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yuujispinkhair · 4 months ago

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 03

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: 18+, smut. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Mentions of masturbation in this chapter and Reader has some dirty fantasies about our favorite hockey player. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You are at the Tigers' next home game, too, watching and cheering from the stands, having fun just like the last time, but now you also understand the rules, thanks to your private lesson with Sukuna. You still grin anytime you look at the hockey rules written in his elegant handwriting and the little drawing with the tattooed stick figure.

The Tigers win, thanks to Sukuna scoring several goals. You congratulate him after the game, when he once again skates next to you as you walk past the plexiglass. And Sukuna smiles one of his rare dazzling smiles at you, which makes you feel giddy for the rest of the evening.

But Sukuna isn't just on your mind when you are at one of his hockey games. You catch yourself looking for pink hair anytime you walk over campus. And more often than not, when you eventually spot Sukuna, he is somehow already looking at you with his boyish grin and a raised eyebrow, as if he was looking for you, too.

You run into him in front of the dining hall several times, and he tells you to join him, leading you to his table again. You are surprised to realize that, apparently, it's a regular occurrence for Sukuna to sit on his own, or if someone is with him, it is only his brother or the team's kit manager, Uraume, who somehow seems to be on friendly terms with Sukuna, too.

It makes you wonder because you always assumed the star player would be surrounded by his teammates or admirers, basking in their attention.

It's one of those days when it's only Sukuna and you who have lunch together, when you blurt out,

"Why are you always sitting here alone or with your brother or Uraume? Why don't you sit with your teammates?"

Sukuna huffs at your question,

"Most of my teammates bore me to death or piss me off. They know better than to sit with me. In the beginning, they tried to tell me that the team always shares a table, but I told them to fuck off and not get on my dick. They got the message. They do as I say on the ice, and they also do what I say off the ice."

You don't doubt it. Anyone who seeks a fight with Sukuna must be crazy. This charming version of Sukuna you meet isn't the version he is for most people. He can be an asshole, and you don't doubt for a second that he doesn't hesitate to throw some punches off the ice too.

But the bad boy doesn't seem that bad when he has lunch with you. Sukuna is actually a charming lunch companion and full of surprises.

You put the novel you are currently reading on the table, and Sukuna jerks his chin toward the book, commenting on one of the characters in a way that tells you he knows what he is talking about. You look at him curiously,

"You read it, too?"

Sukuna leans back in his chair, one arm casually resting on the backrest of the chair next to him, his thighs spread under the table, his long legs brushing against yours, and a smug grin spreading over his handsome face.

"Yeah. Believe it or not, princess. I read a lot in my free time and for my classes, too."

And you suddenly realize that you have no idea what Sukuna's major is. You always assumed it was something obvious, like kinesiology or sports management. But his comment about reading makes you curious.

"What is your major, Sukuna?"

You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to look even more smug when he answers you,

"History."

Your hand that was bringing your spoon to your mouth stops mid-air, and you blink at Sukuna.

"History? Okay, wow, I didn't expect that."

Sukuna's grin is shit-eating by now, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Why not? You think I'm some dumb jock? I am offended, princess."

"No... I.. I don't know. I guess I pictured history majors differently. And isn't it kind of boring? All that old stuff?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you,

"I analize past events to see what we can learn from them for modern times. It's about critical thinking and evaluating human actions. What is boring about that?"

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound so bad, I guess."

"Exactly. You are a creative writing major, right princess? You have all your fictional stories that you read or write yourself. They aren't boring to you, right? Now, I, on the other hand, have all those stories that actually happened. And many of them are first-class novel material. All that old stuff, as you call it, is very interesting. All the drama, the betrayal, the political intrigues."

You nod solemnly,

"Yeah, if I want to write a story set in the past I have to do research, too, to see how life worked at that time. How lucky that I have an expert to ask for help now!"

Sukuna grins at you,

"You're such a lucky girl indeed. But don't think I will just share my knowledge for free."

You give Sukuna a blank look,

"What? You gonna charge money for it?"

"Who said anything about money?"

He grins teasingly at you and you roll your eyes, throwing your hands up as you grin back at Sukuna,

"So, what kind of payment do you have in mind?"

"Maybe I am talking about this," Sukuna gestures to the table and your plate, "Keeping me company for lunch, coming to my games, being an enthusiastic enjoyer of my cigarette smoke. By the way, I need one after we are finished eating. You coming with me, princess? Consider it a payment in advance for gaining acess to all the amazing history knowledge in my mind."

Sukuna winks at you, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, I think that sounds fair."

You're on your way to your dorm after class when you hear your name getting called by a very familiar, smooth, low voice. You turn around, only to almost drop the stack of books you are carrying in your arms.

Sukuna is jogging toward you, apparently going for a run as part of his daily workout, and there is definitely too much of his tattooed skin and buff muscles on display.

You stare at him, probably looking like a complete fool, as your eyes trail over Sukuna's tall, muscular figure. He's only wearing a black tank top and red shorts with the Tigers logo. It's far too little clothing to cover up how gorgeous he is.

You gulp hard. Sukuna looks so sexy, with his muscles all buff, the veins on his arms standing out from his workout, and a thin layer of glistening sweat coating his tattooed skin and muscles.

He asks you how your day was, and you manage to give him an answer that sounds halfway sane while your gaze travels up and down his body.

You don't know where to look. There is just so much of him, and it makes you feel so flustered! Sukuna makes you feel things you aren't ready to admit, but the fluttery feeling in your stomach grows more intense by the second.

Your heart jumps to your throat when you glimpse a pair of black bands peeking out from under Sukuna's shorts.

Oh my god. Does he have upper thigh tattoos?

You stare at those tempting black lines on Sukuna's muscular thighs a moment too long before you catch yourself, and your head quickly snaps up again, eyes wide, looking at Sukuna's face with an expression that does nothing to hide how affected you are by him and his stupid gorgeous body.

A cocky smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face. The face of someone who knows exactly how sexy he is.

"Do you like my tattoos, princess?"

"Yeah, um... they look very cool," you manage to say, and before you can stop yourself, you add, "How many do you have in total?"

You silently curse yourself the moment the words have left your mouth because you know you just presented Sukuna with an open goal. And, of course, he doesn't even let a second go by before he grins at you with a devilish glint in his eyes, his voice dropping to a seductive timbre,

"I'll let you count them if you want."

You make a sound of complaint, but Sukuna's words send your pulse racing, and you are sure he knows it. You are saved from further embarrassment though by the beeping sound Sukuna's heart rate monitor makes to inform him something is off. He laughs softly and jerks his chin toward you,

"I have to keep going. See you at my game!"

And with that said, Sukuna runs past you, but not without reaching out to ruffle your hair, making you yell after him to stop ruining your hairstyle.

It's a busy weekend for you, with several deadlines for assignments and a birthday party in your dorm that you help organize, so you decide not to go to the hockey game.

You don't even think about it until Monday morning when you get practically cornered by a scowling Sukuna.

You turn around after getting some books from your locker only to gasp because Sukuna is standing in front of you, tall and buff, effectively blocking your way.

He takes a step closer, his tall, broad body blocking out the light and the other people in the hallway, making it seem like it is only you and him. One of his large tattooed hands comes to rest on your locker, right next to your face, and Sukuna leans down so he is on eye-level with you, stopping only centimeters from your face.

"I didn't see you at my game."

You hug the books you just got out of your locker to your chest as you tilt your head to smile nervously up at Sukuna.

"Yeah, I was too busy and couldn't make it."

Sukuna curls his lips, and you feel the need to shrug apologetically and add a soft,

"Sorry."

Sukuna sighs and straightens up again, running his hand through his pink hair, slicking it back while fixing you with a sulky look out of his beautiful maroon eyes. It almost looks like he is pouting.

"You know that's a problem, right, princess? We lost the game."

You blink up at him in slight alarm before you see the mischievous sparkle in Sukuna's maroon eyes and see the corners of his lips twitch.

And so you play along and stare at him with comically big eyes, pressing a hand to your mouth that is opened in a fake shocked expression.

"Oh no! Forgive me, Your Majesty, King Sukuna The First! I wasn't aware that my absence would lead to your men's defeat on the icy battlefield."

Sukuna chuckles softly and leans closer again, both of his large hands placed on each side of your head now, his voice a low whisper, as if he is sharing a secret with you,

"I like it when you are there to watch me play. You are my personal lucky charm, princess. We haven't lost a single game since you started coming. But we lost this Saturday. Call me superstitious, but as a responsible player, I must demand your presence at all future home games."

You look at his beautiful face, so close to you that you can make out every little detail of the second pair of eyes tattooed into his skin. You feel your heart beat faster and a smile spreads over your face as you tilt your head, coming even closer to Sukuna,

"Well, I guess then it's my duty to come to every game. I promise I will take my job as your personal lucky charm seriously from now on."

Your voice has also dropped to a flirty whisper, and your pulse flutters wildly with Sukuna standing so close to you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his tall, muscular body. Can smell his sexy cologne again and a hint of cherry, maybe from his hair gel.

Your gaze meets Sukuna's maroon eyes. A lazy but contented smile spreads over his beautiful face. His voice is still barely a whisper, low and seductive, almost a purr,

"Good girl. That's what I wanted to hear."

You can feel his warm breath on your cheek, and you instinctively feel your lashes flutter and tilt your head back even more, your lips parting slightly as if preparing for a kiss.

For a moment, the two of you are locked in your own little universe, where it's only the star player and his lucky charm. Only Sukuna and you, so close to each other that you feel each other's body heat and your breaths brush over each other's lips.

So close.

You gaze deeply into each other's eyes, and Sukuna leans even closer. You think he is really going to kiss you. Your eyes close as your heart beats like crazy.

But a loud yell of "Sukuna! Coach is looking for you!" interrupts the moment, and both your and Sukuna's eyes fly wide open.

He pulls away, rolling his pretty eyes in annoyance as he yells over his broad shoulder at his teammate,

"And what the fuck is so important? I would have come to his office after class anyway! It's not my fucking fault that we lost!"

Sukuna's maroon eyes snap to yours again, and he huffs and grins, cupping your cheek with his large hand and brushing his thumb over your lower lip, adding in his typical velvety voice,

"Neither your fault, princess. Even though you should have really been in the arena. But you can double the good luck at the next game by cheering extra enthusiastically for me. Will you do that for me?"

You barely manage a nod and murmur a breathless "Okay," making your lips move against Sukuna's thumb, almost like a little kiss, before he pulls his hand away and grabs his backpack to sling it casually over his broad shoulder and wink at you one last time before he leaves to see his coach.

You let your head fall against the locker, hug your books tightly to your chest where your heart is beating like crazy, and stare dumbfounded after Sukuna's tall figure. Your knees feel weak, and there is heat pulsing between your thighs from all the sexual tension that was between you and Sukuna just seconds ago.

You let out a long breath and chuckle softly to yourself.

Sukuna's lucky charm, huh?

You like the sound of that.

You find yourself in the hockey arena sooner than expected. But not for a hockey game. One of the girls from your classic literature class is on the figure skater team, and she asked if you could meet her after her training to do the assignment you have together.

You thought you would leave again and go to the coffee shop to work there, but your assignment partner scrunches her face apologetically,

"I'm so sorry, but I can't leave yet. I have to stay here and wait for my teammate to give me the keys to the team room, but she is still in the back talking to our coach. But we can do the assignment here. We can just get comfy on the stands and work there. Is that okay with you?"

You tell her it's okay and follow her, letting her lead you to the otherwise completely empty stands. Just when you sit down, you hear several voices coming from the direction of the ice, and when you turn your head to look what's going on, you see the hockey team entering the rink now for their training. And, of course, there he is.

Sukuna.

He looks gorgeous as always, smiling broadly about something Yuuji said to him as he skates casually over the ice, his helmet still off and under his arm, unaware that you are here to watch him. He isn't yet wearing his usual hockey jersey but a tight, black, long-sleeved compression shirt and his shoulder pads. It looks sinful on him, accentuating every muscle on his gorgeous body. Even from this distance, you can count his abs.

He looks beautiful. Especially with that genuine smile lighting up his face as he laughs with his brother.

You stare at him, following his every move, while trying to listen to your assignment partner's ideas. But she stops mid-sentence, and when you take it as a clue to look at her, she is grinning at you like the Cheshire Cat.

"So, Sukuna, huh?"

She jerks her chin toward the hockey team down on the ice, and you shake your head quickly, making a dismissive hand gesture.

"No, it's not like that."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow but leaves it at that. For a few minutes, the two of you work on the assignment while you steal the occasional glance at the rink.

The problem with the hockey arena is that it is cold as the ninth circle of hell. You hug yourself and rub your arms, shuddering in the chilly air of the arena. You didn't think you would work on the assignment here, or you would have brought a jacket.

It's right then that you suddenly hear your name called in that familiar, sexy, low voice.

You turn your head, unable to stop the big grin from spreading over your face, as you see Sukuna leaning against the boards beneath your seats, touching the plexiglass that separates the rink from the stands, and looking up at you.

"Are you here to bring me luck during training, too? You really take your job seriously, princess. I approve of that eagerness."

You laugh, playing along and making a salute gesture,

"Of course. I am always on duty, sir!"

Your little salute gets messed up by how violently you tremble from the cold, though. Sukuna raises an eyebrow, and his eyes travel over your body, over the thin t-shirt you are wearing.

"You're not dressed for the job, though. What are you doing, freezing your pretty ass off?"

You laugh,

"I didn't know I would spend an hour in here."

Sukuna huffs, brushing a stray strand of pink hair out of his forehead,

"Wait a sec."

He pushes himself off the boards and casually skates to the other side of the ice. You see him grab something from the bench where his stuff is. And then he glides back over the ice toward you with his sexy smirk on his tattooed face and his white team hoodie in his hand.

The sight makes your stomach flutter. You grin from ear to ear as Sukuna skates over to you, stopping at the boards and grinning up at you.

"Come down here and put that on, princess! I don't want my good luck charm to get a cold!"

You chuckle as you hurry down the stairs to the boards. Sukuna throws his hoodie over the plexiglass, and you catch it and quickly slip into it.

A blissful sigh leaves your lips. Sukuna's hoodie is so soft and warm, and it smells just like him, making your stomach tingle when you smell his fresh, sexy, boyish scent mixed with cigarette smoke and cherries.

You smile gratefully at the star player, who can actually be pretty nice contrary to his bad boy reputaion.

"Thank you, Sukuna."

Sukuna stands there, resting his chin on the back of his hand on his hockey stick as his beautiful maroon eyes slowly wander over you. There is something in his eyes that you haven't seen in his gaze before, but you can't quite name it.

All you know is that Sukuna's gaze lingers a lot longer than necessary on your body, which is now clad in his hoodie. He looks happy somehow, pleased, but there is also something darker in his eyes, almost like some primal hunger.

It makes you lick your lips nervously, but then Sukuna seems to shake himself out of it, and he smirks at you again, just as cocky as always, flirty and sweet-talking like a champ,

"You're welcome, princess. Anything for my lucky charm."

He skates back to where his teammates are doing practice shots, joining them immediately in full hockey star mode.

You feel oddly light-headed from the encounter with Sukuna and the feeling of his warm, comfy hoodie on your body, and his sexy scent in your nose as you walk back to your classmate.

She looks at you with an amused expression on her face and a "see, I told you so" attitude written all over her face.

"Oh yeah, it's clearly not like that at all, huh?"

You leave the arena huddled comfortably into Sukuna's hoodie, your hands shoved deep into the soft front pocket, smiling at how the hoodie looks more like a dress on you because of the height difference between you and Sukuna. It's making your tummy flutter a bit to imagine him wearing it before he gave it to you. Almost like you get an indirect feel of his tall, strong body. You bite your lip and try to chase that thought away. This is dangerous territory.

But the thing is, even when you are back in your dorm, you can't bring yourself to take off Sukuna's hoodie.

It's far too comfy and warm, and so you just stay in it the rest of the evening while preparing dinner and working on your assignment. It also smells so good. You catch yourself bringing the soft fabric up to your nose several times to inhale the fresh and seductive scent that is Itadori Sukuna. Fresh cologne, cigarette smoke, and cherries.

You tell yourself you will take the hoodie off before bed. It will be too warm to sleep in it anyway. Yes, definitely, you will change into one of your usual T-shirts!

Just five more minutes.

In the end, you stay in Sukuna's hoodie. But it is a bad idea, as you soon realize when you lie in your bed, and your mind gets flooded with images of Sukuna's sexy grin and his gorgeous tattooed body. You feel a bit guilty when your hand slips into your panties while you are still wearing the hoodie that smells like Sukuna. You don't want to be into him like that!

But you can't stop yourself, even though it feels kind of wrong to give in to the sudden urge to push your panties down so you can feel Sukuna's hoodie brush over your wet pussy, soaking the soft fabric with your arousal as a needy moan falls from your lips.

You imagine Sukuna lying in his bed with a hand down his pants, too, while he thinks of you in his hoodie and nothing else. And that thought leads to an all too sexy fantasy of you riding Sukuna on his bed while you're wearing his hoodie, and his large hands slip under it and wrap around your waist. And he's smirking at you and calling you princess and his lucky charm while you bounce on his lap until you cum all over his gorgeous cock.

You curse yourself a little for whispering his name when you cum so hard that your vision goes black for a moment.

I would SQUEAL internally if Sukuna gave me his hoodie ❤️❤️ And being his personal lucky charm sounds like the best job ever to me! AAAHH he just drives me insane!

Thank you so much for all the love for this AU!! I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3, too. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ❤️

In Chapter 4, Reader and Sukuna end up in the locker room together. Let's see what that leads to ;)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna #{🏒❤️} hockey au

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 4 months ago

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A little something of Simon Riley x Bookworm!Reader

A/n: Did you guys miss this format? So do I, hope you guys are doing well because I would not wish my suffering on my worst enemy, for the first time in a while, school makes me want to self exit. These days have been the busiest for me and I doubt that it will get better from here. I'm just exhausted from life but never from you guys <3

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

My CoD Masterlist <3

My Simon "Ghost" Riley Playlist <3

Simon Riley who absolutely adores your reactions when you read, a little bored on a lazy day in bed with him with your reading material in hand. The way you squeal and wiggle your feet made him want to peek onto what you were reading but he didn't need to, the moment you notice him curiously trail on you when you've finished a chapter or a moment you can't help but rant about.

Simon Riley who absolutely adores the way you get passionate about romantic stories, sometimes it motivates him to get a little creative with date ideas although you insist that simple dates are just fine.

Simon Riley who loves sneaking up behind you to peek at what you're reading, to see if you hide it while all flustered or if you bolt so he could playfully chase and pin you down.

Simon Riley who actually picks up an interest in reading because of you, he loved the idea that he's able to be more connected to you, having heated sessions of ranting together, dissing on annoying characters and such.

Simon Riley who was thankful you for introducing him to audiobooks, he was usually busy with some of the repairing and some maintenance of your shared home whenever he comes home after months. It gives him time to catch up while doing something productive so you can have your book review sessions.

Simon Riley who likes it when you look for him in the house after he went to do chores while you immerse yourself in another world. The sound of his name being called over and over by you is the best to him, sometimes waiting for you to say his name a little more before responding.

Simon Riley who builds you your very own bookshelf at your third anniversary, he went through the effort of finding a wood color that he knew you'd like and crafted the intricate bookshelf with a matching ladder that had wheels at the bottom so you could slide down like belle in that scene from beauty and the beast.

Simon Riley who gifts you reading material that you told him you were dying to read, your birthdays and other special occasions, even merch of hyper fixations you have, the same ones you use to decorate the bookshelf he made.

Simon Riley who likes to experiment in the bedroom based on what you've noted and annotated scenes on the spicy romance novels you've kept. He does it in his absolute spare time, sometimes when you aren't home, he likes to see what turns you on, so you'll come home to a surprise.

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lovegalor333 · 14 days ago

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Warm December

part three of paigemas

paige bueckers x reader

paige surprises you by staying in storrs for christmas so you’re not alone

⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆

The holiday season was a weird and complicated time for you. It came with a lot of bad memories since your mom died and home was the last place you wanted to be so the decision to stay in Storrs was an easy one. Your family were unbothered and didn’t have much to say when you broke the news. Your stepmom said she would save money not having to buy you gifts and your dad just grunted down the phone. A few years ago, this would have probably made you cry but you were used to your parents attitude now and you were grateful you went to college so far away from home.

It was December 21st and you had waved your roommates goodbye, cars full with wrapped presents and snacks you had packed for them. They both drove off in the falling snow, with Christmas music blasting from their speakers. Both girls tried to get you to go home with them, insisting their families would be happy to have an extra guest at their table but you weren’t one to impose and besides, you had a long list of books you wanted to read. The thought of bunkering down in your cosy apartment, spiced candles lit, a mug of hot tea in your hand and getting lost in a romance novel appealed to you more than you’d like to admit.

Before meeting your girlfriend, you lived vicariously through the relationships you read about. Fantasising about a love like Elizabeth Bennets and Mr Darcys. After being single your whole life, you were starting to believe that maybe love like that was entirely fictional and then along came Paige. Six foot tall, blonde, blue eyes and pure muscle. You and Paige had the most typical friends to lovers timeline. Having met through mutual friends, you quickly bonded over your Midwest roots and you both found yourselves wanting to spend more and more time together. You were both wildly oblivious to each other’s pining and it took one too many shots and a very calculated game of spin the bottle (thanks Azzi) for you to finally realise that you were on the same page.

Speaking of your girlfriend, she had also travelled home today. You said goodbye with tears in your eyes and one final kiss. “I’ll FaceTime you everyday.” Paige had said, “I want to know what happens at the end of Emma.” Paige loved listening to you talk about your current read, she insisted she cared about the storyline but with the way she looked at you, eyes soft and a small smile on her lips, you knew you could say absolutely anything and she’d listen intently.

The evening was drawing in and you had turned off all the big lights, your apartment lit by fairy lights and candles alone. The Christmas tree in the corner of the room glowed warmly making the space feel like a cosy grotto. The whole place smelled like cinnamon and with your Christmas playlist softly emitting from your Alexa, it softened the blow that you’d be alone at this time of year.

A knock on your apartment door broke through your thoughts and you imagined it was your Post Mates order so you carefully placed your book mark inbetween the pages you were currently reading and went to answer the door. Your door step was empty, nothing or nobody was there and you furrowed your brow in confusion and peeked your head around the door to see who knocked.

It took you a few seconds to process what you saw, “Paige! What are you doing here?” You gasp, seeing your girlfriend, body pressed against the wall, a huge cheesy grin on her face and a red santa hat perched on her head, “Surprise, my love.”

“You’re meant to be on a plane right now!” You say as she pulls you into a hug. Paiges hugs were hands down your favourite thing in this whole world. The way her arms snaked around your waist and squeezed you tight, the way her head nuzzled into your neck as she pressed light kisses to your skin. Your nostrils were filled with her scent, a scent you had prepared yourself to not smell for a few weeks and you breathed in deeply taking in as much of it as you could.

“I’m meant to be right here.” Paige says walking back into your apartment with one arm still wrapped around your waist.

“What are you talking about? I thought you were going back to Minnesota.”

“I was. And then I thought about it. Go there where I’ll just get grilled by my family about shit I cannot be bothered to explain or stay here. With you. Where we can be with each other all day and night. Where I can make you tea while you read and you can cook while…I watch because God knows I’ll burn the place down.” Paige tucks your hair behind your ear and her eyes skim over your face, “You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone did you?” She asks, her thumb gently stroking your cheek.

“I don’t know. Kinda. But it’s normal, everyone goes home. I wouldn’t have minded.” You mumble looking into Paiges eyes. You wouldn’t have resented Paige for going home for the holidays, it wasn’t her fault your family didn’t know how to act. “You know I love you, right? Like a lot. And Christmas is about being with the people you love. Now come and sit on Santas lap and tell me what’s on your list.” Paige smirked as she pulled you to the couch, positioning you on her lap.

You giggled as Paige did her best Santa impression. Voice deep and gravelly, “Have you been a good girl this year?” You nod playing into her game, “Very good.”

Paige raised a brow, breaking character, her usual accent back, “Good girls arch their back, ass up?” You gasped, lightly slapping her arm, “Paige! Santa would not say that!”

“Oh my bad- Ho ho ho! What’s on your Christmas list?” She regained composure, putting on her Santa voice once again, holding her stomach as she ho’d, really getting into character.

“Didn’t make a list. Everything I need is all right here.” You smile, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your girlfriends lips. “I love you, Paige.” “I love you too.”

The rest of your night was spent cuddled into Paige on your couch. The Christmas lights around your dim apartment twinkled silently as you watched your favourite festive movie - The Holiday. Paige traced delicate shapes into your back and every now and then you would catch her staring at you. The light from the television illuminating her perfect features. She would press soft kisses to your head when a romantic scene played and when you found yourself sniffling as the young characters on screen laid in their fort and spoke about their mom who had passed away, Paige slipped her hand into yours and squeezed it tightly.

The holiday season was a weird and complicated time for you but like always Paige was there to make it less weird and less complicated and for that, you could only let a tear slip out of your eye. Grateful for the girl next to you and her deep, unapologetic love.

two posts in an hour so im back on track 🙂‍↕️ happy christmas eve eve baddies 💋

🏷️: @buecketsnbueckets @rosemariiaa @sierrale8ne @avvwritesstufff @blackbarbie96 @melpthatsme @jnkbueckers @cloclos-posts @onlyhereforpazzi @paigeshirleytemple @mattsmunchkin @bueckersbitch @rizzlerbuckets @numberonepartyanth3m @washing-machine-heart245 @katemartinlvr @girlslovee @taylynbueckers44 @thatonequeer0358 @the-other-half @xxxggggsh @evry1luvzza

#paige bueckers #paigemas #sophs works 🪽#paige bueckers fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers x reader #wlw #lgbtq

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fushiguruuzzzz · 20 days ago

Text

࣪ ִֶָ☾. For Emma

𝄞 “Saw death on a sunny snow || for every life || forgo the parable || seek the light || my knees are cold || … || for Emma, forever ago” — Bon Iver

Playlist — Rainy Day Lovin’ | Moodboard

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Words — 7.1k

Cw — reader highkey doesn’t fw Gojo at first, why do I always make the reader like this am I projecting (yes), death, angst, grief, brief descriptions of gore(?), use of y/n, I can’t write this stuff for shit I’m so sorry DONT BASE UR OPINION ON MY WRITING OFF OF THIS PLSPLSPLS, mentions/use of alcohol (reader picks up gojo from a party; he’s drunk), what is it with me and drunk stupid men omg, not proofread, lmk if I missed any!!

Working in a quiet little bookshop, your life consists of only crumpled pages of novels and the weight of your classes resting on your shoulders. When a certain white haired man one year your senior comes by, you’ve already decided you don’t like him. Unfortunately, you’ve always had a tendency to rebel against your own wants. You give yourself to what felt like your beginning and was eventually your end, Satoru Gojo. OR Satoru Gojo hates the rain, but he loved you more.

a/n — ughhhhhdhdhh I spent half of my time writing this procrastinating the ending I’m ngl. This was so difficult to write and then I had a random burst of energy and wrote like half of it in one night like hello???? But it’s probably still blegh idk. Um I’m sorry for this please don’t doxx me. No spoilers but aha…!!!!! I lwk teared up I fear. BLAME SIA FOR THIS NOT ME THIS WAS REVENGE

The very moment you set eyes on Satoru Gojo, you knew he was trouble.

It was a brisk autumn day, shades of brown and orange blanketing the streets and casting a warm, cozy mood over the city. Your little book store was in its element, acutely so. The vintage wood and gold accents strewn throughout the shop reflected the dim light seeping in through the windows, surrounding you in a soft glow.

You were immersed in the newest stock of books, placing each one on the shelf with delicate precision when you heard a bell chime. The dainty little bell at the entrance made only a small noise, but one you’d learned to recognize in your months working here. Stepping down from the stool you’d been balancing on, your foot had barely touched the ground when a whiny voice broke through the silence.

“Suguru,” he drawled, all too pitiful for the time and place. “Can’t you come back later? You keep dragging me into these boring places, I just wanna get mochi,” he groaned. That was when you rounded the corner, entering the line of sight of the two men who had just arrived. One of them was a tall, white haired individual whose face was pulled up in what seemed to be dramatic irritation; the other, ravenette man looking all too fed up at his side. You assumed that the former had been the one complaining, considering the stark contrast in how comfortable the other looked compared to him. Suguru, that was his name. At least, that was what the man-child had said (or rather: howled). Suguru was somewhat a regular here, though you hadn’t caught his name until then. You didn’t recognize his companion. Something about him felt familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what that was.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that your first impression wasn’t positive. Your thoughts of him changed, but not so much for the better, upon meeting his eye. Something in him seemed to shift then. His eyes lit up as they did a once over on you, posture straightening and a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

“Hush, Satoru. You dragged me into like, four different dessert stores today. You’ll survive five minutes of being surrounded by literature,” the other boy, Suguru, grumbled. Satoru Gojo?.. Oh, you got it now. They went to school with you, that’s why they seemed familiar before. You hadn’t recognized them at first glance because while you were only in your first year of university, they’d been in their second. But you knew that name, everyone did. He was rather known around campus, though not for bad reasons, not exactly ones you’d consider great either. You knew little of the blue eyed man, only a few (three, to be exact) traits burrowing into the depths of your mind. 1. Prodigy 2. Charming (disgusting so) 3. Cocky asshole.

So when he was silent for a beat too long, eyes only flickering back to his friend when he turned to him, you knew he was trouble.

That sly smile still residing on his lips, he nodded at Suguru. “Well…” he said. “I guess I’ll let it slide for now.”

Geto glanced at him, then to you, unimpressed. With a small nod, a polite greeting to you, he rolled his eyes. As he grabbed Gojo by the material of his expensive looking jacket, he grumbled.

“Just look at the damn books.”

Situating yourself behind the cash register, you let out a sigh. It was only you on the shift at the moment, your tiny little establishment usually lacking the amount of customers to require more. You tried to make yourself look less bored than you were, mindlessly tapping your fingers against the leather cover of a novel sitting near the cash register. Courtesy of your boss, going on your phone whilst customers were around was strictly forbidden. You were sure that the college kids were too exhausted to care, nor would they anyway, but rules were rules. You could keep yourself busy, the little voice in your head was enough.

You’d only barely begun to let your mind wander when the soft clunk of elbows meeting the structure you leaned on met your ears. You looked up to see Satoru Gojo staring down at you, winter blue eyes sparkling with a determined curiosity.

“Hey there,” he said, snowy hair shifting as he tilted his head. He was leaned forward lazily, as if preparing for a conversation that was yet to happen. You quirked a brow, feeling the effortless charisma roll off of him in waves. You didn’t allow yourself to be tricked, though, you refused to be like the rest of his little fans fawning and kissing his shoes. Five minutes in and you’d already decided you disliked him, and all he’d said was a greeting. You tried not to judge a book by its cover, but inside you was a need to stick out that overran the compassion.

Your reply was short, a simple “Hi,” all that you felt was necessary. It wasn’t like you really knew the guy at all, you owed him nothing but the service given to every customer that had ever stepped into your humble little shop.

His grin seemed to falter for a split second, b it was quickly plastered back onto that face of his. How long had he been smirking like that? It seemed more habit than amusement at this point.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

You let out a hum under your breath, shrugging. “I don’t think so. Do you?”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you were sure he could see right through you. Every bone in your body felt all too exposed to his prying eyes, every concealed bit of you shining through the cracks. But then he smiled, and everything else washed away. “You’re in uni, aren’t you?”

In return to your soft, approving nod, he clicked his tongue as if proud of himself. “Ah, that’s where. I knew I wouldn’t forget a face like yours.”

You were about to ask him to elaborate when a deeper, more annoyed voice cut through. “I leave you alone for five seconds and you’re already trying to charm the employee?” He rolled his eyes, looking between you and Satoru with a quirked brow. Gojo stood up a little straighter, a dorky, sideways grin adorning his face.

“Little ol’ me? Never.”

Amusement hinted at Geto’s face, but he was good at hiding it. He took up the empty space between Gojo and the counter, placing two books down before you. As you gently picked them up and scanned, the soft red glow accompanied by a soft beep echoing through the room, he watched.

“Nice to see you. How’ve you been?” you asked the black haired man standing across the counter, eyes kept on your nimble hands as they bagged up the paperbacks he’d been purchasing. He responded with a polite smile and a nod, radiating an air of nonchalance, far in contrast to the radiant man beside him.

“Likewise. I’ve been well, you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but were swiftly interrupted, Gojo’s mouth agape as he spoke. “Hold on hold on,” he said, picking his jaw off of the floor. Dramatic much? “You didn’t tell me you knew the cashier.”

“Maybe because you whine every time I even utter the word ‘book’,” Suguru rolled his eyes.

“I am the most intellectual person to ever roam the earth, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Watching them go back and forth, you had to suppress a laugh. They argued in a way that radiated ‘I’ve been dealing with him for years too many’, or something of the sort. You chose to ignore Satoru’s dramatic yearning for your attention, handing Suguru his books and bidding them farewell.

Freedom.

Or… for the next two days, at least.

The bell over the door chimed, quick and soft above the door. It only took a quick glance, a split second for you to recognize who exactly that was. His porcelain hair stuck out against the rustic wood bookshelves like a sore thumb, his bright eyes already shining the moment they met yours.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grinned.

“…I work here?”

He rolled his eyes, brushing off your dismissal of his attempt at being sly. He took the few short strides from the door to the checkout, and the two of you found yourself exactly where you’d been a few days prior. Except this time there was no Suguru to interrupt (aka save you), and he was all the more annoying.

You let out a breath, already anticipating his behaviour. “I don’t take you for much of a reader.” He shrugged in response, a dorky, grossly pretty grin crossing his face.

“Paying that much attention to me?”

“Your whining is pretty hard to ignore.”

“Ouch,” he placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. His brows furrowed, a crease deepening between them. If you didn’t know exactly what type of man he was, you might’ve genuinely thought he looked like a kicked puppy. He strode over to you, his long legs stretching over the distance with ease. He was tall, very. Not that it mattered. You didn’t care. You didn’t even bother to notice his long limbs, the way his biceps flexed beneath his long sleeve as he reached down, grabbing a book sitting between you. It wasn’t like your eyes lingered for a moment too long, it wasn’t like you suddenly felt oddly uncomfortable being so close to him. The counter separated you, but it did little to keep the distance. The small width of it was to thank for that, you made a mental note to get a stool or something—anything that was a rightful excuse to scoot away.

He placed the novel down. “So, what’s your name?” he asked. He radiated confidence, like he didn’t mind pushing into your space. The only indication that he knew if your disinterest was the way his eyes flickered over your face, all too observant to miss the way it contorted.

“You gonna buy something?” you moved past his question, making a point to glance down at the disregarded item, now placed gently upon a stack of a few others.

He sniggered. “Yeah, but tell me your name.” He didn’t break eye contact with you as he slid it over the counter, the cover making a rough noise with the friction of the wood.

You gave no response, the only noise in the place being the scanning of his book (which you were sure he hadn’t even read the title of) and the dull sound of the constant chatter along the streets. It seeped in through the cracked windows, like a buzzing hive of bees.

“1700 yen,” you said. Your voice held a sort of boredom, but you didn’t care to actually be rude. You just weren’t going to be pinky pie from my little pony whenever you saw the man, and he surely couldn’t blame you for that.

That stupid damn grin never faltered under the weight of your gaze. He tapped his card against the machine like it was second nature, took the bag from you smoothly, hand brushing against yours. “I’ll be back,” he said. And he fully intended to keep that promise.

⋆

“No name, long time no see!”

You suppressed a groan, the all too energetic voice cutting through the quiet of the store like a knife. By the first word, you’d have known who it was. This guy never gave up, did he? And for the record, it had not been a long time since you last saw him. A day and a half, 34 hours to be exact. Though it wasn’t like you were counting or anything, in fact, you dreaded the moment he’d walk through those doors.

He made it his mission to visit you daily. Every day he’d buy a book you were certain would do nothing but collect dust on his shelf, seemingly never going over his budget. That only pissed you off further. How much money did he have to blow it all just to see you? You hated how endearing it was. You hated him.

“‘Afternoon, Gojo,” you sighed, emerging from the depths of the shelves and into the light. It was a sunny day, at least, compared to the rest of the dull winter grey that had found home in the heart of Tokyo.

“You know, I’m starting to get the impression that you don’t like me,” he said.

You attempted to look surprised, though the both of you knew very well that you weren’t. “Wow, what would ever make you think that?”

“You won’t even tell me your name? Am I really that bad?” he huffed, tossing his head back in an exaggerated show of frustration.

“You want the honest answer?”

“Hush.”

He straightened his neck, now craning it slightly down to gaze at you. He was a little ways away, but he might as well have been one with you with the way his eyes bored into you. It was intense in an anticipating way, if that made sense.

“Go out with me.”

You blinked, a little dumbfounded for a moment before gathering the bits and pieces of your brain that had just been scattered across the country. Be logical. Obviously he was kidding, obviously he didn’t mean it. I mean, he barely knew you. He didn’t even know your name, and it was your coldness to thank for that. Surely he wouldn’t want you, not genuinely at least. “You’re ridiculous,” you rolled your eyes.

“Aw, come on!” he whined, and you could’ve sworn you saw a hint of real disappointment behind those cerulean orbs of his.

You suppressed a grin. Maybe his pestering had some perks, maybe it was even entertaining. That wasn’t to say you appreciated the mockery of him “asking you out,” but you figured it was funny as long as you didn’t allow yourself to be deceived. “You making a purchase or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, lazily snatching a book from the rack nearest to him. He didn’t even look at the cover. “This one.”

It was pride and prejudice.

⋆

Your first time seeing Satoru outside of your workplace other than fleeting glances around campus, you were drinking coffee. You were sat on a barstool, chunky sweater loosely slung over your body as you tried to manage both typing an essay and sipping your drink. You were stuck on the first sentence, the text cursor staring impatiently up at you as you begged your mind to conjure something up.

‘If I could change one thing about my past, I would change…’

And that was it. That was all you could think of, the unfinished phrase being the farthest you could dive into the depths of your conscious. You didn’t know. It felt as though you had no answer, and yet a million all at once. You let out an annoyed groan, shoving your face into your hands. The frustration was a good enough distraction, considering you failed to notice the figure sliding into the seat next to you.

“Lookin’ a little stressed, mystery girl. You okay?” he teased, though there was more to it. An underlying softness, what you might even say is genuine concern.

You wanted to quip back, to keep up that consistently annoyed facade you’d managed to keep for the past few weeks. But everything was so overwhelming, you were running on a few hours of sleep, and you felt like your brain would implode if you tried to pack another thought in there. So instead of groaning or shooing him away, you peeked out over your hands and replied softly. “No.”

His playful grin twitched, threatening to disappear. The moment you opened your mouth and instead of an insult he was met with something near vulnerability. “…what’s up?”

“Stuff,” you replied curtly, before softening. “Right now I just… I don’t know what to do for this stupid assignment.”

“Hm,” he said, a crease forming between his brows. “What’s the question?”

You gently nudged your laptop, rotating it on the countertop so that he could real the half-sentence you’d left off at. He stared at it for a moment, eyes flickering back to you. “What, you don’t have anything you regret?”

Your voice was soft and smooth like butter, but it held a sort of shake, almost fearful. “Quite the opposite.”

A beat of silence passed, understanding swirling through the air as well as the bits and pieces of the layer that he felt he’d broken through. Whether you liked it or not, he knew you. Maybe not your name, but you. He’d promised himself that he would, and he was a man of his word when it mattered.

“How would you answer?” you asked, growing shifty from how exposed you felt.

He paused, contemplating whether to tell you the truth or not. He bit his cheek, eyes unfocused. “I think I would want to be born someone else.”

That shocked you more than anything else. He was Satoru Gojo, smart and charismatic and confident. He was the last person you’d expect to wish he were another. Everyone else wished they were him, so why did he long for the opposite? But every bit of wit was a layer encasing the deeper parts, the ones that hurt to look at. You knew that all too well.

Conversation flowed much better after that, and it was the first time you had allowed yourself to indulge in his presence as much as you wanted to. He was… nice. Nice to talk to, a nice person, generally. You got to see another side of him, not just the silly man who spent disgusting amounts of money to see you and kept begging you to go out with him—which you still thought was derisive. He was just Satoru, laughing and smiling and helping you figure things out in the midst of what seemed to be dark clouds surrounding you. He was the light.

You were just about to part ways, the sun setting over the horizon and casting a warm glow in its wake. You reached out, taking him by the elbow to get his attention. “Y/n,” you said. “My name is y/n.”

You swore his grin couldn’t have gotten any wider. “Nice to meet you y/n, I’m Satoru Gojo.”

⋆

Gojo surrounded you nearly as much as the sky did from then on. It seemed that was the way things were for the next… what was it, month? 30 days, 30 visits from Gojo, save for the occasional day of absence. Unfortunately, you’d caught yourself warming up to him. You longed to deny it, to believe yourself when you did. You just couldn’t. He started popping up everywhere; along the streets as you walked from one class to another, “just passing by” your class (which you still wondered how he knew), he was everywhere. Usually you managed to duck out before he could embarrass you, taking full advantage of knowing your name and choosing to shout it at every possible opportunity.

This was one of those times.

“Y/n!” he shouted, momentarily turning away from his two best friends to get your attention.

You gave him a sidelong glance before looking away, avoiding him in a dramatic, almost cartoonish manner. Before you knew it, he was by your side. He had a way of making sure you couldn’t avoid him even if you wanted to.

“Am I gonna see you tonight?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Considering I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m going to say no.”

“Come on,” he drawled with a pout, tilting his head to the side. “Party. That big fancy house down the street. You should come.”

“Uh… no.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Just once? For me?”

You hesitated with your next attempt to shut him down, and that was when he knew he’d gotten you. He’d won, yet again. With a wolfish smirk as he retreated, he called back, “I’ll see you there!”

You grumbled under your breath about how you didn’t know why you agreed to these things, and how annoying he was. Deep down, you knew it was all lies. You were sure you’d go anywhere if he asked nicely enough, maybe even the ends of the universe. You just weren’t ready for that conversation, not yet. He was a shining star, proud and bright, and you were nothing but an emotionally stunted mortal basking in his beauty. Him and his disgustingly beautiful eyes, the way people did a double take every time he passed them. He was everything, and he’d only recently learned your name.

That very same night you found yourself feeling utterly ridiculous as you walked up to the front door, wondering whether you should knock or not. It took another group of people walking straight in to give you that answer, pushing through the door and immediately being hit in the face with the sweaty heat of the party. Why were you even doing this for him? Last month, if given the same pleads as you had earlier that day you would’ve shot him down without a second thought. Why did that change? Why had you fallen for his tricks, just as you promised yourself you wouldn’t?

“Y/nnnn,” slurred an all too familiar voice from behind you. You turned to see Satoru Gojo stumbling out from the kitchen, a red solo cup in hand. Some of it sloshed out as he approached you, the liquid falling on the floor and looking like something radioactive.

“Gojo,” you said, instinctively placing a hand under his arm as he almost fell over you. “I see you’ve gotten started.”

His lower lip was pushed out into a pout, his eyes heavy and lazy as they looked you over. “I don’t… usually drink,” he swallowed thickly, eyes landing on yours once again. “But you were taking too long… I had to pass the time,” he explained, the corner of his mouth quirked up. You rolled your eyes, letting go of him with an unimpressed glance. He wished you hadn’t, he liked the way your hand felt on him. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the alcohol or just how much he yearned for your touch, but it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. You made him feel those things rather often, it seemed you were a capsule of new emotions. Ones he hadn’t opened up to prior, ones he wasn’t sure were meant for him. Honestly, he didn’t know what was meant for him, but as he looked at you in the dim yellow lights of the frat party he had a pretty good idea. It was muggy and gross and sweat was already starting to create a soft sheen over your hairline, but to him you’d never looked more beautiful. Because you were here for him, you’d come for him and that was enough.

You glanced around the party, the one you hadn’t wanted to attend in the first place (which definitely had not changed upon arrival), and then at your disgustingly drunk, lightweight loser of a man standing next to you. Your friend? Maybe.

“Did you come with friends?” you asked, but the answer was fairly obvious. Satoru Gojo was rarely found without the people he loved… but now he was with you. Was that a switch up on his end, or was it sticking to his pattern? You couldn’t tell, and that wasn’t something you wanted to work out.

“Mm…” he hummed, as if he’d forgotten. “Yeah, but I don’ wanna be with them… wanna see you…”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart sped up embarrassingly and the face only grew warmer. His friends were nowhere to be found, and you may have seemed like you lacked an ounce of compassion to anyone else, but you couldn’t leave him.

With a sigh and eyes that avoided his all too much, you took him by the hand and led him towards the door. He was all too pleased, barely even bothered asking where you were going. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah? You’ve done enough partying.”

He offered a protesting whine in return, but didn’t dare to pull his hand from yours or even let his steps falter. Well, not voluntarily. He wasn’t the most coordinated drunk.

“Mmh- yeah, there ya’ go.” You guided his arm around your shoulder, and though your hand had parted from his, he didn’t mind the replacement. The nights air was cool in comparison to the interior of the house, refreshing against your flushed skin. It was momentarily silent as you walked down the sidewalk, choosing to save the money you would’ve spent on an uber for the drive two blocks away.

“Y/n?”

You could fill up an entire pad of paper if you tallied every time he said your name. He couldn’t help himself, it tasted so sweet on his tongue.

You responded with a hum, not wasting too much air on what you assumed would be some form of delirious, intoxicated thoughts.

“Why don’t you like me?”

You stopped in your tracks, and you swore your head had never whipped around faster. “What?”

He let out a sigh as if it was a great inconvenience to explain. His arm was still wrapped around you loosely, though there wasn’t much purpose to it now that you’d stopped walking. He glanced at you, and you were met with a rare flicker of something akin to hurt in his eyes.

“I… why don’t you like me? I come ‘round your little shop ‘nd I buy books… I don’t read any of them… and… and I beg you to go out with me, to just look at me, and you don’t. Why?” His voice was surprisingly even for his state. “Somethin’ wrong with me?”

All you could do was stand there and blink for a moment. He’d meant it. All of it. No mockery, nothing. Honestly, in the moment, he couldn’t have phrased it any better? Made it sound like he really wanted you, without that teasing tone underlying his voice? “I… I didn’t think you were being serious, Gojo.”

At the formal name he glared, but he didn’t comment. “I don’t even go for other girls,” he mumbled. “Why would I ask you if I wasn’t?”

Even in his slurred, tipsy condition, he had a point. You had never seen him with a woman, save for Shoko and when the need came, like schoolwork or helping out or anything of the nature. The point was, he didn’t pursue others romantically. You knew this, he knew you knew this, so he didn’t understand why you felt as though he was deceiving you.

“You’re right.”

“So…?” he said, a little more cheeky now.

With a huff and a few begrudging steps forward, you responded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go out with you.”

⋆

Your laughter rang out over the half empty streets, loud and unguarded. You’d spent the day visiting various places; the arcade, lunch, sipping hot chocolate as you walked through the park. More than you’d dreamed of, honestly, and to think you’d rejected him so many times. It felt as if your vision had been freed of the foggy lenses you’d been looking at him through before, seeing him for the kind (although a little cocky) man he was. The man he’d been trying to prove was there all this time.

“And then-“ you were cut off, the feeling of a small, wet droplet landing on your face pulling you from the conversation. You brought a finger up, wiping it and examining it for a second, long enough to come to the conclusion that it was raining. You looked upwards, as did he. The clouds were dark and gray, swirling with the threat of thunder and downpour. Your reactions were completely different, to say the least. While your eyes twinkled with awe and subtle anticipation, his nose crinkled in disdain. For once you were the bright eyed one, and he was just as gloomy as the sky above.

“It’s raining!”

“…it’s raining.”

You looked down from the somber atmosphere, met with the picture of his annoyance. “You don’t like the rain?”

He shook his head, meeting your eye. You almost gasped, but the singular nonchalant bone in your body made you refrain. “But it’s the best weather!”

“It’s dark and gloomy and wet,” he said, looking at you like you had spoken another language. He was utterly dumbfounded by your simple opinion.

More raindrops began to fall, decorating the concrete with dark, tiny spots. It was only then that you realized nearly everyone head cleared, leaving only the two of you and a few others as well as the passing vehicles. You smiled, wider than he’d ever seen you smile before. Your head was thrown back as you backed away from him, your arms outstretched at your side as you took in every bit of the rain. “Come on!” you said, a short laugh leaving your lips. Your eyes were closed now, but he was sure they’d be crinkling if they were open. “You can’t tell me this isn’t beautiful.”

“Hmm, yeah… I guess you’re right,” he agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the rain.

Satoru hated the rain, but he figured than the dampness of his bones and the way his vision blurred was all just fine as long as he could make out your foggy figure in the midst of it. Though his body hated the storms, his soul was unaffected, and all it did was long for you. So when your own spirit basked so happily in the wet weather, he couldn’t help but be content.

⋆

Satoru Gojo was a good boyfriend. Had you dared to tell yourself from a few months in the past, she would laugh in your face and send you away. But you were you now, and you knew all too well how good of a man yours was.

He opened doors for you, he cracked cheesy jokes when he knew you needed a laugh (they were so unfunny that you couldn’t even help it, he knew that), he gave you jackets when you were cold and he loved to guess your flavour of lipgloss before dropping you off at class every morning. He opened jars for you and braided your hair on tense, quiet nights when you didn’t have any words left to speak. He loved you more than someone who’s only known you for a handful months should, but you were not planning on complaining about that part. Some may say it was the honeymoon phase, some would argue it was love at first sight. You couldn’t be sure. All you knew was that you were happy, and that couldn’t be changed.

You felt a certain surge of bliss flow through you the moment you woke up, not because it was a particularly great day, but because of the first thing you were blessed with the sight of. Satoru was curled up in your bed, mouth agape as he slept on your chest. His white hair was fuzzy and strewn in gentle spikes surrounding his head, a hint of drool collecting at the corners of his lips. He looked so stupid, yet so absolutely peaceful that you were convinced he was beauty in its highest form. Screw whatever Greek mythology said, nothing blessed the eyes as greatly as the face of Satoru at ease.

A low grumble fell from his lips, though neither of you knew what words they were. His pale lashes blinked open, bleary eyes meeting yours. “Hey there,” he cheesed, mouth already forming into that cocky smirk. You hated it, hated the way you felt like every other one of his crazy fangirls every time he flashed it at you. Except it was just you, only for you.

“Morning, Satoru.”

He snuggled further into your chest, the fabric of your (his?) shirt crinkling beneath his nose as it nudged it. “Dream of me?”

You rolled your eyes, gently flicking him in the side of his head. His head shot up, looking cartoonishly offended. ��That’s not nice!”

You grinned. “I’m not nice.”

He moved his face closer to yours, your features level as he looked into your eyes. “But you’re supposed to be nice to me,” he said, though no real emotion lied in the sentence. His were eyes flitting down to your lips, looking almost like some sort of deer in headlights. His head dipped down, just millimetres from you. He barely thought as he pressed his own to yours, lips meeting in a soft, sleepy way.

You parted for breath, a soft “satoruuuu,” tumbling from you before he was shutting you up with another kiss.

“Shh, I didn’t spend weeks begging for you to like me for you to not let me kiss you. Boyfriend privilege,” he tutted against your lips, and any protest you’d begun to shoot back was swallowed by him once again. You sassed, but he felt the way your hands tightened in his hair and your throat bobbed every time his teeth ran over your bottom lip. You loved him, and you hated it. It only made him like it all the much more.

⋆

The day was sunny, beating down on heaps of smiling faces as they took in all its warmth. The sky was clear and blue, you’d made a comment about how it looked similar to his eyes. He liked that, but he hoped you liked looking into his eyes better. The streets were busy, the sound of overlapping conversations and gas engines almost overwhelming. The only thing that grounded you was your hand wrapped around his bicep, his gentle guide through the crowd bringing you back to earth. You liked to act so big and tough, but there were moments like these where you were reminded that you were human too. Sometimes, you needed him. Needed your toru. You smiled bashfully when you came to the realization, to which he only smirked. It was as if he could read your mind, as if you were so in sync that he didn’t need to hear you voice it to know what you were thinking about.

But Satoru didn’t remember any of that. No, not clearly, at least. Looking back felt like trying to watch a video on a scratched disk, like there had been an old cameras lens’s blocking his vision.

All he remembered was screeching wheels and the sound of you being nudged just a little too close to the road, the way you tripped and fell seeming to be in slow motion. He remembered blood, too. A lot of it. It was yours. There were people screaming and the person behind the wheel crying, but by then it had all been tuned out by his ringing ears. He suddenly felt dizzy, all too dizzy. He’d zeroed in on your crumpled figure, hadn’t even noticed himself falling until his knees thudded against the rough road. His hands reached out to you, he was shaking. He nudged you once. A second time. No response.

“Y/n?” he asked weakly, as if a whisper only to you, avoiding the hundreds of eyes crowing around. He could hear distant police sirens, flashing lights bleeding in the corners of his vision. No. No. No no no no no. He could only think of one word then, the stubborn denial that this wasn’t happening. He was dreaming, he would wake up cuddled next to you and you’d wipe his tears, remind him that you weren’t going anywhere. But it wasn’t, the blood that stained his hands as he reached out to you was warm and wet and crimson, equally as real as the love you shared had been. The tears collecting in his eyes were real, too. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think, he could barely cry.

He cradled you, and he felt no pulse as he placed his fingers on your neck. Your hair was stained ruby, leaving a trail of haunting colour in its wake as it dragged along his finger. You were being pulled from him, he tried to resist, but his arms felt weak and his mind numb. This couldn’t possibly be happening. You couldn’t go so soon, not when you had so many regrets, not when you’d finally gotten over it all and loved and lived with him. He needed more time, he needed to show you that everything was okay. But now he couldn’t, and he was left sitting on the side of the road as what used to be you was driven away. He lost you twice that day.

Once the road was empty and he was left with nothing but your looming absence, it started raining. Your favourite weather. Usually he’d be delighted, he’d bring you outside by the hand and watch as your heart was filled by every drop of water. Not this time. Now every bit of the liquid was wasted on a soul that could no longer be filled, what would only ever be a leaking shell of a man who loved foolishly. While the rain was what healed you, you were what healed him. Without you he was left a wounded man without aid, filled with cracks and chips that would reside with him forever. It was his fault. His fault for bringing you, his fault for loving you at all. After all, there was no curse more twisted than love.

Satoru Gojo hated the rain. Now and forever.

⋆

He wished you lived to see how much you mattered. He knew you tended to doubt it, didn’t value yourself nearly as much as you should have.

The bookstore you worked at closed not long after your passing. The only other worker there was a good friend of yours, she quit. She couldn’t handle your loss. Nobody could. Every time Gojo passed the empty building he was reminded of you, the old store just as lifeless as your body had been in that casket. You lingered everywhere, in every old book and cup of coffee and stupid philosophical question his professor would ask. You lingered in the sheets of his that you once slept in, your legs tangled with his as you laughed in the piercing bright of the morning. The clothes you’d scattered around his room untouched since the day you died, moving them felt like erasing you. Even washing his sheets was hard. He got a whiff of your perfume in one of his hoodies and he just broke, started ugly sobbing on the floor of his bedroom right then and there. Tears soaked the sweater, and he couldn’t help but notice that they looked like raindrops. Your favourite type of day was the one most similar to the picture of his despair, the way he curled into a ball and wailed to himself as he mourned your death. He figured that wasn’t too much of a surprise. You’d always appreciated the gloomier things, after all.

Sometimes he’d convince himself you were still there. He’d tell himself that you were right beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and your voice ringing out in what was undoubtedly a sassy quip, but every time he turned to search for you he was met with nothing but a gaping emptiness, the hollow walls you haunted. You were no longer, you wouldn’t come back. You never would. He didn’t even get you tell you he loved you once more, kiss the soft, untouched expanse of your skin, remind you that you were delicate and precious and all his. Every day, the hatred inside of him grew and swallowed every bit of who he used to be. The man you loved was gone, his vessel unrecognizable. Satoru died that day too, but nobody mourned him because he wasn’t the one bleeding.

He sat on the roof of your bookshop, gazing out over the skyline. Buildings stuck up, jagged and irregular as they made tough lines over the horizon. You would’ve liked this view, but you simply hadn’t thought of coming up here before. Only he had, and by then it was far too late.

He looked down at his hand, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It shouldn’t have been you. It should have been him. Maybe then he’d be reincarnated and born as someone else, hopefully reunited with you in the next lifetime. He had a feeling you would, your souls seemed to dance around each other in that sort of rhythm. But no, it had to be you. Did his suffering ever end? Tears fell and wet his skin, but suddenly, there were too many. Too many, too far.

He looked up, and he didn’t know if it was a cruel reminder or a gift sent by you, but it was raining.

He couldn’t bring himself to get up and go home that time. He embraced it, lying on the ground and imagining that if he closed his eyes tight enough, he’d open them and be able to see you again. When his eyelids parted, he was met with gloomy clouds and dim skies. In the midst of the darkness, he caught a glimpse of what he swore to be your silhouette. You were sly, even in the afterlife.

That day he didn’t lay in the rain; Satoru Gojo would never be caught dead doing that. He lied beneath you, raindrops that soaked into every part of him and sent chills up his spine. He knew you wanted him to. You didn’t come back as a sunset, you didn’t paint the skies with pink and orange. You were a chilly, rainy day that reminded him of your hands in his and your wide smile as you willingly gave yourself a cold, because with the sickness came a moment of joy. There was more truth to that than let on. Yes, now he grieved and lied in a puddle of tears and rainwater, but not long ago he’d been with you. He’d held you and felt the warmth of you on his fingertips, heard your voice ring through his ears, been granted the bliss that was your lips on his. He’d gotten the greatest joy of all, and he knew that if he died in this moment his only regret would be not embracing it more than he had, if that was even possible. He’d loved you, he’d felt your love. He’d been blessed with the softness of your gaze and the twinkle in your smile, seen the soft parts of you that would forever remain a secret between him and the rain. The knowledge of that, the feeling of bits of your soul returning with every rumbling thunder crash and strike of lightning was enough for him to know that you hadn’t died. You never would, because you loved, and nothing that loves ever truly dies. You would live on through him and everyone else you came by, his family for years to come would hear the story of a stubborn girl who healed someone she hated without even knowing it. Even after you were long gone, you healed him, one dollop of water at a time.

For years after that, though begrudgingly, Satoru was never inside during a storm. His opinion of rain hadn’t altered in the slightest, no. Satoru still hated the rain, but he loved you far more.

tags: @anotherwriternamedclara @adoresia @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @ruruisru @lizbix

note — why does he never catch a break omds… but on a real note I hate this real bad but wtvvvvvv I promised something and I’m a girl of my word. I don’t know how to write death I fear… and also the ending wasn’t even decided until very late into the story so it might’ve been a little sudden idkkkkkkuhhhhb

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst

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ladymoody · 4 months ago

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Hiii I recently found your blog and I loved how you wrote the first fanfic could you please please make a story with enzo beekshire where he’s like our brother’s best friend and when he invites him over he sneaks in our room and you know… please make it smut

MY BROTHER'S FRIEND

lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw +18, swearing, explicit language, fingering, p in v penetration, dom!enzo, cum.

word count: 1,5k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist ; playlist ; characters list ; my website

I was in my room reading, completely lost in a world of fantasy, until I heard a knock on my door.

"mh... come in." I said, not even taking my eyes off my book. My elder brother theodore opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. "my friend's coming tonight."

"who."

"enzo."

"who?" theo sighed.

"my friend. brown hair, brown eyes... he could be your type, actually." he joked.

"oh shut up, theo."

"just playing, sis... I won't let you lie a single finger on my fellas." he said as he walked out and closed the door behind him.

my brother was so annoying. it was not the first time he had brought his friends over, especially enzo who was often at our house, and it was fine with me as long as they didn't disturb me. I just wanted to stay in my little world in my room, which my brother used to call a "girly cave", and stay unbothered from men's presence.

the clock soon struck 8pm which had always been around the time when theodore welcomed his friends in. in fact, not so many minutes later, I heard my brother talking and an unknown voice answering.

I stayed on my cozy bed in my dim-lit room, fully immersed in the intriguing novel in my hands.

margaret's arms were all around jake's neck as they kept making out in the shower. jake was panting heavily and margaret couldn't help but moan every time jake squeezed her ass. she soon broke the kiss and rested her forehead against his - jake's right hand started to wander on her inner thigh expertly, slowly and teasingly touching her clit.

I immediately snapped back to reality, panickingly throwing the book in the air as my bedroom door opened.

"hey sis, just wanted to tell you enzo and I are watching a film in my room." enzo was standing next to him and I couldn't help but check him out a little, taking in his appearance and forgetting to try to look subtle. he had fluffy, almost wavy brown hair — brown eyes, a tall figure, and a slim body. he was wearing a black sweater and a pair of blue jeans, and I couldn't help noticing the earring he was wearing, which I found extremely sexy.

enzo eyed me up back, smirking still from my book-throwing of a few seconds ago.

"hi." I sheepishly said to him. he just kept his gaze on me and stared at my bare thighs longer than necessary.

"if you need me, we're there." he said as they both left my room, shutting the door behind them.

(skip time)

I woke up confused and thirsty, the lights of my room still on, and the book that was previously in my hands was now left on my bed opened to a random page. I rubbed my eyes slowly beginning to register what was going on, and so realizing that I might've fallen asleep.

I looked at the clock on my nightstand and noticed that it was past midnight. I groaned and sat up, still taking a few moments to fully wake up from my quite long nap. I got up and walked out of my room, trying to be as quiet as possible as I didn't know if my family was already sleeping.

as I walked down the corridor, I saw the light of my brother's room cursing under the door chink, which meant that he and enzo were still awake. I knocked on the door.

no one answered. maybe they had fallen asleep forgetting to turn the lights off just like me.

I walked away and headed towards the bathroom to take a shower. I opened the door and looked at myself in the mirror, noticing my eye bags and messy hair.

I started to take my shirt off, then my shorts and my underwear, and in the end I opened the shower curtain to turn on the shower and get the hot water.

I screamed and immediately bent over to collect my clothes and press them against my naked figure, in an attempt to cover my body. there was enzo standing in the bathtub lathering up his body, he was shocked as well, but not as much as me since he didn't even try to cover up his crotch.

"is knocking no longer a trend anymore?" he said, a bit upset and a bit amused.

"I made a lot of noise! you could've let me know you were in here too!"

enzo rolled his eyes and spoke again. "lower your voice, or you'll wake theo up."

"I want to wake him up! he needs to know his friend is a damn pervert!" I was about to leave but he leaned out to grab my arm.

"oh you wouldn't dare."

my eyes widened in shock and almost disgust, but I won't lie saying I hadn't minded seeing his naked body.

"why won't you join me?"

I blushed hard. did he really ask me that? is he crazy? why was I nodding?

he smirked to himself as he saw me agreeing and gestured for me to get in with him.

I hesitantly removed the clothes from my body and let them drop back on the floor. I looked at him to see if he was making eye contact with me, but he wasn't — he was staring at my body in awe.

I made my way into the bathtub and joined him, now his gaze was on my face as he couldn't stop grinning at me, hip bottom lip between his teeth.

he didn't waste any time and immediately grabbed the back of my thighs to lift me up, then he pushed me against the cold and wet wall of the shower and held my legs tight around his waist. I automatically rested my hands on his lower chest, our eyes not leaving each other for one second.

with one of his hands, he reached the tap and turned the water on to muffle the noise we'd have made. and eventually, he pressed his lips against mine.

the kiss was slow at first, our heads often tilting to opposite sides to kiss more easily. I moved my arms around his neck, pulling him closer by the back of his head.

after some time of making out, I felt his hand leaving my thigh and rub against my clit. I gasped and threw my head back on the wall, my eyes shut and my mouth hung open. he soon slipped two fingers inside of me, making me moan in pleasure as he started to pump them in and out.

"enzo..." I moaned, clinging to his back.

"mhh... I've wanted to do this since I first saw you." he moaned back.

I was in complete ecstasy as I felt the hot water running on our bare skin — the noise of it taking over our moans of lovemaking — the feeling of his soft lips against mine, and his slender and long fingers fucking my pussy. he knew what he was doing.

"I'm so close…" I whined, almost begging him to let me release.

"hold on, baby. not like this…" he took his fingers out of me, leaving me a needy mess, and grabbed his now hard erection. he started stroking it a bit, then I felt his tip lining up against my folds.

I screamed as he pushed it inside of me without any warning, he stayed inside to let me adjust to his size, and then he began to thrust.

I could feel my walls wrap around him instantly, his thrusts not gentle at all so I could tell he had wanted this for quite a long time. he buried his face in the crook of my neck, often leaving wet kisses on my shoulder. suddenly we heard a knock on the door.

"enzo?" my brother called out. but enzo didn't bother to stop fucking me.

"it's me! I'm in the shower!" he answered.

"well, hurry up, I have to use the bathroom as well!" theo said back and then we heard his steps growing less and less loud as he walked away.

in the meantime I was completely in another universe — enzo's hand had covered my mouth to not let my brother find out what we were up to, while he kept up with his merciless thrusts.

"you're taking it so well..." he groaned into my ear. I dug my nails into his back, making him moan a little more at the painful pleasure of my gesture, and then I hit my orgasm.

the idea of making me come made enzo come right after me within a few seconds — I felt his thrusts getting faster and faster as he buried himself completely inside of me, and in the end, he pulled out cumming on my lower belly.

he kissed my forehead and put me down on my feet, making me stumble a bit from the intensity of what had just happened.

"don't tell your brother, will you, baby?" he stroked my cheek, then he turned the water off and opened the curtain.

I shook my head and he grinned at me before making his way out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist.

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,” and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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blondiedae · 18 days ago

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dry house, wet clothes (ten)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, ten

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, angst, fluff, miscommunication, angst (again)

word count. 15,915

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. kim jungwoo, best friend mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, lee donghyuck (haechan)

author's note. i deleted 5k of johnny/yn smut, because it felt gratuitous. (maybe i’ll release it as a bonus) so, there’s not smut in this, though it is suggestive. how are we feeling y’all?

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“Something happened.”

Haechan was across from you, relaxed in a way that felt like a taunt. You only looked at him, only shook your head, only focused back on your work - his work - and told him, “Nothing happened.”

There was a note in your pocket, tucked in your coat and resting against your leg, that implied otherwise. It burned and burned and singed the lining until you felt it on your skin. Three days had gone by, three days into what sometimes felt like spring, what lingered of winter. Three days of reading and rereading I miss you too and doing nothing about it. Your hand fell to your side, resting on top of Jaehyun’s note. It was simple enough to lie, to let Haechan and his novel and his not-so-new ending be a distraction. Haechan was not a simple person, “You’re really bad at lying.”

“And you’re bad at writing.”

“We both know that’s not true.” He smirked, he lowered his head and smirked, “If you’re going to insult me, make it believable.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Nothing happened.” You nodded, he nodded. The café around you was still for a moment, a quiet Wednesday mid morning. It was quiet enough to hear your pen scratching, the clink of dishes and knives and forks, the cogs in Haechan’s brain rotating with a screech before he said, “Close your eyes.”

“I’m not doing that.” You tapped the papers in front of him, “Pick your cover.”

“I’m not doing that.” He leaned closer, “Come on. Close your eyes for thirty seconds. Humor me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to. Because you’re tense and it’s making me tense. I don’t want to be tense. So breathe, close your eyes and relax for a minute.” Haechan gave a smile, one he didn’t commit to but that you were sure was supposed to be reassuring. Then, he reminded you, “Like I said, mopey you hurts my book.”

You leaned back, shoulder blades sinking into the plush chair behind you. You could feel the shift of it, the weight of a piece of paper folded up three inches by four moving in your pocket and leaving heat behind as it did. Jaehyun, on paper, still leaving you burning. You clicked your tongue, then your pen, and relented, surrendered, closed your eyes to block out Haechan looking smug across from you.

Sighing, you said, “They’re closed.”

“Good. Relax.” More clattering, more clinking. Someone laughed, loud and boisterous, across the room. Haechan let out a breath and you, you kept your eyes closed. You let every sound go through you until it felt right to open your eyes to them, to identify and clarify them. Haechan was quick to stop you, “Not yet.”

“You said thirty seconds.”

“I lied. Keep them closed.” He grabbed something off the table; another sound, of it dragging against the marble, “How is Johnny?”

You smiled, you couldn’t help it. Eyes still shut, you just grinned, “He’s good.” You spent every moment you could with him, “He’s really good.”

You were so wrapped up in him. Haechan made a sound, followed by scratching, followed by another question, “When are you going to see him next?”

That morning, six hours ago, Johnny had kissed your lips, your forehead and pleaded, “Come see me at work.”

You’d told him, “I have a meeting.”

Johnny pouted, lips pushed out and plump from kissing you; from a morning of nothing else but kissing you. He’d spend every morning, every afternoon, every evening like that if you’d, “Just come see me when it’s done.”

“Okay.” With a nod and whisper and the rustling of your sheets, you agreed. With another kiss, a prolonged kiss, one last kiss, he left. So now, with your eyes closed in a café, you told Haechan, “Later. When I leave here.”

“Aw. Why didn’t you invite me?”

“Because I think you two would get along. Too well.” They were too much alike. There was a shift in Johnny, sometime in October. Somewhere between I think I like you and You’re a star, Johnny had morphed into a version of himself you never even considered before. Haechan was like Johnny before, Johnny as he was sometimes still. Johnny who loved to taunt and tease, “Two against one isn’t fair.”

“Oh, I have to meet him, now.” The noise in the café picked up, a crowd coming in and filling the space with new sounds. It felt ridiculous to be sitting with your eyes closed, “Do you miss him?”

“I saw him this morning.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

You relaxed, then, into the memories of Johnny - Johnny this morning, Johnny last week, Johnny as he is now and how he was before. The same smile crept onto your face and you let it, gave into it, basked in it. It was impossible to fight, “Yeah.”

“Huh. I was wrong.”

“About what?”

Haechan scratched at something, scribbled something new and said, “You really love him.”

Your eyes opened, despite his scolding, “I…yeah, I think I do.” I think I like you echoed in your head. It didn’t feel so strange, only thinking about it. It was a step towards saying it to the one who needed to hear it. It was a step in admiring it. Thinking about it and saying it, out loud, to Haechan, “You didn’t think I did?”

“Not what I said.” He pointed at you with his pen - your pen - then tapped it against the pad of paper in his lap. You could see words scratched quickly, some resting on the line and others missing the mark. Lee Haechan, the café therapist, jotting down notes and asking you, “How is Mark?”

This was a pattern and you knew what came next, “Mark is fine. He’s finishing up school.” You knew who came next in this exact line of questioning. Johnny, Mark and the one setting fire to your skin, still. The one tucked away in your pocket. You warned, “Haechan-”

“How is Jaehyun?” Your face fell, Haechan watched it fumble and plummet, “Any word?”

Burning, burning, burning. Three days. Instinctively your hand rested on top of it, again, pressing the heat further into your skin. You hesitated, you knew that you did and you knew that Haechan did, too. Your eyes were wide open now and, after ten minutes of having them closed, you couldn’t hide what was written in them; pouring out of them. Haechan hummed again, chewed at the end of your pen and hummed.

There wasn’t any use in lying. You couldn’t think of a reason to try, “Yeah. A few days ago.”

“And?”

“He said he missed me.”

“After two weeks?”

You corrected him, “After two months.”

“Right.” It was Haechan’s turn to shift. He adjusted in his seat, pulling one leg up to cross over the other, “I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“What?”

“I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“You’re too short to be talking in riddles. People will think you live under a bridge.”

“You have so much bite in you, lately. I kind of like it.” It read on his face, pure amusement when he went on, “I’m talking about the book. Sanghoon. I don’t think he was her first love.”

“Okay.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Riddles and riddles, Haechan spoke with purpose but it hardly made sense. He wasn’t frustrated when he explained, but he was serious. Maybe stern, “Your first love. Do you think he was the first?”

“I…yes?” Reflecting on Sicheng had gotten easier with time, still you shifted in your own seat, “I loved him. A lot.”

“Right. But was he the first?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He put his notepad down, placed it in front of your so you could read it clearly; nonsense words, lyrics to a Michael Jackson song, a sloppy drawing of a coffee mug. Nonsensical, as he ever was. He pointed to one of the covers, one of three on a sheet in front of him, “I like this one.”

📻

Your phone rang at 6:43am.

The first ring you didn’t notice, the second one sounded like a melody in your dream. The third time and the song was too familiar, too clear to be a dream, so by the fourth ring you came to. Back to reality, back to your room, blinking yourself awake through the fifth ring until the call was missed.

[1 Missed call from Jae]

The voicemail came a moment later, after you’d sat up, after your stomach dropped. After you’d picked up your phone and felt frozen in time. Your thumbs hovered over the screen, two hands wrapped around something so small - something locked in it that was so, so big. After six minutes, you let the message play.

“Hey. I…I’m - you’re probably sleeping. I just was…can we talk? If you still want space, that’s fine. But, I will, uh, I’m outside and I’ll wait a few minutes if you…if you decide. You - yeah, okay. Bye.”

Six minutes had passed. Six and another two, after you’d pressed play. Jaehyun sounded…you hadn’t heard his voice in two months and he sounded the same, familiar, like something you’d lost. He sounded like your Jaehyun. Your limbs untangled themselves from a mess of sheets, checking the time on your phone once - 6:52am - twice - 6:52am - three times - 6:53am.

Then you were standing at your window, looking down at familiarity; a black car, his black car, parked and running outside of your house. Your fingers moved on your screen again, typing out, 6:54am I’m coming down.

He was leaning against the passenger side door when you finally looked up, staring at you intently with his hands deep in his pockets. Jaehyun was holding his breath, watching every step you took and counting the seconds until you were directly in front of him. A reflection of the past, a replica of Halloween night, time looping and repeating itself.

But the chill was different, from October to March. In October, the cold meant something was ending; summer had come to an end, the sun needed more rest than usual. The breeze that bit your skin in October was a precursor, a preview, an introduction to months of wrapping yourself in something, desperate for warmth. You chose Johnny.

In March, though, the cold was fleeting; the sun started staying in the sky longer, letting its beams kiss the Earth in an attempt to revive it. In March, the cold wasn’t as harsh, it didn’t bite as hard, it was a transition into spring and the promise of warmer days. March, indecisive and unpredictable, was meant for hope. You stood on your front step, your coat pulled tightly around you until spring settled in. Jaehyun let out a breath and you watched it dance in the air, watched it disappear.

The sun was just now thinking of rising, preparing to start a new day and Jaehyun was just thinking of speaking, preparing everything he’d thought for the last two months. It would all rush out at once, if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t move with intention. He cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Your own voice was strained, still tired, still dreaming. You took a step closer, “Hey.”

“Can I…” Jaehyun pointed to your steps, faltered and pointed over his own shoulder, “Or do you want to…?”

“Um, we can talk here.”

Jaehyun came to you, hesitant. Every step was agonizing until he was there, just in front of you, “I’m-”

Two months of time, two months of space, “Don’t say sorry. Please don’t say sorry.”

Jaehyun blinked, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, you could do everything to fight them off, but you knew tears were coming. They lingered at the corners of your eyes, “Just not that. I’m so tired of it.”

“Me too.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, a rush of anxiety and uncertainty, “I-”

You hugged him. It was simple and it was instinctual, the way your arms wrapped around his neck, the way your face buried into his neck. Breathing him in, pushing away two months to stand on your porch and wait for him to hold you, too. Jaehyun did, simply and instinctually, arms around your waist as tight as they could be. It was silent for so long, never too long. It was comfortably silent and still, five days into March, waiting for the two of you to come back to life.

You stayed like that for ten minutes, letting the sun start rising around you. You stayed like that until your sniffles turned into tired laughs, laughs turned into more silence, shared silence.

The two of you were sitting on your porch when you finally asked, “How have you been?”

“Uh.” Jaehyun thought, honesty weighing on him, “Okay, I guess. Alright.”

“Yeah?” You chose to believe him, “That’s good.”

“You?”

“Good. Really…I mean, I’ve been good.” It was the truth, but you didn’t want to deny it, didn’t want to discount it, “I missed you, Jaehyun.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Mark played messenger.”

“Yeah. Poor kid.” Jaehyun knew he should ask, so he swallowed the lump in his throat before he did, “How is Johnny?”

It took you a moment to say, “He’s good, too.”

Then, Jaehyun gathered his thoughts, his intentions, and said, “I don’t really know…I didn’t think about how this would go. I almost left.”

“Hm.”

“I just wanted to know where we stand. I just wanted to see you. I know two months isn’t that long, but it-”

“It’s an eternity.” Jaehyun turned to you, eyes focused on every move you made, trying to find his way back inside your head, “Two months is too long. I know I said I wanted to take a break-”

“You had every right to.”

“But, I missed you so much.”

You wondered how many times you could say it; I miss you. Jaehyun did, too. I miss you felt like a substitute for I’m sorry. You didn’t know how to stop saying it, how to stop time from looping until you’d run I miss you into the ground. It felt like the only thing left to say, something to ease your way back after time and space and silence.

The sun had come up enough to turn the sky a lighter shade of blue, tickled with hues of orange and pink. Jaehyun’s phone sounded in his pocket, ringing until he pulled it out and checked the time, “I have to go.”

“Sure. Of course.”

He stood up, “Maybe, uh, maybe we can talk more later.”

“We can try.” You stood when he did, hands brushing off dirt at your sides, “I’ll call.”

Jaehyun nodded, “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Jae.”

“Bye.” He turned to leave, hands tucking back into his pockets as he moved down three steps. Jaehyun had made it halfway down your path, halfway to his car, when he stopped, “Can I ask something?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Anything.”

Jaehyun’s smile was shy, almost playful. He was teetering on the edge of asking or bailing, brushing everything off and leaving you to wonder. He was embarrassed in a way, nervous in another; feeling strange stopping to ask you, “Are we still best friends?”

You laughed, his heart beat faster until you said, “Of course.”

Jaehyun told you, “I’ll see you.”

And then he left.

You waited until you got inside to fall apart, allowing yourself a moment in the quiet of your house. You waited two months for something you started to end, allowing yourself to hope and wish and want for him. For something. You waited two weeks and pretended that everything was fine, as it should be. And in a blink, it was. In a blink, Jaehyun was at your door. In a blink the pieces of you that he’d taken came back, fell into their places like they’d never left.

Like he’d never taken them.

Like you’d never handed them to Jaehyun and pushed him out and out and out.

Your phone was on your bed when you’d crawled back up the stairs. It was instinct to pick it up, to call him and tell him everything you could. He answered on the second ring, “Good morning, beautiful.” Johnny’s voice was like heaven, a perfect sound to your tired mind, “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Um, yeah.” You sat on the edge of your bed, “Jaehyun was just here.”

Johnny said, under a breath, “Oh.”

“He called and asked if we…if we could talk.”

“Did you guys talk, then?”

“Yes.”

Johnny wanted to be supportive. He was supportive. He knew how the past two months had gone, he knew the way your lips twitched when you told him things were fine, you were fine, everything was fine. Johnny knew how much you’d missed Jaehyun. And, even if he could still hear Yuta and Taeyong in the back of his mind, Johnny pushed it away. If it made you happy, he’d swallow suspicion he wasn’t keen to have and Johnny would ask, “How’d it go?”

“I think well.” You let out a long breath, falling back and sinking into your waiting sheets, “I think it went well.”

And Johnny smiled, knowing you couldn’t see him. He smiled and hoped that it read as relief, that you could hear it in his voice when he told you, “That’s so good, baby. That’s great.”

📻

Johnny kissed your cheeks, your neck, just behind your ear. His lips found unmarked skin and littered it with affection, adoration. The morning had come in slowly, so he was taking all the time he had with you, letting the sun fill his bedroom with light at whatever pace it pleased. You were beside him, beside yourself with that feeling you’d placed but hadn’t said - not to him. His apartment had turned into a habitat for all the butterflies he’d conjured, all the fluttering feelings Johnny inspired.

His fingers pulled at your shirt - at his shirt - where it rested, bunched up, at your waist. Johnny suggested, “Stay here with me. All day.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?” He kissed down your neck, again, “Do you have plans?”

“I do.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny pulled back, “What are they?”

Your eyes sparkled, twinkled, filled with light and fueled by mischief when you said, “Whatever we’re doing right now.”

“Oh, so you’re funny now-”

“I always have been-”

“You’re funny and you have jokes.” It was vicious the way his hands dug into your sides, how his fingers tickled at you until you were desperate to be out from underneath him. But you giggled and giggled until you erupted into laughter and Johnny drank in every sound you made, a broad grin ever-present on his face. His lips went back to kissing, his teeth went back to nipping and Johnny was lost in a mess of bliss, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Kiss me?”

“Been doing that.”

The sun was coming up behind him, his bedroom slowly filled with light. You looked up at him, eyes still sparkling, and brought his fingertips to your lips, “Not here.”

“You want me to kiss you,” Johnny came closer to hover over you, one finger tracing the outline of your lips, “Here?”

“Please.”

And he did. It was slow, just as the morning had started off, then all at once it was so much more. His room was covered in sunlight and you were covered with him. Johnny had you hypnotized, had such a hold on you that you might fall without him. He’d rather you fall with him, Johnny would rather you stay just like this and fall into sync with his heart, his mind.

He thought to say it, again. For him, it had almost been a year and he was bursting with words still unsaid, still patiently waiting for the right time. He knew you felt it, he could just say it and the world would keep spinning; it might spin faster, more smoothly, with purpose. Johnny put everything he had into kissing you, quiet moans and even softer sighs falling into you.

He settled on confessing, “Today isn’t long enough. Need you like this always.”

“You have me.”

“What else should I do with you?”

He knew the answer. Johnny felt the heat coming off your body, heard the way you gasped when his fingers grazed your skin. His mind was reeling, his hands were roaming, doing everything he could to hear you call for him, “Want you.”

“Right here, baby?” His hand pulled at the back of your thigh, draping your leg over his hip and grinding down into you. The sound you made had Johnny gasping for air, pressing breathless kisses into your collarbone, “Louder.”

“Johnny, I-” The way he was positioned, the way the sun decided to rise, had Johnny haloed in a perfect ring of light. It was blinding, looking at him directly, but you couldn’t look away. He was drenched in the light of a new day and - even if the sun was in the room with you, even if it burned everything around you - you didn’t look away. It would be worth it, just to see the light in his hair, in his eyes, the way it burned inside him.

Johnny kissed you, lips hungry for you and thought to say it, again. It was almost every thought he had in his mind, looking at you underneath him. The sun was kind, the way it kissed your skin. Johnny envied it, knowing the rays were covering his own marks, warming you in ways he just couldn’t. The words were so close to coming out when he whispered your name, called you, “Baby, I-”

You said it, “I love you.”

And, like his lips opened into an echo chamber, Johnny said it back, “I love you.” He took a moment, let the words settle, let his heart beat race before he repeated it, again, “Oh my God. I love you.”

It felt like a shock to your system, sending you into overdrive, “I really…Johnny, I love you.”

“My Juliet. Holy shit.” Again, your name fell from his lips, “I love you.”

Your heart burst, the words kept spilling from your lips and his; like a melody, like a canon. If Johnny said it, you did too. If you kissed him and whispered it, he did the same. It was impossible to stop. Johnny grabbed your hand, put it over his heart so you could feel how it beat; just for you, only for you. Every time you kissed him it beat a little faster, when you called his name you could feel it skip.

“That night.” He stuttered, his hips rolled against yours, “The night you saw your star, I wanted - God - I wanted to take things slow.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“I wanted to say it and I couldn’t, it felt too soon.” He was panting above you, trying to explain something you understood. But, for Johnny, leaving something unsaid was like torture, so he explained and he confessed and he waited for the moment to be right be vulnerable say, “I wanted to make love to you.”

It sounded so silly, so Johnny laughed. Admitting something so simple felt ridiculous, but it was a weight off his chest, all the same. You held his heart, held his face with your other hand. Johnny wouldn’t look anywhere but into your eyes, “Will you do that now?”

“I would love to.”

📻

It was quick, the way it happened. How things fell back into place.

Jaehyun called. He told you about his day while the world was quieting down, you’d sit and listen and respond as you should. His voice was a comfort, his voice was like home. Hearing Jaehyun speak - even if it was about something you’d never understand, mergers and deals and meetings you’d never be part of - you would listen. You’d take every moment, hang on every word, press your phone to your ear until it was too hot. Then, you’d put him on speaker and listen to Jaehyun speak; like an old song, a nostalgic song, a song you’d always know.

You would text Jaehyun; send him pictures and paragraphs, links and clips and quips just to remind him that there was still a place for him with you. There was always a space for Jaehyun in your life. You’d ask him to come over, stop by the loft and Jaehyun knew you’d end the night with Johnny, that you were always thinking of him, tiptoeing around mentioning him; Jaehyun’s best friend Johnny. But, he was content to have the time he did with you. If it was fleeting, if it was borrowed. Any time he could have, at all.

“You wanna grab food?” You had called this time, phone cool against your face. Jaehyun had picked up on the third ring, “I’m meeting Johnny at nine.”

He agreed to it, “Yeah, I can make that work.”

It had taken one week for you to fall back into pace with him, fall back into the routine of starting and ending your days with Johnny, making time for Jaehyun in the middle, “Should I invite Mark?”

“You can.” He added, “That would be great.”

The three of you sat around a small table, plates of food taking up every corner. Jaehyun next to Mark next to you next to Jaehyun. It was too early for dinner, much too late for lunch, but it was quiet and it was comfortable. Jaehyun relaxed into it, dipped his toes into the routine of three again, knowing four was coming next. Knowing that avoiding the fourth would only work for so long. Who do you think is hurting her?

He’d circled back to that for two months, wearing out a hole in his bedroom floor from the laps he’d done. Jaehyun would sit and he would dwell and he would wish on every star he saw; for courage or something close enough to it. Close enough to what he needed to make his way back to you. His cowardice ate at him until his birthday, until he saw you on his doorstep and sat frozen in his office; just past the door, just down the hall.

And still he did nothing, not even when he was prompted. Nothing that was significant enough, not for two weeks.

He didn’t think he could stomach it. But what you’d said had been so simple and he could mimic that. Jaehyun could do simple; complexities could destroy him.

Mark grinned around a bite of food, puffing out his cheeks to make room for a mumble, “This is so good.”

“The noodles?”

“Yes.” He nodded, he flipped his hat backward on his head, then Mark went on, “But us being back together. It’s really good.”

Jaehyun agreed, reaching across the table to wrap noodles around his fork, “Yeah. It is.”

Then Mark asked, “Does Johnny know?”

And like the winter had come back, like ice was waiting for a moment to freeze him over, Jaehyun stopped. He looked at you, out of the corner of his eye, and waited, waited, waited for you to move. For you to say something.

You didn’t falter, smiling at Mark and taking another bite, “Yeah, he knows.” Jaehyun didn't know that, a week and a half in and maybe he should’ve assumed, “He was going to try and meet us here.”

Jaehyun picked at his plate, Jaehyun attempted simplicity and nonchalance, “When did you tell him?”

“As soon as you left.” Eyes set on Jaehyun, you swallowed another bite, coughing when it got stuck on your pride. Haechan was right, there was some bite still in you and your teeth were barred when you added, “We don’t keep stuff from each other.”

It was like a cue; you spoke, the doorbell chimes, Johnny walked in. Jaehyun saw him first, Johnny coming around the corner and into view. He watched every step, how Johnny only looked at you until you could see him - tunnel vision for you, eyes only for you. Johnny grinned and said, “Hi babe.”

So, you turned, “Hey, Romeo.”

And Jaehyun swallowed, waiting to be addressed. Johnny clapped a hand on Mark’s back, smiled down at him, then he finally acknowledged Jaehyun. He came around the table with his hand out, Jaehyun got to his feet and accepted it; when Johnny pulled him in, when Johnny held his face, when Johnny pushed Yuta and Taeyong out of his head and said, “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Yeah.” It was. In some ways. It was terrifying and it was good, “You too, John.”

It was quick, the way it happened. How you all ended up back in the loft.

Johnny and you, Mark and Jaehyun. It was Mark’s suggestion, it was by Mark’s urging. It was Mark crying about his midterms in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, on the phone with Johnny, on the phone with Jaehyun.

“Who is getting snacks?”

Mark volunteered, “I will! I dragged you all here.”

“You didn't drag us anywhere, Mark. We want to be here.”

Jaehyun asked, “Who is going with?”

“Baby?” Jaehyun still wasn’t used to hearing Johnny call you that, even your name sounded new when he said it, “I’ll buy you ramen if you go.”

“Not a good enough deal, babe.” It rattled him more, coming from you, “Haechan made me go to a spin class.”

Mark was leaning against Johnny, elbow extended beyond his own height to reach Johnny’s shoulder, “That’s your author, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that normal?”

Johnny answered for you, “It’s not. But, from what I’ve heard, neither is he. But, I’ve been on my feet all day.”

You challenged, “You sat on FaceTime with me in your office for three hours. Try again.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Johnny stepped away from Mark, pulling you into him and picking you up. The two of you spun, the two of you laughed and Jaehyun still tried to adjust to the two of you. Johnny put you down, put a kiss to your lips, “Fine. Come on, Mark.”

It was quick, the way Johnny noticed it. How Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you.

He tried not to notice, he tried to brush it off as paranoia; Johnny wanted to blame Yuta and Taeyong and two months of time between you and Jaehyun. It was increasingly difficult to do. Things that Johnny had written off as normal - before New Years, before Christmas, before Halloween - not settled underneath his skin, made him itch. Jaehyun with his eyes on you, only on you. Jaehyun with a dimpled smile whenever you spoke. Jaehyun holding onto every word you said, leaning closer and closer until Johnny felt like he could scream. He couldn’t tell the difference between the exaggerations of a paranoid mind and reality.

Johnny was losing his hold on reality, when it came to Jaehyun and you. It had always been territory he hadn’t touched; if Johnny started picking at layers now, he’d be digging for an eternity. But the way Jaehyun was with you the first night you’d all had dinner made Johnny weary. The way Jaehyun said goodbye when Johnny picked you up - taking you a way to spend another night with him, a night of whispered I love you’s with him - made Johnny nervous.

And the way Jaehyun looked at you, when Mark and Johnny made their way out of the loft, made him suspicious in a concrete way, in a way that urged him to turn to Mark and ask, “What do you think?”

A question halfway through a thought, so Mark was right to be confused, “What? What do I think about what?”

Mid-March was warmer, warning still, but the nights were still cold. Johnny excused his shiver with a breeze when he elaborated, “About them?”

“I’m glad they’re talking again.” Mark mulled over his thoughts, Johnny could see him come to a conclusion, “I didn’t think they would, for a while.”

“Right. Yeah.” Johnny kicked at a pebble, a piece of uprooted asphalt, “I think it would take more than that, don’t you?”

“Probably.”

Johnny was cautious because Mark was right; it was good to have all of you together, again. Johnny would be elated if it weren’t for Yuta and Taeyong and he’s in love with her. He knew it was out of place to ask, he knew that he might raise more questions. But, Johnny wanted to know, “Do you think there’s anything, I don’t know, weird between them?”

Mark ran through his catalogued thoughts, scanned through his memories with careful precision. You and Jaehyun were the same as you’d always been, the only way Mark had ever known you to be. The only thing that was different was you and Johnny; Johnny loving you loudly and you loving him back. So, Mark shook his head, denied it and joked, “Nah. He’s always been weird about her, though. I think things will be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“And! Now we can plan the camping trip.”

It was quick, the way your conversation shifted. How Jaehyun stood next to you and watched Mark and Johnny take off down the street.

You’d done it so many times, stood in the exact spot you were with Jaehyun next to you, watching Johnny and Mark run past your house and into the night. So it would never feel out of place, it felt like home. Jaehyun brought you a drink, the ice tapping against the glass. His fingers brushed over yours when he handed it over and you both pulled back, pulled away, pulled apart.

You glanced at him, noticing all the ways he’d changed in two months; his hair was shorter, it looked darker but you wouldn’t be sure. He seemed taller, but you blamed that on optimism - looking up at Jaehyun, looking towards the way things would change. Hoping they would settle into something closer to normal, as soon as possible.

The two of you sat down once they were out of view; looking up, now. Counting and memorizing the stars. Jaehyun told you about his day and you listened. You told Jaehyun about Haechan and his book, his changed ending, how he’d seeped into your life. Haechan had crossed the line between client and friend in the last two months. You didn’t mind at all. He asked about Johnny, so you answered. He tried to be okay with it, tried to be supportive. Jaehyun saw the way you lit up talking about Johnny, even more when you were around him.

So, what Jaehyun said next made sense.

It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration, a realization that tore at him. One that he didn’t want you to confirm; Jaehyun could see it, “You love him.”

You kept your eyes on the stars for a moment longer; on your star, where it should be, where Johnny put you in the sky. Then, you looked at Jaehyun and confessed, agreed, confirmed, “I do.”

There was a pull in your chest, just next to your heart. A fallen piece of you, one Jaehyun had a hold of, had missed its mark. It hadn’t found its place, it hadn’t settled, it was restless.

“That’s good.” He had worked so hard not to lie anymore. It was good, it really was good. You loved Johnny, he was sure Johnny loved you back, “He loves you, too.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of crazy.” You asked him, “Do you know how that feels?”

Jaehyun wanted to beg for the world to end, for the conversation to taper off without him having to answer. He looked down at his hands, at the glass he’d held onto. He counted the melting ice cubes, saw the stars reflecting in his whiskey, and Jaehyun did all he could to say anything other than: God, I wish. That he wished it was you and him, that he always would. It was too much a part of him for Jaehyun to stop.

He looked up at you, finally faced you again and, like he would live vicariously through it, love vicariously, asked you, “Describe it.”

“I think-”

The door opened behind you, “Hey babe?”

You lit up, brighter than the clearest night, shooting across the room like a star, “What’s up?”

“Come help with the bags?”

It was agonizing, the way Jaehyun watched. How time moved in slow motion, when he saw you with Johnny. It was like you had dug your nails into the very fabric of time and held onto it for dear life, pulling everything to a halt. It felt intentional, like you were making sure he saw every glance, every touch, every kiss between the two of you. Every kiss. The way your lips curled into a smile whenever they met Johnny’s; at the thought of him, the sound of him, at the sight.

He was left in your wake, standing with his drink in hand and watching you in slow motion with Johnny.

Mark came in with bottles clinking in his arms, “Johnny said the camping trip is a go.”

📻

Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

“I thought you knew.” Yuta’s reasoning changes every time Johnny asked, “I thought it was obvious.”

If Johnny had been looking for it before, it might have been, “It wasn’t.”

“To you.” He could tell he was exhausting the subject, he was exhausted on his end. Johnny had locked himself in his office, filling the space with every doubt he had until it became too crowded - much like his mind. He called Yuta, then, “And to her.”

“You don’t think she knows?”

It was a relief. A sickening, nauseating relief to Johnny. It could all crash down when Yuta said, “I can’t answer that.”

It was days later, when Jungwoo stopped by the cafe and Johnny hadn’t seen you since the night before, that he touched the subject again. Johnny made light conversation, comfortable conversation. He listened to the stories Jungwoo told him and sipped on a coffee he’d made; his fourth for the day. Then Johnny leaned forward on his elbows and prompted, “Can I ask you something?”

Jungwoo only nodded.

“Do you think…Jaehyun.” He had no clue how to approach the topic. Johnny stumbled over words he hadn’t thought out, “I talked to Yuta and Taeyong and they think that Jaehyun is-”

Jungwoo let out a breath, eyes focused on the pattern swirling in his cappuccino, “I think you need to ask Jaehyun about it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You might have to.” Jungwoo’s shoulders shrugged, “None of us can answer for him.”

Johnny was defeated, he slumped back into his chair and let the nausea take over. Denial felt like confirmation. Jungwoo refusing to answer felt like an answer in itself and Johnny couldn’t accept it. He couldn't avoid it and he couldn’t face it, “Right.”

📻

Jaehyun found his way to your door, the night before your trip. Your duffel bag was on your bed, open and empty, with stacks of clothes around it. He watched you sift through the piles, pull things out and toss them to the side. Jaehyun intervened, “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t look away from the state of your room, from the mess you’d made, “Let’s go.”

It was quiet, it was calm, until the rain started. Jaehyun wound up and down streets, weaving through neighborhoods until he’d found his way out. The music he played was low, familiar; I love this boy so much. You had your head pressed to the glass of his window, focusing on the world passing by, the raindrops slipping down. April came in with a shower, starting early on its nurturing, on growth.

Come May, there would be flowers. Come May, the world would have shifted and changed and blossomed into greens and pinks, blues and yellows, vibrant reds, purples, oranges; a rainbow coming to life after the rain.

January and February felt like a lifetime ago. The memory of the first two months felt just as cold as they had, in real time. They were covered in ice, in silence, in unwelcome change. You tried not to dwell on them, tried to sit in this moment, in Jaehyun’s car. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, rounding a corner with ease.

You wondered how many moments like this you’d have with him, just like the mornings in his kitchen. You couldn’t help but feel like they were still slipping away. The rain could wash him away from you again and it was terrifying. Enough to make you blink back tears, enough to make you clear your throat and tell Jaehyun, “Stop the car.”

He did, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You unbuckled, opened your door and climbed out. Into the rain, instantly drenched, hoping that the first shower of April would help you to grow. You needed the nurturing back to life after a winter that was so harsh, too harsh.

Jaehyun watched from behind the wheel. He saw every drop that landed on your skin, soaked through your clothes, flattened your hair to your head. Then, Jaehyun unbuckled, leaving the car running and running to you. He didn’t say a word, you didn’t either. The two of you stood in the middle of the street, shoulder to shoulder in the rain. Silent, unmoving.

The rain fell and fell and fell. The sky was too dark for the late afternoon, covered in grey clouds. Jaehyun’s headlights were bright, like a spotlight on the two of you. He stepped back towards his car, “Stay here.”

You did, watching as he ran back to his car, listening as he turned up the music. Jaehyun came back, hands shaking as he reached out, and he offered, “Dance with me?”

“Yeah.”

He held you against him, had your head tucked under his chin. Jaehyun held you as close as he could and moved the two of you in tandem. The music was still quiet, fighting against the rain to be heard. You could only hear it cutting in and out. But, when the stereo failed, Jaehyun made up for it, humming the melody into your ear.

It was in the silence that your mind wandered; just like in his car. You thought about Haechan, scribbling onto a notepad in a cafe. I don’t think he was her first love. Jaehyun’s heart was beating loudly in your ear, thumping evenly.

You’d listened to that same heartbeat so many times before, you could understand how he was feeling just based on how many times it thumped. Jaehyun’s heartbeat was as familiar to you as your own and you’d forgotten how that felt. You’d forgotten what it was like to be silent with him.

You stayed that way, still in the middle of the street, just the two of you and the rain. After a while, you pulled back. Jaehyun watched as you took his hand in yours and lingered next to him.

“Can I tell you something?” The rain fell between you, drenched the two of you. Jaehyun nodded, hand squeezing yours tightly in his, “I’ve been think a lot about - about first loves.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I…I think I always thought it was Sicheng. It makes sense that it was him, I loved him and it felt like the first time, while it was happening.” He urged you to go on, another squeeze, another nod. You looked at where your hands met, tried to breathe in the downpour. You were brave enough, emboldened enough, maybe embarrassed but determined all the same, to look at him and say, “I don’t think it was him.”

Jaehyun came closer, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Sicheng was my first love.”

“Then,” He didn’t want to speak. Jaehyun didn’t want to ask anymore questions. He was fine not knowing, he was fine coming to his own conclusion; Jaehyun was fine with a confession lost in the percussion of a rain storm. He was fine not knowing, but he didn’t stop himself from asking you, stomach twisted in knots, “Who do you think it was?”

The sigh you let out masked your words in a whisper, drowned out by the rain. The rush of air escaped your lungs and swept your thoughts off their feet. You couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t think to stop it, and you didn’t look away when you told him, “You. It was always you.”

Jaehyun didnt breathe for a while. March had ended and you were welcoming April, but it didn’t give way to spring yet; there was still enough bite in the air to see the heat leave his body as he gasped for air. But, he waited too long, again. Jaehyun stood silently until you shook your head and turned away. Your eyes focused on the puddle forming underneath and around your feet, watching as each raindrop fell into it.

You moved, letting your fingers pull from his one by one. Jaehyun moved, too; maybe to run, maybe to speak, maybe to tell you, “Me too.”

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Jaehyun only stood still.

You said, “I have to go. Johnny’s coming to help me pack.”

He was reminded, all at once, why he couldn’t speak, “Sure. I- yeah, sure. I’ll take you home.”

You rode silently, drenched in the front seat of his car with your hands flat on your lap. Jaehyun only asking, “Are you cold?” as you came down the hill.

📻

The campsite hadn’t been touched by spring, yet. It was cold shades of brown, pine and beige; gloomy at best. The pine trees around it reached as close to the sky as they could manage, scraped against the lowest clouds and swayed in the strongest breeze.

It hadn’t changed, since the last time you’d been. It was always in the same state. Early April was rain showers and puddles, frosted over mornings and sunny afternoons. The weather was unpredictable, just like in March, changing everything in a blink, in the smallest second.

Everything could change in a second.

“Who is sleeping where?”

Mark positioned himself between the two campers; each with a bed big enough for two, each with little else inside. Johnny poked at the beginnings of a fire, stopping only to lift his eyebrow and ask, “What do you mean?”

It was a reasonable question, to Mark, it made perfect sense, “I mean who is pairing up tonight?”

Johnny looked at you, you looked at Mark. Mark put his hands on his hips and looked at Jaehyun, waiting for someone to answer, “Well, I’m sleeping with my girlfriend.”

“Fine, but we’re rotating tomorrow.”

“Why would we rotate?”

“Because we always do.” The youngest came closer to the fire, “It’s how this works.”

Johnny put the poker into the ground, twisted it until it was stable enough for him to lean on. He looked amused, he looked curious; Johnny had the look on his face that he always did before he would tease Mark, “Do you need a night with Mom, Markie?”

“Shut up, dude.”

“If you have a bad dream, Mark, you can always come into our camper. We’ll leave room for you.”

“Johnny, Jesus.” You laughed, to ease the tension. You laughed to comfort Mark, “We can rotate around, I don’t mind.”

“Again, why would we do that?”

Jaehyun weighed in, “I don’t mind either.”

He’s in love with her. Johnny’s stomach churned, twisted, tied itself in knots. It’s obvious. He watched Jaehyun close the trunk of the car, counted the footsteps he took and the way he faltered on where to go; next to Mark or next to you. When Jaehyun chose, Johnny closed his eyes. It’s obvious. He was reading too much into it, he was spiraling into something he didn’t understand, something Johnny hated.

And Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

He sighed, exaggerated to cover the way he shook. Johnny heaved a sigh, heaved another log on the fire and he relented, “Fine.” It was only three days, “We’ll rotate.”

Day one was unpacking. It was settling in until midday, gathering around the fire when you were done. It was Mark playing melodies on his guitar and mumbling through lyrics he only half-remembered. He stumbled over chords, fingers chilling on the first night of April. Day one ended with you and Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun.

Day one was simple, easy enough, tame enough for Johnny to wrap himself in you, in the quiet of your camper. He let his mind relax, let his body fold into and mold to the shape of yours; arms and legs in a tangled mess. Johnny pushed back your hair, using what little light he had to look in your eyes and whisper, “I love you.” Like you’d forget if he didn’t remind you. Johnny kissed you and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Can I touch you?” He buried his face in your neck, “Please baby. Miss the sounds you make. Miss the way you taste.”

“What if they hear?”

“You’ll have to be quiet for me, baby.” Johnny pleaded, knowing his words held more weight than he’d hand you, “Make sure those sounds are just for me.”

Day one ended with hushed moans, sighs laced with his name and yours and “I love you” chanted like a mantra. Day one ended with you gasping for air, clutching at Johnny’s arms as he rocked his hips slowly into you, panting into your hair, your neck, mouth wrapped around your breast. Day one ended with Johnny’s lips on yours and his cock buried inside you, where he was meant to be.

Day one ended with Mark sleeping soundly and Jaehyun wide awake; hearing everything he shouldn’t, every sound that could break him.

When the sun came up on day two, things had started to shift. The four of you stumbling down trails, the four of you in fits of laughter, the four of you around the fire again and sharing your time. Jaehyun was stiff, Jaehyun hadn’t slept; not as soundly as Mark, not as spent as you, not as satiated as Johnny. Day two was Jaehyun looking away whenever Johnny touched you, whenever you said Johnny’s name. Day two was Jaehyun excusing himself to rest, trying to erase the sound of you coming undone for Johnny from his memory.

Day two ended with you and Mark, Johnny and Jaehyun.

He was still stiff, still tense, sitting on the edge of the bed you’d shared with Johnny. Jaehyun couldn’t stomach it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He was caught in a loop, again, torturing himself with memories that didn’t belong to him, with something he was never meant to hear.

Johnny lingered outside with you for as long as he could; until your head became too heavy to hold up on your own, until your eyes fell closed in extended blinks. He looked at the camper, he passed you off to Mark, and Johnny heard Jungwoo, “You should talk to him about it.”

Day two and Johnny stepped into the shared space, “Hey man.”

Jaehyun tried to smile, “Hey.”

“Can-” He thought back to January, how he didn’t give him the option. But, he was persistent then, he was determined then. He wanted to ease whatever you were going through, so Johnny pushed and pushed and pushed. Now, he gave Jaehyun the option. He gave him an out that Johnny wanted to take himself, to avoid a conversation he didn’t want to have, “Can we talk?”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate long enough for Johnny to notice, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m glad we’re all together again.”

“Me too, John.”

Johnny nodded, then he dove head first, “I really love her. I think you should know that, hear it from me. I don’t want…I just think it’s important.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Jawhyun was sweating, “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Do I?”

He didn’t want to skirt around it, “Do you love her?”

With more hesitation, noticeable hesitation, Jaehyun answered, “Of course I do.”

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” He wanted clarity, he was terrified of it. Jaehyun and Johnny were confined, there was no avoiding it, “Do you…do you love her like I do?”

He couldn’t answer. Truthfully he knew the answer was no. Johnny loved you in a way Jaehyun wasn’t meant to know. Johnny loved you with a ferocity Jaehyun didn't have. The way Johnny loved you was unique to him, so Jaehyun could never love you the same. The answer was no.

Jaehyun loved you in the way he loved coming home; you were warmth, you were familiarity. Jaehyun loved you like he’d lose himself if he ever lost you, again. He loved you in quiet moments, in silent conversations, in glanced and in secrets. Jaehyun would only ever love you in secret, in the lies he told to hide it.

He shook his head, flattening his hands on his knees and wiping off the sweat. Jaehyun prepared himself for another lie, another place to love you quietly, “No, Johnny. I don’t.”

It would’ve been enough to ease his mind. It would’ve been enough to pull Johnny from the edge of jealousy. The two of them settled in, Johnny turned out the light and found his place, his side of the bed.

Jaehyun tried. He could smell you on the sheets, breathing you in slowly and knowing that you’d…you and Johnny. His mind shut off. His lies unraveled. It would’ve been enough to end day two with peace. But, Jaehyun let out his held breath, his inhale of only you and he mumbled, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.”

Day three and Johnny was back on the edge. Jaehyun’s words joined Jungwoo’s, wrapped around Yuta’s until he couldn’t even look at his friend; his best friend. The way Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you. Every time Jaehyun came near you, nudged you’d said your name Johnny burned, morphed into something he wasn’t. He wasn’t a jealous person, he wasn’t a jealous person. Johnny was never a jealous person.

Day three was you and Johnny hiking alone, stealing kisses and mumbling “I missed you” like one night away was the end of it all. Johnny spiraled at the thought. He stole you away for day three, he hid you behind trees and kissed you like he did on Halloween, “I love you, my Juliet.”

“I love you, Romeo.” He begged you to call his name, to hear it slip from your lips, “Johnny. Johnny.”

He used your voice to quiet three others, on in particular; Even if I did. Even if. It wouldn’t matter.

I did.

Jaehyun waited with Mark, spent the day with Mark; spent the day lost in his own thoughts. He could still smell you on his skin, on the shirt he’d slept in. It was all he could focus on, when Johnny pulled you away. Mark had said something sensible, something like, “Gotta give the lovebirds time.”

And Jaehyun agreed, like he was supposed to. He found his comfort in lies, again, “Yeah. They deserve it.”

It wasn’t regret that he felt, he knew he made a misstep when Johnny wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t look at him. Jaehyun knew it was the wrong thing to say “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.” It was the only bit of truth he let slip out. Jaehyun didnt regret it, but he was worried.

Everything could change in a second and everything could crumble.

Day three was a final fire on a clear night, the four of you in a perfect stance around the fire. You shivered, arms wrapped around yourself and mumbled, “It’s cold.”

“Here.” Jaehyun pulled at the zipper of his sweatshirt, “I’m getting warm.”

He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Jaehyun took the path around the fire that went around Mark, just to get to you. He held open his sweatshirt and let you slip into it, let you pull it closer. Another misstep. Jaehyun took a step back, hand on yours when he tugged at the sleeve. Something stirred in him, seeing how it fell on you, something Jaehyun had stopped trying to control. It was always you.

“Thanks, Jae.”

He wasn’t bold enough to look at Johnny, couldn’t bring himself to look back at you when he said, “No problem.”

Silent conversations, glances, lingering and lingering and the way Jaehyun lingered around you. Johnny wasn’t jealous, he was teetering on an edge he’d never been close to; his laugh got tangled in bitterness, caught in his throat when he said, “This is so fucked.”

It was childish and he could admit that. It was fueled by something he’d never felt and Johnny was terrified of that. Unwavering trust in you clashed so violently with his crumbling trust in Jaehyun and there was no way for Johnny to stop it. The space he took up, the space between you and Jaehyun, wasn’t enough to ease his mind.

Jaehyun spoke, because Jaehyun had heard him and Jaehyun was teetering, too. Trying to keep things from crumbling, trying to hold it together. He thought of January and February, about losing you. He was remembering you in the rain, remembering you pressed against him. He was living in memories, challenging something - someone - he shouldn’t, “What was that?”

Johnny almost jumped, almost threw himself over the edge on principle alone. He want jealous, he was upset, “I said it’s fucked.”

Mark perked up, “What's going on?”

You stood still next to him, hands in the pockets of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt. Johnny was shaking, you could see his hands trembling at his sides, but you didn’t move. Jaehyun looked at Johnny, the two of them locked on to each other. He tried not to tremble when he said, “It’s nothing Mark.”

“Right. It’s nothing.” Johnny’s lip curled, “Fucking liar.”

“Whoa. Hey, Johnny. What the fuck was that?”

Mark tried to laugh, “What just happened?”

“Tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Mark wouldn't let up, you could feel the Earth shaking underneath your feet and Mark was encouraging it, more and more. He didn’t know, Johnny had to remind himself. He’s always been weird about her, but Mark didn’t know, “Did you guys fight last night?

“We can rotate again.” You suggested, “I’ll go with Jaehyun tonight.”

Jaehyun could scream. He stayed silent.

“You’re absolutely not doing that.”

You looked at Johnny, “Why not?”

“Let him tell you.”

Crumbling, crumbling, crumbling. Something was shifting, the plates of the Earth, the foundation the four of you built. You could feel it happening, could see it in front of you. Jaehyun shook his head and Mark got more involved, “Can someone please just say what’s happening. Why can’t she room with Jaehyun? That’s the next rotati-”

Johnny was seething, “Because he’s in love with you!”

The four of you stood like pillars around the fire; Johnny next to Jaehyun, next to Mark, next to you, next to Johnny. Johnny was choking back so much, fighting against himself and the things he wanted to - needed to - say. His hands shook at his sides, only calming when he balled them into fists. And Mark did his best, Mark did too much, Mark didn’t need to be involved at all. He raised his hands, palms angled down and said, “Okay, let’s calm down. That’s not true, right?”

At the same time, you whispered, “What?”

“Say it.” Johnny spoke through gritted teeth, never looking away from Jaehyun. For a moment, the sound of the fire crackling was the only thing you could hear. Jaehyun made no moves; not to speak, not even to blink. You all just stood there until Johnny scoffed and said, “Tell them you’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Jaehyun tried, “Johnny, I-“

“Fucking say it, Jaehyun.” Johnny growled, his words cut with an edge you had never heard from him, “Stop fucking lying to me.”

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

“He is and he needs to fucking admit it!”

“Johnny, man, please-“

“Fuck off, Mark.” The youngest recoiled, hands dropped. Johnny wanted to scream, “Jaehyun you have five seconds.”

Jaehyun was unreadable, again. Shut off, shutting down. Your focus bounced between the three of them, frozen completely and burning up - from the fire, from the way Johnny shook, from the way Jaehyun swallowed and the way Mark stumbled back. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. You tried to say something, voice caught and coarse against your throat, “This-I don’t…Johnny.”

He ignored you, he was right to do so. Stumbling over words you couldn’t gather, pulling them off the ground and stringing them together into nonsense. Johnny counted, “One.”

“What do you what me to say, John?” Jaehyun’s voice wavered. He knew the answer. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Johnny kept counting, “Two.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn again, two of five chances Johnny was giving him to just say it. To just fucking be honest with him, with you, with himself. Jaehyun only said, “Stop. We can…let’s talk about it.”

“We’re talking about it. Right now, Jae.” Johnny’s voice raised, it echoed, it consumed everything around the four of you. You thought the trees might bend to it, given the chance; the Earth might quake, shake, crack open from the force of it. Johnny kept shaking, kept counting, “Three.”

Mark took another step back. He looked over his shoulder at you, something like sympathy on his face. He might have seen it coming, he might have known all along. Mark wondered, for a moment, how you didn’t know. Still, he tried his best, he did too much, “Hey.”

You only said, “Mark.”

Jaehyun begged, “Johnny, stop - stop fucking counting!”

For the first time, Johnny moved. For his first move, he stepped towards Jaehyun. He cleared half the space between them and shouted, trees faltering around him, “You’re in love with her. Say it! Four.”

“Johnny.” It was somewhere between pleading, definitely threatened, but strong. Jaehyun didn’t want to be doing this. He just wanted to look at you. Johnny kept his attention, another step before he was as close to Jaehyun as he could be - the two of them shouting over each other and filling the space between chances four and five. Jaehyun tried to urge Johnny back, “Back up, John.”

“Don’t fucking touch me-“

“Back the fuck up-“

“All you have to do is admit it-“

“Johnny, fucking stop for a second and-“

“She’s right there, tell her you sack of-“

“Jesus fucking Christ-“

“Say it!” Johnny shoved at Jaehyun’s shoulders, his last count, his last chance coming out, “Five.”

“Fine! I am, okay?” Jaehyun’s voice was booming and shaking and strained, like he was desperately holding back his words and pouring them out, all at once. You watched his fists ball up and release, watched him square himself towards Johnny.

Your boyfriend, Johnny.

His best friend, Johnny.

“I love her.” The crack in Jaehyun’s voice wasn’t missed. He threw his hands up, stepping back, “I’m in love with her, is that what you want to hear, Johnny?”

Johnny scoffed. It was exactly what he wanted to hear and it was shattering everything in him. Ruin the dynamic he said. Jaehyun, his best friend. Jaehyun, your best friend. Jaehyun, a fucking liar. Johnny saw red and then white, an absolutely illuminating rage filled him, but he didn’t move to hit Jaehyun. His body ached for it, wanting to feel how Jaehyun’s skin would break if he just swung at him. But, Johnny didn’t. He didn’t move, didn’t scream as he had been, he let everything fall silent. Let it all settle.

Johnny let Jaehyun’s words linger for all of you for too long. He let it all go on for too long.

Mark blinked and breathed out, “Jae, man, what the fuck?”

Jaehyun finally looked at you. The way your breathing was frantic, how Johnny’s hat sat on your head, but Jaehyun’s sweatshirt covered you and kept you safe from the cold; protected you from it. He watched your eyes searching for an answer in the flames of the bonfire, the shoe imprints in the dirt where you’d all been standing, in the trees around you but never up; never to the stars. He wanted to go to you, wanted to move. But, Jaehyun could feel the ground starting to swallow him, holding him completely still. He could feel everything stop the moment you looked up. If he hadn’t been looking already, he wouldn’t have heard the way you said his name. A whisper lost in the wind, “Jaehyun.”

Johnny interrupted, looking down and jaw clenched, “How long?”

“John. Let’s just stop for a minute, okay.” You wanted to beg Mark to stop, “Everyone chill out.”

“Years, Johnny.” Jaehyun answered, kept his eyes on you and told Johnny with a quiet confidence, “Years.”

When Johnny looked up, he immediately wished he hadn’t. The way Jaehyun looked at you over the fire, the way you kept your eyes on him with your hands shaking at your sides. He laughed, he couldn’t stop it, “Can’t even say it to my face.”

Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself, he dropped his head and bit back, “And why the fuck would I need to?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend, Jaehyun.”

“Stop.” The word clawed its way out of you, fighting against your mind and your heart to come out, “Stop.”

Johnny looked at you first, Jaehyun wasn’t sure if he could, Mark turned and stepped closer to you, “Hey. It’s okay, alright?”

You said, only to Mark, only for him to hear, “It’s not.”

He looked over his shoulder, back at Johnny and Jaehyun and everything falling out and apart between them. The way they both looked at you, the concern and a silent apology from both of them. He looked around the campsite, expecting to see the proof, the aftermath of the explosion. There was nothing, just silence and a stillness he hated. You all hated it. Mark reached out for you, taking either arm in his hands and pulling you to his chest. He didn’t care if Johnny swung at him, he suspected he wouldn’t. Mark just wanted to stop at least one world from crumbling.

So, he chose yours, “Rotate.”

Johnny spoke first, “Mark, what the hell?”

“Rotate.” It was his only solution, “I’m taking her with me. You two figure out your shit.”

He knew it wasn’t shit. But, Mark was going to put an end to it, if no one else was making a move to do so. He put you in front of him, guiding you to one camper and ignoring anything behind him. Johnny said his name at least three times, yours at least four. You thought you heard Jaehyun say, “I’m going.”

But Mark was in your ear, “Don’t. Don’t look at either one of them. Go on, go inside.”

You did, he followed and closed the door behind you. Mark kept his back against it for a moment and waited for you to move first. He waited until everything caught up to you, waited for it all to slip through the cracks and push into the camper; the safest place he could take you. When it did, Mark watched your shoulders fall, watched you implode in on yourself before he moved closer and pulled you back, again. The aftermath evidence he was looking for fighting not to crumble to the ground in his arms. Mark held you and soothed you and still did too much.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He reminded you, you wished it worked, “You didn’t do anything. They’ll work it out. You just stay in here with me, okay?”

You thought about asking him how he was so calm, how Mark - the youngest, the brightest boy you’d ever know - was so collected in this moment. You wanted to apologize for something you were barely involved in, apologize for the way he’d been dragged into it. Instead, you let out a shaking breath, one mixed with a quiet sob, and you let Mark carry weight that wasn’t his; weight he shouldn’t have to bear.

Mark got you to calm, then he got you to sleep. He stayed with you, next to you, humming something he’d written and drifting away, himself. And, for a while, it worked. For a while you slept and you drifted, as well.

Something pulled you back down, plummeting to the Earth and reality and waking. Mark was still next to you, covered in blankets and the moonlight, sleeping sound. Something like envy, maybe gentler, settled in your chest. Envy that Mark’s mind would let him sleep, that he had that opportunity. There was no anger to it, just the wish to be in that position. You sat up, blankets pooling at your waist and fingers wrapped up in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Part of you itching to peel it off of you, the other part wanting to drown in it. Either way, your head was aching, your heart, too.

You couldn’t pinpoint a single thing you felt; guilt and anger and confusion and fear and something you’d never know. Something indescribable, something new and all-consuming within you. You wanted to move, you wanted to run until your legs burned, at the very least stretch them out and breathe in fresh air. Suddenly, everything felt too cramped and tight.

You wanted to be wrapped up in him, to have him calm you down, but to have him pull you back down to earth. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on any part of you. You wanted him to trace patterns against your skin.

You wanted to scream.

As slowly as you could, you pulled yourself out of the bed and the camper, latching the door behind you and slipping into your shoes. April was cold, not as cold as November, but now it felt just as different. The chill that went from the top of your head to your toes shook you enough to close your eyes and collect yourself. You angled your head upward before you opened them, again, wanting to take in the stars; borrow every bit of light they could offer.

They twinkled against the clear, midnight sky. They blinked down as you blinked up, breathing, breathing, trying to breathe. Shaking your head, you looked somewhere neutral; the void between the two campers, the gathering of trees still upright and reaching towards your stars, at embers of a forgotten fire, across the empty campsite.

You saw him then, in the same moonlight that Mark was in but shining, like it was the sun. Jaehyun stared back, from behind his steering wheel, unmoving. So much of you wanted to move to him, let your feet pull you over to him, to tell him….tell him. Anything. Everything.

Years, he had said. Years.

But, you didn’t move. Neither did he. Two opposites across from each other, only breathing, taking each other in and not making a single fucking move. Slowly, you released the breath held hostage in your lungs and wrapped your arms around yourself. Jaehyun’s lips moved, maybe your name slipped out, you’d never know. You crossed the void between campers and pulled your eyes to look away from him, not willing to see any change when you slipped inside and said his name, “Johnny?”

He shot up, your name clear and filling the room. It took half a second for him to claw his way out of the bed and wrap himself around you; just as you wanted. Johnny held you as tightly as he could, mumbling apologies, kissing them into your skin. He was frantic and worried and, for the first time since you’d known him, Johnny’s certainty was wavering. You held him just as tight, just as close, lips pressed into a line to keep yourself from crying.

His cheek was pressed against the top of your head when he said your name once more and his final, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” It was so soft, the way your hands held him and the way you spoke. Johnny held you tighter, scared it meant you were slipping away; terrified of you slipping away from him. You pulled back only to look up at him, “Just talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

Johnny sighed, he wanted to kiss you - he didn’t know if he still could and he wished everything had been different. He wanted to go back and stop himself from exploding, “I don’t know. I…I really don’t know where to start.”

You nodded, eyes on him. He blinked out tears, ones you were quick to wipe away for him, up on your toes to kiss the trail they left behind. Johnny sighed, shaking as he was before but for a completely different reason. He couldn’t describe it, he didn’t want himself to even feel whatever it was. It was unstoppable until you’d come through that door. You pulled him towards the bed, pushing him to sit down and climbing in next to him.

Johnny didn’t let go of you the whole time; in anyway he could touch you, he did. The two of you leaned back together, facing each other and staying silent for a moment before you asked, “How did you know?”

He swallowed, “Taeyong and Yuta. Then Jungwoo.”

“Hm.”

“Yuta said…he said it was obvious. I hated that.” Johnny tried to laugh, the sound was so bitter, “Jungwoo said to ask Jaehyun.”

“When?”

“February, then again last week.” He paused, “I tried to talk to Jaehyun about it. I tried to be subtle and maybe I shouldn’t have, but Yuta was right.”

You scooted closer, hand to Johnny’s cheek, “What do you mean?”

Johnny lifted his hand to cover yours, “It was obvious. And the more I saw it…I just got more and more angry. Everything he did, every time he was near you, I just…God, I’m not a jealous person.”

“I know.”

“But, he was hiding it. It felt like he was playing me, like it was a trick or a joke. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just tell me.” He was right. It made the guilt you felt worse, stronger. He closed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t he have said anything?”

You asked, as carefully as you could, “Would it have changed anything, Johnny?”

He didn’t want to answer, but Johnny would be a hypocrite to lie at this moment, “Yeah. Probably, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Hey. Not now, okay? Before, maybe. I could’ve gotten over a crush.” He pulled your hand to his lips, pressed his words into them and hoped they’d stay there. Hoped that every time you pressed your fingers to your skin you’d remember his lips there, the things he’d promised against your fingertips, “I love you. I fell in love with you and now…”

“Now, what?”

Johnny had to think for a moment. He had to gather everything he’d felt in the last week, the last six months, everything he’d seen and heard and knew; put it all together into something that made sense. He looked at you for as long as he could, for as long as his heart would let him before it shattered too. Because, “I see how he looks at you.”

“Johnny.”

“And I see how you look at him.”

You froze, blood running cold. You’d never know what he expected you to say to that, how he expected you to react. Johnny could always predict what came next, but today ripped away everything he’d known. He was uncertain.

He let out a breath, “The two of you…”

“There is no two of us, Johnny.” You promised him, you meant it. Your heart was aching in your chest, “There is me and you. Jaehyun-“

“Don’t say his name. Not right now.” Johnny cut you off, he shook his head and rustled the sheets beneath the two of you, “I can’t hear it, right now.”

“We are completely separate. Whatever he feels-“

“What about what you feel?”

“I love you.” It came out desperate, you were desperate. Your fingers wrapped around his tighter and you’d pulled yourself as close to him as you could. Johnny just watched and breathed, you did the same, “I love you, Johnny. That’s what I feel.”

And he told you, “I love you, too.”

Like it was all either of you needed to hear, you fell silent. Like it was everything that needed to be said, neither of you spoke after. You held each other and synchronized your breathing, sharing kisses and breaths and sighs until you fell asleep, pressed together. Even still, even with so little space between the two of you, there was still enough space for the word neither of you could, would, ever wanted to say;

But….

📻

Johnny had stripped you of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt; replaced it with his own, the one he’d been wearing that smelled like him, like smoke, like you. You woke up wrapped in him, twice over, and breathing him in. The sleeve of his t-shirt had rolled up, your fingers found their way to trace the leaves permanently inked on his arm. Johnny was still asleep, but he shifted and shivered and pulled you closer.

You could pretend, like this, that everything was fine. You could close your eyes and breathe him in, breathe against him, just breathe. Anything that had happened the night before couldn't reach you, like this.

You just had to stay.

Johnny’s eyes finally opened, he smiled…he tried to smile, “Hi.”

And you kissed him, without hesitation, having just woken up. You thought back to November, you thought about the times you’d shied away from it. Johnny didn’t think much of anything, lazily kissing you back; slowly, carefully, comfortably. He tried not to think about how many times he’d have you like this, from now on. Johnny wanted to be optimistic, but…

“Hi.” You told him, breathless, “I love you.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling you onto his chest and securing you there, “I know. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Your breath caught in your throat, choked you and choked back tears you didn’t want to let out. Not yet. Johnny said “I love you” and it sounded like “goodbye.” So, you told him, “Don’t apologize to me. You don’t have a reason to.”

Packing was silent; hopeless and tense. Every sound echoed in the epicenter of Johnny’s explosion, Jaehyun’s as well. You were all standing at ground zero of something unpredictable.

Jaehyun wouldn’t look at you; he is in love with you. He kept his eyes down, he kept his mouth shut, he stayed as far away from you and from Johnny as the campsite would allow. Johnny did the same, avoiding his best friend. It was a dance, a performance, a nightmare that you were wrapped up in.

Mark only did his best.

The car ride was silent; the radio was too low to make out, Jaehyun’s engine rumbling just as low. Mark sat in the passenger seat with his eyes forward, his hands neatly on his lap. He’d look at Jaehyun, he’d look at you, Mark would look at Johnny and then he’d focus forward, again. No one said a word, no one thought to. You didn’t know if any of you would think to speak to each other, again, and it took everything you had to keep the sobs clawing at your chest from breaking through. It took a small smile from Mark, it took looking anywhere but at Jaehyun, it took Johnny holding your hand and resting his head on your lap.

He stayed there for the entire trip; reveling in the way your fingers tugged at his hair, the even breaths you forced yourself to take, the twists and turns of the road. Johnny fell asleep like that, cradled in your lap, face upwards so even if his eyes were open he could only see you. He didn’t know if he could look at Jaehyun, he certainly didn’t want to look at him. Johnny knew. Once Yuta said it, once Jungwoo avoided it, he knew. Hearing Jaehyun confirm it, hearing his best friend outright say he was in love with his girlfriend, Johnny was having a hard time swallowing it.

But you held him. You held Johnny and if he closed his eyes, it was the only thing that felt real; that was real. You and Johnny in the backseat of a car, together.

The hand you had tangled in Johnny’s hair was hot, damp with sweat. You were frantic and if you were hiding it well enough for Johnny not to sense it, for Johnny to fall asleep, you didn’t know how. Every breath you took shook your whole body, every breath was strained. You looked out the window, to Mark, down at Johnny and the peace he found; deserved peace after a restless night. In the mirror, you could feel Jaehyun’s eyes. It made breathing impossible when you caught him, when he caught you. It took the little air you could gasp and rushed it from your lungs.

Jaehyun couldn’t look away from you, in the rear view mirror; for a while, for too long. He was lost in the way your fingers twirled Johnny’s hair, in the way you’d smile down at him. Jaehyun’s hands were wrapped around the steering wheel with such force he thought it might crumble. He could remember Halloween - a similar position, Jungwoo in the front seat and you and Johnny in the back. And Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it then, just as he couldn’t now.

He was hopeless, tense. And he couldn’t look away.

It was only when Mark yelled, when he grabbed at the wheel and said, “Dude, look out.”

Jaehyun swerved, he adjusted, he looked back at you. You were wide-eyed behind him, hands around Johnny to keep him with you. Keeping Johnny safe, keeping Johnny secure. He looked away from you, then, and focused back on the road; back on something he could control, mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

To Mark; for the car. To you; for everything else.

To Johnny.

📻

Mark was pissed.

There wasn’t a better word for it or any way around it. He was pissed and he was trying his best not to be. It wasn’t working. He was in the loft with Jaehyun, going back and forth between watching the storm clouds roll in and Jaehyun spiral out of control. They’d dropped you and Johnny off an hour ago and from the moment Jaehyun parked his car in his own driveway, he’d been like this. Mark had the opportunity to leave, but he was in a bitter protest, a war within himself and with the only other person in the room because, “You had the opportunity to tell her.”

“I know, Mark.”

“No, like way before this. Way, way before this.” Mark had his hands clasped, ringing them as a means of comfort - it wasn’t working, “You said years. You had years.”

Jaehyun stopped pacing, only for a moment, “I know, Mark.”

Maybe pissed wasn’t the word he needed. Mark was heated, “Then why now? They’ve been together for almost a year, Jaehyun.”

“I fucking know, Mark.” It came through gritted teeth, forced and booming, “I don’t know what the fuck…I don’t have an answer for you.”

Not heated, Mark was furious, “Don’t yell at me, I’m trying to help you.”

He didn’t mean it, but Jaehyun pushed in a fury, “I don’t need your help.”

Not pissed, not heated, not furious. Mark was livid, “Fine. Figure it out. I’m going to check on her.

That seemed to stop Jaehyun entirely. Mark gathered his things and Jaehyun stopped, looking out the window towards your house. It was almost as if Mark had put the idea into his head, set it into motion and rolling down the street. The storm had started outside, it had leaked through the windows and down into the loft. Now it was inside of Jaehyun and urging him to say, “I need to go talk to her.”

“No you don’t.” Mark didn’t spare him a look, “You need to sort your shit out. Johnny is probably still there.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. Mark knew, Johnny had texted him and asked Mark to make sure you were okay - whenever he had the chance. Jaehyun knew because he watched Johnny leave, watched him sling his bag over his shoulder and make his way towards the bus stop. Your boyfriend, Johnny. His best friend, Johnny. Still, Jaehyun turned on his heel and stomped towards the door. He didn’t say a word, barely heard Mark say, “Fuck.” over the downpour.

He did hear Mark’s footsteps trying to match his stride. Jaehyun could hear Mark screaming his name as they ran down the stretch of road to your house.

He could feel Mark reaching out for him, grabbing hold of his soaked-through shirt in an attempt to hold him back. Nothing would’ve stopped Jaehyun; not the rain, not Mark, not his best friend, Johnny. Jaehyun shouted your name first on the street-side of the gate, then once more with every step he took closer to you.

You had to come outside. You had to talk to him. He had to see you.

Mark stood still, like there was a barrier between your property and the sidewalk he couldn’t quite cross. He watched everything unfold before him, still cataloging, still livid, but now worried. Jaehyun was begging you to come out, Mark was silently pleading for you to stay in.

Your door creaked open, silencing Jaehyun’s words and silencing Mark’s thoughts. There you were, face stained with tears, in the same clothes they’d left you in an hour ago. Your arms were crossed over your chest and each breath you took shook your whole body. You didn’t say anything, not one of you did. The three of you stood in complete silence and let the rain overtake you, let it lead the conversation with rhythmic pitter-patters.

Jaehyun spoke first, “Please.”

“Please what, Jae?” His name from your lips could kill him on a good day - this was, decidedly, not a good day. Not even close, “What do you want?”

“I-please just talk to me.” You looked over his shoulder to Mark, drenched in the street waiting for whichever one of you needed him first, “I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”

You echoed what Mark had said to him, it stung more coming from you, “You had years, Jaehyun. That’s what you said. Years.”

“So did you.” He bit.

You and Mark took a step forward at the same time. The rain had yet to touch you, but it taunted the tips of your toes - bare feet freezing in the early fall air, “What did you say?”

“Look at me and tell me you didn’t - that you don’t feel the same way.” Jaehyun squared his shoulder, his tone wavering but demanding all the same, “You’ve had years, too.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Johnny knows it, too. Everyone does. Johnny, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeyong - everyone. Fuck, even that Haechan guy picked up on it. We’ve both had years.”

He stepped closer, you didn’t pull back, Mark came closer, “Stop it.”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Another step from Mark to combat stillness between you and Jaehyun - years of stillness. Years. It was like the youngest was waiting for a cue, some sort of signal that you needed him, before he intervened.

“I love Johnny.”

Another sting, but not a denial. Jaehyun felt bile swirling up and threatening to spill over. Still, he stood firm, ignoring the chill and ignoring the rain. He was solely focused on you.

“Tell me you don’t love me, too.”

A clap of thunder shook the ground beneath you as you opened your mouth to speak. You startled where you stood, arms tightening around yourself. Jaehyun took another step.

He was on the bottom step, you stood at the top. You remembered Johnny in a similar position nearly a year ago and gnawed at your lip to keep from crying any more. Jaehyun pressed, close enough that you could hear him whisper, “Just say it and I’ll go. This can be done. We can be done.”

He wished his voice didn’t shake with his last words, staring you down and hoping you didn’t notice. Jaehyun was sure being done with you would break him - worse, it would destroy him. His hands were in fists, shaking at his sides from a combination of adrenaline, fear and cold. He was begging.

You looked at Mark again, closer than before but still too far to hear hushed words between you and Jaehyun. You shook your head, “I can’t, Jae. You have to go.”

The two phrases contradicted each other. You couldn’t tell him you didn’t love him, but you needed him to go. Needed to be done. Needed to destroy yourself and the part of you - the biggest part of you - that still held onto him. Shaking your head again, you took your turn to beg, “Please, Jaehyun. Just go. I…I…”

Jaehyun’s voice lowered, shaking but certain, “You lied to me.”

“No. I didn’t. Jaehyun, please.”

“When I kissed you, you lied. You said you didn’t feel it and I know you did. I know you did and I should’ve done something about it, then. I didn’t and I’m sorry.” He was shattering, shards of Jaehyun were chipping away and falling to the ground in front of you, “It shouldn’t be like this. I fucked up. Don’t lie to me again.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Please. Don’t lie to me again.”

Mark was there in a second, pulling at Jaehyun’s shoulder again and urging him backwards, “Come on. You gotta give her space.”

He started pulling Jaehyun backwards, you stood and watched. Every sob that had stored itself in your chest, compressed and pushing to get out, shook you like the thunder shook the ground. Your arms clutched at themselves, pulling at whatever you could to keep yourself grounded. Jaehyun kept you grounded - it was always Jaehyun. Then it was Johnny. Now it was just you, alone on your front stop watching your best friend being dragged from you.

You were floating away and nothing was there to tether you. Jaehyun was shouting over the rain, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I know I messed up, I did. I should’ve… I can’t…please, I’m so sorry. Don’t.” He pushed at Mark’s hands, “Get the fuck off of me. Fuck!”

A symphony of sounds you wish you could erase from your memory; Jaehyun shouting to you, the scraping and slapping and scuffling from Mark pulling him away, your own sobs and the rain. It was a nightmare and you weren’t waking up.

It took twenty minutes for relative silence to find you - twenty minutes of solitude, of raindrops and sobs that lost their timbre to the thunder. You were freezing, maybe that’s why you couldn’t move - your feet were frozen to the cement beneath them. The world was frozen in time. Until you could hear footsteps, until you could see Mark at your gate, still drenched with his backpack over his shoulder.

You crumbled, then. Mark wasn’t there to catch you when you landed back on Earth, but he scooped you up and brought you back in. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta get you inside.” His voice was soft, gentle as took you into your home and shut the door behind you, “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

“Mark, I-“

“It’s fine.” Mark stopped you, “Johnny would’ve killed me if I let that go on any more. Just tell me what you need.”

A knife straight to your heart, you let out a breath from the pressure, “Don’t say their names. Either one of them, for now.”

Mark dropped his bag and pulled off his wet shoes, then his socks, “Done. What else?”

“Can you…” A swirl of guilt and something completely indescribable filled you, starting at your thawing toes and working its way to the top of your head. A voice reminding you that Mark shouldn’t be involved. It ate away at you, “Change into dry clothes Mark.”

“Yeah, I was going to.” He squatted down to sift through his bag, looking for something both clean and dry to put on, “Do you want me to make tea or something? Or like, I don’t know, you could take a warm bath? That might…I think that might help.”

You watched Mark’s eyes dart around, cataloging or searching, something. Mark Lee was just as lost as you were, grasping at anything he could after watching the world implode. It hit you then, even if Mark wasn’t at the center of the implosion, he was still at the site. The flames burned at his skin, the fumes filled his lungs; harsh words were still thrown at Mark like knives.

The most innocent party of the four of you still was part of this, whether he should have been or not.

You stepped towards him, pulling him up and making a point not to let go. Mark just watched you, still trying to list the things he thought might help, “Breathe, Mark.”

“I’m breathing” He nodded his head, rapidly, you think it might have hit him, then. The aftershock, the implosion, “I’m breathing.”

You repeated, holding his hands and holding his gaze, “Mark, breathe with me.”

“I’m…what the fuck?” He shook his head, this time, looking down and letting droplets fall from his hair, “What the fuck is happening?”

“I’m so sorry, Mark,”

“No, you didn’t do it. You don’t need to be sorry.”

You nodded, urged him to go change and made your way into your kitchen. You made the tea he suggested, you ran water so he could take a warm bath. The two of you settled in the living room, kindred and confused spirits, sipping on tea and wrapped up somewhere safe, together. You kept it that way, you kept Mark comfortable and safe until he fell asleep on your couch.

Because there was no way he could know, there was no way you could ever tell him that you weren’t innocent in this, as he was.

Because, even if you loved Johnny - and God, do you love Johnny - Jaehyun was right.

You couldn’t look him in the eye and say he was wrong; you absolutely loved him, too.

previous. masterlist. the end.

#jaehyun x reader #johnny suh x reader #jaehyun x y/n #johnny suh x you #jaehyun x you #nct angst #nct fluff #jaehyun angst #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh angst #nct fanfic #nct fic #dhwc

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