#lee minho friends to lovers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvknow · 6 months ago

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sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill’, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ’”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn’t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers.

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.��

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The�� The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights.

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. “Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

#lee minho #lee minho imagines #skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #lee know fic #lee know x reader #romance #friends-to-strangers-to-lovers #angst #emotional hurt with comfort #a doozy................. my longest one yet me thinks #nawt to bring in one piece but the way i screamed TAKT looking at that minho pic yeah

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twinklychan · 4 months ago

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I don't think I could love you more

Lee minho oneshot

Just fluff, the fluffiest fluff probably, kissing mentioned

Wc: 1.7k+

Another Night that starts with you driving to Minho's place. Tears in your eyes. You try to wipe them away Aggressively as you think about how you ended up in this situation once again. The reason for your crying is probably the worst of it all. Your love for Minho was just too strong. It seemed silly to cry over how much you love your best friend. But even more silly was the fact that you cried over how much you wanted to be his Partner.

It wasn't only a crush anymore, you were down bad and realization hit you when you sat on your couch, watching a show with best friends falling in love. (Who would've guessed…)

You drive as fast as you can (and as fast as you're allowed to) and when you finally arrive it feels like 3 hours passed even though it's only a 15 Minute way to his apartment. You ring the bell once…twice…thrice until the door opens and a tired looking minho appears behind the door.

You press your lips together at the cute sight of his tousled hair and tired eyes as he rubs his face with his left hand. When his eyes fully adjust to your presence, they ever so slightly widen and he immediately puts his hands onto both of your shoulders, pulling you in his chest.

“What happened?!” For a moment you just stand there, head buried in his chest, confused as to why he would ask such a question but then you remembered that you came here crying. You suddenly start to laugh, surprising yourself with the sudden mood switch.

You weren't only a crying mess now but also a crying mess with a smile on your face, looking like a maniac. Minho quickly pulls away, his face holding a concerned expression as he mustered you.

“Am I supposed to know what emotion you're displaying now or what is happening?” He asks but all you can do is stand there and laugh, your hands cupping your face before they wipe the tears that race down your cheeks. You shake your head.

“No I- I just missed you.” You mumble into your palms, and when you feel His warm hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands away, you want to cry again. He is an angel. He has those delicate ways of showing his love even if it's only friendship (you want it to be more though.) The way he would scan your entire face and know your emotion immediately just made everything so much more comfortable.

Your friendship was to die for and you nearly do by loving him more than he probably loved you. Your eyes well up with tears again as you start to pout to fight them away but to no avail. The next tears lined up for the race on your cheeks and before you could stop them they were running down gracefully and with so much force you weren't even fast enough to wipe them away before they dropped onto Minho's arms.

“Come inside.” He mumbled, pulling you into his apartment fully before closing the door and turning back around to face you.

“Now what the hell is going on-” He asked and you suddenly feel bad for waking him up at midnight and stealing his chance to sleep through. Love can be selfish at times.

“I-” you didn't even get to finish the sentence before he stepped closer in one long stride and examined your body.

“what- what are you doing-” you asked, yelping as he searched for bruises of any kind. (At least it looked like it) he held up your arms, one at a time, trying to find any signs of wounds but there was nothing. Then he put his thumb and Index finger to your chin and moved that side to side.

“You're not hurt- why are you crying?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“I told you I missed you!” your voice was louder than a minute ago now. You were sick of pretending to have only platonic feelings for him. His eyes widened a bit before he put on his usual resting expression.

"Sure." He mumbled, smirking with a knowing look on his face.

“How could you not miss me, I'm great.” He continued and you whacked his arm, your lower lip moving slightly forward into a small pout.

“Don't make fun of me, idiot!” You whined, his lips turning into a smirk and you groaned.

“You know what? Forget it, I'm leaving, you're not worthy of my missings.” and with that being said you turn on your heels, ready to walk away. But as it just stayed silent in the apartment and you neared the door you suddenly turned around.

"What? So you actually want me to leave?” You say, disappointed when you see his smile. He knows exactly what he's doing. And you hate how good he looks. He looks like a Greek god sculpted his face himself and put every face he has ever found more than pretty into one sculpture that turned out to be Lee Minho.

With a little bit self control he wouldn’t have laughed but knowig Minho he doesn’t give one fuck about that. He breaks out into laughter as you huff and turn around, opening the door.

“Fine, then just ignore my feelings I guess.” you mumbled to yourself, nearly closing the door behind you before you heard quick footsteps.

“Wait! I was just joking, come on!” He laughs as he follows you but you just ignored him, deciding to play a game with him this time.

As soon as your foot left his apartment, you felt one hand grabbing you in your kneecaps and another one under your shoulder blades. You felt your body being lifted off the ground and suddenly you were in Minho's hands, your legs on his right arm and your back on his left arm.

“what are you doing?” You ask as he looks at you like you're the dumbest person on this planet.

“What do you mean, dummy? I'm practicing.” You look at him confused as you try to read his face but to no avail.

“For what?” You ask, confusion in your voice.

“for our wedding.” and there it was, the minho you fell in love with. The minho that made your heart beat 100 times faster than it normally does and once again, like always when he did that stuff, your heart leaped onto the floor beneath you. You were glad he was holding you in his arms, otherwise you would've probably turned into a puddle right in front of him, with how weak your knees have gotten.

The only way you could respond was a small slap on the shoulder and your face buried in his neck as you giggled. Your cheeks burned. You hated the way you reacted to him. The way you gave in so easily with a smile and how you weren't even able to hide the excitement cursing through your body.

Minho started laughing hysterically as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘cute’ to himself. But that was probably just your delusion.

10 Minutes later and the both of you were seated on his couch, cuddled up and watching a movie. But even if you tried so hard to concentrate on the movie, you just couldn't help but spiral. How were you not supposed to fall in love with your best friend with all the stuff he did to you?

The worst was, that you couldn't even pinpoint if it was just Minho’s way of friendship or if he was actually in love with you too. At this point you didn't care anymore. It was past 2am, you're not responsible for the stuff coming out of your mouth this late and you surely weren't when you randomly blurted out-

“I love you!” Silence.

Then a small movement from his side.

“I…love you too?” He mumbled like it was a question and you knew he didn't have the same meaning behind it as you did.

“Good.” You mumbled, coughing to overpower the awkward silence that hung in the air. Until Minho's laughter filled up the room. You nearly snapped your neck at how fast you turned it around to look at him.

“You're cute.” He snickered, making your cheeks burn as you Huffed.

“Well maybe I don't want to be cute-”

“Too bad you are.” You couldn't even finish your sentence before he interrupted it, making your heart beat even faster if that was even possible.

And from then on everything happened in mere seconds.

His face inches away from yours, his lips moving to ask for permission, you nodding your head and finally his lips on yours. They moved in perfect sync as if they were meant to be put together. Like a puzzle. And as he pulled away and looked into your eyes with so much love and adoration you knew it was the end of you.

You blinked once, twice,...thrice and then you grabbed the pillow beside you, burying your face in it as you squeaked. You never liked this cheesy stuff in movies or shows but somehow you weren't any better than the characters there.

You had no intention of moving away from that pillow any time soon as you know your face must be looking like a tomato.

The only thing you felt were his arms that moved you into his embrace.

“Give me a moment.” You mumbled and Minho just laughed, adoring your honesty.

You finally pulled away from the pillow and were met with the admiring eyes and adoring smile of Minho’s. You bit your lip smiling to yourself as Minho looked at you.

“I love you…have been loving you for a while actually.” He admitted. You giggled, pecking his lips before pulling away.

“I love you too.” You mumbled.

“Can't believe you had to confess at 2am and wake me up for it though-” He teased as you hit his right arm.

“Ow- okay I'm sorry-” He apologized.

“You better be.” You glared, pecking his lips once again, and then his nose and his forehead.

“I love you.” You mumbled.

“I love you too.”

#straykids fanfiction #skz #straykids imagine #straykids oneshots #lee minho #lee know #lee know fanfic #lee know fanfiction #lee know fluff #lee know oneshot #skz lee know #skz minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #stray kids fluff #best friends #best friends to lovers

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booksndpoetry · 7 months ago

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The Gratitude Series

A Lee Minho Fanfic

Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"

WC : 2.8k words

Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader

Genre : Fluff

Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation

A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.

m.list

“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that.

Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.

But that was his opinion before you came into the café.

The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.

When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.

You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard.

He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face.

He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.

And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider.

Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it.

That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile.

ii.

After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail.

After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself.

Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you.

Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?

He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter.

Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?

The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.

Would you come back again? Would he see you again?

And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.

The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club.

When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected.

Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes.

The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.

He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside.

Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected.

As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time.

You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.

Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.

Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.

Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.

And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do.

Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him.

Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.

Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him.

Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.

He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.

Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off.

When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,

“Hey, Minho right? We meet again.”

and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:

“Thank you.”

He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation.

“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly.

“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.”

“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know.

“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,

“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.”

He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with.

For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off.

The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first.

Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all.

iii.

Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time.

He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too.

He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him.

But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dusk, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you.

It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly.

He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in.

Just as he’d predicted, you tell him:

“Thank you.”

His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes.

He wants you to stop.

He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life.

Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole.

iv.

Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too.

It’s unmistakable in the way your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.

It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.

It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.

But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.

And that, he learns, makes all the difference.

Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words.

Why?

Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions.

Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were.

But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.

He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.

He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.

He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something.

All he sees is you.

You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time.

He has no complaints.

vi.

One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up.

Your Psychology exams are what’s up.

He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.

Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room.

The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.

For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.

He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.

Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right?

Wrong.

He's rendered wrong.

So, so, wrong.

Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.

It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.

You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.

After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho.

“Oh hey. Need something?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.

“I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”

He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books.

You let a whine in response.

“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?”

You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in.

Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle.

You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end.

He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished.

You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him.

“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.”

“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth.

“Mo, yw don undastan-“

“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”

You glare at him, but do as he says.

Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.”

You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise.

He just shakes his head.

Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices.

“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk.

You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words.

“Huh?”

“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.”

This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time?

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment.

You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.

Your mouth curves upwards.

“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?

I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.

I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.

So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Is that better?”

You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.

I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try.

A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.

You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.

No ordinary person could be like that, could they?

He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway.

Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work.

This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’.

And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day.

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

76 notes · View notes

skzhocomments · 26 days ago

Text

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

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Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Chapter word count: 4.4k words

It was cold.

The winter wind hit your cheeks mercilessly, bringing a chill down your spine and making you shiver.

Why me? You thought, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but not daring to fall yet. Crying made you tired, and you were already tired enough. Your feet were swollen from the walking, your arms sore from carrying the small bag with the few items you managed to take with you, and your back hurt from the weight of your ever-growing belly.

7 months.

That’s how long you’ve been pregnant for.

You were one of the unlucky ones who didn’t see pregnancy as this wonderful miracle the media made it out to be. For you, it was the most horrible thing you could’ve gone through.

The first three months, you’ve been sick and felt the need to throw up each time you smelled anything. Anything. The next 3 months, you’ve felt so tired, you could barely get out of bed. Another nail in the coffin of your relationship. It also didn’t help that your partner has been borderline abusive ever since you told him about the baby – which was the very reason you’ve left at this late hour basically penniless.

And now, the cravings. Damn, these fucking cravings – what made you stop in front of a small restaurant called “Know your Cats”.

What a strange name, you thought and chuckled a bit.

From outside, “Know your Cats” looked like a cosy place. There didn’t seem to be too many people in, probably because of the late hour, but whatever they ordered smelled amazing. You wanted to eat it so badly. So, you went in and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the small restaurant, as far away as possible from other people. You didn’t dare to take off your winter coat yet, but inside was warm. So warm, it almost warmed up your heart too.

Soon enough, a young waiter approached you.

“Good evening, ma’am, what can I get for you? Considering that I haven’t seen you here before, it must be the first time you come to our restaurant. So, maybe I could bring you something to drink while you consult the menu. Maybe some water?” he spoke quickly in a friendly tone and pulled out a pen and a small notebook.

Watching him talk so fast was pretty funny to you, you thought his chubby cheeks looked amusing when so many words per second would get out of his mouth.

“Uhm… sorry, but…” you didn’t dare raise your head, aware of the light bulb towering above you. After all, you’ve chosen to leave home at such a late hour for two reasons:

1. Your partner was away God knows where.

2. The dark bruises all over you. Ah, and your busted lip, the accessory that completed your look. The cherry on top.

However, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“… I was wondering what the people over there are having… it smells really good.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s our dear owner’s speciality! A secret recipe, if you will!”

The boy’s excitement brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s really just a fancy pork ragu.” He whispered, winking.

“Could I please know how much a serving costs?” you spoke quietly, counting in your head how much money you had in your pocket.

$7. Yes, that’s all your dear partner left for you to get some food when he left “on a business trip” 5 days ago. You knew that this was just code for cheating, and you cursed yourself yet again for not keeping your job 5 months ago when your pregnancy symptoms started getting worse. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have endured his abuse for so long.

God, how could you have been so stupid? You weren’t even married, yet you let yourself become completely dependent on him as soon as the pregnancy test came out positive. You let him drag you down, comment on your weight, physically and financially abuse you, yet you stayed for so long. The thought of homelessness weighed heavier than everything else you’ve experienced living with him, until it didn’t.

“That’s $15. Would you also like something to drink with it? I heard orange juice is one of the best drinks to have while pregnant, and the owner makes a delicious one!”

$15. But you only had $7.

He scribbled something in the notepad and kept talking, but you didn’t even hear anything else he said. You just felt your eyes swell up with tears again, your vision getting blurry.

You were so hungry.

You started petting your belly and thought of the small child growing inside of you. There were no words to describe how terrible you felt for putting your future child through this. If you were alone, you wouldn’t mind going hungry, but knowing that you were hurting someone else as well – someone you loved so much already – was killing you.

“I… I can’t afford that…” you smiled bitterly, your voice so quiet, barely audible. “Maybe… there’s something on your menu that’s $7 or less?”

“I don’t think…” the young waiter rubbed his nape apologetically.

“That’s- that’s okay, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” You tightened the coat around your frame and prepared yourself mentally to get up and face the cold again.

Where were you going to go?

You didn’t want to think about it. But oh, you should’ve. You should’ve thought about it long ago and made a viable escape plan. Instead, you left with a small bag, $7 in your pockets and an almost empty phone. You also threw out your keys in one of the trash cans around the building you lived in with your partner, just to make sure you wouldn’t return.

“You know what, please wait a second. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” The young waiter said quickly and turned his back at you, hurrying towards the counter.

Like you had anywhere you could go.

“Hey, everything good? What’s got you running like that?” Minho started, amused by Han’s speed so late in the evening.

“Hyung, what should we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this woman – I don’t have all the details, obviously, but she looks… she has bruises all over. And she’s pregnant. And she only has $7 and-”

“Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

“What I’m saying is” – he inhaled loudly – “let’s give her some food on the house. What do you think?”

“And why would we do that?” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, don’t be so cold. Let’s help her! Please???”

“Why should we? We don’t owe anyone anything. Who comes to a restaurant with no money anyway?” Minho cursed out.

“You know what? Just go over there and see for yourself, if you don’t want to give her anything on the house, then I’ll pay for her meal myself! Greedy bastard.” Han replied in an annoyed tone.

“Yah, it’s not like business’ been going so well lately, asshole!” Minho rolled his eyes and cursed him out.

However, he wasn’t actually as indifferent as he wanted to seem – and he couldn’t ignore what Han said either. Maybe that’s what made him so special in his friend’s eyes. So, Minho went and grabbed a glass of some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Han said she was pregnant, maybe she has morning sickness? He thought, so he poured out some ginger tea as well. That helped Chan’s wife – one of his closest friends – when she was pregnant. It should help you too, right?

With a glass of juice in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he made his way over the bar to the only occupied corner in the room. The loud table in the middle of the restaurant motioned for him to come and requested the check, but Han was right behind Minho, so he took care of them in an instant, seeing them out and locking the door behind them, making sure to turn the “Closed” sign around.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two glass objects hitting the table.

You raised your head and noticed a glass filled with what you assumed to be orange juice, and a cup with a lid on top, but before you could investigate what was in it, the fresh smell hit your nostrils, bringing a smile on your face.

Ginger tea, your favourite.

A good-looking man took the seat in front of you. He was very beautiful. It was like his face was painted by a skilled artist – his mouth, nose and eyelashes looked perfect, and his skin was flawless, almost making you jealous.

Boys always have the best eyelashes. You thought, glossing over his features once more.

You quickly noticed that what you liked the most about him were his eyes. A deep shade of brown orbs that glistened like stars under the restaurant’s light. And they were looking right at you, observing your every move and mannerism. Catching a glimpse of your own reflection in his eyes made you unwittingly frown.

You noticed quickly what he was wearing: a casual shirt and jeans and an apron. Is he the chef? You questioned, but before you could say anything, the man introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Minho, the owner of the restaurant. Please.” He said, a kind smile forming in the corners of his mouth, while pointing at the drinks he brought.

“Hello, Minho. Thank you.” You smiled back and took a small sip of the orange juice. “This tastes nice. I’m Dal-Rae, by the way.”

Dal-Rae… Minho analysed your name in his head for a few seconds, thinking about how pretty it sounds. And looking at you, it seemed fitting, somehow.

Even with how tired your figure was, Minho could still be able to see behind the fatigue and notice your beautiful features.

“Nice to meet you, Dal-Rae, and welcome to Know your Cats.” He gestured proudly to the restaurant, making you chuckle.

“That’s a very funny name. What’s the inspiration behind it?”

“Well, that would be my three cats.”

“Oh my God, you have three cats?! That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, excited by the new information.

“You think so? Do you like cats?” He asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I love them! I always wanted one but…” but you never considered yourself responsible enough to take care of yourself, let alone of another living, breathing being. Or at least that’s what your partner made you believe about yourself the whole time you lived with him.

“You will never be a good mother” he would tell you. “You wouldn’t even be able to take care of a hamster, let alone a cat. And now you’re pregnant?! How will someone as horrible as you take care of a baby?! Don’t make me laugh!”

And you always believed him. After all, he knew you so well. Right?

“So, why did you keep it? Are you that self-centred? Did you really have to do this so I’ll never leave you?” he would scream at you, forgetting that it took two to tango. Forgetting that he was the one that took off the condom without your knowledge and permission so many months ago.

“You wanna see some pics?” Minho smiled genuinely and took out his phone, shifting your focus back at him. He seemed very hopeful that you would say yes, for some reason.

“I’d love to!” You replied honestly. You truly loved cats. They were adorable balls of fur, and you would cuddle with them all day if given the chance.

“That’s great! Okay, but before that… Jisung? Please bring out some servings of the special recipe for us, will you?” he spoke, and then opened his gallery and started showing you cute pictures of his three cats.

You learnt that their names were Soonie, Doongie and Dori and you pretty much remembered which was which from the first picture he showed you, something that truly surprised Minho. Not even Han knew all their names, and even if he would somehow remember them, he would mix up Doongie and Soonie. But for real now, was it so difficult to remember that Soonie had stripes and Doongie had a white belly? Come on!

“By the way, you can make yourself comfortable and take off your jacket. You must be hot with so many layers on you.” He got up and helped you with your winter coat, placing it neatly on a chair next to you.

“Oh, thank you…”

Jisung brought the food soon after you and Minho made some more small talk. He brought three servings with him and placed a plate in front of you, one in front of Minho and one in front of an empty seat, which he was quick to take.

Both Han and Minho started eating, but you felt a bit… weird. Out of place.

“Anything wrong?” Minho asked concerned, noticing that you didn’t even put your hand on the spoon.

“I… I really can’t… pay for this, unless… you accept $7?” You asked unsure and grabbed the crumbled notes from your coat pockets. You tried straightening out the notes as well as you could, but when you handed it to Minho, you noticed he looked at you with a big frown on his face, his eyes immediately softening.

He put his hands on the one hand you gave him that was still holding the money, and made you close it into a fist. It was his way of telling you that you should keep it.

“Don’t worry about it, you already paid when you listened to this weirdo talk about his cats for 15 minutes straight.” Han replied and patted your shoulder, as if he was comforting you for enduring so much.

“Yah, loudmouth, shut it!” Minho retorted. “And you better start eating while it’s still hot.” He took the spoon in front of you off the table and looked at you expectantly, as you hesitantly put the money back in your coat. When you were done, he placed the spoon in your right hand, gesturing to the food. “Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you myself?” He kept looking at you, coercing you into trying a bite.

And damn, were you right! It not only smelled amazing, but it tasted heavenly.

“Fuck me, this is so good!” You said with no filter, forgetting for a moment that the men in front of you were, in fact, not your friends.

But eating with them did feel like getting food with a friend. Maybe that’s why you relaxed so much and spoke your mind freely, for what felt like the first time in years. You were not allowed to curse when you lived with your ex. It would start a raging fit from him, because “What kind of woman has such a rotten mouth?”, and you would regret opening your mouth and saying anything.

“Oops, excuse me!” you said, covering your mouth with your hands.

The two men, however, seemed to not mind your lack of manners, and started cheering when you told them that you loved the food.

“Thank you so much for this.” You said to Minho, both of you looking at how Han cleaned up the now empty table in the middle of the room. “Truly.”

“No worries.” Minho replied nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from you. Despite his indifferent tone, his mannerisms indicated that he’s somewhat nervous, as he rubbed his nape in slight embarrassment.

“I… uhm… really feel bad for not paying you at all for this. Like I said, I can only give you this much, but…” you grabbed your coat so you could take out the money again, but before you were able to do so, Minho stopped you by placing his hand on your wrist.

“Please keep them, that’s okay.”

“But…”

“I’m serious.” He looked straight at you, his glance alone convincing you to let it go. You didn’t want to risk annoying him, and it seemed your conversation would take that direction if you kept insisting.

“Okay. Uhm… I should take my leave now.” You said, petting your belly and grabbing your small hand luggage.

“Where are you going? Home…?” Minho treaded carefully, his words holding an inexplicable weight over you.

Home… I don’t have a home anymore.

You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts away, and tried thinking logically for once. Where could you go?

Letting out a small sigh, you replied, slightly dejected.

“Well… there should be a women's shelter about 4 km from here.”

“4 km?! Don’t tell me you plan on walking over there at 1 am in the middle of a winter night.”

You didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, and nor did Minho. He shouldn’t give two shits for a stranger, but he was somehow… worried for you?

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice… It’s not that far. I can make it. It’s only an hour walk away.” You replied, trying to convince him and yourself as well. The truth was that you were so tired, you could fall asleep if you put your head on the table, and your feet hurt so bad.

Being pregnant sucked.

“Let me take you. Jisung will be done in a minute and then we can go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly- You already helped me so much.”

“I don’t even wanna hear it. Han, hurry up!”

“THERE’S STILL THE DISHES LEFT, HYUNG!”

“Just leave them. I’ll do them tomorrow morning.”

“OKAY THEN! I’M COMING!”

Without a second thought, Minho grabbed your bag and gestured to you that you could now go. Han went his own way, while Minho guided you to his car, in the opposite direction.

He opened the door for you and helped you in, actions that somehow made your stomach clench. No one’s acted so nice towards you. Ever.

And he was doing that for a complete stranger.

He started the car and drove to the destination you put in the GPS, and for the first time in your life, you felt an overwhelming feeling of safety. How funny it was – to feel so safe next to a stranger, when you haven’t once felt safe next to your so-called boyfriend – or rather, ex.

You were once again on the verge of crying as you’ve made this realisation in your head. How come you felt safe next to Minho? Was this really how you were supposed to feel next to someone else? Relieved, protected…

How come you’ve never felt this way before, next to your ex?

The 4-minute drive would’ve taken you more than an hour walk in the cold, so you now appreciated Minho even more for giving you a ride.

“So, this is it, right?” He said, parking in front of a small building that had all the lights off.

Weird, you thought and nodded unsure.

You both got out of the car and walked towards the building’s door, a small paper on it drawing your attention, almost burning your eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to a funding issue, the “Stay Safe” Women Shelter had to shut down indefinitely. In case of emergency, we recommend contacting our affiliate, “House of Hope” Homeless Shelter (+0X 0XXXXXXXXX) and they should offer you the help you need. We apologise for any inconvenience!”

The way your face dropped did not go unnoticed by Minho. It became clear to him that this has been your only escape route.

You slowly took out your phone from your pocket and clumsily formed the number on the paper, barely able to see with your screen’s brightness so low. You couldn’t turn it up though, since your battery percentage was so low, so you struggled and squinted your eyes, carefully pressing on each number on your phone, which proved to be so much more difficult through the tears building up in your eyes. It was getting harder and harder to swallow back the lump in your throat.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“House of Hope Homeless Shelter, this is Kelly, how may I assist you?”

“Good evening… I am contacting you because I needed some help and… I was just in front of the Stay Safe Shelter…”

“Oh, good evening, ma’am. Were you looking for a place to stay tonight?”

“Not just tonight… I don’t know for how long…”

“Are you alone, or are there also kids with you?”

“It’s just me… I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“We understand… Unfortunately, our shelter is full at the moment. The government retracted most of our funding, so these are difficult times. However, if you would be able to wait for a few minutes, I will try to contact other shelters to see if anyone would be able to take you in for now.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will get back to you shortly.”

You let Minho know of the phone conversation and told him to head home, but he was adamant you would leave with him, or at least wait for the phone call in the comfort of the heated car. After some convincing, you found each other listening to some slow songs on the radio, enjoying the car’s warmth and watching the year’s first snow through the windshield.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, you were restless and anxious. Your hands were trembling, and you couldn’t think straight. Where else would you go?

Minho didn’t say anything either. He kept thinking of ways to calm you down: should he lay his hand on top of yours and tell you that everything was going to be okay? Should he say anything at all? Why was he still with you, anyway?

You tried to think of anything else and ignore the feeling of impending doom settling in your stomach, so you looked out the window. Small snowflakes would land on the car’s hood and immediately turn to water due to the heat.

Your eyes would dart to Minho from time to time, who seemed to be lost in his own little world as he watched the same scene in front of you - the snowflakes dancing in the sky and landing on the car - and you remembered that one belief that watching the first snowfall of the year with someone would lead to falling in love with them. However, it felt like such a foolish thought, you immediately let it go.

25 minutes later, your phone’s ringtone snapped you both out of your trance. You made a mental note to change your ringtone after how anxious it made you feel right now, being sure that you won’t be able to keep hearing it again after this horrendous day.

“Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am? We apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, we were unable to find any shelter close to your location that would be able to accommodate you for tonight. We recommend going to a police station and asking for help, and you could try calling again tomorrow, when possible new resources would be available.”

“I… Seriously?” You started, but when the lady started apologising countless times on the phone for not being able to help you out, you simply ended the call. You wished the earth would swallow you whole, making you disappear for good.

But then you slapped yourself mentally. How could you be so selfish as to wish to disappear? You were not alone anymore. Your body was not yours alone anymore, and your baby didn’t deserve any of your selfish thoughts. You needed to be strong.

“What did they say?” Minho asked anxiously.

Why was he feeling like this anyway? This was so stupid, you thought. You’re no one. You’re just a random woman who stumbled upon his restaurant and took advantage of his kindness.

“They… they aren’t able to help me, so they recommended I go to a police station for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, they’ll make some room…”

“Then, should we go to a police station…?” Minho hesitated.

You snorted and turned to him, answering in a more annoyed tone than you would’ve liked to.

“Do you think I can go to the police looking like this?!”

Minho’s eyes grew wide, conveyed in them what could only be described as shock. You didn’t want to lose your cool, not against this man who’s been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… I’m very stressed right now and that didn’t come out as I wanted it to, and-”

“Why? Why can’t you go to the police? Are you trying to protect whoever did this to you?!” Minho cut you off and replied in an equally annoyed tone as you. However, despite the harshness in his voice, you didn’t get the feeling that he was angry. Instead, it felt more like he was scolding you.

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’m scared, okay? I’m scared they will ask me questions and when I tell them the truth, he’ll find out and come get me. He’ll… he’ll definitely find out. He’ll find me, and I’m scared of him. I just want me and my baby to be safe!” You continued, losing your composure for a moment and allowing this dreadful weakness to take over you. You started crying and placed your face steady between your palms, thinking about how pathetic you were being.

“Okay, you know what? I’m sure you are very tired right now.” He put one hand on top of your head and petted it gently, making you raise your face and look at him. His eyes were kind and assuring. “Resting is also good for the baby.” He continued, and as he said that, he put the car into gear and drove off.

“Where…?” you tried to ask, confused, but you ended up choking on a sob.

“Back to the restaurant. I have some extra rooms. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll clear your head and be able to think better.”

“Minho…” you sobbed. “Really? I… I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Dal-Rae. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure everything out tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, but… are you sure…?”

“Mhm.” Minho brushed you off with his hand and continued driving, both of you staying silent, listening to the soft tunes on the radio.

When you arrived, Minho led you upstairs. You were surprised that the place had stairs in the first place, since you didn’t notice them earlier. On the top of the stairs, a door was separating the restaurant and the three-bedroom apartment Minho lived in.

“It’s so the cats don’t go out.” he explained, and you understood what he meant as soon as he opened the door and Dori came running and screaming at the both of you.

“What’s up? Hungry?” Minho replied and scratched Dori’s chin, and as the sounds of his voice rang throughout the apartment, Doongie and Soonie spawned out of nowhere as well.

“Oh my god, hi babies!” You exclaimed and smiled, quickly placing yourself on your knees to pet them, since you couldn’t exactly bend, your belly being so large by now.

You didn’t notice Minho’s smile. He was stuck looking at how quickly his cats accepted you and let you scratch their fur, Soonie even purring against your stomach and petting itself on it lovingly.

“Okay, enough playing, it’s late. Let’s get you up.” Minho put his palms under your arms and lifted you from the ground like you were a kid, bringing a slight chuckle to your lips.

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Chapter 2

26 notes · View notes

kittykat-25 · 9 months ago

Text

One Of The Guys - Part 7

Pairings: Hongjoong x F!Reader, Chan x F!Reader

Genre: idol au, Friends x Lovers, angst

Warnings: mini anxiety attack mentioned, Feminine pet names(Bubs, Pretty Girl, Noona)

Summary: You tried really hard not to be a cliché, falling love with your best friend. How unoriginal. But when your best friend is Kim Hongjoong what are you supposed to do?

Now Playing: One Of The Guys- Jessia

Saturday morning

After the album dropped last night the guys had been in a frenzy to get everything going. Going on music core today and a variety show tonight. The packed schedule began. As you sat at the counter eating and having the show pulled up awaiting your friends stage you get a call from Chan. “Hey pretty girl, you ready for tonight?” You laughed nervously, “trying to not stress about it but excited to see you.” You heard a loud commotion in the background, “what was that?!” You asked. The call ended and a FaceTime from Chan popped up in its place. You swiped to answer and were greeted with Wooyoung’s face. “BUBS” he screeched into the phone, busting your ear drum in the process.

You could hear Chan laughing, “I had to bring Minho something and figured you’d want to say hi!” He added from behind the phone. You smiled, “thank you Channie, how’s it going boys?” You asked to no one in particular. “Y/n!!!” Was yelled back at you as the others gathering around the phone. “How are my boys? Working hard? Did you eat?” You asked, worry settling in. They all looked drained and it was only day one of the madness. “Yes we ate, and Chan Hyung brought us snacks as well.” Jongho said. The phone pointed towards. Chan would was sitting in a chair looking on happily as you got to speak with your friends.

You heard a beeping sound and all the members faces changed, “we have to go bubs! Watch us okay! “ Wooyoung yelled into the phone as he handed it back to Chan. “Have fun, go kill it!” You yelled as they all gathered at the door. As Chans face came back into focus you smiled at him widely. “Thank you Channie. That might be the only time I’ll get to actually see them for a while.” Chan said his goodbyes to your friends, walking out the door you caught Joong eyes and waved quickly before turning your eyes back to Chan. “Anything for you pretty.” You blushed deeply. Enough for Hongjoong to see it from where he was standing. A raw nagging eating at his stomach. Chalking it up to nerves he put on his game face. Not letting you distract him from work.

You got off the phone with Chan and went back to the screen ready to start the show and support the guys. Glad you lived alone in times like this as you screamed your heart out to their newest song. You spent the rest of the morning playing their new album while cleaning and dancing around your apartment. You and Wooyoung had already picked out an outfit for dinner tonight. Around 2 you started baking a cake to take to them. You knew Felix was making his famous brownies, you were so excited to get to try them. But you also didn’t want to show up empty handed. Not matter how many times Chan said it was fine. So you pulled out your go to cake recipe and go to work.

As you walked to Chans dorm you tried not to fidget too much. Your nerves were kicking in and by the time you got to the door you were fully hyperventilating. You sat the cake down and reached for your phone. Mindlessly scrolling for Joong or Wooyoung you had to remind yourself that they wouldn’t be able to help you right now. You clicked Chans contact and prayed he would answer. “Hey are you here.” You tried to get some air in your lungs, “y-yeah.” You stammered out. Chan was quiet for a minute then you heard a door close. “Are you outside? I’m coming down.” You stayed on the phone while sitting beside your cake. You had just put your head in your hands, calming down when the door busted open behind you. “Y/n, pretty girl are you okay?” Chan asked crouching down in front you of.

You looked up, finally able to breathe normally and shook your head. “Apparently I’m more nervous than I let myself believe.” You said trying to lighten the mood. “Baby we don’t have to go inside until you are okay.” He said and you tried to stand, legs a little shaky. “I’m alright Channie.” You said and you reached down to grab the cake. “I made yall something!” Chan reached over and took the cake box from you and grabbed your hands in one of his. “Y/n, I know you are nervous so if you start to get anxious or feel even somewhat uncomfortable please let me know so I can help.” You smiled at him and nodded. “They are going to love you.” He added opening the door and leading you inside.

As you walked up the stairs to their dorm you could feel your hands start to shake. You reached forward and grabbed Chans hand intertwining your fingers. He soothingly rubbed his thumb over the back of your hands, giving you a smile as you made it to his floor. “Okay they are loud and chaotic and Seungmin will tease me. Don’t believe a word he says.” Chan said as you made your way to his door. You could see his ears turning red. “Chan are you nervous?” You asked, slight chuckle in your voice. “These boys are my life y/n, they are chaotic and messy but they quite literally saved me. And I want you to like them and for them to like you because I would really like for you to become apart of my life as well.” His ears were bright red at this point.

You stopped Chan before he opened the door, “Chan I have put up with Ateez for the last seven years. I can handle 8 rowdy boys. And I want them to like me too, i would really like to become a part of your everyday life.” You said, a blush creeping up into your cheeks. Chan smiled at you, cupping your face in his hands. He swiped his thumb over the redness of your cheek, “so cute pretty girl.” He chuckled. He started to lean towards you and you could feel your heart racing, he was a breath away from you when the door swung open. “Oh my god! My eyes!” Someone started yelling. “The old man was kissing her. I’m gonna be sick.” Chan dropped his head, “Kim Seungmin I’m gonna kill you.” He called as he lead you into the dorms. All seven of the members now staring at you.

Being around Stray Kids was just as chaotic if not more than Ateez. You knew Changbin going into it so that made it easier. Soon after you shut the door he broke the silence of everyone staring at you and tackled you with a hug. Everyone else warmed up immediately, like you had always been there. Like you belonged. You walked with Chan and Minho into the kitchen and asked if you could help before you were nicely kicked out by the cook.

“Good luck with that.” He said as he shooed you towards the 6 boys yelling at a video game. You went and stood behind the couch next to Chan. He immediately pulled you in front of him, sandwiching you between him and the couch. Felix and Jeongin struggling to complete a level, “Felix never gets past this level. It’s just sad at this point.” Han said to you, you looked down to find the boy on the couch below you staring. More so at where his leader had his head resting on your shoulder, arms tightly wrapped around you.

You gave him a smile, “Chan I’m sure she’s not going to go running. You don’t have to hold her so tight.” Chan hid his face into your shoulder as all the younger members turned to look at you. You laughed, “you spoke so highly of them outside, you still standing by that?” He shook his head no, “they are all dead to me.” Hyunjin gasped, throwing himself into the chair, “betrayal, I’ve done nothing wrong.” “Betrayal is that hair color on you.” Seungmin snapped back flicking the older boys hair as he walked by.

Hyunjin looked at Chan with a pout on his face, making you laugh. “Can we have a peaceful night. For once please.” Chan says exasperated. “Oh where’s the fun in that. Y/n can handle Wooyoung, she’ll be fine with us.” Changbin says throwing you a wink. “Right your friends with Hyung Hongjoong and Wooyoung.” Felix says. “I am, I was friends with them before they debuted.” You said with a smile. “I thought you were Hongjoong’s sister…” Jeongin said. “No, we’re all just friends, Wooyoungie is the closest to being my brother.” They all nodded and you felt Chans hand give yours a squeeze. The conversation went back to teasing Felix for his lack of gaming ability until Minho called everyone to eat.

The rest of the night was a dance between playing games and who could embarrass Chan the most. Changbin having the most stories easily won that competition, having Chan burrowing his head inside his hood, only seeing the redness of his cheeks and neck. You learned a lot about the group and Chan throughout the night. You were right in the way that they all adore him. The love shining through all the jokes and the way they talk about him when he left the room. Politely questioning your intentions with their oldest. The cutest was the way Chan looked at his members, clearly adoring them. Quietly taking care of them, putting more food on their plates when they weren’t looking, making sure everyone was heard and got to say what they wanted. It was such a safe and loving environment that Chan had created.

As the night continued you saw how comforting this place was, all the members taking a liking to you. As you packed up to leave, Felix and Jeongin following you around like little ducks helping you carry anything. “Do you have to leave Noona?” Jeongin asked quietly. “You can stay!” Felix added excitedly. You laughed, “I need to go home and get some sleep guys.” Jeongin looked at you with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster, “yah leave her alone and get ready. I’m not waiting on you and I know you don’t like walking home in the dark Innie.” Minho scolded the younger two lightly pushing them towards the kitchen. You smiled at him, “thank you for dinner Minho, it was delicious.” He gave you a slight nod, “I saved some of the brownies and your cake. It’s packed up for you in the kitchen.” You bowed slightly, “thank you again.” He smiled and walked outside the youngest three following behind him waving bye to you as they passed.

Chan walked up behind you wrapped his arms around your waist, “you got Minho to like you, that’s impressive.” You nudged him slightly with your elbow, “you said they’d all love me. Did you doubt my abilities?” He laughed, “never pretty girl, just impressed. Minho is the toughest to crack besides Seungmin. But he was a sucker for you the second you called me out for blushing. Which I will repay later by the way.” He said, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours.

You heard a click, suppressing a smile as you saw Hyunjin with his camera trying to slide away before Chan could catch him. You held onto Chan a little tighter giving the younger boy a chance to get away. Hyunjin yelled a thank you as his door shut. “I get no peace in this house.” Chan whispered against your cheek. You hummed in agreement, “tragic life you live here Bang Chan.” You said quietly. You wanted to turn and look at him but with his forehead gently resting against your head and his lips slightly grazing your cheek you didn’t see the need to rush.

You saw Changbin out of the corner of your eye, rolling your eyes, you tapped Chans arm. Chan caught in the trance of you didn’t move, just pulled you tighter to him. Turning you around to face him, wrapping his arms back around your waist. You lost sight of Bin as you looked up at Chan, arms going around his neck. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nap, the little curls circling your fingertips. Chan pressed his forehead to yours. “Are you busy tomorrow pretty girl?” “Nothing too serious, just market.” You said quietly. “Spend the day with me.” He said as his fingers traced designs onto your back. You hummed stepping closer to him, no space between your bodies. “My pretty girl.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your head. Your smile broke out, and you heard the click of a camera. Chan looked up and sighed deeply making you laugh.

Wooyoung was sitting in the van riding back to the dorms when a text came through. He grabbed his phone and swiped seeing the text from you wishing him luck and a new text from Changbin. Attached was a picture of you and Chan. The man pressing a kiss to your head and you with the brightest smile he has seen on you in years. Wooyoung must’ve started smiling seeing you happy, when Mingi smacked his leg eyebrow raised. Woo flipped the phone around showing Mingi the picture.

Hongjoong turned to say something to the younger ones, caught sight of the picture and felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Turning back around quickly. “I haven’t seen her smile like that in a while.” Mingi whispered to Wooyoung, careful not to wake a sleeping Yeo. Wooyoung nodded his head, “Chan Hyung is good for her.” Hongjoong tried his best to keep his face neutral but could feel the scowl twisting his face up. Throwing his hood up he turned and looked out the window. Not noticing the worried look the younger boys were giving each other.

As Ateez cars pulled up to the dorms Hongjoong stormed inside. “What got into him?” Hwa asked looked at Wooyoung. “I have no clue.” Wooyoung said. Hwa shrugged his shoulder, “we’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He added as he guided everyone inside. Wooyoung shot Changbin a text back and waited. Hoping your night with them went well. His friend answered as Wooyoung laid down, “he’s smitten but I’m convinced the rest of the kids want her to be the new mom. Even Minho loved her but I think it’s because she complimented his cooking and his cats.” Wooyoung laughed, he couldn’t wait to hear your side of the story.

A/N: Joongie is getting jealousssss🤭 Part 8 will be out soon hopefully. Get ready for chaos and drama🫶🏻

TAGLIST🥰 It you want to be included in the taglist message me!

@vampzity @sanslovesblog @sundaybossanova @skzline @edenesth @owmoiralover @scarfac3 @blackb3|| @ateezswonderland @amuromio @the-multishipper @mingisbbokari @chngbbnwf @vic0921 @woosmaid @justsomedreaming

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skz-fanfic-recs · 7 months ago

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in every season by firemblem

“you have a crush on chan, then?” minho asks, head tilting. the question catches seungmin off guard, even if he knows he’s probably teasing. “i…,” he starts, blush creeping up his neck as minho continues staring at him, waiting for an answer. maybe he was serious. “no, I don’t.” minho hums. “yeah. i am more your type anyway.”

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kpop---scenarios · 6 months ago

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Okay!

Coming soon..

Brothers best friend! Lee Know & Enemies to Lovers Hyunjin 👀

#skz #stray kids #brothers best friend #lee know #minho #enemies to lovers #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

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acaciaev98 · 22 days ago

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Title: Crossing the Line - MinSung Fic (Stray Kids)

OneShot

They were practicing choreography for a new song, moving through the familiar motions when Jisung slid up beside him, his hand reaching out to correct Minho’s stance, fingers splayed against his hip. Minho froze, his breath catching as he felt the gentle heat of Jisung’s palm seep through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was such a simple touch, but it sent a spark through him, igniting something he didn’t know how to control.

Jisung met his gaze, a playful grin spreading across his face as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “Hyung,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes were anything but. “You’re tense. Relax, or you’ll mess up the whole vibe.”

Minho forced himself to laugh, shaking his head as he took a step back, breaking the contact. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, unaffected. “You’re the one messing up my concentration.”

-----------------

Minho and Jisung’s friendship takes a turn as teasing gestures stir unexpected tension. As the line between friendship and something more blurs, they’re pulled toward a connection that can no longer be ignored.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fluff #stray kids jisung #stray kids minho #stray kids minsung #minsung #kpop fanfic #fluff #oneshot #friends to lovers #first kiss #han jisung #lee minho

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onlyweknowleeknow · 2 years ago

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Rabbit Hole

Hyunjin x reader

Genre: best friend to lovers au, business au, angst, fluff.

Synopsis: Hyunjin couldn’t stand it anymore, he needed an excuse to call you his. So in his desperation, he created an excuse. And now, after all was said and done, he knew; he had gone too far down the rabbit hole.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: language, crying, desperation, unreciprocated feelings(?), talk of finance, smitten Hyunjin, Hyunjin is going through it, arguing, clueless reader, best friends, kissing, implications of smut, anxiety, alcohol, anger, regret.

A/n: I know the spacing is weird and annoying in this story, but I’m too tired to fix it. enjoy :,)

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

You yearned for him every second of the day.

You longed for the ghost of his fingertips, the sound of his laugh, the curl of his lips, even the wetness of his tears.

You loved him, but not in the way he wanted you to.

No, you longed for him as your best friend, and you loved him as such.

But for the boy, it wasn’t enough, because for him, he loved you in such a different way. A way that you might never reciprocate, but still, his feelings only grew and grew.

He yearned for you every second of the day.

He longed for the ghost of your fingertips, the sound of your laugh, the curl of your lips, even the wetness of your tears.

He loved you, he loved you more then the number of stars scattered across the night sky. He loved you as more then a best friend, and he always would.

He had fallen— no, he had crashed into you, his heart burning with a painful passion.

He could never look at someone the way he looked at you. And perhaps it was lucky, or maybe unlucky, that everyone around the two of you saw it.

Except you.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hyunjin, when are we leaving?” You called out for the boy, fingers fiddling with your mascara brush.

“Soon, are you almost ready?” He called from the other room.

“Yeah, you?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer for a moment. “Ah, almost.” He replied after a pause.

Your hand stilled, gaze tilting towards the doorframe suspiciously. “Okay… good.” You said, shaking your head softly as you turned back to the mirror.

Once you were content with your appearance, you leaned back, smiling fondly. Your hands fiddled with the mascara stick, pushing it back into it’s container. You hummed, delicately setting the makeup tool down.

“I’m ready.” You called out, voice echoing in the quiet house.

“Aish—“ You heard a thump and a startled curse.

“Hyunjin?” You blinked, walking out of the restroom.

“Hold on!” He said immediately, the lock on his door clicking.

You scrunched your nose, foot tapping against the ground.

What you didn’t know, was that on the other side of Hyunjin’s door, was a nervous, panicking mess. He had never felt so worried or unsure. His mind was filled of images of you. Of your smile, of your frown, of your eyes, nose, lips, hair. Of everything.

Then again, it wasn’t unusual for him, you were always on his mind. But now, after he had finally managed to get you to come on an, albeit fake, date with him, everything felt that much more serious.

So while you were staring at his door, he was leaning against it, slender fingers tugging on the tie around his neck. While you were raising your brows at the lock, Hyunjin was praying to god you walked away.

So when he heard your footsteps retreat, he couldn’t help but release a breath.

Hwang Hyunjin was stupidly, indescribably, completely in love with you. His very best friend. But he would never let you know, because to him, your friendship was worth a thousand romances.

Hyunjin was strange, he really was. He was the son of a rich businessman, and next in line for the company’s throne. Yet he was gentle, sweet, creative, and oh-so talented. He was shy, yet somehow the most dramatic person you’d ever know if he opened up to you. Nothing like how you would have imagined a boy of his class to be.

You often helped Hyunjin get ready for various events his father requested he attend, and tonight was no different.

Well, except for the fact that you too, would be attending.

As Hyunjin’s date.

It was strange, really. It only happened because of a certain chain of events that left Hyunjin needing a date to bring to this specific event. That date being you. And so, you became the date he would be bringing to every event he would attend in the foreseeable future. Unfortunately.

In fact, the boy had no other choice. It was either fake a relationship with you, his best friend, or get married to a random girl that was the daughter of one of his father’s business partners.

Now, Hyunjin had gone on many, many dates that his father had set up. But the older man had never forced him to see any of the girls again. That is, until the last date.

Shin Ryunjin was her name.

And she was absolutely perfect. She was stunning, intelligent, and spoke her mind.

But Hyunjin wanted nothing to do with her. Not romantically, at least. He had told Ryunjin this, to which she said it was completely okay. However, Hyunjin and Ryunjin’s fathers wouldn’t let it go.

No, no.

Those two were meant to be, as the businessmen often claimed. And so, a marriage was announced.

That’s when Hyunjin drew the line, coming up with possibly, the worst, most see-through lie you had ever heard.

“I can’t marry Ryunjin, father. I’m in love with someone else.”

And that bastard, that cheeky, annoying bastard just had to make things worse.

“Who?” His father had asked.

“Y/n.” Hyunjin had replied.

Damn that boy. Dragging you into his mess.

It was more complex then that, but the details didn’t matter at this point. What mattered was the fact that Hyunjin’s father, the man who practically saw you as his daughter, had been absolutely ecstatic about the fib Hyunjin told.

So much so, that he had almost immediately called off the wedding and told Hyunjin to bring you to the business party he was throwing Friday night.

Of course, you had gotten many texts from Mr. Hwang, all of which confused you. Until you asked Hyunjin, then it made sense.

Hyunjin would never, ever admit it, but he was excited to take you with him. He would also never admit that he had planned this whole ordeal out with Ryunjin, who was more then happy to help the young man chase after you.

You had argued for hours, you saying you had school you had to attend, him saying the party was after school hours and that it was a one time thing, at least until he could figure something else out. He didn’t want to figure something else out.

You saying the thought of even fake dating him was disgusting, him saying you were being dramatic. He was hurt by your words, but didn’t say anything about it.

You saying his father would never believe it, him saying his father was already smitten with the idea. As was he, but you didn’t need to know that.

It went back and forth, back and forth. Until finally, you agreed. Hyunjin had promised to buy you an outfit, as he knew you couldn’t afford something to wear to such a party.

You had been pissed for days, hell, you still were. Except now, you had to own up to you decision of agreeing to accompany Hyunjin.

So, that’s what you were doing.

Getting ready in Hyunjin’s large house, wearing a ridiculously expensive dress, and having your hair and makeup professionally done. Of course, you had fixed the mascara, for the makeup artist had put it on much too thick for your personal preference.

You decided to leave the boy alone, figuring the two of you would already be getting on each other’s nerves tonight.

So, instead of walking towards Hyunjin’s room and shaking the handle as you usually would just to annoy the boy, you opted to make your way back across the hall into the bathroom.

You had been in Hyunjin’s house plenty of times. It wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it was big, that was for sure. Hyunjin used to have his room on the far right side of the house, but he switched rooms for you. Specifically, he switched for a room with a bathroom inside, and another bathroom across the hall. When you spent the night at his house, you refused to use the same restroom as him. Hyunjin was clean and neat usually, but it seemed like in the restroom, he lost all care.

Hyunjin didn’t mind, if switching his room meant you’d stay over more often, he’d have switched in a heartbeat.

You made sure to check your appearance one more time, but nothing was out of place. So you walked out of the bathroom again.

“Hyunjin, I’m going downstairs.” You told the boy, who was still locked in his room.

“Alright, I’ll be down soon.” He responded.

You checked the watch that was on your wrist, nodding to yourself. “I hope so, we gotta go soon. It’s almost 6pm.”

No answer.

You simply shrugged to yourself, arms swinging by your side as you made your way down the stairs, shoulders slumping.

Did Hyunjin really have to say yo ur name specifically? He could’ve said anybody’s name, but no, the jerk picked your life to shake up.

He already knew you liked someone else, perhaps the word like was too little.

Maybe you loved the freckled boy, with his deep voice and sweet accent. Or maybe, you were infatuated with him. But it had been years, years since Lee Felix had captured your attention, taking your heart with it.

You had met Felix at one of Hyunjin’s birthday parties when you were young.

Actually, you had met all the boys at that same party. Discounting Jeongin and Seungmin, for they had entered your lives later.

But never mind that, because Felix was there.

You remember when you first saw him, nervous and clinging to his mother’s hand, his sweet, brown eyes locked on his feet. He looked so precious, and even you, a 6 year old little girl, realized that you wanted to be near him.

So when you approached him, a bubbly smile on your lips, Felix couldn’t help but reciprocate the curl of your mouth.

And when you sweetly grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the bouncy house, Hyunjin, little Hyunjin, couldn’t help but feel a tightness in his chest.

Before, Hyunjin had seen you as a best friend, but that day, on his birthday, something changed. He had encouraged you to befriend the shy boy when he walked through the door, but now that you had, now that your hand was gripping his instead of Hyunjin’s, it made him uneasy.

Even at his young age of 8, Hyunjin didn’t like the feeling he got when you looked at Felix. And he didn’t know it yet, but that feeling was jealousy, and it was seeping into his veins. That was the day Hyunjin’s heart realized,

it loved you. Hyunjin loved you.

Hyunjin sat on his bed now, gripping his sheets tightly. He couldn’t mess up his hair, nor his light makeup now.

He wanted to cry. He had made a mistake and he knew the moment he saw you, all dolled up, all for him, he would never, ever be able to climb his way out of the hole he had dug himself into.

He was fucked.

You hummed a song to yourself as you waited in the kitchen, leaning against the large island lazily. The shock of Hyunjin’s riches were far less relevant after all these years. You had known Hyunjin since you were born, and he was 2. Your mothers had been high school friends, and had only grown closer over the years. So, the two of you were practically raised side by side.

Both of your mothers didn’t come from rich families, but Hyunjin’s father fell for his mother anyways. Your father was from an upper class family, so his marriage to your mother was less shocking then the Hwang’s, considering Mr. Hwang was the heir of the family business when he was young.

Perhaps it was because Hyunjin’s mother was, and is beautiful. It wouldn’t surprise you if Mr. Hwang fell for her beauty, along with her charming personality.

Hyunjin was a lot like his mother. He was sweet, gentle, and artistic, but if needed, he could turn cold and stern. He also retained her beauty, along with his father’s good looks. He was similar to Mr. Hwang also. He was good with people, and drew almost everybody in. He was the perfect mix of the couple.

Your fingers tapped at your phone screen, mind swaying as you scrolled through your phone. When you checked your watch again, it was 5:56pm.

You groaned. “Hyunjin!”

You waited for an answer, which came in the form of the boy’s footsteps as he hurried down the stairs.

When you saw him walk into the kitchen, you couldn’t really say you were surprised. Hyunjin was handsome, even you couldn’t refuse that. He had on a crimson colored suit, tailored perfectly to his slender body. His shoes were plain, black dress shoes. His hair was styled beautifully, his silky curtain bangs framing his sculptured face nicely. The rest of it curved against his neck. His pretty hands were adorned with a few rings, small earrings dangling from his ears. His makeup was light, accentuating his eyes and lips, along with shaping his nose.

It really was cruel, how beautiful he was.

A soft smile spread across your lips, eyes curving into the little crescents that Hyunjin loved so dearly.

“You clean up nicely, Jinnie.” You complimented with a playful laugh.

He sucked in a gulp of air, breath hitching.

Often times, Hyunjin found you the most beautiful when you were far from fancied up. He found the way your messy hair would fall over your eyes as you tried to complete a math problem, or the way you kicked your legs up when you were on his bed, either reading, writing, or talking to him, beautiful. Or when you took off your makeup and grinned stupidly at him as you sat beside him to watch a movie, or even when you were yelling at him to give you the last bite of food. He found you beautiful in simple moments like that, when you were truly, fully yourself.

But here, now, looking at you in a dress that matched his suit, with your hair and makeup done up, all for him? You were breathtaking. The crimson dress went to your knees, the top was made of thick, crisscrossed sleeves that wound their way around your waist. They were off your shoulders, covering your upper arms only. There was a small zip in the back, one that the stylist had most likely helped you with. You were wearing a beautiful white choker-like necklace and white earrings to match. You also had on a couple white bracelets to match the necklace, and your shoes were black heels.

Your words hardly registered in his head, and he could tell by the way your eyebrows were slightly raised, that you had caught him staring.

“Oh, thank you. So do you, y/n.” He managed to say seriously, but of course, you knew something was up.

“What’s wrong? Starting to regret your choices, are we?” You just loved teasing him, didn’t you?

You smiled, walking forwards and poking his chest with your pointer finger as you watched him expectantly. He swallowed.

“Aish, don’t touch the suit! It’s ironed.” He made up a quick escape, backing away from you as he dramatically looked down at his chest. You tilted your head, watching him carefully, before you snorted.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, sir.”

Hyunjin shuffled. “It’s your fault for dragging me into this, you know.” Your mood changed to irritation at the memory of why you were even with the boy right now in the first place. “I don’t even know how to act. What if I fall over?” You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

You shuddered at the thought. “Do I look good? Will I fit in?” You started to panic.

Hyunjin smirked at you, carefully placing his hands on your bare shoulders. “Yah, your hands are hot.” You complained. “You’ll leave sweat marks on me.”

“Y/n!” He snatched his hands away from you, making you burst into laughter and double over.

“Quit it, you’ll ruin the dress.” He snapped, crossing his arms and popping his hip out.

You looked up at him from your bent position, scoffing as you struggled to stifle your laughter. You stood up, fanning your face. “God Jinnie, you’re funny.”

Hyunjin deadpanned. “I liked the freaking out you better, bring her back.”

You rolled your eyes, punching the boy’s shoulder lightly. He grunted, rubbing his shoulder with a pout.

You beamed at him for a moment, then lifted your arm to gaze at your watch.

“Fuck— Hyunjin! It’s 6:11. We’re gonna be late!” And just like that, your panicked self was back, just as the boy had requested. Hyunjin blinked, snatching your arm. His eyes widened as he looked at the time on your watch. It really was 6:11pm. “Shit, let’s go. My dad will kill us if we’re late.”

Hyunjin hurried towards the front door, opening it for you when you followed him. “Uh, no. Your dad is gonna kill you, if we’re late. I won’t let you drag me further into your mess.” You proclaimed, quickly shuffling out of the door.

Hyunjin slouched. You were right.

He shut the door behind you both, walking after you as you approached the limo.

It was going to be a long night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Y/n! Stop it.” Hyunjin scolded.

You curled your lips. “Jinnie, please? I just want one!” You held up your hands, one finger sticking up desperately.

Hyunjin really did try to say no to you, but how could he when you were looking at him like that?

He groaned in exasperation, nodding. “Only one.”

You smiled at the boy, who was already looking tired of you. Your shoulders shook lightly as you laughed, playfully punching Hyunjin’s shoulder for the second time tonight.

Hyunjin glanced towards you, shaking his head. “You’ll be the death of me.” He complained.

“Mm.” You hummed, taking a sip of the singular wine glass Hyunjin allowed you to drink. “Maybe, but you love me anyways.”

Hyunjin leaned about against the limo’s seat, legs crossed gracefully over one another. He did love you, even if you drove him mad sometimes. That was true, just not how you thought it was.

“We’ll be there soon. I don’t wanna say this, but chug.” Hyunjin said with a side-smile.

You peered towards the boy, running your fingers around the rim of the glass. “Chug?” You inquired, to which he nodded. A smile of your own spread across your lips as you lifted the glass to your lips and began to quickly drink the alcohol within it.

Hyunjin watched you carefully, fingers on his neck as he turned his head towards you, gaze locked on your lips and the way your neck moved each swallow. He shuddered, adverting his gaze out of the window instead. Once you were finished, you put the, now empty, glass back into the wine-cup holder Hyunjin’s father had installed in the limo. You checked the camera on your phone, making sure you hadn’t messed up your makeup. Thankfully, you hadn’t.

You felt the limo come to a stop, as did Hyunjin. “I’ll open the door for you, don’t get out until I do.”

“Why?” You cringed, tapping your foot.

Hyunjin glared at you, hoping you wouldn’t be stubborn about this. “It’ll make everything more realistic, just follow my lead, please? I know better then you.”

“For once.” You mumbled.

Hyunjin’s head whipped towards you. “Yah!” He exclaimed. You giggled. “I’m kidding, Jinnie. Hurry up though, my back hurts.”

“You’re like an old lady.” He huffed.

“Don’t disrespect your elders!” You scolded. Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I’m older then you.”

“Not me! The actual old ladies out there.” You said.

Hyunjin just grunted and opened his door, stepping out with a sly smile.

You huffed, slumping against the seat as you crossed your arms.

Soon, your door opened, Hyunjin’s hand waiting for yours. He watched you carefully, eyes calculating as he bent into the car. You grabbed his hand. It was normal. You always held the boy’s hand, but something told you this time, it was different.

He gave you a gentle smile, one that definitely helped to calm the nerves that were currently crawling up your spine.

You stepped out of the limo, hand in hand with him. Camera flashes startled you, your grasp on his hand tightening. Why were there photographers?

You winced as you stood to your full height beside Hyunjin. “Take deep breaths, it’s okay. This is normal, people get nosy at big business parties.” The boy whispered sweetly into your ear, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You stared at him for a moment, slowly allowing your shoulders to relax.

Hyunjin wondered what kind of photos the paparazzi would be getting. Did the two of you look like you were in love? Hand in hand, staring at each other silently. Hyunjin was sure, at least, it would look like he was in love. Probably because he was. But you, you looked at him like a big brother, someone to curl into when scared. And there he was, staring at you like you were his whole world. Would they be able to differentiate the looks you two shared? Yours of a loving friend, and his as something more?

Somewhere, deep in his chest, he hoped they wouldn’t. Because he wanted, more then anything, for you to seem in love with him. He wanted to find the pictures that would soon be online, and he wanted to keep them forever. Because maybe, just maybe, it would seem like you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

Just once.

When you looked away from him, a nervous smile graced our face. Hyunjin watched you for a few, fleeting moments, before he tore his eyes away from your side profile.

He moved forwards, you following close on his heels. He couldn’t help but laugh at you, following him around like a little puppy. You glared at him as he looked back at you, which simply made his smile grow more. At that, you couldn’t help but grin sheepishly also.

“Jinnie, quit it.” You pouted as he tugged you inside.

“Just come on, stop pouting. There’s food inside.” He bribed you. You rolled your eyes. “I’m already coming inside, and I know there’s food.” Hyunjin snorted, your arms now in front of you.

One of Hyunjin’s hands made it’s way to your waist, gently grasping onto your side and pulling you a tad closer to him. You stiffened, gazing up at the boy, who refused to look at you, his cheeks and ears were painted a soft pink color. Your lips curled, eyes curving into half-moons as you watched him. He was so careful, like he thought you’d smack his hand away. But you didn’t, you really couldn’t, you were here to play a role, after all.

You turned your head away from him as you entered the second set of doors, eyes widening at the sight. The room was huge, decorated gracefully with soft colors illuminating the large ballroom.

Every man, woman, and child in the place looked extraordinarily graceful, each posing with an elaborate aura that radiated power and confidence. Even the youngest child you saw, a girl who seemed no older then 11 years old, seemed to fit in more then you as she stood beside her parents quietly.

Hyunjin seemed to notice the way your shoulders tensed, for his hand tightened slightly around your waist, his neck craning to get a better look at you as the pair of you stood at the entrance, still unnoticed by most people in the hall.

“Y/n.” He whispered, bending closer to you, his voice just a gentle whisper in your ear.

“Don’t be nervous, you fit in perfectly. Nobody will question us, alright?” You turned your head towards him, giving a faint nod.

Hyunjin’s heart sank at your response. It was cruel of him to drag you here, into a world that even he, who had been raised in it, struggled to handle. He was regretful, eyebrows furrowing.

He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to the apple of your cheek. He watched your lashes flutter as you fully turned towards him, a faint red rising in your cheeks and touching the tips of your ears.

“Hyunjin!” You whispered, shocked.

The boy sent you a proud grin, standing back to his normal posture. You stared at him, not missing the way his cheeks were also deepening in color. He watched you watch him, eyes shining sweetly. You scoffed, shaking your head fondly as you looked away, eyes gazing into the large room. You were stunned again, wondering how someone could afford something so grand.

Hyunjin began to move, his hand on your waist simply pulled you along with him.

It didn’t take long for people to notice the two of you, or rather, to notice Hyunjin. Your stunning best friend, whose hand was currently gripping your waist. You shrunk internally, but tried your best to give off confidence. You only hoped it worked.

Hyunjin pulled you through the crowd of people, most of which watched you both. You should’ve expected it, after all, Mr. Hwang was the one throwing this party.

And yet, you hadn’t seen it coming.

Hyunjin bowed and greeted multiple families, but kept moving. He figured you were already nervous enough. He just needed to find his parents.

But then, you stopped.

Your eyes were trapped, trapped in a trace. Your body immediately tensed, heart dropping in your chest.

There he was, standing off the to side, speaking to a few adults, a pretty girl wrapped around his arm. He looked so beautiful, his blonde hair was neatly combed, body fitted into a black suit. His small dimples were visible as he smiled at one of the talking men. He looked to effortlessly ethereal. But so did the girl he was with.

Of course he did, he was Lee Felix.

Your body pushed against Hyunjin’s grasp, feet taking a few, small steps backwards.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be here. Who is that girl?” You said through clenched teeth. What if he saw you? Then you would never be able to tell him how you feel, not without him thinking you’d hurt Hyunjin. But why did that even matter? He already had someone with him. Was it his girlfriend? It couldn’t be, he’d have told you and the others. Right? This was not good, not good at all.

Hyunjin’s brows were furrowed in confusion, his gaze following yours.

And then, his heart plummeted, too.

He didn’t know Felix would be here, he hadn’t gotten to look at the guest list. Even if he had, he doubt he would’ve noticed Felix’s name, nor the girl’s, who’s name was probably scribbled next to his as a plus-one.

His eyes turned back towards you, hand retreating from your waist. “I didn’t know he’d be here, I don’t know who that is.” He swallowed.

He watched you, your eyes glazed over, watching the freckled boy and the stranger.

He wondered, as he studied you, if he looked at you the same way you looked at Felix. It was a sad reality, really.

Your eyes held the whole world when you looked at Felix, like the entire galaxy had made home in your beautiful gaze. And you had a certain feel to you, when you were with Felix, that you didn’t have with anyone else. Almost as though the accented boy was your whole reason for existing.

That’s how Hyunjin looked at you. Like you were everything that kept him going, like you were the only reason he was living in this horrid, wretched world.

He wondered how he would react seeing you with another man. It was hard enough to watch you fall for Felix, but to imagine you actually with him? Horrid.

Then again, the sight in front of him made his blood boil. How could Felix just look past you? How could he bring someone else when he knew all too well that you were hopelessly in love with him?

Hyunjin knew, he had known since the day you met Felix, that you would never, ever, look at Hyunjin quite the way you looked at Lee Felix.

Because to you, Felix was your everything. You loved him.

Hyunjin knew, for sure, as he was watching you in that moment, that you would never be his. But that didn’t matter, because if he couldn’t have you, you should’ve at least gotten to have Felix. And now both possibilities seemed so far away.

No, you would touch his finger tips, but be just out of his grasp.

It was all a sick, cruel joke the universe was playing.

And Hyunjin couldn’t win. Now, neither could you.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Y/n, please come out. It’s been 10 minutes, my parents are waiting for us.” Hyunjin knocked on the bathroom door, pleading for you to come out.

But you couldn’t, you had messed up your makeup with faint tears, and now you looked a mess.

Maybe you were overreacting, but you just couldn’t get yourself to leave the restroom.

You mind was swarmed with memories of Felix, dashing, beautiful Felix. With his freckled cheeks, thick accent, and dimpled smile. Who was that girl? The question haunted you.

“Y/n, please.” Hyunjin slumped against the door, not caring if anyone saw him at this point. His hands and forehead were pressed against it, eyes shut.

He really had messed up, he already knew that. But he didn’t know Felix would be here, especially not with a date. If he had, he never would’ve brought you.

The door suddenly unlocked, so Hyunjin took a step back. There you were, makeup slightly messy, eyes swollen and cheeks red. He almost cried at the sight of you.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, stepping forwards to capture you in his warm embrace. You hugged him back, pulling him inside the restroom with you. Then, you locked the door again and continued to hug the tall boy.

You weren’t crying, you already had and besides, you shouldn’t shed anymore tears over something you couldn’t control.

Hell, if Felix was happy, you should be too.

“I’m sorry, I kinda messed up our time, huh?” You whispered into Hyunjin, who was still tightly hugging you, his chin resting on your head.

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head mindlessly. “No, you didn’t. It’s okay, this party is hours long, we only spent 15 minutes not attending it. We’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Hyunjin really wasn’t sure, however, he did know that his parents were probably looking for the two of you.

You sighed, retracting your body from his arms. He felt cold at the loss of you, but didn’t say anything.

“Can you help me? I just need to fix my makeup.” You sighed, walking towards the sink.

“What do I do? You don’t have a bag or anything, did you even bring makeup?” Hyunjin quirked a brow.

You hesitated. “No, but it’s only the mascara that’s running, so just carefully wipe it. I would, but my hands are…” You looked at your hands, which were shaking slightly.

Hyunjin inhaled, nodding. “Okay.” He mumbled, grabbing some tissues from the dispenser next to the sink. “What about your foundation and contour?“ He pursed his lips.

You had thought about that, but at this point, you didn’t care. “I can deal with that after. But I’d rather had messed up foundation then black streaks on my face.”

Hyunjin nodded at your words.

You leaned against the sink, hands gripping onto the counter to steady yourself. You tried your best not to think about Felix, nor the girl he had brought with him.

Hyunjin dampened the tissue, hoping it would ease the process of fixing your makeup. He leaned down, one hand beside yours on the counter, your body practically trapped under him. He was focused, lightly dabbing away the tear stains. Luckily, they hadn’t dried yet, so it wasn’t as difficult as he had thought it would be.

Your grip tightened on the counter as Hyunjin gently tapped the tissue against your face, eyes flickering back and forth over him. He was so close, you could see every strand of hair on his head, you could even smell his cologne. He was focused on you, but for once, it wasn’t because he couldn’t look away, it was because he was cleaning you up. And for just a moment, your heart beat a little bit faster, because here, encased in your best friend’s arms, you felt whole.

You just watched the boy, scanning his face that you had memorized years ago. You looked at the little mole under his eye, you looked at his nose and his lips, just admiring him for what felt like the first time.

Had he always looked this beautiful?

You couldn’t quite recall. To you, Hyunjin had always been handsome, sure, but he was still your annoying best friend. And now, you couldn’t help but look at him in a different, new light.

As his fingers curled against the counter, his face so close to yours you could basically feel his warm breath fane across your cheeks.

And then, in the heat of the moment, while you were questioning everything Hyunjin was, he pulled away. A proud smile on his face as he tossed the tissue into the trash can. “I fixed it! Look in the mirror.”

You nodded mindlessly, Hyunjin’s head tilting when you didn’t look away. You caught on, turning your body towards the mirror.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly before then before.

You grabbed a dry tissue and tried to even out the foundation. It didn’t work great, but it worked well enough to not mess with your makeup anymore.

“Good?” You turned towards Hyunjin, who smiled fondly at you.

He held out his hand into the symbol for perfect. “Impeccable.”

You nodded, smiling at the ground for a moment, before you looked back up.

“We should go find my parents now.” Hyunjin said calmly.

Well, to you, it was calm. But inside, Hyunjin was fawning over you. How could he not? You looked so precious, all shy and worried.

Then again, he was also fuming. He didn’t think he’d ever been so upset at anyone, let alone at sweet Felix.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. It was just like how Hyunjin felt about you; he loved you, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. You loved Felix, but the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Love really has it’s way of messing with your mind. It’s unfair and cruel, making you fall for someone you just can’t have. Hyunjin sighed as he followed you out of the restroom, his brows furrowed in thought.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Do you see him?” You asked, clinging onto Hyunjin’s arm nervously.

You were gonna give him whiplash if you kept looking around how you were now.

“I don’t see him, I’ll tell you if I do. But seriously, y/n, you gotta stop moving your neck like that. I’m afraid it’ll break.” Hyunjin whispered.

You snapped your neck towards him in the same way he told you to stop doing. “Funny.”

Hyunjin scoffed.

“Didn’t you say we need to find your parents?” You inquired.

Hyunjin hummed, nodding. The two of you had been doing pretty good at evading conversations with people at the party, but you still hadn’t been able to find Hyunjin’s parents.

“I’ve been looking for them.” He said, his eyes still sweeping the large room as the pit of you cautiously walked through it.

“I see them!” You suddenly exclaimed, hitting Hyunjin’s arm lightly a few times.

Hyunjin flinched, looking at you, then to where your gaze was pointed. “Ah! Me too, let’s go.” He quickly tugged you along. Or, he tried to, but you beat him to it.

When you approached Hyunjin’s parents, they both looked ecstatic to see you.

“My son!” Mr. Hwang called cheerfully, patting the young man on the back. Hyunjin smiled, giving his father a bow, to which you followed suit.

“Y/n, dear, it’s lovely to see you, you look stunning. Mr. Hwang and I were so pleased to hear that you and Hyunjin were finally together! We’ve been waiting for years.” The woman giggled, watching happily as your cheeks fired up.

“Ah, thank you, mother.” You bowed again.

“So, y/n. Please tell us, how did Hyunjin finally make you his?” Mr. Hwang asked, noticing the way Hyunjin’s fingers had locked with yours.

“Oh— well, he—“ You stuttered, quickly thinking of a story.

“Really, it wasn’t anything extravagant. Hyunjin was walking me home after we had hung out all day, and he just sort of… spilled his feelings.” You tried your very best to make the story seem reasonable. You hoped it wouldn’t be too far-fetched. Hyunjin and you often spent your free days together, and he always walked you home after, so the fabrication was believable enough. To you, at least.

Hyunjin’s heart was hammering against his chest. He pictured the scenario in his head, wondering what it would be like if he really did admit his feelings to you like that.

Mrs. Hwang clapped quietly, smiling. “How sweet. Not everything needs to be fancy, you know. Some things are better simple.” She explained.

Hyunjin erased the scene from his mind, choosing to beam at his mother instead, before his attention was directed back towards his father.

“I agree. I do hope he at least got you flowers, though.” Mr. Hwang said, pointing at his son.

You laughed, fiddling nervously with a strand of your hair. “He got me a box of chocolates.” You lied. It felt wrong to lie to the Hwangs, but it was necessary, you supposed.

Mr. Hwang nodded in approval, patting Hyunjin on the back again.

“Just let us know if he needs to be put in his place. I know he can get…” Mr. Hwang trailed off, chuckling.

“Father! I’m right here.” The boy in question pouted, jutting out his lower lip.

Mr. Hwang was about to speak, but another man approached, greeting the four of you. He began to talk to Hyunjin’s father, who excused himself from the other three of you.

“Why don’t you two go get something to eat, if you haven’t already.” Mrs. Hwang said sweetly, rubbing your arm gently. You nodded, only just realizing how hungry you were.

Hyunjin said goodbye to his mother, then pulled you away, and back into the crowd.

“Jinnie.” You softly tugged on the sleeve of his suit.

He turned towards you, blinking. “Hm?”

You shuffled, smiling at his sheepishly. “The food is, uh,” you pointed past Hyunjin, “that way.”

Hyunjin furrowed his brows, looking behind him. You were right, the food was, indeed, that way. “Oh.” He said.

You laughed, it was your turn to pull him along now.

As you approached the table, you only grew more and more excited, your nerves completely dissipating.

Hyunjin let go of your hand as you arrived at the table, watching you with a soft smile as you excitedly grabbed a plate and scanned the table full of delicious food.

He couldn’t help but fawn over you, it wasn’t his fault. You were so precious, always excited at the prospect of food. And for the second time that night, you reminded Hyunjin of a little puppy.

He managed to move his eyes off of you, gazing elsewhere as you collected various amounts of food from the table.

Then he spotted someone he definitely didn’t want to see tonight. Walking hand in hand with a girl, was Felix.

And he was approaching the table, his sights already locked on Hyunjin as he happily waved, a wide smile on his freckled face.

Hyunjin stated, eyes wide as he carefully smiled back. What should he do? He couldn’t turn around, not now that he had acknowledged the incoming boy and his date. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for you. He found you, still at the food table, of course. You seemed to feel his gaze on you, because you looked up almost immediately and grinned stupidly at him, waving in excitement.

Hyunjin stared at you, a look of wordy shadowing his face. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, head and smile dropping when you looked past Hyunjin, seeing Felix approach.

But by then, he had seen you too, his smile growing even bigger.

You were seriously going to throw up.

Hyunjin scolded himself internally for the hundredth time that night, slowly turning around just in time to bow to Felix.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you, I didn’t think y/n would be here. Are her parents attending? I didn’t see them.” Felix chirped.

You had set down your plate of food, knowing you had to go along with the role you had promised to play for Hyunjin. You approached the trio, eyes locked on Felix and his date as your arms wrapped around Hyunjin’s.

“Actually, I’m his date.” You smiled, it was painfully fake.

You swore you saw Felix’s bright smile drop for a moment, his eyes scanning your outfits and putting the facts together. You two were matching, of course you were here together… as dates.

Felix didn’t know how to feel. He had brought his girlfriend, if you could call her that. He had been seeing her for only a couple weeks, just tonight feeling brave enough to introduce her to his parents. And they liked her, but not as much as he had hoped they would.

When Felix saw you, he had only been more elated, but seeing you as Hyunjin’s date upset him. He wasn’t sure why, but he ignored it,

You clung tightly to Hyunjin, not just for show, but because you were nervous.

Hyunjin could tell, so he placed one of his hands over yours, softly caressing your hand as he spoke to Felix.

You sighed quietly, trying to it best to relax, but you couldn’t. You observed the girl with Felix, and it only made you feel worse. She was stunning, almost a perfect match for Felix. You shook the thoughts from your head, attempting to engross yourself into the conversation.

“How long have you two been together? I’m surprised I didn’t hear about it sooner!” Felix laughed, smiling at the both of you.

“Only a few days, we didn’t want to tell everyone yet. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the others.” Hyunjin said in his politest tone.

“Yah, you don’t need to be all respectful with me! Of course I won’t tell them, it’s non of my business anyways.” Felix chirped, looking at his date suddenly when she tapped his shoulder. “Ah, right. This is Yuna, Shin Yuna. Her father is a partner of my father’s.”

The girl, Yuna, smiled brightly, bowing to you and Hyunjin. You didn’t like the way she clung onto Felix, it made your heart burn with anger and jealousy.

But you also didn’t like the way she looked at Hyunjin, in fact, you wasn’t sure which you disliked more. Her with Felix, or her staring at Hyunjin.

It was odd, to you, the feelings that spiked in your chest at her stare.

You had never been jealous of girls with Hyunjin before, but perhaps that was because Hyunjin had always made it clear that you were the only girl he wanted to hang out with. Yes, it was a selfish way to think, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. When someone is with you for so long, you can’t help but get attached.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuna. You’re a stunning couple.” You spoke up, surprising all three of them. Hyunjin looked the most startled, his soft touch on your hand freezing. “But Jinnie and I really should go, we have a date planned tonight and,” you checked your watch for show, “it’s already 8:35. Our reservation is at 9:00, isn’t it?” You looked towards Hyunjin, who stared. You stepped on his foot, making him wince and cough slightly a s a distraction, before nodding.

“Yep! It’s at 9:00, we should get going.” Hyunjin said in a rushed tone.

Felix and Yuna looked surprised, but Yuna didn’t seem upset. It was only Felix that seemed a bit down that the two of you had to leave so soon.

“Oh. I see, well, you two have a good dinner. I’ll see you both another time.” Felix said hesitantly, eyeing the plate he had watched you fill and then put down.

Odd.

You laughed nervously, bowing before you quickly dragged Hyunjin towards the doors.

“Y/n—“ He inhaled. “Y/n!” His voice was louder now, so you turned.

“What?” You grunted.

“What the hell was that? We don’t have any dinner reservations. Besides, if we are leaving, we should say goodbye to my parents.” Hyunjin was unsure of what was going through your mind as you stared at him. What were you thinking?

“I know you don’t.” You suddenly said. “I just couldn’t stand there and watch that girl— Yuna, cling onto Felix like that. And the way she was looking at you just made—“ You stopped, sealing your mouth shut.

“What? The way she was looking at me made you what?” Hyunjin tilted his head, heart beginning to beat faster. We’re you upset, jealous even?

“It doesn’t matter, can we just leave? I’m tired and I just want to go home. I can call a cab if you want to stay, but I’m leaving.” You removed your hand from Hyunjin’s, who looked confused.

“Y/n, why won’t you talk to me? You’ve been acting strange all night, I don’t—“ Hyunjin began, but you cut him off.

“I am talking to you, Hyunjin. I’m just mad.” You defended yourself, arms crossing over your chest. You would be freezing if you were outside, but luckily, you were just in the lobby of the large building.

“Mad? Why are you mad?” He swallowed.

You couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped your lips, eyes flickering up and down the boy in front of you. “Seriously, Hyunjin? I’m mad that you brought me into this mess of yours! You know how I feel about coming to parties like this, and on top of that, Felix saw us together!”

Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows. “So? Just— I don’t know, just tell him we called it off. Mutually. Im sure he’d give you a chance, I don’t think he’s especially happy with Yuna.”

You tried to bite your tongue, you really did. “It doesn’t matter! That doesn’t matter anymore. Your parents think we’re together, everyone at this damned party thinks we’re together! It’s not going to end. Your father isn’t gonna let either of us get away that easily, Hyunjin. And you know it.”

“Why does that matter? I told you I’ll deal with it, what’s so wrong with some people thinking we’re together, I don’t—“ Again, you cut him off.

“What’s wrong with it?! What isn’t wrong with it?!” You threw your hands up, pointing at the boy’s chest.

“I don’t want to date you, Hyunjin. It’s— it’s disgusting! It makes me sick just thinking about being with you in that way, and now hundreds of people believe this stupid lie you made up?” You poked his chest as you continued.

“You forced me into this and I hate it! I never wanted to come with you, I only did because you’re my best friend. But then you crossed the line, Hyunjin. You can’t just… you can’t kiss my cheek, or— or hold my waist all night! I let it go at first because it was all for show,” You dramatically shook yourself to seem more convincing, “but it’s too much! I don’t want to date you Hyunjin, it disturbs me to even think about that.” Alright, you were being harsh and dramatic. But you were cold, tired, and hungry. None of those things made for a very happy y/n.

Hyunjin stared at you, his whole heart shattering into a million pieces.

People often say that those closest to you are the ones that have the most power over you, they’re the ones that can hurt you the most. And for the longest time, Hyunjin didn’t believe that. Because really, even if it were true, you, his sweet, little y/n, would never hurt him.

Yet here you are, crushing his love into meaningless particles of dust, watching them blow away, never to be seen again.

“What?” Was all Hyunjin could say, scared that he would burst into tears if he tried to speak anything more.

He could see your glare visibly soften, just the slightest bit, but you didn’t take anything back.

Did you find him appalling? Did it really disgust you to think about being anything more then a friend to him? The words you had said to him were horrible, and he was sure that you didn’t mean to hurt him, how were you supposed to know his feelings? To you, the things you said might have seemed like mutual thoughts, but they weren’t.

Hwang Hyunjin was in love with you, but you didn’t know that.

Hyunjin felt his face heat up with anger and sadness, his eyes were also beginning to water. He blinked the tears away quickly, but you had already noticed.

“Hyunjin?” Your eyes widened.

“Hyunjin, I—“ He cut you off this time, an empty scoff of disbelief leaving his lips. “What, y/n? Haven’t you said enough? What more could you possibly want to say?” His tone was the angry one now, voice laced with something you’d never heard him use towards you.

Hwang Hyunjin was livid, and he was hurting on top of that.

“You need to leave. I’ll call you a cab.” Hyunjin turned and entered the ballroom before you could speak, leaving you confused and unsure of what to do next.

You never should have said the things you did, you didn’t even mean them. You were overwhelmed, but that wasn’t any excuse. Even if it was, it was a lousy one.

You were, by no means, disgusted by the thought of being something more than a friend to Hyunjin. And that was exactly what scared you. You shouldn’t be feeling that way for your best friend, you should be feeling that way for a certain, freckled boy named Felix. But you weren’t, not anymore, and maybe it was the small amount of alcohol in your body, but you couldn’t help but think back on memories of Hyunjin.

You unearthed something the childhood version of you had covered up a long time ago.

Your feelings for Hyunjin.

And just like that, the childhood crush and feelings came roaring back to life. In fact, you realized something. Every moment you had spent with Hyunjin, you had been extremely happy and at peace, and that wasn’t normal. Not for a friend, not even for a best friend. The way your skin would momentarily burn at his touches, the way you stared at Hyunjin fondly when he spoke about something he loved, the way you admired his every feature and movement, it wasn’t normal. But you had covered it up with the excuse that it was because he was your best friend, and you had, somehow, gotten yourself to fall for your own lies.

But the truth was this; You loved Hwang Hyunjin, not at a friend, not as a best friend, not as a brother figure.

You loved Hyunjin in a way you had long forgotten possible.

You loved Hyunjin more then you had ever loved Felix.

You loved Hyunjin with everything you were, and everything you would ever be.

You loved Hyunjin, as your whole world.

And now, you had gone and messed it all up, shattering your heart along with it Hyunjin’s.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had been days, four days to be exact, since the party you had attended with Hyunjin. You had tried your best to get in touch with him, but he wouldn’t answer you. You didn’t have the heart to tel his parents what happened, so you didn’t text them. You doubted they’d be able to get him to see you anyways, he’d make up an excuse.

So, after two more days, you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You had seen, or at least, talked to Hyunjin every day of your entire life. Not talking to him for nearly a whole week? While it might not seem like much to others, it felt like forever for you.

You loved your other friends, but seeing only a few of them a couple of times, Seungmin, Jeongin, Changbin, and Han specifically, really didn’t make you feel much better. They could tell, too. Han had let it slip that Hyunjin wasn’t hanging out with them as much either, usually he was only with Minho, which was normal for the pair of dancers.

You were sad to hear it, your words really did upset him, and knowing that hurt. But you were sure Hyunjin was hurting more.

So, you decided it was time to win Hyunjin back. And to start, you needed to see him.

Luckily for you, you had been to hundreds for Hyunjin’s dance practices and performances, you had memorized the way to the studio years ago.

You needed to see him, so you got in your car, started the engine, and began driving.

When you arrived, it was 4:14pm, which meant Hyunjin and Minho’s practice would be ending in just one minute.

You quickly got out of your car and approached the building. You were nervous, that much was true. Your hand grasped into the handle,fingers trebling as you drew in a deep breath.

You pushed it open, greeting the woman at the front desk and made your way down the familiar hall, to the even more familiar practice room.

You had passed about ten dancers, probably from the same practice room you were headed to, but Hyunjin and Minho were not one of them, so you continued. When you arrived, you could hear talking within the room. And then, your heart skipped a beat at a familiar voice.

Hyunjin was inside, along with Minho. You expected it, but hearing Hyunjin’s voice for the first time in a while still made you nervous.

You grasped the handle, similarly to the way you had held onto the handle just a few moments earlier.

You Twitter the handle, pushing open the door, which creaked softly in response.

Three pairs of eyes met yours; Minho’s, Hyunjin’s, and a girl’s that you had never seen before.

But that wasn’t what surprised you.

What surprised you, what the protective hand that was wrapped around her waist. It was Hyunjin’s hand, he was holding her against him, Minho standing a few feet in front of them, his icy gaze softening when he saw you.

Hyunjin’s hand flew off of the girl’s waist, making her move backwards in surprise.

You shut the door immediately, hesitating by the handle for a moment. You needed to go, the feeling in the pit of your stomach made you aware of that.

You let go of the handle, watching in horror as it turned and the door began to open. In a flash, you were running down the hallway, out the door, and into your car. You turned on the engine and left, checking your mirror for a fleeting second.

And there, standing in from of the studio, was your Hyunjin. Maybe he wasn’t yours anymore, but still, there he was, watching you drive away.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you got home, it was 5:30pm and the sky was already darkening. You slumped onto the couch in your apartment, hands covering your face.

What were you thinking? Hyunjin didn’t love you, at least not as anything more then a friend. So why did you think he would wait for you? Wait for you to do what? To apologize? To say you didn’t mean it? And then what? Everything would just go back to how it was before, he would still have dated the girl from the dance studio.

You were so stupid, who pushed down their feelings for years?

A knock on the door interrupted your train of thought, the noise causing you to lift your head and stand up from the couch.

You sighed, slumping towards the door. You took in a deep breath, putting on your best smile as you opened the door.

You tried to shut it right away, but it was too late.

Hyunjin was pushing his way into your apartment, and when you realized you couldn’t stop him, you just let him in and stepped back, eyes glued to your feet.

“Y/n…” Hyunjin panted, a bit surprised at the strength you had used to try and keep him out.

“Hyunjin, I’m so sorry.” You spoke, looking up to meet the boy’s surprised gaze.

You sighed lowly, shuffling nervously. “I didn’t mean anything I said back there, at the party. I just— I don’t have an excuse, but I do have an explanation. And I know it’s too late now, but I still need to get this off my chest.”

“I think I’ve… I’ve felt something for you since we were kicks, and I used Felix as a distraction. I’ve pushed my feelings down for years, I didn’t mean to, I was just scared? I think I was scared, or maybe I was just being irrational, but still. I really like you Jinnie, and I know you’re with someone else now, but I needed you to know. So please, don’t think it disgusts me to think about you as more then a best friend, because it doesn’t. I was just fighting my feelings and… I shouldn’t have done it the way I had. I’m sorry.” You bowed deeply, standing back up, though your gaze was trapped on your feet.

You felt something touch your chin, Hyunjin’s slender fingers lifting your head to look at him.

His smile was so gentle, so sweet. You almost melted.

“Y/n, I understand. Not exactly, but— I really like you too. I think I love you, even. That’s why I avoided you all week, I couldn’t look at you without combusting at the thought that it disgusted you to think about dating me.” He chuckled softly, thumb running along your cheek.

“It’s not too late. That girl at the dance studio, she’s just my dance partner. Minho wanted to go over some steps with the both of us, you just walked in at a bad part in the choreography.” Hyunjin sucked in, chewing his lower lip. “It’s not too late.”

The both of you stared in complete, utter silence, neither of you sure what to do next. All you knew, was that Hyunjin’s hand was on your cheek, and you had never felt more alive then now, in this moment with Hyunjin.

You decided to take the chance, leaning towards Hyunjin.

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as your breath fanned over his face.

You gave him a silly grin, one that he adored.

You didn’t move from there, so he did. Using his hand on your cheek, he pulled you into him.

When your lips met, it felt like you had finally found the missing pieces of yourself. The broken pieces of Hyunjin’s heart and yours intertwined, making the beating organs whole again.

His lips were so soft, the kiss so sensual and tender. Your hands found their way to his jaw, his finding home on your waist. He tugged you closer to his body needily, a soft whimper escaping his plush lips as you nibbled on them.

When you pulled away, Hyunjin’s lips were already a bit swollen and red, his eyes blown out.

He pushed his lower lip out, leaning in to peck your lips quickly. “Why’d you stop?” He pouted, grunting when you squished his cheeks together fondly.

“You are just so cute!” You exclaimed, softly running your fingers through his hair. He grumbled, but allowed you to continue. He wouldn’t admit it, but he really liked the feeling of your fingers against his scalp. Besides, he figured you’d give him another kiss if he didn’t complain.

And you did.

You kissed him again, and again, and again.

Your fingers ran through his silky locks, admiring his neat mullet. “You’re so pretty.” You mumbled into his mouth, his fingers gripping you so tightly, you were sure your waist would bruise.

He hummed, trailing his sloppy kisses down the curve of your neck, and over the jut of your collar bones. “That’s my line.”

You giggled, playfully pushing him away.

“Yah! Come back here, I’m not done!” He complained, quickly slipping off his shoes and replacing them for the pair of slippers he had left at your apartment when you first moved in.

You squeaked as he reached for you, running down the hall and into your room.

But he followed you, and he certainly wasn’t done with you.

He made sure to leave marks of his love all over your body that evening, and again at night, and one last time in the morning, just because he could.

And you did the same to his body.

You were in heaven, Hyunjin made sure you knew that.

And that’s when Hyunjin knew, you would never look at him the way you looked at Felix, but the reason was different then what he had originally thought.

That night, while you slept, tangled up in the safety of his arms, Hyunjin knew;

You would never look at him the way you looked at Lee Felix, because to you, Hyunjin was your whole world.

And nothing could compare to the way the world looked in your beautiful, sparkling eyes.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

A/n: I hope you guys liked this story! I didn’t proof read it, I will in a few days… hopefully, but I figured you guys would want it now, so here you go. <3

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