's make one thing clear, I don’t need to use a kid to get a woman into bed, if I want to get someone into bed, I don’t need to try that hard.” Buck couldn’t be here anymore.

He walked out of the kitchen without waiting for a response. Fuck this.

Damn it.

He was still on shift. He went into the showers, he needed to cool off.

No matter how hard he worked he would always be the kid who slept around, he would always be the lawsuit guy, the one no one trusted. If Buck was honest with himself, he didn’t care as much what everyone else thought of him, but Eddie, Eddie hadn’t even known him back in his playboy days and he thought he would stoop so low.

The only reason he was talking to Katie at the call was because Bobby was so clearly still worried about Buck. Whenever there was a simple task, it went to Buck. Bobby had made it clear that he still thought Buck let his feelings get in the way of his work. First with Maddie and then with Eddie. Bobby didn’t have to say it, but he didn’t want to put Buck in a situation that he would sue.

Maybe it was time for a change.

*** Eddie don’t know where that came from, but god he was so fucking angry. He was angry that Buck was flirting so easily with other people, that he was waving goodbye to him without even realizing it. He was mad. Mad that just when he had worked up the courage to say something to him, about how damn crazy he was about him, Buck had disappeared.

The shift ended, and not once did Buck say anything to him.

Normally, after a fight, Buck always came up to him and wanted to make it right. Always, but now, nothing, he didn’t speak to anyone. He was a professional, but he was cold.

A few days later, Eddie clicked Buck’s Instagram, he knew this was the worst place to look. Buck had an impressive following, over 3300 followers, he knew it was higher before but the past year he had stopped using it as much.

But he shared Katie’s post to his story: the woman whose tree house he went to fix. It had a smile emoji and no worries gif on top it. As it turns out, she was thanking the LAFD for helping rebuild her daughter’s tree house, and it was a picture of Buck posing with her daughter, and her, and clearly her boyfriend.

Crap. He was so fucking stupid.

The post was blowing up, he saw 5k likes already. But of course, Buck smiling beaming, wearing a t-shirt that was just too tight, his biceps gleaming with the sweat he had worked up doing a selfless good deed.

Eddie felt like the biggest moron to ever exist. Buck had such a soft spot for kids, and parents, god look at his own life. Buck had saved him from drowning, helping him by connecting him to Carla, even before he really knew Eddie. Buck did so much, and he never even asked for a thank you.

How do you text your best friend? Hey, sorry I was a jealous freak, please forgive me, let me spend my life adoring you, and not sound like a pathetic loser.

Eddie walked into the firehouse early the next day, he was going to make things right. After his shift, he would go with a pack of beer and Buck would forgive him...he had too. Buck was always so open with his emotions, always first to say he was sorry, he owed it to Buck to be able to apologize the same way. Eddie had no idea how Buck was so in touch and comfortable with his emotions, the idea of telling anyone how he felt always made Eddie want to vomit. The only emotion he was comfortable with was anger.

Chim and Hen were already sitting in the kitchen, deep in discussion.

“What's going on guys?”

“We were just talking about Buck.” Hen stated, she looked sad.

“I heard him talking to Maddie, he is looking into a transfer.” Chim added, equally crestfallen.

Eddie’s whole world stopped for a moment. No. He couldn't, he wouldn't leave them, he wouldn’t leave him.

“You can’t have heard right.”

Control the panic. Eddie you can’t freak out at work, this was all a mistake.

“I did hear right.” Chim sighed, “I walked into the apartment, and heard Buck say he had been putting out feelers, and he was getting a ton of responses.”

This was not happening. Buck couldn’t be that mad, he would have said something, he always said something.

“And then he asked Maddie, if she would support him, and of course she said yes, cause she’s his sister, and then they saw me, and changed the subject, and Buck just left.” Eddie could see the hurt in Chim’s eyes, and the worry, if Maddie was forced to choose of course she’d choose Buck.

“I know we fucked up, about the tree house lady, but he wouldn’t just leave without telling us.” Hen tried to reason.

“Especially without telling us.” Eddie said allowed. Hoping that someone would confirm his theory.

“Look I am telling you, Buck has other offers, and he is considering them.” Chim was adamant.

“Okay so what do we do?” Eddie needed someone to help him hold onto the best man that walked into his life. Shit. He was seconds from panicking.

“I don’t know Eds... if he wouldn’t stay for you. I don’t think any of us have a chance.” Hen looked at him with such pity. Like the secret agreement that they all had had somehow broken. Was he that obvious?

How had Eddie let his life get this messed up again?

***

Buck was scrolling through Instagram; he was so melancholy. A feeling he hated. Jacob agreed looking at other stations was a good idea. He was surprised by all of the offers, but the recent round of good press had helped. Katie’s post had blown up. Even the fire chief had emailed Buck to thank him for the great press. It was a good thing that the department was no longer angry at him, cause man he remembered meeting the Chief and the dirty looks he got because of the lawsuit.

He had been getting DMs daily, back in the 1.0 days Instagram had been a great way to talk to people. Maybe he should use it more.

He had his pick of stations. He was leaning to the one-sixty-seven cause it wouldn’t increase his commute that much.

Buck got another DM, he saw the title, it was another firefighter. Some guy named TK. He had followed a lot of ‘out’ firefighters when he joined the force, they had followed a couple mutual accounts. But he had never actually talked to the guy, he had a boyfriend back then, if Buck remembered correctly. Clearly as Buck scrolled his profile the boyfriend was history. Nice. The guy was hot, but he looked like he was based in Austin. Maybe the guy was coming down for a vacation in LA and wanted a tour guide.

Buck opened the DM, a job offer via Instagram was not what he was expecting, but shit.

Hey, I know this is random, but I am a firefighter in the one-two-six in Austin.

Buck knew that house, everyone did. Tragedy like that rocked the community.

Recently, I was injured, and the Cap and I have been searching for a replacement. We have room to add one more person to our unit, I saw your post, and was wondering if you’d consider or were interested in a switch. You seem like a good fit.

The new unit was making waves. Austin, that was Texas, that was a whole new state, a lot more than a change in stations, that was a life change.

If you are interested, we can have an official convo, not on insta.

He had included his number.

Buck called it immediately.

“Hello, this is TK”

“Hi, um this is Evan Buckley.” How did someone approach an Instagram job offer?

“Oh, hey man, how are you?” TK had a nice phone voice.

“I’m good, a little surprised, didn’t know DMing was a way to get job offers.”

TK laughed; he had a nice laugh.

“My dad’s a little unorthodox when it comes to recruitment practices, but to be honest, I was recently injured so I was scrolling insta and saw your post, looked into you and figured you were a good fit.”

“Your dad?”

“Oh yah, my dad is my captain, which is why he is a little hesitant to find someone to cover for me, you know dads, so I figured I’d test the waters with some people.”

Buck was touched that this random stranger thought he was good enough for his family. “Wow I am honored you reached out.”

“I am just glad you responded, so we should talk properly, include my Dad, and we can tell you about the team, if you are interested you can come meet the team. And yah, sorry if that was a lot, I know this is totally random.” TK sounded a little nervous, which made Buck feel a lot better.

“No no, I... it just so happens I was looking to make a change, and um...well I am happy to hear out any offer.”

Buck spent the next hour talking with TK Strand, and then Owen Strand, they were both super nice. He loved the rebuilding of the one-two-six story. He googled the members and shit Owen was a straight up American hero, and TK had been shot in the line of duty. Everyone seemed great, Paul had found a gun on arsonist: cool. Shit, Marjan was hot, and clearly just as reckless as he was. Buck had to admit that the team looked like a great fit. It was nice to know TK was out of the closet and he helped point out to Buck that Austin was the most liberal city in Texas.

Owen said that they did need someone soon, so if he was interested, he could come down that weekend and check it out. The man literally offered him a place to stay. Buck couldn’t think of a reason to say no. If he liked the rest of the team, they would make the transfer request official, and send the paperwork to his team.

The only thing that Buck really had to stay for was Christopher, he had promised him that he would never leave him. Maddie would visit and vice versa, they promised each other after the hostage situation that they would never let anything get in between them again.

She had promised Buck she needed him in her life, and he needed her.

Buck thought about it as he surfed Austin real estate listings. There was Skype and video calls, and he would visit Maddie all of the time. He wouldn’t abandon Christopher, but he also couldn’t be around Eddie. And he had to stop kidding himself, he wasn’t a parent to Christopher, and it hurt. Christopher might call him ‘his buck’ but Buck had no claim to Christopher.

Texts, visits, and the promise to always be in his life, and somehow he had to learn to live with his guilt.

LA was getting suffocating. A fresh start sounded too good to be true. Somewhere where he wasn’t the fuckboy, or the lawsuit guy, but just Buck. A chance to restart.

There were some really nice places in Austin. He could pull off a cowboy hat if push came to shove.

He and TK continued to text, he was a fun dude. Not single as it turns out, but trying to figure out a love life just as complicated as Buck’s, but Buck had to admit TK had one advantage; his hot cop was interested in him.

Thanks to Buck’s googling he found out that TK had been in the New York firefighters calendar, that was like the most coveted of the firefighter calendars.

TK brushed it off, but Buck made it his contact picture, luckily he was already invited into the one-two-six’s group chat. Buck was surprised they hadn’t already known. Apparently, it was going to be plastered all over the one-two-six thanks to him, Buck felt like he was already part of the team.

He could get used to this.

***

The next day Buck walked into the one-eighteen, he had already filed a request for two days off, so that he could explore Austin, he was going to tell the entire team together about the job offers. Buck was secretly hoping that they would all demand he stayed...he was hoping that Eddie would ask him to stay.

When he walked in he was the first one there, he went into the kitchen. He put his phone down on the table and went to make coffee. God he was nervous.

Eddie was the first in. He walked in and sat down; he didn’t even say hi. Okay so this was going to be harder than he thought.

“Hey Eddie, want some coffee?” Buck wished he didn’t sound so damn pathetic. Eddie shrugged “sure.”

Bzzzz

TK Strand

Another reason to come to Austin

Best Hot Wings Guide Austin

Eddie saw the messages pop up, and he fucking saw green. There was some shirtless firefighter as the icon, and Austin. No. Transferring to another station was bad... but Eddie could work with that. But fucking leaving the state.

“Texas?!” Eddie nearly screamed.

“Shit. I wanted to talk to you about that!” Buck couldn’t believe that this was happening, not how he had imagined doing this.

“You said you’d never leave!” Eddie exclaimed, fuck he hurt. No, he swore he’d never feel like this again. He could feel the rage begging to take over, yah he preferred that. He wanted to fucking throw Bucks phone into a wall and break this fucking TK Strands neck.

“I am not... I just got a job offer.” Buck exclaimed.

“Right, and you weren’t looking to leave the one-eighteen, Chim overheard you. I fucking should have never trusted you.” Eddie didn’t even notice, Chim and Hen walked in.

“That’s not fair!” Buck exclaimed. “I haven’t made any decisions, but I deserve to know what my options are, and it’s not my fault that other teams actually want me.”

“We want you to Buck!” Chim exclaimed.

“That’s not fair Buck, we have always treated you like family” Hen joined in.

“Yah and don’t worry my family made me feel like shit too!” Buck exclaimed. Why was everyone yelling? This was supposed to be civilized.

Eddie barely registered that was the first honest thing Buck had ever said about his family, he and Maddie never spoke about them,

“And the return of self-centred Buck, that lasted all of two months.” Eddie hit the chair. He had to hit something before the frustration boiled over.

“That’s not fair!”

“Stop saying that’s not fair. I am sick as shit of hearing you say that’s not fair!” Eddie couldn’t even look at Buck. “GO. Just stop playing with peoples fucking emotions, and go Buck, we will be just fucking fine without you!”

With that, Eddie stormed off.

Buck felt like Eddie had punched him,

“You know, I did everything I could see things from your side, I apologized, but you guys never thought about how I felt. I honestly I am tired, tired of trying so hard for people that don’t seem to notice. I am going to Austin, I am putting in for a transfer.” Buck felt like crying, but he had something to say to Eddie first.

Buck passed a stunned Chim and Hen, he saw Bobby first.

“What happened to Eddie, he just stormed off?” Bobby was clearly worried.

“He lost his temper again, shocking.” Buck fumed. “Anyways, I am putting in for a transfer, I accepted an offer from Austin FD, the paperwork should come in tomorrow.”

Bobby looked stunned. “Wait what”

“I said I am leaving, ask Chim and Hen about the details, I have to have words with Eddie.” Buck tried to brush past Bobby, but he grabbed his arm.

“Now wait just a minute here Buck.” Bobby stuttered. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying I am sick of this shit. I am sick of every time I so much as talk to a woman, that you all seem to think I am trying to sleep with her. I never pressured anyone into sex. I never so much as lied to anyone to get sex, and since you haven’t noticed I’ve changed. I might have made some rash choices, but so has everyone here, including you, everyone gets a clean state, but I can’t take this anymore.” Buck couldn’t believe how frustrated he sounded. “I am done!”

And with that he walked away.

He saw Eddie outside; he was breathing deeply.

“Hey!” Buck shouted. “I am talking to you!”

“What now huh?” Eddie asked. “What the hell do you want?”

“I didn’t deserve that.” Buck stopped in his tracks, like always every time he saw Eddie his anger evaporated. He looked so sad; Buck wished he believed that he cared.

“Before you start shouting, you for once could try and see it from my side, I have tried so damn hard to be someone to you, and I can’t I can’t anymore.” Buck hated how heartbroken he sounded, even to himself. “I tried so hard to be okay with being friends, of this half place in your life, but god... it hurt. I am tired Eddie, and you fucking don’t even notice when I am drowning. I just can’t be here anymore, but I am not abandoning anyone, Christopher will always be in my life, I would never just leave.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Just what I said, you call me self-centered, but damn Eddie you never see anything beyond what you need. You need me to stay, you need me to help you, but you never seem to see how much I need.” Buck started backing away. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You are breaking up with me, and we haven’t even dated?” Eddie wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.

“You know what it's bad enough that you didn’t even care that I was in love with you, but to make fun of my feelings right now, is not... it’s not cool.” Fuck Buck felt stupid.

“Whoa!” Eddie exclaimed, he looked so panicked. “Don’t leave Buck, please don’t leave. I didn’t think... I didn’t realize you... if I had known…”

“Oh please Eddie, you knew.”

“I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did. I flirted and I know when someone is attracted. I am not blind.” Buck couldn’t believe that Eddie would sink so low as to manipulate him like this. He wasn’t good enough before, but now what… suddenly Eddie wanted something, he couldn’t even string together a sentence.

“Of course, I was attracted to you Buck, look at you, but of course it was more for me.” Eddie stepped closer and flinched when he saw how quick Buck stepped back. As if the very thought of Eddie being near him physically hurt him.

“For real Eddie, how pathetic do you think I am?” How could Eddie have messed this up so much?

“I don’t think you are pathetic! Buck I could never think that!”

“You think I would use a kid to sleep with his mom. You think I would just leave without telling you. You never once made a single move in the months I flirted with you... all the while, making me think I had a shot. But then I realized... how you kept saying you wanted someone serious, clearly I was good enough to flirt with, but not enough to date. But now I am done.” Buck walked away further.

Eddie’s head was spinning, he had to figure out how to explain to Buck that he had been a coward, not that he didn’t love him. Shit…

“Wait Buck, just wait a damn minute!”

“No, I am done, I am taking that job in Austin, and getting a fresh start.” Buck turned and left the one-eighteen in his shadow.

Originally, he was going to take a week to pack up his things, but as it turned out he was efficient in packing. He emailed Owen and got confirmation that his transfer was in the works, that gave him a week off to get his things together but he was ready in a day.

Eddie kept calling.

He kept texting too, but Buck had texted him back saying if he really cared that he wouldn’t come over, that he didn’t want to see him.

So far Eddie was listening. Buck sighed to himself, if Eddie had really cared about him, he would have shown up regardless. Buck would have. He would have fought tooth and nail for Eddie to not leave him.

But here he was alone in a basically empty apartment.

Maddie and Chris were the only people Buck really felt like he needed to say goodbye too.

Buck knew Eddie’s schedule; he wasn’t at the station, no one on the team was, Buck knew Bobby would be, he owed him a goodbye too.

And a thank you. Despite his anger, Bobby had done a lot for him, so had the one-eighteen, one thing he knew about family was sometimes leaving made things better. You could still love someone and not be with them always.

So, Buck decided he was going to do a goodbye tour, say his piece with everyone that mattered, and tomorrow he would be off, a new chapter. This was going to be okay.

Bzzz

Eddie Diaz:

I love you; you have to believe that I love you.

Buck couldn’t stop the tears.

Eddie might love him, but he was a second choice, he only wanted him now that he was leaving, and Buck couldn’t, he had his heartbroken once before, and he wasn’t going to let himself fall even more in love with a man who didn’t love him the same.

*** Saying goodbye was harder than Buck anticipated, he was never good at holding onto his anger.

Bobby and Athena didn’t make it hard. He thanked Bobby for actually motivating him to be better, for seeing that he had potential, and promised him he would continue to work to be better.

They both wished him well and promised him the door was always open for him.

Chim just promised to look out for Maddie, and that they were good.

Hen was surprisingly emotional. She made him promise to take care of himself and to do everything he could to be safe, otherwise she’d kill him herself.

Buck knew it was cowardly to sneak off to see Christopher while he was with Carla but self-preservation. If he saw Eddie he’d cave. Hugging Chris was so hard, Buck couldn’t hold back the tears. Christopher looked so sad that he was moving. God he was the worst.

The promise of video calls, and presents and visits, helped. That kid was too mature, he was sad but he didn’t want to look sad.

When he had asked if it was like the trips that Daddy used to take, Buck literally wanted the earth to swallow him whole, that kid had been left behind so many times and he deserved more. Buck just wished that he was strong enough to be able to give it to him.

But he couldn’t. He could risk his heart for someone he wasn’t sure about. He had been devastated once in his life already, and he wasn’t about to go for round two.

And that was that.

LA wasn’t his home anymore.

Buck moved.

***

Eddie couldn’t believe how sad his son looked, he had to watch him pretend he wasn’t sad. But knowing he wasn’t even mad at Buck made it worse. After all, how could he be, he got used to people leaving, and it was his own damn fault. Buck had said he was taking a trip, and that was the same thing he used to tell him.

What the hell was Eddie supposed to do? Of course now looking back he realized how monumentally he fucked up. Sure, he had noticed the signals. And yes, he should have been brave enough to act on them.... but why the hell was Buck so insecure, how could he just assume that it was him? Didn’t he know he was amazing?

There was that nagging voice in his head that told him Buck expected to be blamed, and maybe you didn't give him what he needed and that voice buried Eddie in guilt.

But Buck was gone.

Except he wasn’t.

The station reminded him of Buck, his house was just as much Buck’s as it was his. Literally every part of his life had a Buck shaped hole. Of course stalking his social media didn’t help. Buck looked so happy, the team in Austin looked like a good fit. And then of course he called Christopher all of the time. He kept his promise he wasn’t abandoning anyone. He had just left him.

Eddie had to accept that none of his calls were answered and Buck had never replied to his texts.

Two weeks had gone by, when Buck finally did respond.

I just wanted you to know, I miss you.

That simple message, that Olive Branch took Eddie’s breath away.

Fuck it.

Eddie didn’t want to text or take half steps.

It was July, he could easily enroll Christopher in a new school. Austin was closer to his parents, which was good, and god, he would give Christopher the family he deserved.

He had to find an opening in the Austin FD, anything.

Eddie called Bobby, to see if he had any leads. As it turns out, one of the fire captains got struck by lightning, wild as shit. They had internally promoted, and they had lost their replacement. They needed another person. Sounded perfect. Eddie just prayed to god he got the job.

He spent hours, looking up schools, day-cares, special instructors, and then he realized shit, he had to reply to Buck.

What the hell should he say?

No text seemed enough.

I promise you Buck, very soon you will have no doubts about how I feel about you.

Bzzz

Eddie please, don’t make promises.

Let’s be friends again.

Eddie wasn’t giving up that easy.

You’re right, I am stubborn, and this is something you can’t stop.

I am coming to fight for you Evan Buckley.

Bzzz

Eddie I have commitments, I can’t leave Austin now.

Idiot, did he really think Eddie would just assume that Buck would come running back, he had to learn he was the prize.

I know.

Bzzzz

What does that mean?

Grand gesture time.

You will see. Just wait a little bit longer Buck.

Eddie didn’t want to make false promises. He had no idea if he’d get that job. If he didn’t hell he could move in with his parents while he sorted things out. No wait: you have a kid, you aren’t a guy without your own responsibilities. You have to have a job. Panic was setting in. Buck hadn’t responded. Shit maybe he should just say I am moving, and then figure out the details later. Was that fair to anyone?

Bzzzz I can wait a little bit longer.

But don’t make me wait forever Eddie.

Yes! Buck hadn’t completely written him off.

I won't, I promise.

The next time I say I love you, you will believe me.

Moving was a bitch, Eddie hated it. Getting movers was a whole thing, when technically he hadn’t rented a place. Eddie found a possible apartment and asked to have it held for a couple days. Eddie didn’t want to sign a lease unless he had too. So of course, there was no actual address to send his stuff too. He had to ask the company to wait to deliver it until he knew where he was living. But, Christopher was ecstatic, he hadn’t realized how much Chris had missed his grandparents. He was also so excited to join Buck on his ‘trip’. Eddie knew he was making the right choice.

He was going to give his son a family, and this time he was going to fight like hell to keep it.

The moment of truth had arrived. He was in Texas. His parents were over the moon. The one-eighteen was sad, but they all said they saw it coming after Buck had left.

Eddie dropped Christopher off with his parents before arriving in Austin. If this didn’t go according to plan, he did not want to subject his son to his dad drinking in a bar until he passed out in a motel room. After all, maybe Buck had changed his mind, or realized he was better off, or or or or.

Before he knew it, he was in front of Buck’s house. Buck had bought a cute two-bedroom house, the man had put down roots.

Okay he could do this. Just ring the bell.

It wasn’t that hard.

Eddie suddenly missed his long hair, it was easier to run his hands though that, now he was just fidgeting. Damn, his shirt was wrinkled, okay just brush it down.

Should he have brought something? Housewarming present of course! There had to be a store nearby, he should just go and get something.

Then he would come back.

Eddie turned around, and then he turned back, no he could do this. Scotch would help.

Yes, a bottle of scotch and then he would come back, Eddie turned around again. Just get the scotch and then it would be fine.

Eddie’s heart jumped as he heard the door open.

“Eddie!” That voice, god how he missed it.

Deep breath. Just turn around.

“Hi Buck” God he looked good, somehow he looked even better. He was beautiful.

“What...what are you doing here?” Oh, how he missed that puppy dog expression, his eyebrows crinkled around that adorable birthmark.

“Um…” Buck was waiting. “Wanna come in?”

Yes, walking in that was a good idea. Okay you’ve practiced this. You can do this. Just tell him.

“Are you going to say something?” Buck looked so vulnerable. Shit okay open mouth.

“I just…” Eddie inhaled.

“You are freaking me out.” Buck looked so worried.

“I love you.” Eddie didn’t mean to blurt it out. Not after the disastrous way he had done the last time.

Buck looked disappointed. Not the reaction he was hoping for.

“Wait before you say anything, let me just get this out.” Eddie had his arms raised he didn’t want to hear Buck reason this away. “I am not as good as you with feelings, but I have to say this.”

Buck was looking at him calmly.

“Well?”

Oh, shit he had to say something.

“This would have been easier with the scotch I should have bought.” No laugh. Okay, time to be honest.

“Look I was afraid too. Afraid that you’d realize that you had way better options. I was angry and depressed and licking my wounds.” Eddie suddenly hated that Buck was taller than him because now he had to look into his eyes, he couldn’t just look over him.

“Shannon wanted a divorce, and even though I stopped loving her a long time ago, that rejection hurt. I did everything I could to make her happy and I wasn’t enough, and she just reminded me of how terrible I was in relationships. And by the time she had come back, I was already falling for you. And that scared me. I don’t exactly have any real experience with guys.” Great. Tell Buck that, sound more like a reject. You are trying to convince him to date you. “It’s not like I didn’t know I was interested, the opportunity just never presented itself, and then I just realized it was just another thing I didn’t have to offer.”

“I wasn’t looking…” Buck began.

“No, I am supposed to finish first.” Deep breath. “You were right I was trying to flirt back, but I was afraid, you could literally have whoever you wanted. You are kind. Kind... isn’t even a big enough word. You have the best heart of anyone I know, and since you are so kind with everyone, I was worried I wasn’t that special... after all, why would I be.” Eddie could already see that Buck wanted to disagree. “The fact you want to defend me right now, even though I was an ass to you, just proves my point.”

Buck was starting to smile a little. Okay keep going.

“I was scared. I was scared that you would realize that I was boring, or too messed up, or that you would realize I wasn’t worth it. I was never afraid that you weren’t good enough. I am so fucking sorry that you ever thought that.”

Buck took a step forward. One more deep breath, Eddie closed his eyes, and blurted the rest out: “And don’t apologize anymore. I had my head up my ass but I don’t anymore, I just took a job in Austin, because you are worth the big grand gesture. You are worth everything to me. So that’s my pitch: me, Christopher, a new city, new chance?”

Before Eddie even realized it, Buck was kissing him. Holy shit, he was being kissed. Okay, participate.

All of the anger and frustration and fear just melted away.

“Did you seriously move to Austin?” Buck couldn’t believe his ears, he was worried this was a dream.

“I did, though I still haven’t bought a place. I was... um” Eddie focus, but god touching Buck, being able to feel him was distracting. Why hadn’t he done this before?

“Move in with me.” Buck laughed. “If you moved to another city just to be with me, move in with me.”

Eddie couldn’t help but grin. “Well there were other reasons, like the hot wings and the…” Buck was kissing him again, and yah busting his balls was not worth it at all, he just never wanted Buck to stop what he was doing.

“You won’t regret this.” Buck vowed.

“I know I won’t.” Eddie smiled into Bucks neck, and just held him for a moment. “I know because you will have my back, always.”

“Where’s Christopher?” Buck asked. He had missed that kid like nothing else.

“With his grandparents for the night. But I am sure tomorrow we could all explore the city together. By the way, my parents are dying to meet the man that convinced me to come back to Texas.” Eddie chuckled. Hell, he moved to another city, and decided to move in with Buck. Meeting the parents was the logical next step.

“So you're saying you don’t have to be anywhere all night.” Eddie wanted to remain cool, but holy shit, Buck looked at him in a way that his skin tingled.

“Nowhere, but here.”

“Well then... let me show you to our bedroom.”

Our bedroom.

“Sounds perfect.”

And it was.

Fin.

Notes:

I hope you liked it!!! Thanks for reading.

> The only way I could think of making the fact that they haven't hooked up logical was one of them was insecure, cause literally they flirt so badly on the show > But also that show is full of miscommunications > I also just think that TK Strand is defo in the NYFD Calandar it just seems on brand > I also think Eddie cutting his hair was a travesty

#911 fic #evan buckley #daily911 #jasonvtodd #buddie #buddie fic #wrote it for emily

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