#maybe if I get a job on campus. and get the employee discount. and just take a couple of classes a semester

[colorstormx]

what if I went back to college but for astronomy this time. what then

[swagcoolcat]

Be More Chill kids and high school + college jobs:

Jeremy: I think Jeremy would first work at like- a mall GameStop. He started there because of the employee discount, but he’s not as into it as he originally hoped because there’s a lot of kids that come in and he gets easily overstimulated. He eventually decides to work somewhere that isn’t at the mall, and does stock somewhere that he doesn’t have to interact with as many people. By the time he’s made it to college, he finds a similar job. I think he’d eventually want to something with his English degree.

Michael: It takes Michael a little longer to find a solid job to stick with. He works at GameStop like Jeremy, then 7-11, then a pet store, but it’s just to get him through high school. He doesn’t find a more permanent job until he becomes a barista at his on campus coffee shop. I think he’d wanna freelance and be his own boss after college.

Rich: I think Rich would actually do really well in a kitchen setting. As he heals over time, he’d learn to really love cooking, and the chaos of a kitchen would really help him in enjoying his shifts. He’d start as a dishwasher, but eventually he’d stick there long enough to make it to management. He works as many hours as he can so he can move out as quickly as possible.

Jake: It takes Jake a long time to find a permanent job. His job history is a long list of places he didn’t last at longer than a couple months. Jake has just spent so much time trying to impress everyone that he still doesn’t really know who he is or what he wants, and when jobs get a bit too hard, he wants to quit. I feel like he also did lifeguarding over the summer one year and was gonna do it again until he broke his legs. He eventually finds something he really likes after high school, perhaps something relating to photography if possible, because I hc that photography is one of the only clubs Jake really enjoyed just for him.

Christine: I think Christine would try to go for something that would let her be a bit creative. I think even before she gets a job, she’d end up volunteering over the summers. After high school she tries to do as much theater as possible. It’s her passion, and she’d love to continue doing it.

Brooke: To start I could see her going for pinkberry, or another place similar to pinkberry at the mall. But honestly, I think Brooke would wlso want to work at an animal shelter, or something where she could work with animals. I feel she’d enjoy that way more, and maybe she’d want to do it forever!

Chloe: I think Chloe’s go to would be to work at the mall at one of the department stores because of an employee discount, similar to Jeremy at GameStop. She’d stick around longer, but I think eventually she’d realize it’s not really worth the discount, and she’d go somewhere else. I think she could end up doing security at the mall, but I don’t think she’d stay there either. I think Chloe would do good in finance stuff, perhaps working at a bank?

Jenna: Once again, my girl starts at the mall working at Payless Shoes, then Claire’s, then she’d leave the mall. After the mall I think she’d maybe go to Best Buy? I think she’d kinda like technology. Then after high school I’m honestly not sure. I think it’d be fun if she had a blog, but I also think it’d be good for her to realize she doesn’t need to use gossip to make friends.

If you have your own headcanons or suggestions feel free to let me know hehe

[haunted-artist]

whoops its Ghost Story Time cause i remember things so, be me, I'm working at B&N. Working the cash register, alright work. I like making small talk with people, cause hey its something to do and you get to chat with people. (work enrichment even cause god it gets boring otherwise) Checking out this old couple, don't really remember what they bought but it probably wasn't much. Talking, yadada. Suddenly, they give me like. this big ass pamphlet for some church or religious thing. I'm like, What. I'm supposed to be giving you things you're not supposed to give me things. Course I didn't say that but that's what was goin on in my head. Think I tried to decline them as nicely as possible, cause I'm not really a religious person and also this is kinda uncomfortable! They insist however and I end up holding onto it for the rest of the day (very confused). My town's pretty religious (churches on everyyyyy cornerrrr), and I've certainly had my fair share of religious nutjobs yelling on campus (when I was still in college) about god and sinners and shit. Usually it's really easy to just say "NO THANKS" as you walk on by them to wherever you're going. Think that was generally what people did cause man that's like, blegh. That's probably the one time I was like, I could not run away and I didn't want to be mean to a customer if I didn't have a reason to be. (Well, not like I really could anyway, I usually had to call a manager or someone else for help cause I would start getting nervous cause I don't wanna be meannnnn. Mostly reminded of the time we had a bunch of customers cause its Christmas and ALL HANDS ON DECKKKK kinda busy. I was talking to this lovely elderly lady and also trying to help her sign up for a store card, cause she had a lot of books and she could get a better discount. *However*, she also had her asshole of a son there. This was also when everyone was still masking, so I also had a mask on. I remember he told me like, 2 times to speak louder? (Even though *he* wasn't the one I was talking to, I was talking to his mama!) I don't quite remember why he was there, but I remember one of my managers was at the register too, probably something that needed his help. However, the asshole suddenly *yelled* at me to speak up or, something, don't quite remember what he said be it was directed at me cause I wasn't being loud enough. Might have asked me to take off my mask even though I didn't want to. Memory gets a bit fuzzy there for a moment cause I kinda like, blanked for a moment from nerves and fear? Remember suddenly stuttering and babbling cause, hhhh. My manager ended up taking over and confronting the guy, telling him that he was not allowed to yell at his employees. Don't remember the full conversation, but apparently asshole cussed at him and manager told him to get out and not come back. After that was over I got asked if I was ok and if I needed to go to the back (which I did cause that was wayyy too much I needed a moment). Awful SoB I hope he stubs his toe on everything. ANYWAY THAT WAS A TANGENT-)

Anywayyyy I'm not really good with dealing with like. Conflict I guess. Least in person. I either get really emotional or like, walked over I guess? Well, maybe not "walked over" but I have a hard time saying "no" to some things I guess. Like, my job was pretty good don't get me wrong! Enjoyed working there (sides from the pay i hope the unionizers win against em!!) and most of my coworkers were great! Just sometimes had the lil stories that stood out for the bizarre or the bad.

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[mxrcayong]

part of @nct-writers​’s cafe resonance collab!

genre: fluff, a more UK-based pov of university

summary: jisung, a college student now looking for a job, has decided to apply for a job at the local café. he thought being friends with the manager and its employees has it perks; from unlimited free coffee to whatever pastries haven’t been eaten by the end of the day. needless to say; the perks must end somewhere. 

word count: 2317 words

note: i didn’t make the divider!!

College students practically live by coffee shops. If university was a religion, the on-campus coffee shop would be the bible. Daily, college students’ breath in the coffee beans like oxygen, feel the permanent imprint of coffee mug or a ‘to go’ cup on their lips. They’re surrounded by the smells of different fruity pastries and savory snacks, and the sounds of students either chatting or typing away on their computers. 

It’s no wonder that the university coffee shop was practically a hub of activity. When you sit down to work at Café Resonance, it’s feels like you’re a part of a bigger and collective community, stressing for assessments or just taking a break from their hectic university schedules. It’s especially hectic when you’re a full-time student and work part time.   

“Do I really need to get a job?” Jisung sighed, scratching his head as he leant against the barista’s counter. His six closest friends were working behind the counter: using the coffee machines and decorating the pastries. “Can’t I just use your employee discount on everything?” 

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “You know I want to, my little mouse.” He teased as he placed another order on his tray, “But I can only put the café employee discount on so many things.” He practically sung as he left, heading to a table to bring another set of students their own cups of their own ambrosia.     

From the cash register, Haechan had just finished taking the orders of the last bunch of the line and immediately replaced Jaemin’s place next to Jisung. “You can always just become a sugar baby.” He suggested, coming over to the display case to grab one of the pastries to heat up per the customer’s order. “Or a pole dancer… aren’t you a good dancer?” 

Jisung immediately protested. “Firstly, no. Secondly, is it even legal? I literally only became an adult this year.” 

“Actually…” Haechan started to counter, only to be interrupted by Mark approaching with a raised hand and a dirty mop. 

“Stop telling everyone to become a sugar baby.” Mark chided as he ducked to get back behind the counter, drudging the cleaning supplies with him. “You do realize that if someone does become a sugar baby, they aren’t entitled to paying for your shit either.” In response, Haechan grumbled under his breath as he gave the bewildered customer overhearing the odd conversation their fruity treat. 

Jisung has visited his closest friends enough to know that working at the café is like a beautifully choreographed dance. It moves like clockwork; with the six doing their roles diligently and without question. So, it’s not unusual for his friends to come and go during the conversation – all taking part whilst separating themselves at the same time. 

“Why don’t you just ask Chenle if you could work here?” Renjun suggested, coming out from the back room where he started baking some more pastries – obvious through his powdered apron. “We all work here already, and we can go through the ropes with you.” 

Jeno immediately stepped in and basically rejected the offer. “Do you remember the last time we hosted an event and Jisung wanted to help?” He prompted, before chuckling. “He tried to wash the food with dish soap…and he broke the broom when cleaning!” 

Almost as if the thought of teasing Jisung summons him, Chenle came out of seemingly nowhere. “Didn’t he leave the broken broom on the floor and just started playing video games?” Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun nodded – remembering the mess the 00-line apartment was that night.  

“Not the best party we hosted.” Jaemin commented, going around the counter to make his own drink now that the list of waiting customers is gone. “But, still, Jisung learns fast. I think he could work here.” 

Chenle let out an introspective hum, before leaning over to whisper to Haechan. With a questionable look on their faces, Chenle decided to call Jisung into the back room and in his makeshift ‘managers office’ (a perk of being family with the owner of the university café). “I’ll consider your application, but I can’t do any nepotism.” He started, “so, you must go through the whole application process.” He paused. “You must come up with your own recipe.” 

With a rule to not discuss recipes with his ‘potential future co-workers’ – which Chenle weirdly specified as everyone but Haechan, Jisung had to get straight to work. In all honesty, he had no baking experience nor ever made a drink without a guiding recipe.

While his six closest friends were out of the equation, he had another friend he could reach out to; Y/N. 

You were in his freshmen orientation group earlier this year. Not going to lie, you initially thought of each other as familiar faces who you’d occasionally wave at or nod in acknowledgement when you walk past each other. However, you later found yourself eating in the same hall cafeteria…and then the same hall pantry…and then, it clicked. You two lived only four doors away from each other in your university hall. 

Needless to say, you two ran midnight McDonald trips basically on a weekly basis. You became integral to Jisung’s daily routine; from waking each other up for breakfast to storming into each other rooms, armed with complaints and rants about the shitty professor who made you read 300 pages for one night. Even on your busiest days, you two would always pick each other up for the hall provided breakfasts and dinners. 

So here you were - Jisung was slouching down on your desk chair while you were resting on the bed, your back against the wall and a pillow in your lap as you tried to help Jisung solve his current problem. “Well…did Chenle give you a prompt or anything?” 

Jisung shook his head, groaning back. “It’s not like we have a kitchen to try and bake either! We only have fridges and a microwave and a….” He tried to recall what was on the floor pantry. 

“Just a fridge and a microwave.” You added. “That means pastries are off the table…how about a drink?” 

Jisung groaned again. “I have a hard time making pre-made coffee!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle; you remembered that day. It was a scary time for you; your credit card company sent you a text about a fraudulent use of your student account. Not only did you end up stressing to the point of crying, but you also learned it was a false alarm. Luckily, while still reeling from the anxiety inducing news, you ran into Jisung as he was leaving his room. He then took you to the pantry to try and cheer you up with coffee…however, a fire alarm went off and practically deafened the whole university housing cohort for hours. 

And poor Jisung…Jisung was just an awkward little mouse, trying to look innocent as he saw his exhausted neighbors clamber out into the park due to his attempt of making pre-made coffee. 

“Well…you have me. This isn’t hopeless.” Climbing off the bed, you pretended to dust yourself off. “So, let’s go to the pantry? Another one of our…”

Jisung quickly furrowed his brows, interjecting while you still spoke “I don’t think this can be considered snacking…”

“Pantry-time dates.” You stuttered, obviously unsure of the title. Usually, you call them ‘cup noodle dates’ or ‘popcorn dates’; a joke that ran through your small group of friends as well as the resident advisors at the university hall. 

No one likes being in the pantry. Especially the second floor. For one, things always get stolen; from cutlery to a six pack of coke. Secondly, the few times people use the microwave to heat up their meals, they tend to leave the leftovers to rot on the windowsill. But you and Jisung sit there together; maybe because something about it feels open and comfortable, despite the terrible smell. Plus…the two of you placed bets on who could be the thief when people awkwardly clamber on by, and if on one of these ‘dates’ you catch the thief obviously taking something that isn’t theirs? Even better. 

But today… you two will have to be the forsaken thieves. 

“So someone put chocolate powder in the fridge…” You commented incredulously, especially as this fridge is known for freezing things into ice in minutes. “There’s some…expired milk.” Jisung watched as you searched through the fridge for any hidden treasures; feeling more and more unsure of himself as you listed more and more ingredients. “Oh, okay, some non-expired milk. That will be useful.” 

“We can make a latte?” Jisung offered, now on his phone searching up popular café drinks. 

“Yes!” You enthused, finally feeling like this trip to the pantry isn’t useless after all. “But…we should probably write an apology note to the people we’re stealing from.” 

It’s been almost five hours in the pantry. Countless of people came in (however, this time you tried not to place bets as you knew who the real thieves were tonight) and would just stare at the two of you, arguing over a kettle of milk. Even your neighbor Victor came in; having sat and watched you two for a good while (which made Jisung extra cautious; he’s had a theory about him being the forsaken pantry thief for a while). Victor, however, said you two should have a cooking show, to which you scoffed while Jisung basked in the compliment. This very same compliment crossed Victor off of Jisung’s “potential criminals” list. 

Eventually, you had a drink in front of you. A chocolate latte that Jisung insisted on putting salt in, as “Modern Family said it was a good idea”. Admittedly, the first ten versions of this drink were absolute failures; making you go to the bathroom numerous times to vomit out the thick and almost flour-like texture.  

So, for your final check, the two of you grabbed the non-eaten pastries Jisung brought home from the café. Hopefully, this will act as a palette cleanser; especially since tasting all of the failed drinks probably have messed with your taste buds and lowered all sorts of expectations. 

After taking bites into the Suh-ndwitch and Henpretzel, you two finally took sips of the drink you attempted to make since 10pm – with Jisung making far too many references to the Powerpuff Girls opening theme. 

Alas – the taste that flooded their senses wasn’t at all bad, no. Nor was it ‘a little bit of sugar and everything ice’, but it was something you’d expect from Starbucks. You two immediately squealed out of excitement, ignoring the fact that you probably woke the neighboring rooms up at three in the morning. Jisung immediately went over to hug your waist, spinning you around as fast as he could; before something unexpected happens. 

You felt his lips on yours; tasting like chocolate and leftover ingredients that were remnants from his palette cleanser of a sandwich. The feeling was foreign; you never expected to kiss Jisung. He was your best friend, your neighbour; but his lips were soft…and something about this felt right. 

But then the door slammed opened. A zombie-like RA came in and you two immediately jumped to different sides of the room. “I know you two always do your pantry dates, but…” The RA started, obviously sluggish from being woken up at 3am. “We got noise complaints.” 

Jisung awkwardly coughed, apologized, and ran away; leaving you confused in the corner of the pantry. 

Café Resonance were never busy Friday evenings. People were most likely out pubbing or preparing for their weekends of antics. So when Jisung stormed in with a recipe in hand, he wasn’t afraid to celebrate as loudly as if he had just won the Olympic World Cup. “I got the recipe! Can I please have the job?” He practically pleaded, dropping the piece of paper with messy handwriting and the sample drink you two whipped up again the night prior. On top of the page with chocolate colored stains were the words; “Hamji Choco Latte” with (served hot or cold)  at the bottom.

“A recipe?” Everyone but Haechan and Chenle looked confused; with the latter two smirking in the corner of the room. But as soon as Haechan cracked and let out a loud laugh, Mark turned around and immediately recognized the culprits of this misunderstanding. 

“Bruh,” Chenle let out throughout his charming ‘dolphin laugh’, “You had the job – I was just messing with you.” 

Haechan pouted, approaching Jisung to ruffle his hair. “My sweet, small, dumb idiot…how much I love you.” He placed a sloppy kiss at the corner of his head, making Jisung immediately try to scrub it off. 

Jisung scowled, upset he let himself get fooled by his best friends. “At least I got a girlfriend from it…” He mumbled, more to himself, but forgetful of how Jeno’s ears can pick up on anything. It was from my ASMR stint, Jeno would say. 

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, as if Jisung getting a girlfriend would happen the day pigs would fly. 

“I sent you to make a café recipe, not a love potion!” Chenle cackled even more; while his fellow friends made him explain what happened. 

By the time the store closed, Jaemin gave Jisung the ‘talk’ and warned that although they spent nights in each other’s rooms before, Jisung and you must be ‘safe’ and ‘protected’. 

People always say the first people you become friends with at university don’t always stay friends for life. People tend to clash, find their hobbies, and go different ways. But Jisung was lucky. He met you; his best friend and now his other half. And despite the annoying prank Chenle made that wasted hours of your time, Chenle was right; the Hamji Choco Latte was basically a love potion as it brought the hidden infatuation you had for each other to light.  

Now, every time he picks you up from your lecture hall, he brings one extra-large chocolatey drink to share. 

“Email sent out to residents of NCU Hall: 

Dear residents of the second floor, 

The person who has been stealing cultlery and food has been identified. Victor Cho will be coming by to return any items that may have belonged to you.”

Jisung screamed at the top of his lungs when he got this email. “I TOLD YOU SO!” 

[agustdiv1ne]

cutie — cs

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: boba shop employee!reader, college au, fluff

wc: 1.9k

synopsis: your life was boring: school, work, sleep, repeat. that is, until a charming boy walks into the boba shop where you work and throws your entire routine out the window.

warnings: none

note: i'm so whipped for san it's not even funny,,, hope you enjoy and as always please let me know what you think!

masterlist

your life was fairly mundane. wake up, go to your dreaded college classes, do homework, go work at the boba shop near campus, and sleep. rinse and repeat. every day.

your job wasn't any better. whether it was dealing with the snooty teenagers that demanded their drinks look "aesthetic," to the older people complaining that you got their drink wrong when you swear you got it completely correct, some customers just loved to make your life a living hell. other than those demons of customers, nothing happened. you sat there, made some drinks, and watched as the time ticked away until you could finally go lay in your bed.

everything was fine and dandy for the most part, albeit a little boring. you made decent money for a part-time job and it was fairly easy work. however, your job got much more interesting once he began to show up.

the first time he walked into the little boba shop, you were floored. he was quite literally the most handsome man you had seen in your entire life. your face began to heat up due to the handsome stranger in front of you. you shook your head, you couldn't think like that about a customer! it didn't matter how attractive he was! 

you watched, face still red, as he stood a few feet away, contemplating the menu on the back wall. his voice startled you as he spoke:

"what's your favorite drink?"

why was he asking you that? why did he need to know your favorite drink?

"o-oh, uh, well, my favorite is the taro milk tea," you stuttered out. you were surprised you could even finish a sentence in front of him.

the man chuckled, "well, y/n, i will have one small thai milk tea and one small taro milk tea." 

"how did you know my- oh right, my name tag," you mumbled, embarrassed, "th-that will be six thousand won!"

he handed you a 10,000 won bill, laughing slightly, before telling you to keep the change. he was handsome and generous? okay, maybe it was your flustered mind talking, but he was basically perfect boyfriend material.

quit thinking about that!

as you made his drink with red cheeks, you occasionally glanced over at him. he was handsome, you couldn't deny that. you wondered if he went to the same university. 

you kept stealing glances at him. that is, until he looked up and met your eyes. you quickly turned away. you wished that you could disappear into the floor right then and there, your whole face scarlet.

you didn't see, but he grinned at your embarrassed state. you were so endearing to him.

you called him up so he could grab his drinks. once he had both, however, he handed the taro drink back to you.

"here, it's for you," he smiled, sliding the drink back over to the light blue counter towards you.

in your flustered state, you hadn't realized that the second drink was for you. 

"oh, you really didn't have to do that! i, uh, get a discount off my drinks since i work here, but thank you."

"it's no problem, really. i'd do anything to keep talking to you, cutie."

you thought your face was hot before, but now your whole body was burning.

"oh, u-uh, er-"

the next day, you were still thinking about the attractive stranger, san. during your shift, your leg shook in anticipation. you kept looking at the neon clock on the wall, wondering if he lied to you. the store was fairly empty, and the pop music in the background didn't help your boredom-tinged nerves.

"my name's san by the way. see you tomorrow, cutie," he said as he walked out the door.

it was nearing the end of your shift when you heard the bell go off, signaling that a customer had walked in. as you looked up, you saw that it was san. today, he donned black jeans with a buttoned up shirt of the same color, round glasses perched on his nose. to say he looked amazing was an understatement.

you were so whipped for him.

"hey, cutie. i'll have the same as yesterday," that same damn smile was on his face, the same one that made you blush as red as a tomato.

"you don't need to keep buying me drinks, it's really no problem! yo-you shouldn't waste your money on me," you stuttered out. you barely even knew him, so why did he affect you so much?

"nah, i like buying you drinks. and i'm going to come in here every day to buy you one," he nonchalantly replied.

"o-okay. that'll be six thousand won."

san didn't leave after he got his drink this time, but stayed and talked to you. you learned that he actually did go to the same university as you and that he double majored in dance and music. you told him what you majored in as well. you both learned that you lived near each other, and that you both had a class together, but it was such a packed class that you never saw him (he knew you were in the class, but he never knew how to talk to you. it was a blessing when he saw you in that little boba shop).

"we need to sit next to each other from now on, okay? i need to see your pretty face outside of work," he smiled. god, his smile was so cute, he was so cute. your heart couldn't handle it.

"yeah, sure! i'd-i'd love that," you stuttered, shooting a bright grin back.

"give me your phone, i'll put my number in," he was so straightforward, but you weren't complaining. first moves weren't exactly your forte.

"oh, sure! yeah, okay," you sounded like a bumbling idiot, but he found it adorable. 

you handed him your phone before he put his number in your phone before texting himself so he had your number. it wasn't long before your shift ended and he offered to walk you home. you made small talk on the way to your apartment before you had to part ways.

"um, thank you for the drink and the company, san. i really appreciate it," you glanced away shyly.

"of course, cutie. i'll see you tomorrow!" he waved and you waved back.

as you entered your apartment, you heard your phone ping. it was from san with a- wait, did he really put a heart next to his name?

'hi cutie ^^ i had a really great time with you today! can't wait to see you tomorrow'

you stared at your phone with pink cheeks and wide eyes. the amount of times he'd made you blush in one day had to be unhealthy. 

you guess you didn't mind.

san continued to come into the shop, and you started hanging out with him during your shared class, frequently getting lunch afterwards with him. 

you replied with a wide smile on your face before finally crashing onto your bed, your dreams full of san and his smile.

after a while, he brought you to meet his friends. you had no idea, but san hadn't stopped talking about you since the day his first to you, a soft look in his eye every time you were mentioned. it made the seven boys so happy to see their friend in love.

san had come in towards the end of your shift like every other day. this time, though, he brought a small bouquet of flowers with him.

"who are those for, san?" you asked. though you grew to have a crush on him, you were oblivious to his own feelings towards you.

"for you of course, cutie," he replied easily before handing you the flowers.

"oh, thank you! they're really beautiful."

"you're welcome, cutie. and i was wondering if you would want to go on a date with me?" it was san's turn to be shy. you seemed to like him, but he had no idea how you'd respond. 

"wait, really? me? you want to go on a date with me?" you stumbled over your words, eyes as wide as saucers. you were so not prepared for this.

"yeah, you. i'd love if you'd let me take you out," he said, cheeks beginning to flush at your reaction. god, you were just so adorable.

"i'd love to!"

"great. does tomorrow at seven work for you? after your shift?"

"yeah, it does!" you beamed. 

as you walked to your apartment with san, you couldn't stop thinking about your future date with him. he walked you to your door before finally waving goodbye to you.

it was your one year anniversary since you began dating san. honestly, it had been the best year of your life. he treated you like a princess since the first day. you moved in with him six months into your relationship, and you two got along wonderfully. it felt like you were in a dream every day with him by your side. your past boyfriends couldn't even hold a candle to him.

"see you tomorrow, cutie."

as you walked home from your gen ed history class, you thought about how lucky you were. he really was dating you. the handsome man who walked into the boba shop one year ago loves you.

you opened your apartment door to find san waiting for you. he had something behind his back.

"happy anniversary, cutie," he grinned as he pulled a taro milk tea and a thai milk tea from behind his back before handing you the taro drink. he also handed you a bouquet of flowers, reminiscent of that day a year ago when he asked you out.

you felt like crying. that drink, as insignificant as it seemed, started your friendship-turned-relationship with san. the flowers looked similar to the ones he handed to you a year ago, how he remembered that you had no idea, but it endeared you.

"sannie, oh my god," you were at a loss for words. the small gift he gave you was so significant in your eyes.

"i know it's not a lot, but i hope you like it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"like it, sannie? i love it so much! thank you!" you exclaimed, "i might have gotten something for you, too," you said as you dug through your purse for the gift. 

you pulled out a small wrapped box and a dog plushie. as he opened the box, his eyes widened. before he could say anything, you interrupted him.

"it's a promise ring. i got one for myself too so we could match, but if you don't like it, we can totally take it back! i know it's not the most special gift," you smiled nervously. you had no idea how he'd respond. was it too much of a commitment? would he hate it? 

"baby, i would never reject a gift that you gave me, especially a promise ring. i love it, don't worry your pretty little head over it," he said as he slipped the ring on.

you sighed in relief and your heart swelled as you heard his words. you quickly embraced him and felt his arms wrap around your waist.

"i love you so much, sannie. happy anniversary."

"happy anniversary, baby. i love you, too," he replied fondly.

for the rest of the day, you and san cuddled in bed, his head buried in the crook of your neck and hands playing with your fingers as a random movie played in the background.

"y/n?" he mumbled into your neck.

"yes, sannie?"

"i've thought about it, and i'm gonna name that plushie shiber."

"i love it, but you better not cuddle it more than me," you pouted at him.

he gave your lips a soft peck before replying.

"never in a million years."

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[lveclouds]

pianos and coffee (myg x reader)

(in which yoongi is a music major and you, the reader, pass by the music room occasionally to watch him as he plays the piano)

dedicated to: @dylanxmin @agustd02 @agustkive @yoongislovecult @softguks @joonglows @sketchguk @sweetheartjeongguk @flowerseok @yourdelights @dreamingofkoo @jksmoongf @gukwluv @gguksbby @yoonminos @minsprings @yoongismykink @outroshooky @kimcritique @brilliantlybasicb @thinksshesawolf @roguebangtan @nahfamily @jungkooksmoon @swanqook @koosgrl @yoonsgiggle  @daechwitas​

word count: 1k (my first drabble thats at least 1k hehe)

genre: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, college/university au, music major yoongi, arts major reader 

rating: pg (for mild swearing) 

(lowercase intended)

a/n: another yoongi drabble for you all because why not? yoongi’s been providing us with so much content lately, like i stg we are so spoiled:((( anyways, please stream D-2 for good grades, clear skin, and clear skies. also, yoongi is the cutest bub ever and i wanna put him in my pocket but agust d makes me want to light stuff on fire you feel?? 

a soft, tired sigh escaped your mouth as you trudged down the empty hallway, feeling both mentally and physically drained. the late afternoon sun shone through the massive glass windows that took up the right side of the hall, bathing the tiled floor in golden beams of light. your arts professor was bombarding you and your peers with endless projects, and, top of that, you also had a literature essay due in two weeks. stress and anxiety were emotions that constantly plagued you, and it seemed as if they would never go away, due to the veritable mountain of assignments your professors were throwing your way. so far, your second semester of college wasn’t looking all that great. Your parents’ words lingered in your mind constantly. “do well in college so that you can get a good job and be able to provide for your own family one day.” “don’t become a college dropout, ok? promise us?” “don’t become a college dropout, my ass.” you mumbled. your schedule was quite hectic, and you barely had anytime for yourself, and you felt as if you were going to reach a breaking point sooner or later. 

“feeling great” you muttered, your tone dripping with sarcasm. suddenly, soft piano music filled your ears, and it occurred to you that you were standing right in front of the music room. you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the gentle and soothing notes of the piano keys. the piano was an instrument you found to be quite beautiful, as you thought it possessed a delicate sort of nature. after the music had subsided, you opened your eyes and snapped back to reality, sighing heavily.  as you were about to leave, something, or rather, someone caught your eye, and you felt your face flush scarlet when you realized who had been playing. 

min yoongi, music major, and the guy you’d been crushing on ever since your first year at college, was sitting at the piano bench, delicate fingers hovering over the keyboard. not only was he one of the most talented guys on campus, but he was absolutely stunning, breathtaking, even. with messy, raven hair that was always falling into his eyes, feline shaped eyes that could pierce your soul with one look, a cute button nose, perfect eyebrows, and the softest pair of lips you’d ever seen on a guy, yoongi was, if not one of the most breathtaking guys you’d ever laid eyes on. everyone on campus was intimidated by yoongi and usually avoided him at all costs, due to the “cold” aura that radiated around him. however, you knew that yoongi wasn’t really what people on campus made him up to be, at least, according to your classmate, jeon jungkook, who happened to be close friends with yoongi. you had met jungkook on your third day on campus, all smiles and doe eyes bright and sparkling, and he was someone that you quickly became fond of. when he had asked you if you knew yoongi, you had shook your head, admitting that you were a bit scared to talk to him, due to the rumors that yoongi was extremely intimidating. to your surprise, jungkook had giggled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “yoongi hyung? intimidating? don’t believe anything those people say. he may look intimidating, but he’s actually a big softie with the biggest, kindest heart and is really caring, trust me. he’s one of the kindest people i’ve ever met and has the biggest amount of patience and is really calm, even in stressful situations. he also gives great advice and is a great listener; i rant to him all the time about my problems.” despite this, however, you were still too shy to try and talk to yoongi, which resulted in you pining after him from afar, refusing to initiate a conversation, much to jungkook’s dismay. “you just need to talk to him.” jungkook would say, making it sound like something that was as easy as breathing. “kook, it’s not that easy,” you’d protest, causing him to pout. “why?? yoongi hyung’s not going to bite you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” that earned him a light shove to the shoulder. the real reason why you were so terrified of talking to yoongi was the possibility of being rejected, and now that you admitted it out loud, you felt kinda pathetic. 

you were sensitive and your feelings were easily hurt, even from a young age. if yoongi knew, you thought, he’d probably laugh in my face, you thought, your heart sinking down into your chest. you were snapped out of your trance when the door to the music room suddenly swung open, and min yoongi was standing right in front of you, expression unreadable. “can i help you?” he asked. his voice was deep and a bit husky, which sent a shiver down your spine. “I-i “ you stuttered, face flushing scarlet. your mouth suddenly felt dry, as if you had swallowed sandpaper at the sight of yoongi right in front of you. yoongi sighed. “you’re one of jungkook’s friends, right?” “w-what? h-how do you know?” “the kid keeps talking about you.” yoongi stated plainly. “o-oh. well, i’m y/n.” “i’m yoongi.” after a long, awkward pause, yoongi cleared his throat. “wanna get coffee? there’s a cafe that’s a two minute walk from here.” a shade of pink settled across your cheeks. “s-sure.” yoongi nodded and gestured for you to follow him. 

minutes later, you and yoongi were tucked into a booth near the back of a cafe, with warm cups of coffee in your hands. “so, what’s your major?” yoongi asked, taking a long sip of his coffee, dark eyes fixed on you. “i’m an art major.” “ah, so you know you taehyung?” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. why does the name sound so familiar? you thought. “he’s also an art major too, so i thought you might’ve seen him around campus.” “ah! wait! wasn’t he that guy whose watercolor painting everyone was raving about at the art exhibit last year?” yoongi nodded. “ok , then yes, i have seen him around. I’ve never talked to him, though.” “taehyung’s a good kid, a bit clueless at times, but he’s one of the nicest people i know. plus, he’s pretty fashionable, at least, that’s what everyone says whenever they see him.” “i like his fashion sense, its unique.” “so, how long have you been playing piano for?” “ever since i could walk. my parents weren’t really into music, but i knew from the moment that i had my first piano lesson that i wanted to pursue some kind of music career.” “i’ve heard you play, you’re incredible.” a light blush spread across yoongi’s face. “t-thanks.” you felt a small smile forming on your face. jungkook was right, you thought amusedly. yoongi is really a softie. Then, you and yoongi ended up talking for hours, and your conversation with him was halted when one of the employees, a tall, handsome man with the plushest lips you’ve ever seen came over to tell you that the cafe would be closing soon. before you could say anything, yoongi’s face suddenly broke out into a smile, gums on display, and you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his feline eyes were bright with happiness. “hello to you too, jin-hyung.” “wait? you know him?” the older male rolled his eyes. “yeah, he does, and often takes advantage of the fact that i work here so he can get a discount.” “i do not!” yoongi protested, a slight pout forming on his lips, and you tried not to melt at the sight. “yes, you do, now take your girlfriend and go.” jin said plainly, but his eyes were alight with mischief and the corner of his lips curved into a small smirk. “she’s not my girlfriend, hyung. we just met.” yoongi mumbled, blush deepening. “ok, ok, whatever you say, yoongi.”jin teased. “we’re leaving.” 

jin laughed as you followed yoongi out of the cafe, waving cutely. “bye yoongi!! use protection, ok?” “i’m sorry for him.” you waved off his apology. “it’s fine. jin seems nice.” “he is, but he teases me too much.” “but he makes great coffee.” yoongi smiled. “that he does.” and before the two of you parted ways that night, yoongi slipped a folded napkin from the cafe into your hand. “just text me if you ever need someone to talk to.” and with that, he left, giving you a small wave as he went. you finally allowed yourself a smile. not only had you managed to talk to your crush, but you had his number. jungkook’s going to be so proud of me, you thought as you walked back to your dorm. talking with yoongi had made all of your worries melt away, and you squared your shoulders a bit. maybe college won’t be so bad after all, you thought. 

a/n: omg this is my first drabble that’s at least 1k words!! I hope you all enjoyed this drabble, and please let me know what you think!! my next drabble may or may not be a jin one hehe

[mosylufanfic]

Closing Time

Happy Killervibe week, y’all! This first story is for the Coffee Shop theme.

Closing Time

Cisco shut the door behind the last wifi hound, locked it, and raised both fists in the air. "And we're done!"

Done for the night, done for the pay period, done forever. In two days, he'd be starting his grad program at the university and a TA-ship with it, and he'd never have to make another latte unless it was for himself.

"Not quite," his manager said. "We've still got to finish the closing."

"But done with customers," he said, coming around the counter. He started to clean the espresso machine, singing, "No more frothers, no more cards, no more Karens' dirty looks -" He paused. "Huh, you got anything that rhymes?"

Caitlin, already pulling the drawer, rolled her eyes at him and turned to go into the office where she would count the money and deposit it in the safe. Also her last time. 

Cisco hit the button for the cleaning cycle, shut off the canned Jitters-approved music on the overhead speakers, and pulled out his phone. "Requests?" he called into the office.

"You pick!" she called back, as she always did.

He decided it was an old-school cheesy hair band kind of night and put on Aerosmith as he started emptying the dishwasher, stacking all the cups and plates up for the next morning. 

He liked closing with Caitlin, because she always had them do all the little tasks and chores way before closing. He knew some of the other baristas bitched and moaned, saying there was plenty of time to take out the trash or do the pastry inventory after they were closed and she was just cracking the whip because she could. But Caitlin always got them out on time and also never left anything undone for the openers if she could help it. 

Also, it didn't hurt that he was kind of head-over-heels in love with her.

" - jonesin' on love, yeah, I got the disease," he sang as he wiped down the table where the last wifi user had been sitting, dropping crumbs into his keyboard until the bitter end. "Falling in love is so hard on the kneeeeeees -"

She was pretty and smart - she was going to med school! How hot was that? - and kind of funny, once you got her talking. In his year behind the counter, every single one of his favorite shifts had been with her. He'd even agreed to work closing on Saturday nights because that was her closing night, and nobody else ever wanted that shift so it was always just them hanging out as he cracked jokes and told stories and made up alternate lyrics to the music on the loudspeaker and generally acted like a third-grader trying to get the attention of his first crush.

Not that she'd ever reciprocated. Oh, she was friendly enough, in her reserved way. But though she would banter with him if there was nobody in the store, she'd never flirted back or texted outside of work, even when he would shoot her a what's-up every now and then to test the waters. She'd never even given him the look when they were alone and the store was locked up and he'd just made her laugh, and . . . 

Clearly he was a fellow Jitters employee and nothing more. 

He sighed, tossing the cloth into the laundry bag. It was probably good they were both leaving. Unrequited love was probably great for radio hits, but terrible for his self-confidence. Maybe he'd get lucky and lock eyes with a hot fellow TA during orientation, and if he ever ran into Caitlin around campus, he could smile and catch up without that tinge of longing pressing on his chest.

He checked the bathrooms, just in case that one last "no, I'll be five minutes, I really need the bathroom" guy had left a horrible present behind. 

Luckily, they were spick and span. Caitlin had cleaned them a couple of hours ago, so he could probably eat off the floors. He narrowed his eyes at the toilet paper holders and opened one. "For Chrissakes," he muttered.

Caitlin was rolling coins when he knocked on the door jamb. "Hey, Charmin' Hal hit us again," he said. "I need the keys."

She looked up. "What? When did he get in?" She handed him the key to the supply closet.

"Maybe when we had that drive-thru rush around nine? He got all three spare rolls." 

She shook her head. "What does he use them for?"

Cisco shrugged. "We don't have to care in -" He checked his phone. "About thirteen minutes."

By the time he'd replaced all the spare rolls, Caitlin was signing the deposit slip. "We good?" he asked.

"Just about. I have to lock up the safe.  Can you grab the pastry cart?"

"On it." He tossed her the keys to the supply closet, and she caught them. "Wooo!" he cheered. "A stellar catch from Snow on third!"

She smiled in a way that made his stomach all warm, but turned away and started gathering up all the stuff to go in the safe. He grabbed the cart and wheeled it out front to start filling the ruthlessly cleaned pastry case so it would be ready for the openers.

After a few moments, the safe thumped closed, the light in the office switched off, and she came out to help him with the last pastries. When they'd filled the case, she handed him a roll of bills, his share of the tip jar. "Oh, and this. It came on the truck today."

It was an envelope with something stiff and plastic inside. He ripped it open and found a gold Jitters membership card. "What's this? Some kind of comment on how much free coffee I drank in my tenure here?"

She smiled. "Every Jitters team member that leaves on good terms gets a lifetime membership in the loyalty program." She nodded at the card. "You were here for more than a year so you get gold."

And fifteen percent off Jitters drinks and food. "Nice!" Discounted caffeine was not to be sneezed at, especially in the program he was going into. "What'd you get? Titanium? Diamond-encrusted?"

"Managers get platinum," she admitted.

"For the kind of crap you put up with, you should get free Jitters for life, not just twenty percent off," he said. He'd personally seen her smack down entitled Karens, kick out jerks creeping on baristas, and call the cops on a dude who was flashing people in the drive-thru.

She shrugged. "It's still a good deal." She reached out and hit the lights, so the lobby went dim and quiet. 

More than once, he'd wondered what she would do if he leaned over and kissed her in the soft after-close darkness. The thought came up again. Why not? Last chance, right? She was so close he could smell the hazelnut syrup she'd spilled on her apron earlier. What if he just - 

But her silhouette had already turned and started walking to the back, and her voice floated to him. "Come on, let's clock out."

He cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah. Let's do that."

He'd cleaned out his tiny locker earlier, so all he had to do was whip off the apron and toss it in the laundry bag. Caitlin's landed on top of it, and she picked up her purse and the bag of things from her own locker.

"Have you got everything?" she asked. "I signed my key back to Tina earlier, so I wouldn't be able to get us back in."

He patted his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone. "Got it all," he said, grabbing the bag of stuff from his locker.

He clocked out, approved his time card, and then stepped back to let her do the same. The staff door shut behind them with a heavy, final thunk, the lock clicking. 

"End of an era," he said. "The Cisco and Caitlin closing show is no more."

"Yep," she murmured.

They stood in the tiny parking lot, the lights spilling down to form a pool around them, keeping the darkness back. On the other side of the building, traffic rushed by.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly awkward. "So, uh. This . . . this was cool. I liked working with you."

"Me too."

"Good luck with med school and all that. Maybe I'll, um, I'll see you around campus."

"Probably not," she said. "The med school is on the other end of campus from the engineering building."

He looked at his shoes. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"So maybe we should arrange to meet up sometime," she said.

It took a moment for the words to percolate, and then he blinked at her. "To - "

"Meet up," she said again. "For, um, for coffee or something."

Hang on, was this like a post-employment thing? Meet up with your manager afterward? To what, like, talk about work stuff? She was aware that they worked (had worked, past tense) at Jitters, not a Fortune 500 company, right? 

"Sure," he said slowly. 

She put her hands behind her back. "Only if you want. I know you'll be busy."

Something pinged in his brain. Maybe it was that bashful motion, maybe it was the angle of her chin as she looked away. Maybe it was the trace of a blush across her cheeks. 

He held up a hand. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Her eyes went big, and her cheeks went pinker. She bit her lower lip. 

"Oh my god," he said in wonderment. "You are. You're asking me out."

She looked utterly crestfallen for a split second, then rallied. "Okay, I can see I might have misinterpreted certain -"

He almost yelled, "I didn't say no!"

They both goggled at each other for a moment.

"What are you saying then?"

"I - yeah, absolutely, yes, let's -" Hook up? Date? Have a torrid love affair? Get married and have a succession of fat happy babies? Yes please, all of the above. "Let's do that. But - you - you knew I liked you?"

"You were kind of flirty," she said. 

"But you never - You acted like you weren't even the tiniest bit interested!"

"Cisco, I was your manager up to three minutes ago! That's like the definition of sexual harassment!"

"Not if I'm cool with it!"

"Okay, but if we'd started dating a year ago, every time I made a schedule, people would have said I was giving you more hours or better shifts or not making you do the icky jobs, even if it wasn't true. You know they would've."

"A year ago," he said. "You've had the hots for me for a year?"

She primmed up her mouth. "As you well know, you're very cute."

He felt his grin spread all across his face. "Damn right I am. I'm such sizzlin' hot stuff that you couldn't wait three minutes after you were officially no longer my manager to hit on me."

She went pink to her hairline. "I - I just - it seemed like a good -"

He almost collapsed into laughter. God, why had he never taken that into account? All his pining and longing and yearning, and he'd never once considered how conscientious Caitlin was. Of course she wouldn't have acted like the other manager, Ralph, who was nice enough but went through the cute new baristas like a hot knife through butter. And yeah, people did say that about whatever newbie he was swapping spit with.

When Cisco had chortled himself into silence, she stood shaking her head. But not in a "I changed my mind, you're a complete goober, no fat happy babies for us." More like, "I knew what I was getting into and I still think you're cute, God help me." She had a little smile on her face.

He wheezed out a breath. "So," he said. "We're doing this?"

She nodded, and her smile widened. "Sounds like."

"Just one request, okay?"

"What's that?"

He reached out and took her hand. It slipped into his shyly, but she didn't pull away. He said, "Let's do Slurpees and mini-golf, or hit the pizza buffet, or something. Just, anything but coffee." 

FINIS

[marshmallowprotection]

Vampire AU

Pairing: Saeran x Lila, Ray x Lila

1

Lila hummed underneath her breath as she tended to the flowers.

It was a quaint day, she had been working since they opened early in the morning and hadn’t really taken much of a break. When your family was the only florists in your town, that meant that you had a lot to do and  running this business took a lot of time and energy, even though this was technically her families' business, she was the one here most often and the one working the hardest to keep things running smoothly since her Grandmother had fallen ill.

[[MORE]]

Now, they had employees and plenty of the family would drop by to make due when they had to but it was Lila that stepped up to the plate to make sure that the life work of her grandparents was taken care of. It was sort of expected of her, after all, she was the only one in her family that didn’t have what they would like to call a “conventional” career path.

She was an artist that was still trying to find her footing, and without immediate satisfaction, it left most to speak ill.

If she had her way about it, she might have been spending time out in the backroom. She had her spare easel back there so she could spend time working on her next project. She had started to finally work on her floral collection and with spring on its way, a new bloom would be likely to spark her creativity.

Whatever wasn’t in the back room at the moment was on display on the front where the walls were barren and abandoned of much else. Who needed a gallery when you could borrow the wall space from the flower shop? She thought with a weak-willed laugh.

She had dreams of being a beloved artist. But, she had to make sure that her second passion was taken care of first and foremost. After all, she made a promise and Lila didn't break her promises once she made them. Unfortunately, sometimes that meant that she would have to do things that she didn’t account for.

At the very least, this time she was doing something that she liked.

If Lila hadn’t found her passion and love for art at such a young age than she might have been working full time at the flower shop as a florist. She genuinely enjoyed doing for others and it didn’t hurt to find herself amongst the flowers. It was her safe space. Nothing bad could come to her if she was where she was happiest.

This was where she was happy.

Far from the grief and pain that she had experienced two years ago.

The afternoon sun had just begun to set, and she finished arranging a piece for a wedding, taking the time to set it aside for delivery. That was going to be a doozy.

When she peered out the front room her two workers were tending to the dead leaves and weeds stream about the garden, that was one job that was taken care of for her. However, she still just needed to count the books and make sure their ducks were in a row. The deliveries for the week would be going out in the morning, and she would make sure they had received the payments that remained.

Lila shut the door to the back behind herself and stepped up to the counter, tugging the book from one of the cubbies, opening it up and beginning to dot her I’s and cross her T’s. This and that, that and this.

The front bell to the shop jingled, and when she lifted her head she noted it was one of her regulars. "Oh, I didn't expect you to drop by today.”

She had moved into town not that long ago, coming from across the country because she was attending the university and this part of the town was the cheapest for students to find housing they could afford. Her cheeks were pink and she looked a bit nervous, her eyes downcast at the floor. "...I'm good. I've just been thinking about... um… well, you see there's this..."

Lila raised an eyebrow, seemingly picking up a hint about why she was dropping by. She laughed, suddenly, and understood why the blue-haired girl seemed scared. "Is it a special somebody?"

She fiddled with the fabric of her baggy hoodie sleeves and looked up at Lila with a mortified expression, “N-No! It’s not that,” she tried to say, before sighing. “How did you know it was about that?”

“Oh, it’s just something that I’ve learned to pick up,” Lila said. She set her pen against her book and shut it. “I’m used to people dropping by because they want to impress someone or because they have a crush and want to give them something. You wouldn’t believe how many people have come by because they don’t know what to get their partners.”

“I don’t have an um…” she swallowed.

Lila smiled knowingly. “Oh, but you’ve got the eyes for somebody, Bridgit. Is it a cute boy on campus? He must be something special if you like him. Do you wanna tell me about him? Maybe I can find you something that he’ll like.”

She panicked, once again, and shook her head. “I-I’ll have to ask you about this later, um, I’m going to work on my homework.”

Lila sighed at the young girl. It wasn’t surprising that she ran out of dodge when she got a little too excited or flustered. Bridgit was painfully shy, and she still didn’t know the ropes around just making a move. If she remembered correctly, she had ducked into her shop the first time because she had seen a particularly cute boy and wanted to avoid being seen by him.

Perhaps this was the same boy. This was the closest that she had gotten to asking Lila for advice. Maybe the next time she would be able to finish her questions without ducking out.

One of her employees looked over at her, “You think she’ll work up the courage one of these days?”

“Man, she’s been in here too many times to count. I kind of hope this guy figures out she likes him and then makes his move. ” the other discounted.

“Just because that’s the most drama you two can gab about doesn’t mean you have to start placing bets on her love life. I know it’s been a slow week but be a little more mindful of our customers. Why don’t you two go ahead and go home for the night if that’s what’s on your mind? I’ll close up tonight.”

The moon had made its way into the sky by the time she had cleaned up the shop and began to stash away the brooms. She had to adjust the temperature inside to combat the weather outside the greenhouse. She tugged up her sweater closer to her body as she grabbed it from the hook, and let out a little puff of air against that lingering winter cold.

It was too far too cold for her liking, and while it had been warm during the day, the nights still had that chill that made your spine tingle. And, she wasn’t even outside yet. What a strong chill if it slipped through the cracks of the building with ease.

With pursed lips, she went to head to the door but stopped in her tracks when she noticed that someone was in the shop. That was peculiar, nobody usually stopped by this late. She thought that it might have been Bridgit, but this figure was far too tall to be that petite girl.  This was a quiet part of town, and she knew almost everyone that dropped by.

Someone new was a rarity.

It was a guy.

He was dressed in dark, muted tones that would have made him a hazard in the roadway at night. His hair, well, the most that was peeking out from underneath a hood at least that she could see, appeared as white as the night sky; There was the faintest hint of pink there as if he hadn’t dyed it all the way that he wanted. This was a little strange but he didn’t appear to be any different than the rest of her customers.

It was possible that he was new to town just as Bridgit was, and had wandered into this part to check things out. Still, she was about to close because of the late hour and he would have to go sooner or later. Lila pursed her lips.

With her hands in her pockets, she put on her business face and lit up the bubbly attitude as much as she could. “Hello!” she greeted, “I see you’re admiring the coming spring’s bounty. This winter has been a long one so it seems. The gladiolus there is coming in well, but they’re very picky when it comes to their temperature. It hasn’t been warm enough for them to completely flourish. I'm afraid that one has been on the brink of dying as of late.”

The stranger didn’t budge from his spot, nor was he jostled by the sound of her voice like any other person would be. She had been fairly quiet when she came back into the room. He turned his head back in her direction, and she caught a glimpse of his green eyes. They seemed rather unnaturally green as if he were wearing some of those colored contacts.

“You’ve taken great care, they have just the right amount of water, it’s always often that people forget to give them what they need, thinking the rain may be enough, but you seem to know better than that,” he spoke, suddenly. His fingertips brushing against the petals of the almost blooming blossom. “They seem happy with the kindness you’ve shown them.”

Oh, interesting, she thought. He knows a thing or two about flowers.

“I do my best,” Lila said. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert by any means. I've learned by error my entire life, making mistakes and fixing them is my way of life. After all, this place is very important to me.”

“...You’re the owner, then?” he asked, then.

She let out a little laugh. “Kind of, you're in the right area. It belongs to my family, actually. I’m just the one that takes care of the place the most lately. You must be new to town, then, this is a fairly small place and I know pretty much everyone, and they know me.”

He shifted from one leg to the other, guarded.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, curtly. It was clearly something that he didn’t want to talk about. It wasn’t any of her business, so she paid it no mind.

“Well, if you haven’t heard it yet, welcome to town, and my shop,” she smiled. “Anyone who knows their stuff and their way around a garden is more than welcome in my shop. I never meet someone with an eye often. Is there anything that I can do for you this evening?”

The man looked away when he caught a glimpse of it.

“No,” he said.

No?

“I've just admired the view from outside the window for a while and I… wanted to see what it was like on the inside.”

Oh.

Lila smiled. She understood that much. Perhaps he was someone who hadn't been able to touch the grass in some time; If you lived in a city, it was hard to find the grass and wonder.

“Well, I'm flattered you think so much of the place.” She said, “My family also has a large garden not far from here that's open to the public, and the groves there are far better than what I've done here. If you think my shop is great, you'll see really quickly that I'm nothing special compared to mother nature herself.”

She took a step closer and leaned against the edge of the table. Her fingertips brushed against the bud still damp from its last watering, the one that he had last touched himself.

Beaming with an idea and a kind heart, she looked over at the stranger who stood still. “Gladiolus represent remembrance, as well as confidence, dexterity, and faithfulness. You seem very fond of it. Hm, since this particular one has been giving me some trouble, why don't you take it with you and breathe some life into it for me?”

He blinked, raising an eyebrow. His expression was unreadable by her, and that was when she noticed the parlor of his skin. He seemed as white and as delicate as a lily, sickly even. It dawned on her that this stranger may have had more struggles in his life, and that only made her forget any of her silly suspicions on spot. All that was on her mind was making someone's night better than it could be. It was her goal.

She wasn't taking no for an answer, either. Scooping the pot into her hand, she pressed it into the strangers hand with a smile and a nod.

“No charge. Something like this could liven up your room as well as your mood,” she said.

“You would do something like that?”

He was surprised by her sudden actions, so much so that he didn't say much else. She waved it off as a bit of embarrassment and headed to the door where she held it open for him and made sure to lock it before she stepped out into the cool night air.

Lila stole a glance at the stranger, before she started to walk in the direction of her apartment, “I'm in this business to make people happier by any means. With the right flower in your hand, and a smile, you could make even the saddest person feel again. That's something that not even money could buy.”

“...You're very kind.” she could hear him.

“Just promise you'll let me know how it turns out!” She called back at him with a laugh.

The stranger watched as Lila disappeared into the shadows and rounded the corner to her small apartment that was two blocks away. She would get their safely as long as he was nearby. This town was steadily becoming a hotbed for prowlers and he wouldn't want anything to happen to her because of that. For so long he wanted to talk to her but he never could work up the courage to do it; He took the chance tonight only because he had quenched his bloodlust the night before.

It was all too easy to find someone in a college town. Ray just hated and felt bad after he had to coerce someone for their blood. He had to survive… and that was the cost he had to pay.

He had just gotten sidetracked when he looked and saw the most lovely girl tending to a bouquet of lilies. He had intended to keep moving and to keep hiding from the underground that wanted to find him and destroy him. But he just… couldn't leave this place.

He felt enraptured and bond by the intoxicating feeling that girl gave him. She smelled heavenly and her smile almost made his heart beat again. She really was as kind as she seemed to be, he had been watching her for some time now, and he was relieved to know that she was lovely. He was so glad he came to this town, but at the same time, he knew that as long as he was here… danger would follow.

Ray stared down at the gladiolus in his hands, almost gleeful. “Perhaps this time she won't find me… maybe I can be normal again… maybe we can just exist here…”

[shurisneakers]

espresso [2]

Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.

Warning: swearing

A/N: this is my entry for the ethereal @bithors writing challenge!  huge thank you to @samingtonwilson, queen of everything, for beta-ing this fic and adding her magic to it. ily sam taal.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous part- Part 1 || Espresso Masterlist

If you could narrow your times of intense regret to two main circumstances, one would be when you allowed Bucky and Rebecca to convince you that a roller coaster ride after scarfing down funnel cakes was a great idea and the other would be the precise moment your alarm clock shook the walls of your bedroom an hour earlier than usual after a night of drinking. 

You hadn’t realized how early Bucky had to wake up to go to work until the morning you experienced the latter circumstance. The constant slump in his shoulders the days he had work and the dark circles under his eyes suddenly made more sense.

You grudgingly tugged on a hoodie and leggings and left a note for Natasha on your way out saying that you wouldn’t be there for breakfast.

Stepping out into the crisp, cold air would be great on another day but all you could feel today was Jack Frost’s wet dream. Campus wasn’t completely deserted and you could see people looking more lively than you did, forcing your already unpleasant mood to shift into a mix of anger and jealousy.

You walked briskly to the coffee shop, sighing in relief when you pushed open the door and were finally enveloped in the familiar smell that every coffee shop smelt like. Fucking coffee.

Bucky was behind the counter, his back turned to you as he pressed a few buttons on a machine and leaned on the counter while it filled up the cup. As he looked up for a second, his eyes spotted you standing near the doorway.

A smile grew on his face as he beckoned you over, “Gimme five minutes, I’ll be right over. Go have a seat if you want.”

“How are you so confident that I came here to talk to you?”

“Oh, sweetheart-“ he tilted his head at you, “- we all know how much you hate the coffee here.”

“Well, everything here tastes like a discount version. It is morally wrong to drink this soulless donkey piss.” You made a disgusted face when you thought of the last time you put that shit in your mouth. Never again.

“Not everyone can afford Starbucks every day like some people I know, Mario,” he sang, putting a lid on the cup before handing it to the guy who looked like he could use a couple of years’ worth of sleep.

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn’t know if he realized that his comment stung a little more than expected.

“Besides, you’ve never tasted my coffee.”

“Oh? You’re telling me your coffee can redeem this hell joint?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t redeem it. I make it what it is.”

“So… a complete failure?”

“Like you? Nope,” he fired back, making you laugh. “Do you want something or nah?”

“Give me my regular. You know how I like it.”

“Coming right up.”

You took a seat in the booth near the window, sliding in all the way until your shoulders were leaning on the glass. There was dew on the leaves of the fake plants outside while the logo of the coffee shop was starting to peel off. You couldn’t say you didn’t aid the small scratches inching away at the giant sticker.

As you waited for him, your fingers pulled at the loose threads in the musty couch, while your eyes remained trained on him as he moved around to make your order.

His hair was shoved under a black baseball cap and he wore a grey t-shirt that was covered by the apron. You knew there was an engineering joke on that shirt, some geeky thing that he was unnaturally proud of.

You watched as he scribbled something onto the cup, biting his lip in concentration. Probably his nickname for you.

As he continued to shuffle around, you let your eyes close for maybe a few more seconds of sleep. You had Strange’s class in the morning, followed by Foster’s. Blergh.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” he asked as he slid onto the couch opposite to you.

“I just don’t get how you can do this every morning.” You opened your one eye to look at him. In front of Bucky was a to-go cup with Mario written across the front.

“I don’t really have another option.” He shrugged, pushing your cup forward. You took it with a sigh, feeling the warmth immediately creep into your skin.

“So what’s your master plan, barista boy?” You tipped the cup back, sipping on the hot liquid. He was right. It was kinda great.

His eyes flitted to the cup in your hand before looking at you again. “It’s pretty simple, really.”

“Do enlighten me.”

“I know a couple of guys. I send you on blind dates with them. If you like any of them, go for it,” he said nonchalantly, shrugging.

“That’s all?” You took a pause from drinking to narrow your eyes at him. “You woke me up at this ungodly hour to tell me that you’ll set me up with a few guys?”

“Damn, don’t sound so excited and grateful, I can’t handle it,” he muttered, sending you a smile.

“C'mon, James. I know you can do better than that. Even Nat could set me up with guys.”

“Yeah, but can Nat make you the best damn coffee you’ve ever had?”

“Nat can do everything,” you answered without batting an eye. “I mean it. You ever seen that girl write? Shit, I’d date her just for the love letters she could possibly write me.”

“Point taken. Isn’t her film festival coming up? How’s she handling that?”

“Incredibly well. She’s sleeping a maximum of four hours a night and is running on nothing but Gatorade and spite.”

“Great.” His eyes shifted to the cup again, before looking back at you.

“What did you do?”

“What?”

“What did you do to my coffee cup? You keep staring at it.” You opened the lid to look inside, praying that you wouldn’t find a dead lizard or something.

“Nothing! I swear I didn’t do anything,” he said defensively, leaning back with his arms surrendering.

“I promise,” he added when he noticed your look wasn’t faltering.

“Alright, Barnes. Coming back to the topic at hand-” you waved around between the two of you. “I know you can do better than that.”

“What more dost thy thirsty ass wanteth?” Bucky asked, smirking when you rolled your eyes.

“How many dates are you planning for me?” you asked after a pause.

“Five. Why?”

“What if I don’t like all five?” you raised your eyebrow, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Are you questioning my matchmaking skills?”

“What credibility do you have, really?”

“I watched two seasons of The Bachelorette,” he said, making you choke on your drink. “I’m like, a certified Tinder employee.”

“My original question still stands.”

“If you don’t like all five, you don’t like them. That’s about it?”

“That’s so boring,” you whined. “Make it interesting.”

“Jesus, Mario,” he exhaled. “Okay, fine. Here’s the thing.”

“Ooooh, shits-“

“Say ‘shit’ one more time in plural and I’m leaving.”

“Shit-“ you said, making him nod. “-s,” you added under your breath.

Either Bucky ignored you or he didn’t hear you, but either way, he continued, “If you don’t like any of those five guys, I’ll do one thing you want me to do. It can be anything.”

“Holy shits-“ he glared at you but you continued, “-If I asked you to strip your pants and walk around campus?”

“Yikes, but yes.”

“Do my homework for a month?”

“If I understand any of it, sure.”

“Tell me who the love letter you wrote years ago was to?” you asked deviously, making him freeze.

“What makes you think I still remember it?”

“So it was a love letter! Gotcha, you liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Jesus Christ. How old are you again?”

“Irrelevant, move on. Will you tell me who it is to or not?” you waved off his question quickly, moving to the more pressing matters.

“I still don’t get why you want to know so bad, but yes. I’ll tell you,” he gave up, throwing his hands up. “But what if you like one of them?”

“Isn’t that a win, win? You get to keep your amazing matchmaking reputation and I get myself a guy.”

“Alright. Fine. You got yourself a deal.”

“Deal,” you affirmed, finishing what was remaining in the cup before reaching across the table to shake his hand firmly.

You pulled back soon after, gathering your phone and wallet, leaving him a five dollar bill on the table before he could argue. You adjusted the bag on your shoulder before giving him a short wave and a smile before wishing him a good day and walking out the shop in a slight hurry. You were already kinda late for class.

He sighed, picking up your empty cup and toyed around with it, reading the words he had written on it. He genuinely wondered how you didn’t see the letters in black ink across the front, but before he could worry too much about it the bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of another customer. 

Making his way back to the counter hurriedly, he threw the cup into the dustbin before sliding under the counter and jumping back up again to greet the next person with a bright smile.

“Hi. Could I have a grande soy cinnamon no-foam, half caf, extra shot caramel macchiato?”

‘I fucking hate this job,’ Bucky thought, smiling and nodding to the customer in front of him.

PART 3

[projectlets]

If you’re lower-income/lower-resourced, you can access mental health care!

1. A lot of therapists offer what is known as a sliding scale, which means that they will work with you to set a price that works for you. There is no set formula for figuring it out-- but they’ll ask you how much you think you can pay and maybe how much you make. You could get up to a 50% discount, maybe even up to a 70% discount, on treatment. 

2. See if your job has an Employee Assistance Program (EAP), which can provide you with short-term mental healthcare, referrals, and financial assistance.

3. Reach out to therapists you’d be interested in seeing and say, “I’m curious if you have any pro bono slots open right now. I’m really motivated to do the work, I just don’t have the money. Is that something you’d be open to?” It might take some trial and error to find someone whose answer is yes!

4. Your house of worship might have options. Pastoral counseling-- AKA getting counseling from a trained minister, rabbi, priest, imam, etc.-- is usually free and another thing to look into. Most counselors, if not all, will be members of the American Association of Pastoral Counselors, so they will have proper training. 

5. Look into nearby graduate schools or teaching hospitals, which usually have clinics where trainees see people at a reduced rate. The people training to be psychologists, social workers, and family therapists have to get on-the-job experience. And if you’re worried about seeing a trainee: not only are they getting training, they will also be supervised by someone who’s licensed.

6. Consider group therapy or support groups, which are cheaper or free. Support groups-- which are kind of like group therapy, but with an emphasis on education and community-- are a low-cost or free option. Look into: NAMI, SAMHSA, & 211.

7. Utilize short-term crisis lines and long-term peer counseling services (which are free, from organizations like Project LETS.

8. Most therapists take on a number of clients for free, so don’t be afraid to ask if they have pro bono spots open. Every licensed clinician has an ethics code that they adhere to and part of that ethics code says that they’re supposed to provide some of their services free of charge as a gesture of goodwill.

9. If you’re a student, take advantage of your free campus resources-- then ask for a student discount elsewhere when you exhaust those.

10. The Psychology Today Therapist finder is a great resource to find providers who offer a sliding scale-- just mark it on your search settings.

Learn more from Project LETS. 

[bettybettycooper]

Black Coffee (Chapter 1)

Bughead college AND coffeeshop AU

Jughead’s go-to campus coffee shop is closed so he’s forced to go to a new, much fancier one.  He’s pissed off about it until he sees a certain barista (and tastes the coffee).

My first multichapter fic!!! Title is temporary-ish? I might think of a better one. This chapter is PG but don’t worry there’ll be smut eventually ;)

The “closed this week for renovations” sign taped crookedly to the door of Coffee Planet upsets Jughead more than he’s willing to admit.  This will be the first time in the two months he’s been at this school that he hasn’t grabbed a coffee here on the way home.  Okay, maybe not the first time, but at least only the fourth or fifth, and certainly the first time that he’s gone this far out of his way just to be disappointed.

Anyway.  Coffee Planet is the only place on or near campus with a short, simple menu, which is what brought him there in the first place.  When he wants coffee, he wants it black, strong, and bitter.  And he doesn’t want to wait in line behind eight Art History majors ordering lattes.

So.  He carries on, walking past the little shop that has become a place of comfort to him over the last couple months.  He has a coffee maker in his dorm room, but he wants to drink coffee now, on the way home, and not while he’s shut up in his too-hot room with his sweaty roommate.

It occurs to him that he could go to another coffee shop, but it’s not until he walks past The Littlest Bean that the thought actually tempts him.

The Little Bean is, well, on the same level as Starbucks.  All the drinks are $6 and there are at least 200 different options when you account for all of the ridiculous modifications people order.   Jughead only knows this because he’s seen the girls in a couple of his film classes come in with what look like whipped-cream filled transparent plastic cups, sporting the coffee shop’s logo, “The Littlest Bean” written in cursive over a pink circle, with a picture of – unsurprisingly – a coffee bean.

Jughead wants nothing to do with The Littlest Bean, unless that something is a black coffee, right this second, that he can drink on his walk home. Without too much consideration, he turns off of the sidewalk towards the offending business.

The first thing he notices is that the foyer is very pink.  The whole place is modern, well designed, and immaculate, and it smells amazing.  As does every coffee shop when Jughead is craving caffeine this badly.   The second thing he notices are the signs – at least 20 of them – advertising their newest frappe.  Seems a little unnecessary when you’re already inside, Jughead thinks.

He only has to wait for a minute or two, before a cute blonde girl, who is covered in what could only be purple glitter and looks absolutely exhausted, walks up to register, puts on the most convincing smile he’s ever seen, and says “hi, welcome to The Littlest Bean!  What can I get for you today?”

At first he’s a little thrown off, because all of the employees at Coffee Planet (he can’t even call them baristas), are perpetually stoned, acne-ridden teenagers who attend the adjacent high school.  But this girl in front of him, smiling sweetly and looking straight at him, waiting for him to say something is – well, hot.

“Just a medium black coffee, please,” he says.  It comes out a little weaker than he intended.

In an instant, the barista drops her forced smile, looks him straight in the eye and says, “oh thank God,” with what sounds like way too much sincerity for the situation.

Jughead gives her a puzzled look.

After a quick look around, she says quietly, “I’m made at least 500 goddamn Midnight Glitter frappes today. “

He laughs.  So maybe the signs do work.

“This job is hell,” she says.  Then her customer service face comes back on, and she says, “so that will be $2.00, and I’ll have it ready in just a moment.”

Jughead stands around by the counter to wait for his coffee, watching the frantic movement behind the counter and the explosion of purple glitter covering the entire floor and almost every machine.  His barista, who seems to be the only one without a nametag, is using a fancy looking espresso machine to make his coffee.  She bends over to grab something, and Jughead definitely DOES NOT notice how great her ass is.

Eventually, she pours his coffee into a logo-adorned paper cup, makes eye contact with him from behind the counter, and moves to hand it to him.  He’s reaching out, so she doesn’t put it down on the counter first, but hands it directly to him.  Their hands touch.  Her fingernails are painted pastel pink.

“Thank you!”

“No, thank you.  Really.  Please come back and order more black coffee whenever you want.  I’ll even give you a discount if you let me make it really, really slowly.”

“Will do!” Jughead smiles, and her eyes are so blue and beautiful and it might just be the sheen of sweat on her forehead but she’s pretty much glowing.

While he’s leaving The Littlest Bean to start on his walk home, he hears someone order a “Medium Non-fat soy Midnight Glitter Frappe.”  When he glances back, it’s his barista taking the order with a forced smile on her face.  She meets his gaze momentarily, rolls her eyes while punching the offending drink into the register.

He hates to admit it, but the coffee is actually really good.  Maybe he will be back after all.

He can hear Archie’s music the second he reaches the fifth floor.  He knows it’s Archie’s music, because Archie only has three songs on his phone, one of which is currently blaring through dorm 12’s heavy wooden door.

Archie doesn’t even see him when he comes in.  He’s on the floor in between their beds, doing pushups and breathily singing along.

“Arch!”

He lifts his gaze, unembarrassed as always, and doesn’t even break his push up pace.  

“Oh, hey, only 40 left.”

“Okay.”

Jughead sits at his cluttered desk, finishes off his coffee, and thinks that this would be the perfect time to try and find his blonde barista on Facebook if only he knew her name.

Betty gets off at 8 o’clock.  Her feet are aching something terrible, and she looks like a glitter-happy toddler’s splatter paint masterpiece.  She liked the smell yesterday, when they first released the godforsaken frappe, but now it only smells like frustration and tedium and angry middle aged mothers who want to speak to her manager because she didn’t put enough whipped cream on top.

Betty’s dream is to be a manager at The Littlest Bean just so she can give those kinds of customers a stern talking to.  Her current manager is fine, but she’s too nice to tell anyone off, which unfortunately results in customers realizing this and getting free drinks out of it every day.  Betty would be able to run a much tighter ship.

She wonders if the guy who ordered the black coffee will come back.  

She also wonders whether she was flirting with him, or if she’s like that with every customer.  The latter, probably, it’s just that it’s not often a cute boy comes in and gets her thinking about it.

(Okay, that’s a lie.  It’s a college campus; cute boys come in all the time.  Still sweaty, sometimes, and dirt-smeared and breathless from football or soccer practice.  Maybe she’s been unknowingly flirting with them too.)

She leaves through the back room of the still busy coffee shop, walking quickly back to her dorm, where she has only a couple hours to finish her journalism assignment, which is due two weeks from now.

Her dorm room is her happy place.  Everything is white and pink and she has fairy lights above her single bed and the softest rug ever in the middle of the old, stained flooring.  The better part of a wall is taken up by her schedule.  

She puts her stuff away, takes off her Midnight Glitter scented work clothes, and heads to the communal bathroom wrapped in a towel to take a long-awaited shower.

Not even that gets rid of all the purple.

chapter 2

[otteron-the-sun]

[2] Two side of a coin

State : In progress Characters : Moobin x Rocky x OC (Mee Joo) Genre : fluff / a bit of angst / maybe  future smut? Featured : Poly!Rockbin and College!AU Summary : Being a college student seems to be easier for your love life, little did I know that a bet between two guys won’t make everything goes so smoothly after all. Word count : 2,300+ Side note : I wanted to add, Mee Joo is only a true character, with her own life, and own look. If you want to identify at her while reading, you can, and change the look to yours, but I prefer her to be herself when I write. Then again, thanks to my baby @wolfheart-46 ♥

Previous part

Wednesday morning, it was an awful morning. I was terribly tired, face buried in my pillow, and letting out a long and raspy groan at the sound of my alarm going off. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to bed so late yesterday, but I thought that finishing my essay during the night was a better idea than doing it a bit each day and completing it the weekend. But there was the problem. Since I’ll be going to the party at SanHa’s fraternity, I prefer to finish it now and have a free weekend. Maybe free if no one give us homework on the meantime between today, and Friday evening. After a lot of efforts put together, I got up of my bed, staring blankly at the wall for a good minute, and then went take a shower, trying to wash the tiredness off. Not to mention, it didn’t totally worked, and I only want to go back to bed. But no. I have to go in class until the last one to finally go see Rocky for a bit. And I couldn’t hide that it was the only thing that motivated me to go through the day. But that also meant that I have to be cuter than usual, to keep a face in front of him. That’s why, after my shower, I walked to my closet and stood up for a while, staring at every pieces of clothing. And I tried to put two things that looked good together before adding a third, and another one. That’s how I finished with a white tank top, in my high-waisted jean. I really have a thing for high-waisted bottom uh. I took a flannel, a bit to hide my bare shoulder. And also to hide from the cold. We still were in the month of March, so, nop, too cold for only a tank top. Not forgetting to put my sneakers, eat breakfast and grab my coat before leaving, almost late. So, it was fun for the pedestrian, they looked at me, running down the way to the university, grabbing hard on my backpack. I ran until I was in front of my classroom and then stopped immediately, rearranging my hair. Shoot, I haven’t even put makeup on this morning. I’ll have to do it during my lunch break then. Once inside the room, I took my place, next to one of my best friend, Shin-Ae, and I leaned my head against her shoulder, quietly mumbling something close to a “good morning”, and she just patted my head with a laugh. “Wow, you look worse than usually, you don’t even have makeup on. Are you sick?” she couldn’t help but laugh when I looked at her with a yawn, before shaking my head, crossing my arms on the desk and leaning my head on it. Me, almost sleeping, was the first hour of the morning. I said sleeping? My bad, it was totally me, trying my best not to die while also trying to take notes, which was kind of a tough job. But after half of it, fighting against sleep, I started to feel better, more awake, and a part of this universe. It was at this moment that I looked around before pulling on Shin-Ae’s sleeve, tugging softly. “Do you think that I look good today? About my clothes. I’m going to see Rocky at the end of class, and I don’t want to look like some kind of joke beside him… I mean, he’s cute, and I look like… a goose.” She let out a little snort, rubbing little circles on my back, smiling at me. Before telling me that I look really cute, but I’ll look cuter with a hairdo and some makeup, and “she’s sooooooo gonna take care of that during lunch break”. What an angel, sometimes, I wonder what I’d without her, and the reply is: nothing, I’d be lost for my dates. But it wasn’t really a date with Rocky, so it wasn’t the matter right now. Was it? Just the thought of it being a date had my head spinning for a bit, biting slightly on my thumb, thinking about it for the rest of the morning, still taking notes, somehow. It’s true that we get along pretty well, and he is really cute, but… I don’t know, was it too soon? Too soon to go on a date? Come on, it’s just a date. Or maybe it wasn’t, actually. Lunch break was a true relief, eating a bit, thinking a lot. About everything. But I couldn’t just think too long before Shin-Ae pulled me on a chair in one of our classroom, and start doing my hair. She didn’t do much to it to be honest, just pulling it into a bit-messy bun, letting my fringe free. And when she did my makeup, oh boy, it was like being under the touch of a bunch of fairies. It was so nice and light. So peaceful. I could almost fell asleep under that touch. But I didn’t, and I ended with a really nice makeup, not too much on the eyes, not too much on the lips, something really natural, almost cute. Actually, I felt really cute for once. And her, she seemed like she had so much fun, taking care of me like a little doll or even a little girl. But me, I felt like seeing Rocky like that would be a piece of cake, since I was cute, I didn’t looked like some lost girl who cling to him because he’s so nice and so cute. I wonder if someone ever tried to act lost just to be with him for a bit. It wouldn’t even surprise me. Two more hours was spent in listening to the teachers, taking notes as always, and trying so hard to ignore all the little comments that everyone made once they saw me. It was from some guy telling that I was really pretty when I wanted to, to some girl saying that it wasn’t me, it didn’t suits me, and if it was for a guy, he probably won’t fall for me. So yeah, I decided that ignoring them was the best idea I could have today, before finally leaving the school. But seeing Rocky in front of the entrance door was quite unexpected. I mean, did he really knew where the literature building was, or he just guessed right. His head snapped up to look at me when he heard my footstep on the gravel. And I was greeted by his smile the second his eyes fell on me. “Wow, If I knew, I’d be wearing something a little more… I don’t know, classy? To match you.” Wow, is he serious? I mean, yeah, he don’t wear a tuxedo or nothing like that, but he’s really well-dressed. Shaking my head with a smile, I just looked at him before looking back at my school building. “Did you really knew where it was, or are you just a stalker?” “A stalker. Definitely.“ We burst into laughter after staring at it each other for way too long, and then, he explained to me how he knew. Actually, it was just Moonbin who told him where it was on the campus, because, of course that Binnie knew that. Even SanHa didn’t know where was my building, which was… not really surprising if we count that he didn’t even know where my apartment was. I mean, it’s SanHa, do we really need to add something here? During the walk to the coffee shop, the little talking was mostly about what we did those three last days. I mean, more him than me, since I just went to school, then went to work, before going back home and do my homework. But even though my days was pretty boring and tiring lately, he just listened to me complaining, and he complained with me at some point. Because it was fun to complain about things, like, school, homework, people. We really have a lot to complain about, and it’s nice to have someone that I can complain with. It was great to talk with him more than we did the last time, with the others. It was better to know each other that way, kind of easier. In front of us was standing a coffee shop that was way too familiar to me, since I usually work here after school. I didn’t mind coming here for a drink, since : first, I have a discount on everything because I’m an employee. Second, I could kill for their strawberry cake. But seeing me in one of my day off made my coworker laugh at the sight of me. “ Hey MeeJoo, you know that you don’t work on Wednesday? Or maybe you just missed seeing my face like I missed yours?” It was my turn to laugh, reading carefully the black boards with the drinks’ names on it, but nothing had change and I still know them all, them and what’s inside. “Mhmmm, no thank you, I’d rather have a drink.” And I winked to him, just to tease him before letting him take my command and Rocky’s one. We waited for it, with my comments on how slow my coworker was. We took a sit in one of the booth to be a bit more in a private space to talk. We just sat face to each other with our drinks displayed between us. My vanilla milkshake with my strawberry cake against his cold Americano and a simple chocolate crisp muffin. I took the opportunity of being on a banquette to be crossed-leg on it, doing my best to not let my feet touch the leather of the seat. It was way more comfortable this way. “Soooo.. You work here then? I’m sorry to bring you here during your day off… I just like this place.” He began, a bit embarrassed that it was my workplace, but I just brushed it off with a smile and a movement with my hand. “That’s okay, I like being here.. You should come Thursday afternoon, until 7, we could see each other that way !” Big smiles creep on both of our face. It could be way more nice to have him with me during work, it could make me feel less alone when there is no one with me, and it was always the case the Thursday afternoon. No coworkers, just me. The conversation went on, talking about what we do in our school course, what was the best and what was the worst in it. And he was so in love with dancing. The way he talked about it almost make me fall in love with it. With dancing, not in Rocky, slow down. He started to talk about their new project in dance, that’ll count in his grade for the semester, which was dancing with someone else. “ And of course, I chose Binnie as my partner, since I know him for a while now.” Of course. Strangely, with Rocky, it was always how Moonbin was nice, intelligent, knows a lot of things. But it was really cute to see him being his little hypeman, always there to say good things about him. It’s maybe what happen when you know someone for so long and never leave him on the side. And I thought about SanHa and me, we are close, we tell everything to the other, but since we aren’t together 24/7 like before, we prefer to roast each other when we’re together. And roast other people too. Not everyone have the lovey-dovey friendship apparently. While talking, my index finger drew little squares on the screen of my phone. We ate and drank but then, looking back at my phone, a question subsided in my mind, and I looked at Rocky “Tell me Rocky, how did you got my phone number ?”

“ Oh uh… I… First I asked SanHa but he refused because he didn’t want to be the one to ‘put us together’, so I stole his phone and tried to find by myself but I didn’t find your contact name…” He made a pause, reluctant to tell me how he did, so I decided to push him to do it “It’s probably CryBaby or something like that, if you ask me. But then how?” “ I asked Binnie, and he gave me your number.” Silence. The time my head process what he just said. It took me some attempts to finally talk, my mouth opening and closing a bunch of time before. “Why.. How did he do to have my number then?” I wasn’t even mad. Some sort of impressed and flattered, because we never talked before the diner. And so many girls were drooling over him. So, why me. “ I think he likes to have the number of people he want to talk to, but he never find the bravery to text you maybe. Do you want his phone number?” I let out a little “No thank you”, almost like a whisper. I’d love to talk to him, but I prefer to gather up the courage to ask his number directly, not like he did. But somehow, it’s cute that he wanted to talk to me for a while but never did. At the end of the afternoon, he decided that it was nice to escort me to my building to go home, once more. And it was quite useless to spend more time together, it’ll be just more and more awkward to have only one meeting where we talked about everything. We agreed to do that more often, before I climbed the stairs, finishing  my journey directly in my bed, not seeing the text on my phone before dozing off.

[18:51] Rocky : I hope you’ll be there Saturday, it’ll be funnier with you !

Next part

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/business/can-northamptons-dying-high-street-be-saved/

Can Northampton's 'dying' High Street be saved?

Image copyright Leon Neal/Getty

Image caption About a third of units of Northampton’s main thoroughfare are vacant

The number of boarded up shop fronts in towns the length and breadth of England is symbolic of the country’s growing High Street crisis. Perhaps nowhere quite encapsulates this as much as Northampton, which in the past five years has lost three major department stores with the future of a fourth uncertain.

In recent years countless big name chains like Woolworths, BHS, Toys R Us and Comet have faced the administrators and folded. Others have clung on, saved by rescue deals or by swapping their bricks and mortar businesses for the digital marketplace.

That in itself appears to be a Catch-22. Only last month, MPs warned that British High Streets were “in danger of becoming ghost towns” as consumers flock to internet retailers.

In towns like Northampton, there has been a slow drip of shop closures. And conspicuous by their absence are the shoppers that once used to crowd into its market square.

“The place used to be packed,” says fruit and veg market trader, Anne Andreoli. “It used to be rammed with customers and you’d be serving non-stop, all day.

“At one stage there was a 100-year waiting list to get a stall. Now you can take your pick. The change has been humongous.”

Image copyright Photofusion/Getty

Image caption There was once a 100-year wait for a market stall in the town

The square is one of Britain’s largest and dates back to 1235. For centuries it was the centre of the town’s bustling market trade.

“This used to be a good living but I struggle to cover the stall rent now,” says Lesley McDonald, who has run an underwear stall for 28 years.

She and her husband used to work on it together, but he is now a window cleaner – an income they rely on.

“There’s just no trade. The youngsters shop online and since we lost M&S we’ve seen a big decline in older customers,” she says.

“I get here at six in the morning and often I’ve not had a single customer by 10 but I can’t just walk away. I keep hoping it will go back to how it was but I don’t think it will.”

Image caption Lesley McDonald fears the town will never go back to its heyday

Image caption The old M&S store has been boarded-up since August while the BHS, two doors down, closed in 2016

Marks and Spencer, like many others, was lured away to the £140m Rushden Lakes retail park, which opened 15 miles east of Northampton in 2017.

The retailer’s move prompted local celebrity and broadcaster the Reverend Richard Coles to describe the town centre as “decaying”.

On Abington Street – Northampton’s main thoroughfare – about a third of units are vacant and many of the entrances now occupied by homeless people in tents.

The M&S shop has been empty since August and is now boarded up. BHS, which closed in 2016, has only recently been occupied by a factory outlet store, while House of Fraser closed in 2014.

Now, the future of the nearby Debenhams branch is uncertain. It has agreed a £200m refinancing lifeline with lenders but said it would continue with plans to cut the number of its stores.

What’s happening on the UK High Street?

Each year, more shops close than open in the UK and the gap is getting wider.

According to figures from PWC and the Local Data Company, 2,692 shops shut in the first half of 2018 – about 14 per day – while 1,569 opened, a net loss of 1,123.

That compared with a net loss of 222 in the same six months of 2017. Clothes shops and pubs were the biggest casualties.

In January 2008 the internet accounted for 5p in every £1 of retail sales. By August 2018, it was 18p in every pound.

In 2018, 43 retailers with multiple stores either closed or went into administration, affecting 2,594 shops and 46,000 jobs according to the Centre for Retail Research.

A further 15, with 266 stores and 2,706 employees, did so by the end of February 2019.

Life-long resident Jacqueline, 69, says the town’s heyday was between the 1960s and 1990s, when the atmosphere was “tremendous”. Now she comes into the town centre not to shop, but to drop some paperwork off at the council.

“The town centre is a mess. Ask anyone born and bred in Northampton and they’ll tell you the same.

“I don’t come in very often. Mostly just to catch a bus to the shops in Milton Keynes.”

Image caption Halymah Agboola says she rarely ventures into Northampton

Image caption Jacqueline misses Northampton’s “tremendous” atmosphere and shops elsewhere these days

Northampton is not only competing with online retailers and Rushden Lakes, but larger towns nearby with a greater selection of shops.

Milton Keynes, for example, is a 15-minute train journey away and has a Marks and Spencer, House of Fraser and a John Lewis.

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“Big towns and cities can attract the crowds and be a destination for a day out, while smaller centres [offer] convenience,” says Kardi Somerfield, senior marketing lecturer at the University of Northampton.

“So mid-range towns are particularly and disproportionally affected by store closures.”

Image copyright Leon Neal/Getty

Image caption Northampton is home to about 210,000 people and is an hour north of central London by train

Student Halymah Agboola rarely ventures into Northampton’s centre.

“It’s probably about once a fortnight to look for clothes. There are much better deals and discounts for students online and it’s just less hassle,” says the 22-year-old.

“A lot of students I know are going into the centre regularly to pubs and clubs. But I’m not sure what else would attract young people into town and city centres.”

Perhaps the answer lies in St Giles Street, which runs adjacent to Abington Street.

It features a range of small, independent businesses from barbers to restaurants and – despite a handful of empty units – feels altogether more prosperous.

Lisa Witham, 29, runs the Dreams Coffee Lounge with her sister, Nina Neophitou, 25. She says the key to the street’s success is simple.

“There’s a lot of lovely independent shops all offering different experiences for customers, rather than the generic High Street shops.

“The experience for the customer is important. Offer something a bit different that online and out-of-town retailers can’t.”

Image copyright Lisa Witham

Image caption Cafe owner Lisa Witham, right, and sister Nina Neophitou, say it is important to focus on customer experience

Steve Ward and his wife Caroline run St Giles Cheese, which also sells locally produced gin.

“Abington Street is just the classic, dying High Street isn’t it? You’re losing all these big names, one after another,” says Steve.

Northampton Borough Council has made efforts to revitalise the town centre. According to some, progress has been slow, but a new board has been created to tackle some of the the town’s long-standing issues of shop closures and poor footfall.

“We know the town has some problems, particularly the centre which is suffering through a combination of factors,” says council leader Jonathan Nunn.

“The primary aim of this new board is to ensure everyone is pulling in the same direction to address those issues and allow the town to live up to its promise.”

Image caption Efforts have been made to highlight Northampton’s arts and heritage offerings

A slew of new cafes and restaurants have breathed life into the town centre area and there has been a flurry of regeneration work around the newly designated Cultural Quarter.

It is home to the Royal and Derngate Theatre which recently kicked off the UK tour of Kinky Boots – a nod to the town’s shoemaking heritage, based on the story of a struggling Northampton shoe factory.

Nearby, the town’s museum, which is currently closed for a major refurbishment, is due to reopen next year. And the University of Northampton’s new £330m campus, which opened in September, brought some 12,000 students and 2,000 staff to the area.

Signs of progress mean many businesses are cautiously optimistic about the future, with caveats.

“There needs to be more support from the council and landlords, making sure we get the right businesses in,” says Lisa.

“There needs to be variety with the retail, with leisure options such as bowling or maybe an arcade. We have students nearby but they need an incentive to come into town.

“But the more empty units there are, the more difficult it is to attract new businesses. It’s easy to get into a downward spiral.”

[recurring-polynya]

I haven’t posted any fanfic since April and I am dying, so I dug out this first chapter of this amateur hockey AU fic I started back in my annus mirabilis of 2019, which I am never going to finish. Despite taking place in an ice rink, it was supposed to be a fundamentally summery story and it was 90 degrees here today, so that seems about right.

I’ve always been rather fond of it and I hope you like it, too.

ao3 | ff.net

🏒   💘   ⛸️  

The old rink seemed a lot smaller than the first time Rukia had walked through those doors. Smelled the same though, that astringent tang of bleach and wet rubber with just a note of snack bar french fries. Which was strange, because the Ice Society snack bar didn't offer french fries or soggy pizza or any of the usual things served in the snack bars of the hundreds of ice rinks she'd been in over the last ten years. But everything about Ice Society was weird.

For starters, it was called Ice Society. Presumably it was a shitty pun on "High Society," except that the man who owned the rink was a crusty old ex-Marine with one eye who didn't even know what puns were. It was just a mystery.

Rukia half expected Ol' Man Zaraki's asshole son to still be manning the counter of the pro shop, but an orange-haired teen snored at the register instead. She kicked the front of the counter, and he sat up with a start.

“Huh, wha? Won’t get me this time, old man!’

Rukia cleared her throat.

The kid peered down at her from his perch on a high stool. “Uh, you want a sharpening? I am definitely allowed to use the machine without supervision.”

Rukia raised one eyebrow. “Saw an ad. Rink’s looking for a figure skating instructor for the summer?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” the teen scratched his head.

“I...would like to apply?”

“You got a resume or something?”

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him, but passed it over.

The kid made a very serious face as he looked it over. “First Place Overall, Tri State Championships 2015, mmm, very impressive. First Place Regionals 2016, ah ha ha, very tough competition that year.”

“You don’t know a ding-dang thing about competition figure skating, do you, junior?”

“Nope!” he replied cheerfully. “I don’t have any hiring authority either.” He craned his neck around to check the big clock hanging behind him. “Mr. Manager’s out playing hockey with the delinquents, but he should be done in about ten minutes. If you want to talk to him, you can wait around, or I can give this to him assuming I don’t fall asleep again or forget.”

Rukia didn’t really register the second part of this sentence because her heart gave a little leap at the mention of delinquents. “Ol’ Man Zaraki still teaches the kids from juvie how to play hockey?” she asked.

The teen regarded her curiously. “Naw, his back gives him trouble. His son does it now.” He narrowed his eyes. “S’how I learned, y’know.”

Rukia wagged her eyebrows at him. “No shit. Me, too. I’ll wait.”

She wasn’t sure that Ikkaku would even remember her—it’d been ten years and he’d been a surly teen at the time, not too interested in the shouting, angry kids he was trying to teach wrist shots to. Rukia hoped maybe he’d mellowed out a bit, and might be a little more inclined to hire someone with a soft spot in their heart for his dad, who, seriously, had to be about 900 years old by now.

“I’m gonna go out and watch,” Rukia informed the shop kid, snagging her resume back.

“Suit yourself.” He suddenly seemed to remember something. “Wait, you play hockey? Look, my team is lookin’ for—“

Rukia waved a hand dismissively. “It’s been years. I don’t even own equipment.”

“We sell equipment! You’d get an employee discount!” he shouted after her as she headed into the rink proper.

Rukia recognized the drill the kids were doing. They would skate up the ice, the coach would set them up with a pass, and they would take a shot on goal. Most of the kids could barely shoot the puck, but to be fair, the tiny person in net couldn’t really stop anything, either. Nevertheless, Rukia could hear a steady stream of barked encouragement from the coach under the high pitched babble of shouts and shrieks from the other players. These kids didn’t get a whole lot of encouragement in their lives, and she remembered very well the feeling of teammates shouting her name for the first time.

“Great job, great job, everybody! Give your keeper a high five, and go get changed! Awesome hustle today, Ururu, way to hang in there!”

Rukia leaned against the curve of the rink, watching the little hooligans high-five their coach as they piled off the ice.

“You didn’t suck too much yourself today, old man!” one of them squeaked.

Rukia snorted. Some things never changed.

The coach was taking a moment to help the goalie—who turned out to be a tiny girl with dark hair in pigtails—loosen the buckles on her leg pads, before shooing her into the locker room.

Rukia stood up and prepared to re-introduce herself, when he pulled off his helmet, and instead of Ikkaku’s shaved head, a mass of dark red hair spilled out. Most of it was covered with a sweat-soaked bandana, but she would recognize that ponytail anywhere. The words dried up in Rukia’s mouth and she stood stupidly gawping like a fish. The man, who stood close to 6’4” in his skates, stopped short when he realized there was a tiny woman in his way.

“Ah, ‘scuse me, almost didn’t see you there.” He seemed confused by her lack of movement, speech, or any other discernibly human reactions. And then recognition dawned. “Rukia? ‘Zat you?”

Something about the sound of his voice brought her back to herself. Rukia crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at him. “Hey, Renji.”

🏒   💘   ⛸️  

“I’ve seen you around, I think,” Rukia mentioned, poking one of the pucks experimentally with her stick while she waited her turn.

“Family court, prob’ly,” Renji suggested. People were always recognizing him. It was the hair. “You in the foster system, too?”

“Uh, yeah,” she admitted.

“Whadja do to get put in juvie?”

“Jacked a car.”

“You stole a car?”

“It was a 1996 Ford Festiva, so maybe ‘car’ is a little generous. How ‘bout you?”

He fidgeted. “Spray painted a dick on the side of the school.”

Rukia laughed. She had the grating laugh of an old grifter, not a little girl’s laugh at all. “Karakura Middle, lime green? Real attention to detail on the ball hairs?”

“That was me.”

“Nice work.”

Renji felt his cheeks color. He’d never actually gotten a compliment on his graffiti before, let alone from a cute girl who had jacked a goddamn car. “Hey, it’s almost my turn here, and I do not know what I am doing, don’t judge me too rough, okay?”

“I would never.”

“Next!”

Renji launched himself down the ice at top speed. He lost his edge after three paces and landed stomach-down on the ice with a shit-ton of momentum. Ikkaku, barking instructions from the blue line, managed to get one hand on the boards and jump high enough to clear the careening child as he skidded by. Renji bounced off the boards a few times and came to a rest deep in the neutral zone.

“Good hustle, Abarai!” Zaraki boomed.

Rukia was laughing her ass off.

🏒   💘   ⛸️ 

“Yeah, Zaraki took me in a couple years after you moved away,” Renji explained as they sat in the bleachers drinking kombucha from the snack bar and watching Ichigo, the teen from the pro shop, drive the zamboni repeatedly into the boards. “After I got kicked out of the third or fourth foster family. I’m sorry Ichigo confused you.”

As if on cue, the zam hit the boards particularly hard, thoroughly rattling the glass. Renji stood up and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s it, you’re done!” he bellowed. “Go find Ganju and tell him to finish up!”

“Aw, maaaaan!” Ichigo groaned.

Renji plopped back down again. “So what are you doing back in Karakura?”

“Oh,” Rukia said, suddenly remembering that this wasn’t some dumb nostalgia trip. “I’m doing a summer student research program over at the Seireitei U downstate campus. I saw the rink was advertising for a part-time figure skating instructor, and I thought it might be nice to make a few bucks in my free time. Liked the idea of seeing the old place again.” She smoothed out her rumpled resume, and handed it to him.

"Oh, cool! Yeah, both our figure skating instructors just graduated college and moved away." Renji skimmed her resume for a moment, his eyes widening. “I always knew you were a good skater, but…”

“The man who adopted me was a former Olympian,” Rukia said stiffly. “He saw a lot of potential in me.”

“Looks like he saw right,” Renji shrugged. “You sure you don’t got better things to do than teach some teens how to stomp around the ice backward with their arms sticking straight out for fifteen bucks an hour?”

Rukia shrugged back. “The internship’s only ‘sposed to be 20 hours a week. Not like I know anyone down here anymore.”

“Well, you know me.” He handed her the resume back. “The job’s yours if you want it.”

She blinked at him. "That's it?"

He shrugged. "You want an interview with the old man? He'll be by in a few hours to shout at the HVAC unit."

"Is it broken?"

"It's too scared of him to break, that's what the shouting's for. Anyway, he'll just ask me if I want to hire you and I'll say yes."

"But how do you know I'm any good?"

He gave her a strange look, like he wasn't sure if she was trying to pull one over on him or not. Finally, he said, "What, you want a tryout or something?"

"I just don't think you should make hiring decisions based on nostalgia for someone you played hockey with as Squirts."

"Hey, we played together well into Peewees," he joked. He checked something quickly on his phone. "Ice is free for the next hour and a half. You got skates with you?"

"They're out in the car."

"Go get 'em. Hey, Ganju!" He waved to the stocky man climbing onto the zamboni. "Pull that back into the garage, would ya? I'm gonna use that ice."

When Rukia returned with her skates, Renji already had his back on. Rukia studiously tried to ignore him, setting up cones on the ice. Just as she finished the last knot, he hockey-stopped at the door, throwing a spray of ice in her general direction. She ignored him and stepped out onto the ice. “What would you like to see, Mr. Ice Rink Manager, sir?”

“Well, you need to get warmed up, right? Let’s see some circles.”

“Circles.”

“Yeah. You’re some sort of hotshot, right? Switch off forward and backward.”

Smirking, Rukia took off around the first face-off circle, letting her legs stretch out with each crossover. She switched direction for the second, taking it backwards . She stayed in reverse, and instead of skating around the perimeter of the center circle, she launched herself into a double Lutz. She finished the last two circles normally, and came to a neat stop in the corner.

There was the loud blast of a whistle, and Renji skated up to her. “You sure don’t listen to directions too good,” he frowned.

“I got bored,” she shrugged. “Is that whistle really necessary?”

“Yes. Okay, next, see those cones?”

“I am not blind.”

“Skate around ‘em. Like this.” He made a serpentine gesture with his hand.

“I dunno, they’re pretty close together,” she said skeptically. In fact, you could probably drive a zamboni between the cones.

“Eh, just do your best,” he suggested.

Rukia took off and launched into an elaborate sequence of steps, dancing around cones, skipping from one foot to the other, flipping from forward to backward and back again.

“Yeah, that was pretty good, come back and do it again.”

Rukia executed the exact series of steps on the way back.

“Not very original, are you?”

She put her hands on her hips.

He pointed to a series of hockey sticks he had laid out on the other side of the ice. “Skate up that side of the ice, and jump over the sticks.”

Rukia had done this drill many times as a child, of course she knew you were supposed to hop over them one at a time. That seemed inefficient. Rukia took a long starting run, and shot him a shit-eating grin before launching herself into the air. She had managed to break his grinning shithead act for just a second-- his eyes widened in horror as he realized what she was doing.

Rukia sailed through the air, clearing five of the six sticks. Shit. She danced frantically, trying not to trip over the last one, and managed to clear it with a tiny little bunny hop. She spread her arms wide, and bowed, like she was particularly proud of that last bit, and then skated up to him, looking phenomenally smug.

The jackass still couldn’t manage to look impressed. “Okay, last test. Are you ready?”

“What is it?”

He shot her a toothy grin. “Catch me.”

Renji took off, backwards, tweeting his whistle obnoxiously.

Rukia took off after him, taking big, scooping power strokes.

As soon as she started getting close, he flipped forward, putting on a burst of speed. “You used to be able to catch me a lot quicker’n this!”

He was fast, a lot faster than she had expected. But Rukia was faster. Ducking her head down, she put on the jets. As they neared the corner, she cut inside, and passed him, transitioning to backwards, so she was facing him. “Happy?”

With a mischievous look in his eyes, Renji blew on his whistle, and put on another burst of speed, picking her up under the armpits and holding her straight out in front of him, her feet dangling a foot off the ice.

“What are you doing?!” she howled.

“We’re figure skating now, right? That’s how this works?”

In response, she grabbed the whistle hanging around his neck and blew it as hard as she could.

Laughing his ass off, Renji skidded to a stop, and gently deposited Rukia back on her feet before doubling over with laughter, clutching his stomach.

Rukia tried to look angry and impatient, but to be honest, she couldn’t remember the last time she had horsed around on the ice like that. She could almost hear Byakuya’s droning lecture on the importance of protecting her precious ankles, but she pushed it to the back of her head. He wasn’t here, and she was determined to enjoy the break from his clucking.

Renji looked up, wiping tears from his eyes. “Wow, that’s a stoneface. C’mon, don’t tell me that wasn’t at least a little bit fun?”

She crossed her arms across her chest, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe a tiny bit.”

“Good. I forgot. If you wanna work here, you gotta like having fun. No fuddy-duddies.”

“I will have you know, I am an expert at having fun!”

He bobbed his head in an exaggerated nod. “I can tell.”

“What kind of test was that, anyway? You just made me run a bunch of hockey drills.”

“You think I know anything about figure skating?” he scoffed. “Look, here’s the real test,” he announced. “Are you available on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, from 6 to 9, and Saturday mornings, 9 to noon?”

“Yes,” Rukia replied.

Renji tipped his head to the side. “Please come work for me, Rukia. You are ridiculously overqualified for this, but the Learn to Skate classes start this week, and if I have to teach them myself, I’ll have to drop my summer course. The pay’s not great, but you get a staff discount at the snack bar and I can give you free ice time between the hours of 2 and 4 am, if you want it. You get a couple teen assistants, real nice kids. I don’t mind if you make them run personal errands for you or whatever. Also, you get to hang out with a bunch of sexy guys, like Ichigo and my pop.”

Rukia snorted through her nose. Had he forgotten that she was the one who came in here, looking for a job? “You sound pretty desperate, maybe I should hold out.”

His shoulders slumped. “Aw, shit. You want me to throw in free skate sharpening, too?”

“‘Zat your Camaro parked out front?” It was a beautiful mid-70’s model, a hood the size of a tennis court, bright red with black racing stripes. Rukia was going to be very disappointed if it turned out to belong to the orange-haired Pro Shop teen.

Renji frowned. “You can’t have my wife. You wouldn’t want her anyway, she only runs a quarter of the time.”

“She’s a looker, though.”

“That is true, I am a man who knows how to wash a car.”

Rukia leaned forward. “I want a ride in her.” It had been a long time since she had ridden in a car where you could feel the rumble of the engine in your bones. Byakuya would shit a brick if he found out she was riding around in something without side-impact airbags.

“Really? That’s it?” Renji asked.

“That’s it.”

“You can drive her if you want.”

Rukia stuck out her hand. “You have a figure skating instructor.”

Renji grabbed it and shook it firmly. “Welcome aboard. You, uh, you wanna go driving right now?”

Rukia’s cheeks colored. “Oh. I gotta… I’m ‘sposed to meet up with my new roommate and I gotta unpack and stuff.”

“No problem,” Renji drawled. “We got all summer, right?”

“Yeah,” Rukia agreed with a grin. “We got all summer.”

🏒   💘   ⛸️  

In case you’re wondering how the rest of this was supposed to go, Ichigo tricks Rukia into joining his awful hockey team, which is made up of a bunch of teens (Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki and Chad), Renji, Ganju and some drunks (Yoruichi and Kuukaku). Rukia makes her assistant figure skating instructors, Orihime and Uryuu join, too, and I think at some point they recruit Toushirou. Rukia and Renji have a fling and keep insisting it is “just for the summer.” There is a romantic skate-sharpening sequence. They make out in the back of Zaraki’s rusty old pick-up truck which Renji had to borrow because the Camaro broke down. At some point, Byakuya shows up and he and Zaraki get in a fight, which they decide to take down and resolve in a hockey shootout with poor Renji in goal, except that Byakuya doesn’t know how to shoot and Zaraki’s back is just really bad and eventually they get tired. Just be glad I moved on to other things.

[devontroxell]

The 10 Best Marketing Strategies to Reach College Students

One of the best purchases I ever made was signing up for Spotify Premium in college. I even remember when it happened, in March 2014. I had just signed a job offer for after graduation and Spotify released premium pricing for students. It was beautifully serendipitous and we’ve been in a committed, monthly-fee relationship everx since. In fact, now I pay for a family plan and have gotten all my family members (and maybe some roommates) hooked on it. 

Moral of the story: if you market to college students early, they can become your most loyal customers. Look at Apple! The shiny-fruit company consistently gives discounts to college students, creating lifelong Mac users. 

If you’re not completely convinced that college students are a valuable market, here are some stats before we dive in…

Why market to college students?

College students are a huge demographic in the US, consisting mostly of 18 to 24-year-olds. These young adults have spending power: the 15M group spends more than $200B annually. Not only are they age-stable, but they also are geographically stagnant for 4-5 years. That means you have a lot of time to develop branding and marketing specific to this group to see what will really stick. 

While this is most likely already living in the back of your mind, Gen Z is the tech-native generation. They are constantly online (especially during quarantine), consuming content, shopping, and engaging with peers. And they’re cleverer than previous generations when it comes to advertising: almost 70% of Gen Zers use ad blockers. But don’t despair; if you do get through to these college students, 94% said an exclusive offer would get them to shop at a brand more frequently. Here are our best tips for reaching college students through the power of marketing.

10 effective ways to market to college students

1. Leverage trials and samples

Let’s just address the elephant in the room outright: college kids love free stuff. I can’t tell you the number of events I attended in college because they offered free food. What better way to hook some long-term loyal customers than offering your product for free?

There are a few ways you can actually get your free samples or trials in front of your audience; try coordinating with residence life to have a move-in kit available for the fall semester or sponsored study break during midterms or finals. If you’re a food service on Seamless, GrubHub, or DoorDash, you can offer a discount for first-time diners; once they get a taste, they’ll keep coming back for more.

2. Offer targeted discounts

Just like personalized ads, discounts specific to your audience are a great way to engage them. Everyone wants to think that their school is the best—what better way to reinforce that than advertising “For a limited time, Villanova students get free fries with every cheeseburger.” 

If you want an easier, more direct way to get feet in the door (or online orders), offer discounts if a student provides their student ID at the time of purchase. You can often get those types of deals listed in a coupon catalog handed out in Student Unions or in Move-In Day packets. Free advertising for all! 

3. Write clever copy

Have you hung out with college kids recently? If you haven’t, you’re missing out. I truly learn new words every time I’m around the youths. Since college came into existence, kids have been creating their own lingo for academia and partying (and I’m really trying to make “groovy” come back into style). 

While I wouldn’t recommend trying *too* hard to speak their language, catching students’ eyes with clever marketing and ad copy is a must. Whatever you do, don’t be lame. Not sure where to start? Here are some tips for writing creative copy that may help.

4. Mind your social accounts

If you’ve run social ads before, you probably already know that it is a great way to reach Millennials and Zillennials. When it comes to marketing to college students, make sure you’re leveraging those platforms; even if you don’t have the budget to spend on ad campaigns. 

There are easy ways to engage college students on social media. 

Leverage user-generated content; encourage your customers to tag your products in their posts so you can easily re-post. 

Spend time liking and commenting on related posts; this will help the algorithms show your account to more potential customers. 

Announce new products or releases on your social accounts; if you’re a big, national brand, think about making an account specifically for the college crowd you’re serving, e.g. “VillanovaDominos” or “MaybellinePHL.”

5. Try out traditional tactics

Don’t worry about going old school when it comes to advertising. College kids are still pinning coupons to their fridge or digging them out when it’s time to order food. Think about sponsoring on-campus events, or having an on-campus pop-up shop in the middle of the main through-way to get the most out of student foot traffic. 

I can’t tell you the number of coupons just like this that were stacked in my kitchen drawer in my college apartment. They came in handy when we didn’t want to go grocery shopping or cook, but still needed to stick to a college kid budget!

6. Host a giveaway, raffle, or competition

If you’re trying to build up your social following or your email listserv, or simply get a lot of students engaged with your business, host a giveaway. You’ll need to make it tempting enough for college students to actually give away their information and/or money to win. That could be a Sonos speaker system to boost the music at parties, covering the cost of a parking pass on campus, offering a lifetime of free sides (french fries forever!), naming a product after them, the list goes on and on.

You can also pay into the competitive nature of college kids! Just like emphasizing exclusive discounts for colleges, if you have more than one university in your area, make a little friendly competition like this 5K did. 

7. Engage student ambassadors

Pay attention to the students who are loyal patrons of your business. Whether that means engaging with them in your store or restaurant or keeping track of recurring orders online, make sure you’re acknowledging their loyalty. Think of your student ambassadors as nano-influencers. 

Make some ambassador kits, including simple pieces of swag like a t-shirt, bottle opener, water bottle, etc. and arm them with materials to give away to their peers. This can work best if they get referral discounts themselves! 

While not college-student-specific, Aerie is great at leveraging user generated content on their social accounts. They are regularly #regram-ing content from their customers—which just makes it easier to fill your social calendar!

8. Consider social causes

I was in college during KONY 2012. What a movement. And let me tell you, everyone was talking about it. I mean professors, students, residential life, school administrators, food service employees, and more. It was the social justice cause of the year. 

By nature, college students are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to save the world. And this generation in particular is invested in social justice. Reflect on an issue that affects the community your business is in. Not only will it make the world a better place to have another contribution to the plastic-free or BLM fight, but students will also be more inclined to give your brand a second look if their money is also going to a cause they believe in. 

9. Look for college media sources

Meet college students where they are and with what they’re consuming. Most likely, the students you’re targeting have a student-lead newspaper, weekly newsletters, or even a popular online student forum or app. Reach out to those publications to sponsor a post or display ad.  

SImilar to reaching out to student ambassadors, look for student-run social media accounts to offer sponsored posts. Most schools will have an instagram account for their mascots or an “overheard at *school name*”. ICYMI, TikTok is taking over the world; reach out to student organizations (believe me, the dance team definitely has a TikTok account) and ask to be featured in a video.

10. Influence their parents 

In the instance that your price point is a little too steep for the average college kid, target their parents. The best time to do this? Move-in day and parents weekend. Yes, this gets a bit complicated during, say, a pandemic scenario. But it’s not impossible! Do not underestimate the tenacity of college kids to bribe a buck out of their loving parents. 

If you’re looking for ways to get to parents, think about care packages! Emphasize how your product will help their child slay their midterms, finals, job interviews, presentations, you name it. Or maybe it will help them stay healthy, or make their tiny college dorm feel like home (my mother bought me *many* happy lights to make it through the winter). 

If you’ve seen success marketing to college students, we want to see it! Even better, if you became brand-loyal to a business that targeted you as a student, tell us what got you!

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