#silly little author | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ataraxiaspainting · 3 months ago

Text

Morningstar's Road.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Synopsis: Your routine is average, to say the least. But due to Chrollo’s orders, Feitan cannot snatch you up yet – so he simply mirrors your behaviors instead for self-satisfaction. His boss does so too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, a few suggestive actions, manipulation, some descriptions anxiety/depression for the reader, animal death, and violence/some gore.

Word Count: 4.4k.

*~*~*~*

Feitan is so close to you that he can just about hear your beating heart. He could only see the back of your head, hair loose and surely will be knotted by the morning sun, but he can smell you whenever he is this close.

You always smell so nice, but for some reason, you smell even better – of that floral-scented oil you put on your neck and wrists before you go to bed. Maybe you added extra because it is the weekend.

You are on your right side – the fetal position was always your favorite – and hugging a plush that resembles your childhood cat. This was typical behavior for you; you had cried for days when your older sister called to say he had passed from old age. You weren’t weeping anymore, but you were when you saw the stuffed animal near the window of that dollar store you pass by daily on your way to work. You named it Silky, the same as the real thing, and tuck it in whenever you are in and out of bed. Feitan somewhat wished he could get the same treatment, to be in your arms as you sleep and to feel just a hint of your comforting warmth.

Feitan brought his own blanket.

It isn’t pastel pink like your sheets or your pillowcases or your pajamas and it has holes from moths and years of being stretched as he grew and his fights came to have higher and higher stakes.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time he was stabbed were just under the giant white skull pattern, although since most of the blanket is black it wouldn’t show even in the brightest of lights.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time it was stolen are still there too; on the bottom right corner.

“This type of nen won’t last forever, Fei.”

Feitan turns his neck, his bandana doing little to hide the slight scowl on his face. “I know.”

“Now, now… I never said you did not.” Chrollo responds while giving a small smile, still having the Bandit’s Secret in his right hand while your diary is held in his left. He turns to the next page while Feitan goes back to snuggling up beside you.

If Chrollo had a third arm, he could have the rest of your coffee you didn’t finish and left in your fridge. There is a lipstick stain, the color of that tint you often sport when in your office space. A light taffy color, he muses.

Very fitting.

“I simply wanted you not to fall asleep too slow or too deep, we do have to leave by dawn after all.”

Feitan said no answer. Chrollo is used to that – a little too used to it, maybe, but Feitan has always stood out from fellow people from Meteor City even by the Phantom Troupe’s standards.

“Same oil?” He asks, and on cue, Feitan gives a loud sniffing sound.

“Yes.”

“Cute.”

Around your waist Feitan’s left arm lays, and his right hand holds the blanket tighter than a noose.

If Chrollo were to guess, if Feitan had a third arm he would put two of its fingers on your lips to feel how soft they were. Chrollo had done so before, but his friend hadn’t. He almost chuckles at the irony. The member of the Troupe the most intimate when it comes to matters of anatomy and torture felt that his fingertips having pink on them was a line he could not cross. It’s almost funny in a way. It’s adorable.

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

“For just a while,” Feitan starts. His tone is shy, like a little boy about to ask his classmate crush for their hand in marriage. “Can you read it to me?”

“‘It’?” Chrollo teases slightly, yet he knows what Feitan is talking about.

“The thing in your hand.”

“‘Thing’?”

Feitan huffs a bit and follows it up with a sigh.

“The… diary. Please.”

*~*~*~*

I think I’m getting worse and wondering if I have ever been happy with myself.

There is this girl that sits at the desk across from mine, Lyra is her name, and I don’t hate her by any means.

I just wish I was her, you know? She gets along with everyone in our office, Her hair is always nice. She has only been here since February and has already been promoted to the status it took me three years to get.

Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly nice and I always have a few laughs with her from time to time. Maybe it’s just my insecurities getting to me.

I wonder if sometimes she has similar thoughts when with other people, or even me if that were possible. I know she has a habit of procrastination and has a record of not handing in her work until a few days or weeks later – those are qualities I don’t have, but maybe she doesn’t feel anything negative about herself.

I’m known as the quiet and sweet girl at my job.

I’ve always had a bone to pick with the title, in a way. All my life that is what I was labeled as. People come to me for advice, and it does make me feel good, but I wish I could be a jokester like Lyra too.

That’s all I have… at least for now, I guess. I’m going to drink tea with honey and go to bed.

May 8th

*~*~*~*

The duo entered through the front door this time. You were gone tonight, as evidenced by the messy pile of umbrellas and house shoes that flooded the entrance, so they could break in without much sneaking around. They know where you headed to – and for now, Chrollo orders Feitan not to slit the man’s throat and gouge out his eyes. Your boyfriend, the only one of your past romantic interests not yet dead. Francis.

He’s quite the simple fellow as Chrollo had noted. Feitan was only focusing on where his organs started and ended when they both saw you with him near midnight months before.

“Not yet.”

Chrollo turns his head and looks down at Feitan as they walk down the hall.

“I know you’re still thinking about it, but your actions may cause our plan to fail.”

No verbal response, though Chrollo notices how Feitan’s steps get slightly louder.

“Fine.”

“Are you saying you’re fine? Or are you still agreeing to not go haywire on the man yet?”

“New one.”

“Hm?”

“New word.” Feitan’s nails retract slightly from your walls as he rolls his eyes. “Hay… wire.”

His hand stops at a photo of your dead cat framed on the wall – he’s a kitten in this one, with his first collar and teenager you hugging him – but your face is cropped out.

He moves the hand away from it for just a few steps. Chrollo finds it polite of him – as polite as Feitan can be with others, anyway.

At the same time, they consider bringing the photos you took off your walls and onto whatever penthouse walls Chrollo has rented out for the next few months or so. It would be cute seeing smiling pictures of you all over, especially since you’ll be switching locations soon enough, and in turn, that expression will soon enough become rare.

But when Chrollo thinks about the idea further, a problem arises. Your photos aren’t focused on you. They’re focused on your friends and family. You are always in the corner or hidden behind someone else. It’s of your own volition. Chrollo is sure of it. Perhaps he can get Shalnark to work his magic on them and ignore the teasing. Feitan would do nothing more than threaten to bash in his teeth, as with friends he is nothing more than a ‘grumpy wet cat’ – those are Shalnark and Uvogin’s own words. Not Chrollo’s.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll cut ‘em,” Feitan suggests while putting his sharp nails on your bedroom’s door frame.

“How do you intend to do so when there’s near nothing to cut out?” Chrollo asks. Feitan goes silent until he sits on your bed.

It’s still unmade. You must have ignored that chore list of yours again and opted to work extra hours instead.

Chrollo sits down at the small part of your room that is clean; your desk. It’s mainly used for just reading and video games, hence why the only two things not neatly in piles are a book and your computer. Shalnark told them both the password, but neither of them had decided to tread into that territory for multiple reasons. Firstly, neither of them knows a single thing about the internet and simulations. Secondly, Shalnark can just get whatever information they need without them looking inside it themselves anyway. Thirdly, they already know you enjoy wholesome things on there – the opposite of what you’re reading, if the books on your unfinished read pile mean anything to Chrollo – so there is no point in venturing for unneeded facts about you.

You’ll surely tell them yourself one day.

Eventually. In maybe weeks. Months. Years.

Eventually.

It’ll feel like forever and a day if you decide not to talk to either of them. Chrollo and Feitan have agreed without any argument that if you want something, you will ask them. Nicely, of course.

Broken fingers aren’t necessarily something people flaunt.

You wouldn’t brag about being forced onto a lap for hours out on a balcony either.

You’ll eventually tell them. You have to. For your sake.

Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, after all.

“Fei. I promise you that this will be worth the wait.”

Feitan shakes his head, scoffing. “Will it? It would have been easier to just grab her and run.”

“I know,” Chrollo leans in a little, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I know. But you’ll lament it. I would have too if I had agreed with you to go down that route.”

A stare is the response.

It isn’t anger, Chrollo knows that much.

No.

In all the years Chrollo has known Feitan, Feitan has never gone back on his loyalty to him and the Troupe.

But. But.

Chrollo hasn’t ever seen him have such a concurrence when there is still such division in his eyes.

“Are you sad?” He asks.

“No,” Feitan replies, looking at your cat plush instead of his leader of the full moon outside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

Francis lives outside the city in a farmhouse. It’s up a tall hill with no pathway aside from little rectangular stones here and there – and if you ignore the animals and their housing, people would think that the place is deserted.

Feitan and Chrollo make their way to the white picket fence surrounding the chicken coop. They continue to bite down into the soil for worms or leftover grain. All female. Only three were brown; the others were smaller in frame and white.

“I’ve heard his eggs go for high prices in markets,” Chrollo grins a little. “Maybe I’ll raise some chickens of my own in my later years.”

Feitan raises an eyebrow at him.

“I was joking, Fei.” He clarifies.

“Ah.”

Feitan continues to walk with his hands still stuffed into his coat pockets.

Chrollo looks at the farmhouse up at the top of the hillside. The lights are still on, meaning you were most likely still up and about in there.

The rooster resting on top of the mailbox makes eye contact with him for a few moments.

“Don’t scream,” Chrollo murmurs, his words sweet as sugar.

“What?” Feitan asks, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m talking to the rooster.”

“[First]’s rubbing off on you too much.” His friend rolls his eyes and makes sure not to step on a twig.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how these animals look at us.”

“They’re animals now. What came before… that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe to you – but I find it intriguing.”

“Talk later,” Putting his hand on the fence gate that leads to Francis’ garden, Feitan turns his head for just a moment. “Near. Quiet. Look.”

For once, Chrollo is the one that does the nodding.

The gate gives off a little squeak as it is opened. It reminds them of Francis’ prized pet pig Annie – though she is only allowed to be inside.

There are all sorts of vegetables and some fruits back here. Cucumbers, chili peppers, watermelons, corn, tomatoes, peaches, pears. They’re all in pristine condition, and so are the flowers growing in pots near the far-off window sills.

Feitan considers giving you the daisies.

Chrollo considers giving you the marigolds.

They both look at the pig’s head hastily buried under the soil, her ears still popping out and facing the moon. Despite the interment being new, perhaps even being dug today, flies have already spread to the top part of the head and ears. They’re happy you didn’t see her because that would be quite an awful gift from your boyfriend.

Francis is probably happy too, not that they care.

From what Shalnark was able to gather from someone who barely has any social life, Francis moved here from another country about four years ago. He acquired this farm and its land almost immediately afterward.

From a lottery, Shalnark had explained to them. Or an inheritance. Either way, man’s life is going pretty dang good. Too good, actually, because my senses are tingling too much.

Shalnark was right in that regard. Francis may adopt animals from time to time from farmers’ markets, but a majority of them suddenly appear a few days or weeks apart. There were three white chickens he had purchased. Then after a month or so, there were twelve. The three brown ones came all at once one day.

“Where’s Annie?” They hear you ask as you open one of the windows to get some fresh air. “She usually runs to the door to see me…”

Using hatsu to conceal their presence, the pair aren’t detected among the plants.

“She ran away.”

Feitan almost snickers at your boyfriend’s answer, looking down at the flies and corpse rotting beneath his feet. He didn’t mind the smell of rotting flesh – he has almost always enjoyed it since he was in his teenage years.

Chrollo’s feet don’t dig into the soil – he has opted to instead stand on the few pieces of stone that are by the cucumber plants. He makes a note to go to the laundromat after this; even though it has already been the third time in a row this week alone.

If he can convince Feitan, they’ll steal some things from your place to wash up too – Francis has always been touchy, after all.

“That’s weird,” You say worriedly, not looking into the garden anymore but instead inside; to Annie’s little bed huddled next to the window. “Did you leave the gate open?”

“Yes, I’m still rather upset about it but I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

Soon. Chrollo grins a bit as he closes his eyes, imagining the moment he’ll save you from this man. Soon isn’t enough. No. This…

This is the moment.

This is the day.

This is the time.

“Feitan.”

“Hm?”

Francis will die today. Or tomorrow maybe, Chrollo isn’t completely sure.

“Don’t make it too bloody,” He instructs, getting off the stones and onto the dirty tiles of the garden’s path to the back door. “I’ll focus on her. We’ll leave the others alone.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Feitan looks confused for a moment. If Chrollo were someone who hadn’t grown up beside him, he wouldn’t have noticed the small millisecond of his friend showing emotion. ‘For what?’ He wants to ask.

Chrollo knows it. He knows it so he answers the silent question. “For being more vulnerable with her and I. [First] seems to have rubbed off on you too much too, huh?”

“I don’t like your jokes,” Feitan replies as he stuffs his pockets even more – perhaps to hide his balled-up fists. Whether they were made from the hatred of Francis or the annoyance of everything else is up to interpretation. No one will be getting an answer anyway, even Feitan himself. “You’re very happy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chrollo’s grin widens just a smidge more. “We’re about to rescue a princess.”

From that look, he knows Feitan agrees with his reasoning and is happy as well.

*~*~*~*

“You’re beautiful, darling.”

You’re laid out on Francis’ bed. It’s rather large for a room this size, but it is comfortable to undress on. You picked a periwinkle blue dress today with buttons on only its top front side. Francis wanted to help but you declined. You don’t decline a lot of things, especially when it comes to him. Francis is annoyed by that but he tries not to let it show. He hides a lot of things from you.

“Thank you.” You sheepishly smile, a light flush on your cheeks as you start to undo your buttons.

“Of course,” You’re his favorite by far. You aren’t stuck up or are with him just for his money. You’re so nice to him. You’re so sweet to him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, honey.”

You aren’t like those whores, those sluts, those fucking cheap little bitches.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time and all.” He promises.

You look up at him.

Your frown is just barely noticeable – but noticeable enough for him to see.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks.

“Lyra’s still missing… I’m worried.”

“Why?” Francis asks, getting more annoyed the more time you spend covered up. “Why are you so worried about her right now? It’s not the time for that.”

“I don’t know,” You look at the open window, cool air still blowing in along with the slight scent of flowers. “I really don’t, I just… have suddenly gotten a little sad just now.”

You’re shivering a little.

“Ah, you must be cold.” He deflects. Having only his shirt on now, he walks up to the windowsill and looks at the vegetable patch. With both hands, he pulls the window closed. “Better?”

You must not have heard him, because you keep playing with your buttons instead of being fully undressed already.

“Could you…”

Ah. You did hear him, but you seem concerned for something else. That’s fine, as long as you aren’t playing with him and will soon attempt to run away.

“Close the curtain? Please? I’d really… appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Francis replies, his smile returning to his face. “Anything for you. Just get comfortable, pumpkin.”

The wicked thing came all at once before either of you could blink. Shards of glass flew into Francis and into the bedroom walls. Francis screams as his bleeding hands are quick to go to his eyes, his fingers attempting to get the glass shards out of them before his vision is gone for good. In front of you was a stranger in a suit – he pushed you out of the way in a fraction of a second and onto the floor. The bed had shielded you and him.

“Are you alright?”

You’re too shocked for words, peeking from behind the bed to where Francis is still screaming.

In front of him was a man in all black stepping on the back of his head with one of his feet. The soles of his boots seemed lodged into Francis’ scalp, and it takes you a moment to realize why. There were spikes on them; not that you could see them much because of how hidden they seemed to be right now. They’re silver judging by the color of their slight sparkle, but the rusted kind. No. Maybe that’s just the bloodstains.

The feeling in your chest is so horrible like you’re very sick. There’s pressure on your heart. It’s strangling you, despite the taller stranger’s grasp on your shoulders being so pleasant. So tender.

“What are you doing?” You screech. The sound doesn’t make either of the intruders flinch. Francis does instead. “Let go of him!”

The shorter man doesn’t look at you, opting to wedge the spikes of his shoes further into Francis’ brain. You try to get up but the man in the suit pulls you back down, shushing you as you protest and cry. “Don’t… it’ll be over soon. I told him to be gentle, you see.”

“Gentle?” You repeat.

“Yes, my dear.” One of his hands rises from your shoulders to where your eyes are. You struggle some more and the stranger whispers something in your ear. “Behave – I can always tell Feitan to torture him the amount he deserves if I wanted to. I know he wants to.”

You deflate and your eyes are forced shut by his palm. “Please stop… I don’t know what we did, just please-”

“You didn’t do anything,” The other man – Feitan if the taller man had named him right and he wasn’t just some assassin he hired; he said his name so tenderly too like he is an old friend – interrupts you. “He did.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up all the wonderful food you just ate. Chicken pot pie, beef tenderloin, roasted pork belly – it all feels like it is about to release from your throat and onto the wooden planked floor below.

“Oh dear,” Another hand covers your nose and mouth. Instead of blood you now smell cologne – sandalwood and amber. “Can you please hurry up, Fei? She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

*~*~*~*

“It’s a wonderful time to be alive,” Chrollo says as he puts the key into his car’s lock. It’s embedded with little multicolored jewels – he had commissioned some artist to customize it for him a week or so ago while Feitan went into your home on his own. “Or at least a wonderful night. Wouldn’t you say so?”

You’re in the passenger seat. You fell unconscious after Francis’ barely alive body got its fingers broken one by one. Some of his blood got on your skirt, but Chrollo is sure that the laundromat will fix that just like the workers will fix his clothes. As long as he pays them enough or threatens them enough. The latter would be more fun for Feitan but the former would let him be seen as a kind patron. Whichever way the coin flips.

He doesn’t blame you for fainting. If he hadn’t been born in Meteor City and hadn’t been raised in a constant state of fear and a constant battle for power over others, he would most likely do the same.

Feitan is in the back, silent. His hands now have gloves on them and are now brushing through your hair.

“Should we make the pit stop or go straight?” After the second question, the car’s lights turn on.

“Bed.”

The car starts moving into the barren street.

“Alright,” Chrollo chuckles a little at the insistence in Feitan’s tone. “We can get some of [First]’s clothes tomorrow then. She’ll probably sleep throughout the day.”

He doesn’t explain why because they both already know the reason. There is a short chain attached to the main bed. Depending on your behavior early on, it will either lengthen or become briefer.

There are also some syringes in the mirror vanity that Feitan asked him over and over to keep in case of an emergency. He doubts there will be any real threat where they would have to use them.

Feitan doesn’t. Feitan doesn’t doubt many things.

“Blankets too.”

Feitan doesn’t ask for many things either, much less demand them.

“Ah,” Chrollo makes the left turn as his fingers tap on the steering wheel. It’s a song you enjoy listening to on your avenue home. He knows you aren’t listening to it but that doesn’t matter right now. He’ll continue to do so until your mind associates the tune with small controlled adventures to and fro and not you having a life of your own. “All of them?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You don’t say that word very often,” He teases, looking at the flat glass mirror overhead.

“Hmph.”

Putting his hand on your thigh, Chrollo continues to drive while still glancing upward now and then.

*~*~*~*

Your heartbeat has calmed down. Feitan is now able to look at your face as you sleep.

You look at peace now. When he had placed you on the bed, your eyebrows furrowed for a moment – perhaps your subconscious being afraid – or disgusted – by him.

The flowery scent of your perfume vanished long ago and has been replaced by a stinging one. Feitan doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to you.

Unlike the bodies of those who have died by his hands, Feitan places the white blanket on top of you gently like you would shatter if he was just a tad bit rougher.

Well… Body bags don’t really count as blankets, do they? They are meant to be ripped open and stuffed full of parts no wandering soul hopes to find.

Chrollo decides to break the silence. “After she adjusts a little, we’ll leave. Or you can stay if you want. I can carry her things on my own.”

Feitan turns to look at him.

“Pictures.”

Chrollo sighs. “Alright. But we’ll get Shal to edit them. No cutting.”

“...Tch. Fine. Silky too.” A thumb is pressed against your lips. After it is lifted, there is a light pink that covers its print.

“It’s a pretty color, isn’t it?” Chrollo muses, hanging his suit jacket on the edge of his sofa as he holds his book. “I’ll try to get the same shade for her when she runs out of it. Though I suspect it will be a while before then, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Feitan states, rubbing his thumb against your lips more. “She will always be pretty to me.”

“Never took you for the romantic type, Fei.”

“Hmph.”

258 notes · View notes

rentenwins · 2 months ago

Text

silly little excuses (newneighbour!leehan x reader)

ch 1 • ch 2 • ch 3 • ch 4 • ch 5 • ch 6

synopsis: it's mid-semester break and the gang needs a day out to relax. but you nor leehan's feelings can't catch a break... never.

content: banter, they are all very good friends, we love the bnd members, leehan is JEALOUS(?), taesan is a (stereotypical intj), f-bomb is dropped, banter, food depictions, the beach and the sand and the wind and the water

a/n: wooohoooo i finished second-year uni which means i have more time to write and actually finish this HAHHAHAH this is longer than usual, so i hope you all enjoy <3

wc: 3267

taglist: @haechology @jenuinne @saintriots @badaspookie @yveol @yunextdoor @lailols @rawrbamgyu @amarecerasus @pandorahearts19 @luvvhaerin @saritahwang @bee-the-loser

chapter 6: mid-semester break blues

You get a text on your phone. It’s around midday on a Saturday, lounging in your apartment with little to no care of what the next week might hold. The one-week long mid-semester break was one that lasted way too short for your liking, and was meant to be a period to prepare for the last half of the semester. Though as a second-year, it got old pretty quickly. This break just seemed to be one to do absolutely nothing.

The mid-semester assignment submission dates and exams meant you didn’t see much of your friends, except for running into them on campus, at the elevator or when Jaehyun came over to help you with math. He tries to be subtle, looking at Leehan’s door whenever he comes to your place. You don’t question it much, everyone was usually equally as distant as each other during mid-sems.

That is, until the text you just received. Your jaw drops slightly, brows furrowed as you read the text over and over again.

Just as you read over the text once again, the doorbell rings and you jump in your seat on the sofa. With a sigh, you raise your voice, “Coming!” as you trudge to the door, still in pyjamas.

The door opens and you see the person who sent the text.

“Sungho? You just texted me, you weren’t serious were you?”

The boy scoffs, “Of course I was! When have I ever bullshitted you?”

“You’re horrible, you know that?” says Leehan besi— wait, Leehan?

You straighten up subconsciously with the sight of Leehan, dressed effortlessly in loose baby blue shorts, a white shirt and a long sleeve button down, not to mention a pair of sunglasses on his head. Bags under his eyes weren’t invisible either. Sungho was dressed similarly, except he was wearing a straw hat that would’ve given Luffy a run for his money.

“The beach? I didn’t think you were serious.” You look back at your phone to see the text Sungho had texted you moments prior. ‘beach day with the gang, be ready in 30’ it read.

“The others ready?” You ask.

“Pretty much. Jaehyun’s getting stuff from the store, told us to meet him downstairs in 30 minutes.” Sungho replied, checking his phone for the time.

“And who’s driving?”

“We can’t fit in one car,” Leehan speaks up, “Jaehyun’s driving, so am I.”

You gulp a little and Sungho probably caught you doing so. You let out a dry ‘okay’ and told the two you’d meet them downstairs after you get your life together for the beach.

—

You step out the elevator, a big calico-lined bag hanging off your arm filled with a bottle sunscreen, a beach towel, a picnic blanket and a bunch of other amenities. Unsurprisingly, the boys except for two (namely Jaehyun and Woonhak) had their smaller totes carried on each one of their arms. A silver hatchback is parked on the verge, which you know belongs to Leehan as you’ve seen him drive on some occasions on weekends.

It had been two weeks since you saw everyone together. It was refreshing, so you decide to savour it for now.

Leehan seems to be the only one to realise you walked out first, so he beams you a smile and approaches you.

“Nice hat.” He says simply, looking at the bucket hat on your head. You feel your insides do a backflip, but keep your composure.

“Nice sunglasses.” you reply equally as playful. Leehan’s arm somehow makes his way to the handle of your big bag.

“Let me take this.” He murmurs, and you oblige despite the way you slightly pull your bag closer to you. Though, your little crush on Leehan absolutely thrives in every little interaction with him. Who were you to refuse such a kind gesture?

A white sedan pulls behind Leehan’s (cuter) hatchback, driven by Jaehyun in his dorky glasses with Woonhak on the passenger’s side.

“Sit on the passenger’s side will you? I heard you tend to get carsick.” Leehan speaks up, looking at you. Your head whips to him.

“You sure? The others won’t mind?” You ask as you walk towards Leehan’s car, Riwoo and Sungho placing their stuff in the trunk of Jaehyun’s sedan while Taesan has already opened the door to the rear of Leehan’s car.

Taesan catches your eye through the window as he settles on his seat, and you pretend to not see his wink as you walk to the passenger’s side.

The sun was already blaring and Leehan had cranked the AC on blast to deal with the heat.

“All ready?” Leehan asks and you hum in agreement and Taesan groans behind his sunglasses, looking ready to sleep for the 30-minute journey ahead. Leehan grins as he sees Taesan lulling to sleep even as the car hadn’t started to move.

“There’s another reason why I wanted you at the front,” Leehan says to you as the vehicle starts to move out of the apartment complex, “when I first drove here from Busan, Sungho practically slept the whole way through. Taesan isn’t any better apparently.”

“Well,” you say as you put on your sunglasses, “don’t have to worry about that with me.” Leehan kept his eyes on the road but his eyes were as if he was facing you directly. He smiles.

“I’m glad.” he says, and a comfortable wave of silence falls between you two, save Taesan’s heavy breathing at the back seat. Leehan lessens the AC’s fan, and increases the volume of his playlist, which judging by the last two songs played, he seems to be a fan of Troye Sivan.

“So,” you say as the car drives at a steady pace on the highway, “any reason it’s Taesan in the backseat and not any of the others?” Leehan looks at you briefly before his eyes look forward again.

“Not Jaehyun for obvious reasons, Woonhak can only really be tamed by Jaehyun, Riwoo’s picky with the music, Sungho… moving on,” He laughs to himself as you laugh lightly with him, “Taesan’s the tamest, he’s like a cat. Take him anywhere and he’ll adjust.”

Though what Leehan doesn’t say is that the person he wants to be stuck in a 30-minute drive with the most was you. If anything, he was really willing to take a ‘wrong’ exit so he could keep the Troye Sivan vibes with you in the front seat. But alas, gas is expensive and Jaehyun’s convoy is right behind him, lane changing and all. Leehan decides that being designated driver isn’t all bad.

————

It’s almost 2pm when you all settle at the beach. You and the others set up near the damper part of the sand. There’s a few people on the beach already, you and the others make the noise levels raise a bit.

Just as you entered his car on the way rhere, Leehan carries your bag and his own tote bag all the way down to the sand, despite your attempt to carry your own bag yourself. Regardless, you find yourself flattered (again) at his gesture.

As soon as the others have set up the two picnic blankets, Woonhak speeds towards the water with an equally as playful Jaehyun in tow to chase him. Sungho feels an overwhelming urge to join them as he bolts for the two boys, leaving you, Leehan, Riwoo and Taesan with all their belongings. Riwoo decides ice cream was a good idea, so Taesan offers to tag along. Leehan makes no intent to move and is way more interested in the bag of convenience store snacks Jaehyun had bought earlier.

Riwoo and Taesan scurry away, leaving you and Leehan. You swear you feel the universe and the stars align, though your insides couldn’t say the same as you stay nervous. Leehan hands you a colourful packet.

“Gummies?” he offers. You smile while you take it from him.

“Thanks,” the plastic crinkles in your hand.

“Have the rest.” Leehan says as he digs through the bag again. The two of you stay doing nothing more than people watching (see: Jaehyun capturing Woonhak in his arms while Sungho splashes Woonhak with the cold ocean). At one point, Leehan plays his playlist from his phone and places it between where you two sit on the blanket. You decide to break the ice.

“You've been okay, Leehan?” He faces you at your question, another snack in hand. Leehan almost looks guilty as your question, and as if on cue, the clouds make the sun shine a little less.

“Is it obvious?” Leehan sheepishly says, playing with the snack in his hand. You feel your insides drop a little. You have the urge to reassure him.

“Well, I’m tired from all my mid-sems too,” You contemplated from the past week, “can’t believe you wouldn’t feel the same. Or worse actually, a new environment and all. It’s been a month since you moved hasn’t it?”

He smiles, a little sadly.

“Mhm, it’s been a month now. Though, if I didn’t have all of us here, I’d definitely have a harder time.” He fiddles almost nervously with the packet of potato chips in his hands. You hum, honestly you couldn’t imagine it, having to move away from a place you lived your whole life. A part of you starts to ache for Leehan.

“Well, if you ever need anything, I’m a door away. Literally.” you say with a smile to lighten up the darkened mood, and he diverts his eyes away from where he was staring into the sea to look at you. He smiles and you feel nervous again.

“Actually, that does remind me of something.” He runs a hand through his hair and leans back on the picnic blanket.

“Hm? What is it?” you ask as you pop another gummy in your mouth.

“I’m going to Busan for three days from Monday, and obviously I can’t take the fishes with me so…” he clears his throat trying to waver off his embarrassment, “I was wondering if you could feed and take care of them while I’m away? I know it might be too much so just let me know if it’s t—

“I’d love to!” you blurt out without thinking. It’s like that part of your brain driven purely by how smitten you are with Leehan worked faster than your own thoughts.

“Oh, it’s okay I’ll ju— wait really?” Leehan whips his head to you again with more fervour this time. You blink trying to stay calm. ‘He’s trusting me with his pets?’ you giddily think, then you remember Sungho’s words from when Leehan first moved in.

“Just between you and me, nothing gets in the way of Leehan and his fishes.”

Right. That. You mentally slap yourself, of course. ‘Leehan’s only asking me for convenience sake, the guy loves his fish. Get a grip, y/n.’

“Well— yeah! I’m happy to! I know how much they mean to you. Plus, I’ve had hamsters before. Shouldn’t be that difficult.” you say to try to convince Leehan that you were more than capable of taking care of his precious Corydoras. Leehan snorts at the comparison,

“It’s settled then. You free tomorrow?” and you nod again, no hesitation.

“Well, come over tomorrow and I’ll show you how to take care of them.” He smiles again and you jokingly salute before looking out into the water again at a very damp Jaehyun and Woonhak with Sungho looking more like a drowned cat than the other two.

“Sounds good.” you reply simply. There’s a beat of silence between you two. You look out in the distance as the sun makes itself known from the clouds again, realising that today really was good weather for the beach, silently thanking Sungho for dragging you out of your house.

Meanwhile, you don’t notice but Leehan gulps, stealing glances from you almost every second. He liked you. A lot. So much that he would trust you with his most precious pets. And you’ve been kind and sweet and a helpful friend since he’s moved in. Being around you makes him feel so giddy. But then whenever he feels like this, he slaps himself mentally. Because whoever would ever like him back like that? The pit in his stomach turns.

‘Fuck it’ he says in his head. He clears his throat and it catches your attention.

“Can I tell you something?” Leehan starts. You look at him expectedly,

“Sure, hit me. You can tell me anything.”

‘I don’t even know if you could handle how I truly feel.’ Leehan decides at this moment to push those thoughts away. He needed to do something now, because even a split-second hesitation would cause him to do otherwise. He releases a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.

“y/n… Actually, I’ve been thinking. You know, I re—

“ICE CREAM IS HERE.” A loud voice from behind him interrupts him abruptly. He sees you turn your head towards Riwoo and Taesan, carrying trays of ice cream. The pit that was already in his stomach turns again, but the fear creeps up from his abdomen to his chest. It gets a bit harder to breathe. Did he just miss his one and only chance?

Meanwhile, Woonhak probably saw his older friends make their way back where you and Leehan were, so he was by Taesan’s side before you could even register. Riwoo hands you a tray with a thank you as the pit in Leehan’s stomach drops again. He was about to—

Taesan takes a seat on the other side of Leehan and hands him a spoon and the ice cream tray, ice cream slowly melting underneath the sun. Taesan waves the spoon when Leehan doesn’t take it immediately.

“Earth to Leehan? You good?” Taesan asks his friend. Leehan wordlessly takes the ice cream and the spoon from Taesan as the pit in his stomach makes him dizzy. He hadn’t told Taesan about his crush on you directly, but for sure with the way Taesan’s been playing matchmaker with Sungho, he knew one way or another.

‘Yeah… yeah I’m fine. Just a bit warm.” Leehan mumbles before he takes a bite of ice cream. Taesan looks, albeit suspiciously, at his best friend before digging through the convenience store bag for bread.

Leehan looks your way again. He sees Jaehyun sitting in the free spot next to you, yapping away again about who knows what. Leehan still wishes he could easily speak like Jaehyun did with you. But alas, he resorts to pining over you from a distance, and he knows Jaehyun can’t help it.

What Leehan doesn’t see, under the heat of the sun, is a Taesan and a Sungho looking at him sadly.

_____

As the sun had begun to set, you and the rest started to think of going home. It seems like Woonhak and Jaehyun ran out of their batteries a while ago and were lying down taking up most of his picnic blanket. Leehan was reading his book, lying on his stomach on the blanket you brought, occasionally taking bites of the rapidly disappearing snacks. You were approaching Taesan and Sungho, who were walking by the shore taking pictures of each other on Taesan’s digicam.

“y/n, come here!” Taesan beckons to you and you walk a little quicker, holding onto your bucket hat as the wind picks up. Sungho takes your arm and drags you next to him to take some photos. The both of you smile at the camera before Taesan suggests some poses, back to the camera, dramatic and all. You were facing the ocean with Sungho when you felt a presence on your other side.

“Y/n face here! Leehan you too!” Taesan calls out with his digicam in hand. Boldly, Leehan turns his head in your direction to face Taesan, and so do you.

“Oi, we’re all friends, get closer together!” Sungho points out to Leehan jokingly, moving his arm that’s around your shoulder to make a point. Leehan blushes internally and hesitantly moves closer to your side until your shoulders are touching and his hand bumped yours.

Taesan does a thumbs up and takes a few pics after a countdown, and you, Leehan and Sungho change poses every few shots, and yet neither you or Leehan move your hands that were occasionally touching. After the group picture, Taesan kneels on the sand and angles the camera towards himself this time, and the three of you go closer. You kneel one knee down towards Taesan to stay in frame, but Leehan almost loses his footing so he uses your shoulder to steady himself. You feel his hand and instinctively grab the hand on your shoulder as you look back.

“You okay?” You ask as he steadies himself on the sand. He huffs out a ‘yes’ and an embarrassed laugh before he poses for the camera once again. Taesan does a countdown, and Sungho gives Taesan a cat ears pose with his index and middle-fingers. Leehan, too, with a sudden drive of confidence, does the same cat ear pose for you who was kneeling in front of him. After that round of photos, Taesan stands and you start to get up from your spot when Leehan offers his hand to help you up from the sand. You smile as you take his hand, and your hand lingers for a second too long before he lets go and you both start to walk towards where the others were.

Soon enough, you were all back into the same cars as the sun was almost fully set. This time, Taesan wasn’t asleep as evident from the little smile Leehan catches from the rear-view mirror.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” Leehan says in a slight Busan accent, catching you off-guard.

“Nothin’ just the pictures.” Taesan replies in the same fashion, and you turn your head to the backseat.

“Since when could you do that?” You ask confused. Taesan looks up from his digicam with a raised eyebrow.

“Do what? Take these pictures for you? A long time actually.” Taesan replies sarcastically as he hands you the digicam. You scroll through the pictures of your candid photos and the ones with Sungho until you get to the ones where Leehan had magically appeared beside you by the shore earlier. Your eyes widen and almost choke on air when you see the pictures, and hand the digicam back to Taesan before you feel your face burn up.

Leehan doesn’t see this (because he’s a good and safe driver).

“Did they turn out good? The photos?” Leehan asks as he changes lanes and squints when he can’t see Jaehyun’s car in the rear view, internally shrugging and trusts that Jaehyun has his GPS on and knows his way back to the apartment.

“Very good! They turned out great.” Taesan drags out the last word, Leehan eyes him in the rear view mirror and feels his best friend’s smirk from the back seat.

“Send ‘em to me later, yeah?” Leehan decides to say instead of questioning Taesan’s tone, and Taesan lets out a grunt of agreement. You recall back to the photos you just saw. You didn’t realise how close Leehan really was to you in the pictures until you saw the selfie, and only then you realised the hand Leehan used to steady himself on your shoulder never left. It was beyond endearing yet so humiliating that you felt butterflies in your stomach from such a small gesture. You wave it off, and hide your face from Leehan by looking out the window until you get back to your apartment.

60 notes · View notes