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kjmsupremacist · 3 years ago

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baby, you’re my angel (chan/felix)

Mildly popular TikTok songwriter Felix meets Chan, famous on TikTok for his music and music reviews. They bond over their common ground, friendship blossoming easy and sweet. There’s two problems. One: Felix thinks he likes Chan more than just as friends. Two: Chan is almost fifteen years his senior.

Chapter 11 | prev next mlist

Characters: Felix, Chan, the rest of skz

Genre: college au, romance, fluff, smut, angst

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: swearing, age gap, daddy kink, riding, discussions of somnophilia

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3.5k

just a friendly reminder that i dont condone age gap in real life, this is just fiction, im just having fun, etc :) also ummm thank u all? for the love? it’s been so fun! i’ve left a longer note at the end, but for now, please enjoy!

“Good work today,” Changbin says, clapping Felix on the shoulder affectionately. “Get something delicious to eat tonight, alright?”

Felix nods. “Chan’s cooking for me,” he reassures him.

“I said something delicious,” Changbin deadpans, though his eyes are sparkling. “Tell that idiot hi for me, won’t you? He’s never in.”

“Tell him yourself,” Felix replies as they round the corner, pointing to the idiot in question, who’s waiting for Felix in the lobby, coat and keys in hand.

“Hyung!” Changbin exclaims, striding up to say hello.

Felix is just about two months into his new job. The summer is winding down, VidCon is next weekend, and Felix’s career is skyrocketing. He has an album in the works, has gained tens of thousands of followers on TikTok, and it’s only the beginning. Things are good.

He hears laughter floating down the hall and turns to see Jisung and Minho walking towards them. Minho’s taken Jisung under his wing the way Chan and Changbin have taken to Felix; Jisung jokes about “pulling a Chanlix” with Minho to Felix and their friends when they’re alone. Felix isn’t sure how much of it is actually a joke, but it’s certainly not his place to judge.

“Hey, superstar,” Jisung says when he spots Felix. “What’s up?”

“Ready for dinnertime,” Felix says as his stomach growls. “I got busy recording, didn’t eat lunch.”

Jisung smacks him. “Don’t tell me things like that if I can’t do anything about them! All it does is make me worry.”

“If I didn’t tell you, you’d hit me twice,” Felix points out.

“You have dinner plans, at least?” Jisung asks.

Felix jerks his chin toward Chan, who’s currently butting his forehead against one of Changbin’s shoulders and laughing. “That one is cooking for me,” he says. “We might film something, too; people say they don’t see enough of us these days. Obviously I can’t explain the album yet, and I’m running out of excuses, so…”

“I see,” Jisung says. “Good, then. Otherwise I’d drag you with me to join the others.”

Felix smiles. Hyunjin and Seungmin both recently got hired—Hyunjin as a production fellow at another label; Seungmin as a composer for yet another. They’re both hoping to pivot at some point—Hyunjin wants to pursue his dancing, and Seungmin wants to sing—but they’re happy right now. They, along with Jisung, share a pretty nice apartment in the city. They’re only a twenty-minute bus ride away from Felix’s place. It’s nice to have them all in the same city, and nicer still that they’re close enough to their alma mater that they can visit Jeongin when school starts up again in a month or so.

“I shouldn’t keep Felix waiting for his dinner,” Felix hears Changbin say. He turns, and sees Changbin grinning at him, hands in his pockets. “Go on. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Good night!” Felix replies, bowing as he walks past them, back towards his office.

“Hey, Lix,” Chan says quietly, offering Felix a fond smile before raising his head to address Minho and Jisung. “You guys headed out? Let’s walk together.”

“Changbin’s not working you too hard, is he?” Minho asks Felix as they all walk out the front doors.

“Nah,” Felix says, shaking his head. “If anything, it’s me who’s pushing. I’m so excited to get this album done and out in the world.”

Minho smiles. “Nothing like the work ethic of a recent graduate, with everything to prove and everything to lose, hm?” he says. “Remember when we were like that, Chan?”

Chan laughs. “You’re still like that,” he points out. “You’re just less sunshine-and-rainbows about it now. You still work yourself to the bone.”

“So do you,” Minho points out. “It’s why we’re both still single.”

Chan turns, giving him a breezy smile. “Well, I won’t sacrifice my work for a relationship. My ideal partner is someone who likes my work just like I do.”

“Yeah,” Minho says. “We’re both gonna die alone.”

Jisung pinches Felix’s wrist, and Felix presses his lips together so he doesn’t laugh.

They say their goodnights, waving as they go their separate ways, and Felix slides into the passenger seat of Chan’s car. Chan shuts his door, and suddenly Felix’s world is very quiet.

“Hi,” Felix says softly.

Chan smiles at him. “Hi,” he replies. “How’s your week been?”

“Busy,” Felix says. “But good-busy. Missed you, though.”

“Missed you, too,” Chan says. He starts the car, stretches his arm behind Felix’s headrest to turn and look out the back so he can get out of the spot. “But we have all weekend.”

“Mm,” Felix agrees, leaning back and relaxing into the seat as Chan pulls out of the parking lot.

“I was thinking jjajangmyeon for dinner?” Chan suggests. “It’s easy, and yummy.”

“Works for me,” Felix says, nodding. “Out of the packet, right? Because if you try and tell me jjajangmyeon from scratch is easy, I’ll—”

Chan laughs, bright and loud and happy. “No, definitely out of the packet.”

They’re going to Felix’s today, which means the drive is a little longer, though not by much. While Felix’s building certainly doesn’t have a locked garage like Chan’s does, it has a parking lot with plenty of guest spaces, so Chan pulls into one of those, and they head inside together and up the slightly rickety elevator to Felix’s floor.

Chan’s only been over a handful of times, but he already knows the place like it’s his own. He knows better than Felix where the prepackaged noodles are (third shelf in the pantry); he knows where the missing pot lid got off to (mixed in the with the plates); he knows which one of Felix’s burners requires a match to help it light (back left, so he doesn’t use it).

Felix putters along behind him, cleaning as he goes, handing off utensils and clearing counter space. It’s easy and natural, almost domestic. They’ve done it a hundred times before; with any luck, they’ll do it a hundred-thousand times more.

“It’s funny,” Felix says quietly when the noodles are bubbling. “This time last year you were still living in Seoul. You were only visiting Australia. This time last year you’d only just reviewed my work.”

Chan smiles at him. “And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Felix says, nodding. “Do you,” he ventures. “Do you think you’ll go back? To Korea?”

“Oh, I’m sure I will, eventually,” Chan says. “I’d like to. I miss it. But…” He turns his head, looks out the window. “I dunno, definitely not yet. I like my life here.” He pauses, turning back. When his gaze falls on Felix, the love there is almost unbearable. “There are a lot of things that I like about my life here.”

Felix feels like he’s glowing. “I love you,” he says, just above a whisper.

Chan pushes himself off the counter and across the space between them, sticking his face in Felix’s face, grinning. “I love you too, baby,” he replies, punctuating it with a sound kiss. They hear fizzing and Chan makes a noise of distress, setting Felix aside. “No! No boiling over.”

Felix watches Chan fight their noodles, laughing.

After dinner, they start to do the dishes but quickly get distracted. If Chan complains later, Felix is blaming it all on him, and he’s serious about that—Chan was the one who started it, after all, giving Felix a kiss every time he handed him a dish. It’s not his fault, Felix thinks as he’s carried off to his bedroom in Chan’s arms, that the dishwashing stopped and kissing kept going.

His back hits the bed and the suddenness of it forces trapped giggles out of Felix’s lungs. Chan’s laughing too when he kisses him, too much teeth because he can’t stop smiling but Felix doesn’t care. He’s in love—this is love, like he always wanted, like he always imagined, like he worried he would never have.

Chan kisses down his neck, making a small frustrated noise when he hits the collar of Felix’s shirt. “Get undressed,” he says, pulling back and unbuttoning his own shirt. Felix struggles to obey, wriggling out of his shorts and waiting for Chan to pull them the rest of the way off.

And because Chan knows Felix’s place like it’s his own, he knows better than Felix where he keeps the lube (second drawer of his bedside table). He pops the cap and spreads a layer across his fingers, bending down to kiss Felix as he does it. It’s only been a couple of days since they last fucked, but they were long days, hard days, days spent alone and buried in work. Felix knows Chan will want to take his time tonight. He doesn’t mind.

“Chan,” Felix says when Chan pulls away, sits back to spread Felix and circle a finger around his hole.

“Yes, baby,” Chan says, the question more implied than it is spoken. He pauses, fingertip at his entrance.

Felix shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, smiling. “I’m just—happy, that’s all.” It’s like a revelation, the joy and the naming of the joy. Like he’s cementing it, like he’s caught it now after what feels like years of chasing, and can finally hold it up to the light.

“That can go on the list of absolutely ridiculous things to say right before your boyfriend starts fingerfucking you, but okay,” Chan says, rolling his eyes fondly. He doesn’t wait for a rebuttal, just pushes his finger in, and if Felix had one for him to begin with, he certainly doesn’t remember it now. Besides, what’s more important is that Chan called himself Felix’s boyfriend, which is true and something they’ve discussed, but not something they often have purpose to say out loud.

It feels good to hear, after all this time.

Chan opens him up slow and gentle, pressing against his walls to stretch him, laying kisses down on the seat of his belly like miniature confessions to keep his mind busy. The light snaking in around the shitty curtains turns golden, then orange, and then suddenly dim and blue. The room glows with the promise of night, and Felix trembles under Chan’s lips and hands, skin slipping against the smooth sheets.

“Think you’re ready?” Chan asks at length, pumping four fingers in and out with ease, smearing the insides of Felix’s thighs with lube.

“Yes,” Felix says, too in it to even think about giving him attitude, eyes too full of stars.

Chan must know; he smiles lazily, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on a discarded shirt. “Sit up, then,” he says. “I want you in my lap, I want you close.”

Felix likes the sound of that. He rolls onto his side, pushing himself up with heavy limbs as Chan crawls up the bed and settles against the pillow, one hand around his cock, tugging slowly to spread the lube. Not, Felix thinks, that he needs it.

He clambers onto Chan’s lap, clutching his shoulders as he balances his knees on either side of Chan’s hips, and then sinks down, Chan guiding his cock into Felix’s body as he goes. Felix gasps, leaning in and mouthing over Chan’s neck, his pulse point, his Adam’s apple, to try and muffle the little whimpers that always seem to come out when he feels Chan’s cock for the first time, filling him up with a familiar, dull ache.

Chan’s hand is on the base of his skull, supporting his head. “Okay, angel?”

“Yeah,” Felix breathes. “Just so good. You can move, daddy, please move.”

Chan rolls his hips up in response, and Felix hiccups out a moan. “God, you feel good,” Chan sighs, his other hand pressing against the small of Felix’ back, pulling him into his chest. Felix rests his cheek on Chan’s shoulders, letting out soft moans at every little movement, happy to melt into Chan’s touch. “Comfy?” Chan asks.

“Mm-hm,” Felix says, “could fall asleep like this, and if I did I hope you know you’d better keep fucking me,” he adds, and Chan laughs.

“Think you could come in your sleep?” he asks.

“I could,” Felix says, “if it were you fucking me.”

“Of course it would be me, silly,” Chan says. “Who else is here?”

Felix just hums, too lost in pleasure to try and come up with a clever response. He presses his lips to the junction of Chan’s shoulder and his neck, flicking his tongue out just to get a taste of him. Chan rocks his hips up into Felix’s body, cock up against Felix’s prostate, until the arousal is all Felix can feel, until there isn’t room for anything else.

The hand on the back of Felix’s head disappears; a few seconds later, he feels the pads of Chan’s fingers digging into his ass. Felix moans weakly, trying to move his hips in time with Chan’s, trying to give back. Chan squeezes his hand, and Felix falls limp again. He feels so thoroughly owned by Chan. He doesn’t need to give him anything else. He’s already given Chan everything. And he knows he’ll keep doing it, keeping giving himself away to him, offering himself up as Chan’s prize for winning his heart. That part of this has always remained the same, Felix thinks, since the beginning.

“Baby,” Chan says softly. He’s got his head tilted towards Felix; he can feel his breath on his cheek.

Felix looks up, raising his head, and Chan ducks his head, catching Felix’s lips and kissing him. Felix sighs, sitting up a little taller, crossing his arms behind Chan’s head, biceps resting on top of his shoulders, wrists hanging loose. He kisses back, leaning in, daring Chan to reclaim the space he’s taking, daring Chan to claim him.

Chan juts his chin out, nipping at Felix’s lips, sinking his front teeth into the bottom one until it throbs. Felix almost hopes he bleeds—it’s the weekend, after all. He’ll have time to heal before he has to go make appearances. So he only whines, grinding down on Chan, bracing a hand against his sternum.

Chan breaks the kiss so he can use his mouth on Felix’s nipples instead. Felix gives an embarrassingly high-pitched moan, hands flying to Chan’s hair, arching his back so he can push his chest forward, wordlessly begging for more. Chan flicks his tongue back and forth, a wordless answer, yes.

He keeps at this until Felix is trembling and his nipples are red and puffy and slick with Chan’s spit. Chan relents, rewarding Felix with a kiss to the tip of his nose before relaxing back against the headboard and refocusing his attention on fucking Felix instead. Felix presses his nose to Chan’s cheek, leaving little kisses along his jaw.

“You know what?” Chan says breathlessly.

“What?” Felix asks blearily.

“I was making fun earlier, but I didn’t really mean it,” Chan says. “I mean, I get it. I’m happy, too.”

Felix laughs weakly, the noise punched out of him by the next thrust. “What an absolutely ridiculous thing to say,” he murmurs, and Chan laughs, too.

“I always like it when you cry,” Chan says. “But I like it when you’re laughing, too.”

Felix stutters over giggles. “I don’t know how I feel,” he says. “I feel like I’m gonna fall apart.”

“So fall apart,” Chan says. “I’ll catch you.”

“Ridiculous,” Felix repeats, but then Chan reaches between their bodies and takes hold of Felix’s cock, pumping his hand in time with the rocking of his hips, and Felix’s mouth locks open. He moans with each exhale, overcome with pleasure, with the building orgasm that seems to simmer just beneath his skin, waiting.

Chan closes his mouth over the hollow of Felix’s throat, and it breaks. Felix convulses, clenching down on Chan’s cock as he comes in sticky ribbons of white across their chests, cursing softly with the little breath that he has.

“So good,” Chan says, “just like that, baby, gonna make me—” He moans low and deep in his chest, hips slowing to a stop. Felix feels the pulse of his cock, feels the wet heat flood him. He drops his sweaty forehead against Chan’s sturdy shoulder and closes his eyes.

He must drop off briefly, because when he opens his eyes he’s standing, propped up against Chan’s side in his bathroom, water already running. He feels come drying on his leg—probably Chan’s, but who really knows, and his lips twitch in the attempt at a smile.

“Just a quick rinse,” Chan coaxes. “The sheets are even clean. Just a quick rinse, and then we can sleep.”

Felix lets Chan manhandle him, pliant as ever, stumbling through his shower and then back out to his bedroom. Chan tosses him a t-shirt that he barely manages to struggle into, and then they both collapse on the bed, pulling the blankets up around them with clumsy fingers. Felix slots himself against Chan, resting his hand on his chest so he can feel his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his breath.

“Hey,” Chan says after a few moments of peaceful silence have passed between them. “Hey, look at me.”

Felix cranes his neck up, unwilling to actually sit up properly. “Yeah?”

“You changed my life,” Chan says. “I’m serious, you did. And—I dunno, I think the change would’ve come eventually, with or without you, but I… I’m glad it was you.” He brushes some hair off of Felix’s forehead. “I’m glad.”

Felix smiles at him. “I’m glad it was me, too,” he says.

“Yeah,” Chan says. “And—it’s not like I spent all that time looking for someone to fill the hole that Sana left behind.” Felix goes still, listening intently. It’s not like it’s a taboo subject between them, but it’s sad, so they rarely talk about it. About her. “I have to fill that hole myself, or at least make my peace with it. I’m not saying I thought you’d be able to do it for me.

“But I am saying it’s been easier, with you here. And I know I’ve said that before, but I just—I want you to know that I mean it.” Chan pauses, eyes thoughtful. “Or maybe what I’m trying to say is I’d like it if you stayed. With me.” He hesitates, maybe trying to gauge Felix’s reaction. “Because I don’t think I’m going to want anything else anytime soon.”

“Oh,” Felix says in a very small voice. He wants to say so many things, he doesn’t even know where to begin. He just knows that his heart is so full, and that he’s so in love. “I’m not going anywhere,” he manages. “Uh, you know—you know when you were talking about dating, and you said it was scary being over thirty, because everybody wanted a ring? And that it was nice with me, because there wasn’t that kind of expectation?”

“Yes,” Chan says slowly. “That was before—everything, before everything happened, you know.”

Felix’s breath catches in his throat. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s the thing. What if—what if I’m just as scary?”

A beat, and then Chan laughs, wrapping his arms around Felix and holding him close. “Alright, cool it, Quicksilver,” he says. “We have time, we can slow it down. And listen, we’ll talk about it later. We will. Right now, though, we need to worry about telling people about us—we need to tell your parents before we even start thinking about anything else.”

“Yeah, I know,” Felix says, wriggling an arm free so he can grab Chan’s left hand and bring it to his mouth. He kisses his palm; the hollow, flat center. “I’m just saying.” He kisses the hard bone of the heel of his hand, then the row of calluses along the top. “I’m just saying,” he repeats, kissing the spot at the base of Chan’s fourth finger where a ring would sit, “things are different now. And I’m fine with that, as long as you are.”

Chan laughs again, this time deep in his chest, quiet and content. “I am, you know I am,” he says. “We’ll just figure it out as we go, yeah? We’ve done okay for ourselves so far by doing that. If it ain’t broke, you know.”

Felix closes his eyes, humming his agreement. Yes, they’ll have to tell people eventually if they want this to last—and Felix wants it to last. He knows it won’t be easy, but he also knows it’s okay. It’s something they’ll face together, and that makes it bearable. And in a way, he’s excited. He doesn’t want to hide it, hide how much he loves Chan, how happy this makes him. He’s excited to show him off to the rest of the world, excited for what’s in store for them.

But for now, they’ll focus their attention on the little things. They’ll go to VidCon, enjoy the free perks that come along with it, get ready for Felix’s album release. For now, they’ll pretend to be friends, just friends. For now, they still have their little world of peace, where it’s just the two of them.

And Felix is okay with keeping it that way for a little while longer.

hi everybody! Ummmm this is kind of wack? I can’t believe we’re done? I feel like I just started writing this, but also I feel like I started writing it forever ago. Thank you all for your kindness and your support, your patience and your forgiveness (lol). I’ve had an absolute blast with this story, and I’ve enjoyed reading your comments and watching all of you fall in love with this chanlix :’).

I will be back soon with more stray kids content (and eventually more chanlix, because I love them so)! In the meantime, keep an eye on my Tumblr; I should be opening up my requests again in a couple of months, at which point you can get me to write more of whatever you want ((within the bounds of my rules ofc!)), so do stop by!

For now though, thank you again, and I hope you’ll stick with me. I don’t intend on quitting writing and ficdom anytime soon :) I have a lot more in store!

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blueprint-han · 3 years ago

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— 𝙅𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘿 𝙈𝙀.

𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗣: STRAY KIDS; bang chan x fem! reader 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: fluff. 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 1.7 K 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: so i basically caught a glimpse of this one BL thai drama scene my mom was watching and couldn’t stop thinking about it so here. <3 there’s no suggestiveness in this whatsoever but there is a lot of kissing, basically me on my writing-about-affection-because-im-deprived-spree. also please do keep in mind that i wrote this amidst a huge writers block so ):

Your eyes dart from one place to another in search for the one person you want to be with right now when you unlock the door to your shared apartment, assuming Chan would be fast asleep and not wanting to ring the bell to disturb him. It’s been a terrible day so far — a horrible work day, a conversation with your mother that ended with flames and tears, and with your temples thrumming with what seems to be the beginning of a terrible headache.

Safe to say you’re tired — and why wouldn’t you be? Your whole week, while flying past like a whiff of cold air on a winter day, had been nothing short of horrible. It didn’t help that you returned to a cold an empty bed every night and woke up with tear stained pillows every morning either. But this times, you have high hopes — if not for Chan being awake, then at least having his presence beside you. Anything to hold on to to make this week worthwhile.

But you’re surprised to see that when you enter, Chan is sitting right there — awake, and head bopping along to a tune playing through his headphones. That’s probably why he doesn’t notice that you’ve come back home, but nonetheless, the sight of his back alone makes your shoulders relax and your body feel less tense. That’s just something so profound about him — everything he does, everything about him is so gentle even when he isn’t looking at you that sometimes you wonder how you ever got this lucky.

You silently shrug off your coat and dump your bag on the couch next to the unfolded pile of clothes — something which did not belong on the sofa, a product of you waking up way past your alarm and dumping them on your sofa as you tried to find your clothes in a rush. You’d have to get to those soon. Chan is still completely immersed in his music — he hasn’t taken note of his surroundings at all. Typical of him, he’s always passionate and immersed into whatever he does.

When you place a hand on his shoulder, Chan jerks and gasps in shock, surprised at the way you’ve seemed to magically pop put of nowhere, even though he clearly remembers locking the door.

“Woah, you scared me. When did you get here?”

You let yourself giggle when Chan’s eyes widen in the most adorable way possible, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair as you stand beside him.

“I thought you’d be asleep after a long week, so I used the keycard to get inside.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to see you.” Chan smiles, eyes fluttering close as he leans towards you, resting his head against your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I missed you.” The murmur is so soft you almost miss it. but it feels like your heart is set on fire when you hear those words. It’s like being in his vicinity immediately lets you know that you’re in safe hands — everything he does, the way he holds you, looks at you, or even sits with you in silence always makes him feel like such a safe space, you feel like you could cry.

“I missed you so much.” Taking a second to push back his hair and play with his earring, you then push him back against the chair before throwing your leg over his waist, seating yourself comfortably into his lap — both of you facing each other. Sensing the approach of tears from the lump in your throat, you immediately find solace in burying your head into his neck — exhaling deeply when his fingers rub soft circles into your waist.

“Everything alright?”

You melt against him, gently pressing your lips against the crook of his neck before speaking. “I wish I could say everything was.”

Chan nods, pulling you closer and letting you feel his warmth seep through. He knows better than to question you about anything when you get like this, having enough faith in you to know that if you really wanted to talk about it, and needed to, you’d tell him.

“I wanna say so much but... I don’t even know how to put it into words.”

Chan’s heart breaks at that. You’ve always been so genuine about everything you do — often taking shit for stuff you didn’t even have to, often caring so much for people who didn’t seem to care back. You always prioritized his happiness, everyone else’s happiness before it came to your own, and as heartwarming as it felt sometimes, Chan wished you’d take care of yourself better, prioritize yourself more.

“It’s okay, darling. You’re with me now, you can relax.”

He internally pats himself on the back when he feels your lips pull into a smile from where they’re pressed against his skin, letting his nose nuzzle into your shoulder before pulling his chair forward, caging you between the table and his warm embrace.

Not that you really wanted to leave anytime soon.

“Should I get up? You seem to be working on something.” You ask, pulling away from Chan only for him to smile before leaning into peck your lips in the most gentle way anyone could. You swallow down the lump in your throat, lips pulled into a dizzy smile as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

“No, stay here. I don’t mind, plus, you’re warm.” And of course, in his heart, Chan says “I want to make sure you’re alright.”

You nod sleepily and then yawn, leaning into to nuzzle into his neck and watch him with tired, heavily lidded eyes as he works on his track. He takes a second to gulp down the last remnants of his coffee, looking at you curiously when he hears you laugh at that.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

“You’re drinking coffee.”

“And?”

“It’s about to be midnight.”

Shit. He was supposed to finish his coffee and throw the cup away before you came back home and noticed that he was having a caffeine explosion in the middle of the night. Chan figures he’s screwed unless he’s smart enough to come up with a logical reason for why he’s drinking coffee so late in the night, regardless of how many times you’ve chided him for how unhealthy the habit was. It wouldn’t be a total loss though, considering how the love of his life was currently snuggled up in his lap, smiling dreamily at him. He’d be willing to hear you scold him for the millionth time about his caffeine addiction as long as you were happy.

“Uhhhh...” The sight of Chan’s eyes darting from place to place as he tries to come up with a logical excuse while his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt is too adorable for you to stay mad at him, and you decide to let it slide — he’s being kind enough to let you crash on his lap even though his legs probably hurt after days and days of practice. Chan trails off and doesn’t follow up after that. You let your own eyes trail over his coffee-coated lips, not thinking twice before gently kissing the corner, humming at the slight taste of the cappuccino that tastes oh-so-much-better than any coffee you’ve ever tasted.

You ignore the way Chan’s body tenses out of surprise and the soft gasp that leaves him, your hands finding purchase in cupping his soft cheeks as you run your thumb over the high end of his cheekbone. His lips feel soft when you brush your lips against them, and you feel the ever so slight ticklish sensation of his eyelids fluttering shut over your cheeks.

When you pull away, foreheads resting against each other, you bite your lip softly before breaking the comfortable silence. “Thank you.”

“Sweetheart, you know you don’t have to thank me.” He counters, placing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before yawning and snuggling into your chest, making soft sounds of contentment as he did so. You press a kiss to the top of his forehead, then in between his eyebrows as you relish the sight of his eyes closed and lips pulled into a soft smile as though this is the only place he wants to be right now.

Chan, on the other hand, is only a thin string away from losing it and blushing furiously at the sudden shower of attention. He doesn’t know what warrants your sudden change in demeanour — he was expecting a cute pout and a frown from you, not the ticklish feeling of your lips fluttering delicately all over his face. It’s usually him who’s in the position you’re in right now, so to experience this level of affection gets him more flustered than he’s ready to admit.

And you’re not oblivious to it either — to the way his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt and nervously play with the hem, but you secretly love it when Chan gets this shy — and it’s not like you can control yourself when you see that gorgeous shade of pink dust his cheeks either.

You take one of his hands into your own to delicately place a kiss onto his knuckles, giving him a loving look before placing one on the inside of his wrist. You let your thumb run over the soft expanse of his skin before lifting your head up to kiss him again, sighing against his lips as you drown yourself in the taste you’ve grown so familiar with, and love so much.

“Babe,” Chan breaks the kiss this time, completely flushed from your ministrations as he pants lightly. “What’s this about?”

You only smirk in response, nuzzling and placing a soft kiss into the crook of his neck, just like you did earlier, before letting your eyes flutter close.

“I just wanted to taste some of the coffee —” you snicker when he raises an eyebrow questioningly, all your worries from the week duly forgotten as you mumble into his skin. “well, this just seemed like a better way to do it. That tasted delicious.”

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

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binniebutter · 4 years ago

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𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉 # 33 & 12 “You’re such a baby.” & “I’m not little!” requested by anon

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 552

Warnings: none

Maybe climbing up the kitchen counter wasn’t a great idea. You should’ve known that your clumsy ass would lose balance and fall off. So now here you are, holding your scraped knee as your boyfriend of a few months laughed at you. You pouted up at Hyunjin as he tried, and failed, to contain his giggles. It was all his fault anyway. He’s the one who provoked you in the first place.

“Jinnie! Can you come here and help me?” You were currently in the kitchen of the Stray Kids dorm, attempting to reach your mug, which just so happened to be placed on the top shelf of the cupboard. You always used the cup when you were over and soon enough, it had been officially named as yours and all the boys knew not to use it. “Why the heck is it even at the top?” you muttered to yourself as you waited on Hyunjin.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t imposter babe. What’s up?” he asked you before placing a kiss on your forehead, something he always did upon seeing you.

“That. That’s up,” you said while pointing at your mug. A small pout grew on your face from your frustration. Hyunjin let out a chuckle once he realized what you needed him to do.

“Awww, little one. It’s ok I’ll get it for you.” And if there’s one thing that you hate the most in the world, it’s being called little. Hyunjin knew that.

“Yah! I’m not little! You’re just freakishly tall.”

“It’s ok jagi, I love your height. It makes you even more adorable than you already are.” As he rambled on about your cuteness, he pinched your cheeks and started patting your head, things you would do to a little kid or… a baby. You bit your tongue in anger at his teasing, feeling determined to prove him wrong.

“I’ll show you. I don’t need your help.” And you turned your back to him, swinging a leg up onto the counter, preparing to pull yourself up. And surprisingly, you did. You tried to hide your surprise as you fully stood and turned around to stick your tongue out at Hyunjin. You must’ve underestimated the width of the counter because as soon as you turned to the side you found yourself wobbling before you fell completely. Luckily, or more unluckily, your boyfriend caught you before you reached the tile, giving you a wink as if to say “I told you so.” You squirmed out of his arms, hitting your knee on the counter and scraping it on the way.

“Owwww!”

So now here you are, holding in tears as your boyfriend laughed at you. Hyunjin immediately noticed your eyes welling up and gave you a hug before picking you up and placing you on the counter. He left for a moment before appearing in front of you again, this time with a Hello Kitty band-aid. He peeled the wrapper off and put it on your knee, kissing it after. You looked down and blushed at the band-aid that he chose.

“Hey! I’m not a baby, why’d you pick this one!?” you whined out, proving his point further.

“Oh please, don’t even deny it. You’re such a baby.” He rolls his eyes at your whines before adding, “but you’re my baby.”

SKZ Masterlist

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navyhyuck · 4 years ago

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hey, you’re the love of my life — 0.2k words, han jisung

“I just think that under these circumstances, what you’re doing right now is actually completely unnecessary.” You state simply, hands clasping around the back of your boyfriend’s neck as he jolts your body in his arms, eliciting a yelp from you. “Shit, Jisung, you’re gonna drop me.”

“No, I won’t,” he says softly, his voice barely above whisper as he speaks into your ear. “Why would I drop you? I only drop people I don’t need in my life.” You roll your eyes at his poor attempt at making a half-assed joke, and he laughs aloud, sending a peck to your lips. “Aw, don’t get pissed, baby, I’m not gonna drop you. You’re the love of my life.”

You swear your heart drops at that very moment, from inside your chest to possibly the tips of your toes, and your breath hitches. Jisung’s eyes are still fixed on yours, refusing to look elsewhere other than into your own, and you’re sure that you’re heating up like a solar flare. When he smiles, however, is when your heart skips a beat and you groan unintentionally.

“What? Did I scare you? I said you’re the love of my life.”

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sayonara-taemin · 3 years ago

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New Year’s Love || b.ch

PAIRING || Bang Chan x female reader

GENRES || Fluff

SUMMARY || Chan was a nuisance…or was he?

WARNINGS || None

WC || 1.5k

EVENT || Part of the @kflixnet event Lights Camera Action!

COLLAB || Part of the Neuvo Comienzo collab by @tenderfrailty . Thank you for letting me take part!! These ideas were so beautiful and unique do check out all the participants works for the neuvo comienzo collab !

PROMPTS || 1. “Are you sleeping?” “I’m trying to.” 2. “Let’s dance in the rain!” “Cliche, much?” 3. “Hey, look! Mistletoe.” “Nope, I’m not kissing you.” 4. “Yes, I know it’s 1 am, but I want cupcakes.” 5. “Have I kissed you today?” “You tell me. Do I look like I’ve been kissed enough today?” 5. “What did you dream of?” “Our wedding.”

TAGLIST || @shrutiajit @queenmedi @cloudyhaos (If you want to be added to my taglists, fill in this form)

“Baby.”

You ignored him, trying very very hard to get some sleep. You really wished you hadn’t sat for a whole Harry Potter movie marathon for New Year’s night but how could you refuse your boyfriends cute pouty whines? But halfway through the first movie, it was very evident that Bang fucking Chan’s intentions weren’t even to watch the movies. It was just an evil excuse to cuddle you and pepper you with kisses.

Which, you didn’t mind of course but watching movies straight from 6 PM to 12 AM wasn’t really healthy and you had had a tired day already (holidays were tiresome) and wanted to just go to sleep.

“Baby, are you sleeping?”

You suppress your desire to slap him.

“I’m trying to.”

“So I uh, just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be loud-”

“What?” Never in your life had you turned towards Chan this fast, still unable to believe what your ears were hearing. Was he talking about that?

“-because I’m hungry and my tummy is rumbling.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth did you hear a loud growling sound coming from his stomach. And for some reason, you found it really funny and let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He whined, pouting at you while puffing his cheeks.

You grabbed his cheeks between his palm before quickly pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Nothing nothing. Just that…you look like a baby. A cute baby saying he is hungry.” You said, accentuating your voice to make yourself sound like you were talking to your five year old niece.

But Chan loved that you were babying him despite him annoying you and it was very evident in the smile growing on his face.

“So, uh, since I was thinking…let’s make something?”

You blanched at his words.

“Make something? Do you even know what time it is?”

“Yes, I know it’s 1 am, but I want cupcakes.”

“Go get yourself something from the fridge.” You grumbled, turning away from him to go back to your attempt of sleeping.

“But baby,” Chan whined, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. You cursed yourself for melting under his warmth and touch, snuggling into him even more closer. “The food will be so cold! And it won’t have our love in it! You don’t want your lover to be all cold and shriveled up now, do you?”

“You are already shriveled up, you old man.” You muttered, forcefully closing your eyes, trying not to laugh at the sound of Chan's dramatic gasp.

“Y/N! What are you saying? How can you not love an old shriveled up goose like me!”

“Goose-”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself seated on the kitchen counter, legs around your boyfriend's waist as the two of you kissed and finally got to enjoy slightly burnt cookies.

“Good morning love.”

You smiled involuntarily at his husky voice, eyes opening only half to see Chan's equally smiling face. His hair was all ruffled up causing your heart to flutter a little.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” You whispered, snuggling closer into him.

“Too well. You must have poured all your love into those cookies because they were too good.”

You laughed lightly, feeling his arms wrap around your body as you pressed your ear next to his chest, hearing his heart hammer under your touch.

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year love. I wish only the best for this year.”

“What did you dream of?” You asked softly.

“Our wedding.”

You looked up at him shocked, hoping your cheeks were not as heated up as you felt them to be. But Chan's smirk was definitely telling something else.

“W-What?” You stammered, clearly not ready for his cheekiness this early in the morning. (Well it was almost 12 in the afternoon but hey they two of you slept late-)

Bang Chan smirked his knowing smirk, gently caressing your hair.

“What what? Don’t you want to get married to me? Or do you prefer someone else other than this old shriveled up goose?”

“I- What no.” You muttered, looking down as more blood rushed into your cheeks. “I didn’t mean that. And don’t call yourself a goose.”

“Well good. I can surprise propose you then.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Surprise propose me? No thank you. I don’t want to get a heart attack.”

Secretly, you were in love with the idea though.

“Hahaha very funny Y/N. I can see the excitement in your eyes.”

“That’s it. I’m going to work.” You got up from his embrace but he pulled you back into his arms.

“It's January 1st, baby. Too much stressed from work? Or perhaps…want to get away from this old goose?”

“Shut the fuck up Chan.”

You pretended to be mad at Chan for quite some time. On the outside, you acted like you were offended by his jokes while on the inside you were dying at the antics he was doing just to get your attention.

Finally, the two of you settled down on the couch for another movie marathon, you smiling coolly at him while he stared at you with puppy eyes. But you were no fool. You knew, even now his extremely sharp brain was trying to work out on what he did wrong and how he could correct it.

The comfortable (at least according to you) silence was broken by the sudden pitter patter of rain drops falling against the window sill. (Why was it raining in winter? Climate was really messed up nowadays)

All of a sudden he exclaimed.

“Let’s dance in the rain!”

You looked at him dryly.

“Cliché, much?”

But Chan was already on his feet, pulling you up with him as he dragged you towards the open balcony of your shared apartment.

“Chan wait-”

But it was too late.

With a short tug and laugh from him, you were soon under in the rain. As the water seeped into your clothes, you shivered, visibly cold.

“Ch-Chan.” You chattered, clutching yourself. He smiled at you softly, causing your insides to warm up. All of a sudden you were struck for the millionth time by how handsome he looked. The soft light of the living room was throwing light on his face, his edges soft. The rain had caused his hair to stick on to his forehead but he looked breathtaking nonetheless.

He extended his hands towards you, which you gladly took. He pulled you in closer, but maintained a little distance between the two of you.

“Chan?” You asked softly.

“Hmm, love?”

“Can you- can you sing for me?”

His smile grew wider as he slowly twirled you, the two of you dancing in the rain as his beautiful voice stood out against the falling sound of the rain.

“Under the stars yeah yeah 24 to 25 bae.”

You smiled at the familiar song, finally stopping a hair breath away from his face. His eyes flicked to your lips and back to your eyes again. He stared at you with a smile reaching his eyes and you smiled back, your heart nearly fluttering out of your chest.

“I want a hug.” He said all of a sudden. You felt a bubble of laughter escape you, as you heard the slight whining tone in his voice

“Ask, and you shall receive.”

His eyes widened at your words, surprised that you had finally given in and he didn’t waste this opportunity.

“Can you hug me?” He asked softly and you immediately collapsed into his arms. You tried crushing him but Chan was stronger than you and hugged you even more fiercely. You felt a laugh rise in your chest at your silly competition and Chan let out a fake grunt to show the effort he was putting in.

“I love you so so much.” You whispered, and you felt him pull you apart. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stared into your eyes lovingly, causing your knees to feel like jelly.

“I love you too. I love you a lot.”

You smiled at him, pinching his cheeks slightly.

“Have I kissed you today?” You asked, feigning ignorance.

“You tell me. Do I look like I’ve been kissed enough today?”

“Hmmm.” You pretended to think.

“Y/N.” Chan whined, shaking you gently. “Why are you depriving me of your love?”

“I’m not! I’m just thinking whether or not-”

He shook you harder. “What’s there to think?” Then all of a sudden, he looked up before shouting, “Hey, look! Mistletoe.”

“Nope, I’m not kissing you.”

He yanked you towards him, causing the two of you to fall down on the slippery balcony. You struggled to get up, but he kept pulling you down. Soon, the air was filled with the two of you laughing and bantering.

“Let me go!”

“Only after you give me a kiss!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

And it went back and forth until you quickly pressed your lips against his. He immediately stopped struggling and pulled you in even more closer.

Finally the two of you broke apart, cheeks flushed and huge smiles on your faces.

“Y/N.” He murmured against your lips. “It’s the New Year. Shouldn’t we start with a new chapter?”

You blinked at him. “How so?”

Chan pressed a kiss against your lips. “Will you marry me?”

You smiled.

“Yes. Just stay with me.”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #ficscafe #knet-bakery #straykidsland #stayhaven #destinyversenet #kflixnet #bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz #skz x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst

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neo-shitty · 4 years ago

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district nine (excerpt) — h.hj

pairing. lightning manipulator!hwang hyunjin x fire manipulator!gender-neutral reader

genre. fantasy, friends to enemies

warnings. none

word count. 0.2k

notes. i’m still upset i’m not pushing through with this one. i loved conceptualizing the world where this is from. but maybe i’ll write this when i’m more ready to commit to world-building massive aus. for now, here’s a tidbit.

You leaped off the next platform aiming to land perfectly on the one just below you. As you expected, the boy turned—alerted by your presence. A streak of lightning illuminated the dark sky and the face of the boy who stood a few feet below you. It was frightening how the boy resembled your tormentor so much that you started to think it was the man of your nightmares himself.

But the boy was much younger, though he sported the same traits his father did. Hyunjin had the same ghostly blond hair and the same pair of eyes his entire clan had—the eyes that gleamed blue whenever they summoned their streaks of electricity.

A flash of lightning comes again, this time barely missing you as you landed on the opposite end of the platform the boy was standing on. As soon as the current of electricity disappeared, his eyes reverted back to normal. It only took one look at the boy’s eyes to be reminded of the childhood you’d suffered at the hands of the boy’s father.

Your hands burned hotter with your rage. You weren’t the type to forgive and forget. In fact, you remembered everything.

With your hands completely engulfed in blue flames and your mind locked on one target with one goal alone, you charge.

#kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #stayhaven #kdiner #toffee.writes #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #hyunjin fics #hyunjin angst #stray kids angst #stray kids hyunjin #toff.writes

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armysantiny · 3 years ago

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-[Changbin; finally confessing to his male crush + the first date

Alright! First work with the new notebook!

That bit is more for me than anything else

But yes!

Changbin! Liking you!

You were always such a bright and charming presence in his life, realising that he had fallen in love with you wasn’t much of a surprise to him

Who wouldn’t fall in love with you, right?

He’s always either seeking your presence or asking about you amongst your mutual friends

Changes your name in his phone to ‘charming crush y/nie’ or smth along those lines

Puts up with minsung teasing the life out of him

Having a crush on you is worth it

He’s confident about his feelings for you

When he’s finalised a track, you’re the absolute first person he wants to listen to it

Your opinion really matters to him, even if you remind him for the nth time that he’s insanely talented

And at this point, Chan is watching the two of you like a proud father watching his son that Changbin is pretty much certain that his hyung will tell you about his crush before he does

So he needs to collect his excitement and invite you over before his hyungs beat him to the punch

The confession

My favourite bit!

Aight, so Changbin’ got everything planned out for the confession

He thinks

When you show up to the studio, oh god he has heart eyes for you

Coherent words? What’s that?

This man is blushing as he tries getting his confession out

But oh god you look amazing, and did your smile always look that charming?

He short-circuits when you giggle and call him cute

Changbin.exe has stopped responding

Forgets what he was going to say and whines about how fucking attractive you are

And then he lets it slip and omg this man is a walking strawberry what have you done to him—

Whines as you pull him into a hug, bc of course you return his feelings

But he was going to give you this big, charismatic speech and now he can’t because its out in the open

Help he’s so cute

So you tell him to do it again and this time it’s you with a blush and a shy grin

Y’all boyfriends now

No you can’t hear Chan’s quiet cheering from across the hall shush—

The first date

First date! First date! First date!

Changbin is fr bouncing off the walls rn

The biggest fat fucking grin on his face as he’s getting ready to see you

Bless Chan for getting him a few days off work

He picks you up and takes you to your favourite café

Proper café date, I’m living for the aesthetic rn

He makes you laugh sm omg he’s so endearing

Please

Your laugh is his serotonin

If he could record your laugh and save it on his computer, he would

In fact, he might just do that—

You two leave the café with permanent smiles on your faces

You walk through the street together and get some street food

One of those really sweet old ladies behind a stall calls you a sweet couple and Changbin’s heart swells with pride

Takes your hand in his and thanks the old lady while you’re flustered – happily flustered, of course

Best first date you could ask for

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @k-library, @knet-bakery, @kpclub, @k-mysticsnet, @stayhavens, @districtninewriters

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @babyboobean, @taem-min, @xavi-in-kpopland | Taglist form

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ksmutclub · 2 years ago

Photo

Hey everyone! It's been while!

We want to thank everyone for being apart of KSmutClub since we first become a network in 2019! This network was made to share the wonderful works of our members without feeling the taboo to express ourselves in the form of smut.

Lately, we the admins have been caught up in life outside of the network and we realize that we are not able to give KSmutClub the attention it deserves. So with that being said, we are officially closing the network this Saturday, Aug 6. The network blog itself will be archived so you can come back and read the fics we have supported over the years. The server will close the following day.

We know this news is sudden and we apologize for that, but we wanted to be honest with you all and make sure you were all prepared. Here are some of our active affiliates that you can join that have great communities:

@k-vanity (18+ multi network) @got7writerscollective (GOT7 network) @btshoneyhive (BTS network) @neowritingsnet (NCT network) @whipped-kpop-creators (multi network) @bangtaninn (bts network) @superm-net (super m network) @caratwritersclub (seventeen network) @deobiwritersnet (the boyz network) @akademia-net (multi network) @stayhavens (stray kids network)

Take care of yourselves and thank you for being apart of this community! -KSC Team!

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crispy-chan · 3 years ago

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awaken | han jisung

❖ pairing: ghost!jisung x gn. reader

❖ genre: angst, fluff; mystery, supernatural, ghost!au, romance

❖ word count: 14.5k

❖ warnings: descriptions of death and blood (not extremely graphic though), grievance, mild language, ji is a cocky (but sweet) lil' shit :> | pg-13

❖ summary: ten days ago, you heard someone knocking on your apartment window. seven days ago, you saw a bloody fingerprint on your table. today, you found a stranger lying on your couch. wait a second, is that blood on his hands?!

❖ a/n: hello!! this fic is so long overdue :(( but she's finally here !! my contribution to the strange devotion collab by @bearseungmin. tysm @sunshinelixie-lee and @gyukult for beta reading this piece and making it infinitely better!! i'm really grateful to you guys and i appreciate all your comments <3 thank you so so much <3

masterlist

“Hi there.”

The raspy voice startles you into dropping your keys, a metallic thud resounding against the polished hardwood floor. Turning your head, you rake over the cheap furniture that occupies your cramped living room until your eyes land on something that shouldn't be there.

Or rather...someone.

There's a man sprawled on your old, navy couch, his large frame draping over the small seat, further emphasizing the pain he must be in to lay in such an uncomfortable position. After blinking away your initial shock, you catch sight of the thick droplets of blood seeping from his fingers, inking his entire arm with a crimson hue.

You almost scoff in annoyance—he's staining your new throw pillows!

When he notices your furrowed brows, a boisterous grin appears on his face as he waves his hand—the one that isn't occupied with preventing his guts from spilling out on your floor—and winks in your direction, causing your heartbeat to race. Your eyes trail from his ruffled hair down his chest until they reach his arms.

Almost choking on your spit, you take in the myriad of bruises and welts that mar his pale skin. You've never seen one singular person sport so many on just one arm alone. You suppose you're rather lucky the sleeve of his button-down isn't rolled up on the other arm, only God knows how many more he's hiding under his clothes.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks, concern lacing his tone as he searches your face for any signs of fear. Instead, he finds pure rage.

“What in the fucking world are you doing on my couch?!”

Your voice cuts through the air like a sharp sword, bouncing across the walls of your cramped apartment. The man is visibly taken aback, the coy smirk that plays on his lips faltering before he manages to regain his confidence and return your intense gaze.

“I-I...actually, I need something from you.”

The single sentence manages to throw you off completely, brow shooting up as you ponder what could this person possibly want from you.

After a small pause, he adds, “but you must promise that you won't involve any authorities.”

You part your lips to take in a breath. This encounter was turning scarier by the second. From what could he possibly be running?

When you sense his unease, you realize you still haven't replied. “How exactly do you want me to help you?”

Another smile stretches across his lips, one that's followed by a relieved sigh. You seem more annoyed than angry. That's good. He tells himself that it could be a lot worse. You're pissed but you haven't thrown him out yet.

“I can't tell you,” he adds after a while, supplying an apologetic grin as he runs his hand through his hair, wincing at how greasy it feels. He would have to wash it soon.

The face you make almost makes him laugh. The angry pout on your lips, the vein popping at the top of your temple—it all creates a funny visage that he tries to keep a mental picture of.

How adorable.

But to you, it is nothing of that sort. Watching him chuckle to himself—as if there's something humorous, to begin with—the rage only grows inside of you, clutching your insides together with an iron grip.

Blowing a strand of hair from your face, you growl, “you either tell me what you want, or I'm calling the fucking cops on you.”

❖ ❖ ❖

You suppose you could call yourself lucky.

Starting your first year of college in a different town meant that you had to find a place to stay. Usually, most college dorms or apartments were either extremely overpriced or so small that you felt like you were living in a shoebox.

This apartment, however, was anything but that.

The spacious living room had enough room for you to fit a medium-sized couch, along with a few rows of bookshelves that wouldn't fit in your room. The kitchen was also nicely equipped, something you noticed when you first got a tour of the apartment from the very fidgety landlord, Lee Minho.

The man had led you inside the house with a shaky step, almost dropping his keys while unlocking the door, likely due to the fact that he wasn't even looking at the lock. Instead, he kept nervously looking around, which struck you as unusual. His hands were trembling, something you found somewhat unsettling, as he showed you around the apartment.

When you asked him, jokingly of course, if the rent was so cheap because the place was haunted, he stared at you wide-eyed before excusing himself and running off. To this day, you haven't understood what triggered such a response from him—why he was so nervous and jittery—but it seemed like it wasn't something you'd find out soon.

Or would you?

❖ ❖ ❖

The frosty wind bites at your skin harshly, numbing your cheeks as you struggle to unlock your door.

“Finally—” you groan, dropping your bag on the floor and heading straight for the thermostat to raise the heat so you won't freeze to death. The late-October weather is progressively getting colder; light jackets and hoodies no longer suffice against the chilly temperature.

Settling on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate, you scroll down your Netflix watchlist, deciding on a lame Halloween-themed movie that has less than fifteen percent on Rotten Tomatoes.

Sighing, you sip the sweet beverage, eyes focused on the flat screen of your television. A small chuckle escapes your lips as you see the main protagonist jump out of his skin as he enters the haunted house.

Through your window, you can see the full moon peek from behind the lace curtains hanging in your living room. A weirdly eerie feeling creeps over you and settles in your bones, causing goosebumps to prickle at your skin. The wind is still relentlessly attacking everything in its path—you can tell by the way the trees are swept from one side to the other, and you feel shivers run down your spine.

Why do you feel like you aren't alone?

Suddenly, you hear a couple of loud knocks, as if someone were tapping on a hard surface.

Your eyes dart at the abrupt drumming noises that hit against the wooden front door of your apartment. Gripping tightly onto the fuzzy blanket that sits over your shoulders, you gingerly place the mug on the coffee table before slowly getting up from the comforts of your couch to approach whomever it was that decided to come at this late hour.

Once you reach it, you peer through the peephole, curious as to whom it could be. A frown appears on your lips as you lean back. There's no one there.

Weird.

Returning to your seat, you press play on the movie, trying to ignore the shiver that just ran down your spine. It almost feels like you aren't alone, as you could swear that you feel someone's eyes are boring into you.

The feeling that you're being watched follows you for the rest of the evening. The lingering sense of unease doesn't relent. Instead, it hangs over you like a raincloud, putting a damper on your mood.

Even as you're falling asleep, you could swear you hear someone knocking on your window, the taps more sporadic and louder than before—almost as if they're in a frenzy.

As your eyelids are slowly closing, you think you spot a shadow passing your window. You desperately try to fight the urge to sleep but eventually, the fatigue manages to wash over you, and before you can do anything about it, your eyes are closing shut.

❖ ❖ ❖

Three days have passed from the ominous encounter. 3 days. 72 hours. 4,320 minutes. Long enough for you to convince yourself that it was but a figment of your imagination, nonetheless not fleeting enough for you to forget the entire ordeal.

You think you've managed to get your fears under wraps, locking them into the very back of your mind and throwing away the key. Yet the chill that runs down your spine every time something seems out of order in your apartment says otherwise.

As you enter the quaint, lightly decorated hall of your place, you sigh while pulling off your shoes and heading for your bedroom with the big stack of papers securely tucked between your arms. Stepping on the fuzzy carpet, you drop your bag by the bed, turning to shuffle through your closet for more comfortable attire for the night.

The wooden doors creak as you pull them apart, grabbing a pair of cream-colored sweatpants and a warm hoodie with the name of your college printed on in Comic Sans.

It is truly wondrous that people still haven't stopped using that atrocious font, and you wonder which doofus was trusted with the task of designing the school merchandise this fall.

After you slip on the soft articles of clothing, you head towards your bed to pull out your journal from the front pocket of your backpack. Leisurely, you unzip the bag and grab the black, leather-bound book before your eyes fall on your nightstand.

Your heart skips a beat.

There, on the smooth surface of the varnished hardboard, is a small, dark red smear. Scrunching your nose, you scooch a bit to inspect it from a closer proximity.

And behold, it's a bloody fingerprint.

You can almost feel your soul exit your body upon realization that someone was in your bedroom. Specifically, someone who was bleeding… a lot. Your fingers start to tremble, dropping the neatly organized stack of papers onto the ground.

It doesn't take long for you to grab some of your belongings and sprint out of the bedroom.

One thing was certain, you definitely wouldn't be sleeping there.

❖ ❖ ❖

Over the last few weeks, the paranoia has settled inside of you, whether it be in the form of constantly looking over your shoulder, or jumping out of your skin when a classmate places his hand over your shoulder.

All that led to the fateful night, exactly ten days after the first encounter in the living room, when you found a stranger lying on your couch.

The stranger, as you just recently learned, was called Jisung. And despite your insistence that you wouldn't help him otherwise, he outright refused to tell you more about himself, mumbling something along the lines of you wouldn't believe me anyway.

“Soo...Jisung,” you gently call his name, hoping that a calmer approach would do the trick. “You want me to help you with...with that?” you gesture towards his injured abdomen. He looks down, almost as if forgetting that he is currently bleeding out on your sofa before nodding sheepishly.

“If you have a first aid kit, I could do it myself,” he chuckles. “Wouldn't want to inconvenience you.”

You stare at him incredulously, as if he's lost his mind, “Don't worry, you've already inconvenienced me enough. What more is it for me to bandage you up?”

Lowering yourself on the ground, your hands reach for his soiled t-shirt, looking up at him for consent to slowly peel it up. As you slowly pull up the crimson-stained cotton, your fingers start to shake with each additional inch of skin you uncover.

The smooth planes of caramel skin are tarnished by a gash that runs across the entirety of his lower abdomen. It doesn't seem particularly deep, however, you can immediately tell that he's losing blood at an alarming rate.

“Oh damn,” you mutter to yourself, taking in the gruesome sight. From the couch, Jisung winces when your fingers graze over his skin. “Is it really that bad?”

Holding back the bitter words on your tongue, you force yourself to smile. “No. We just need to properly disinfect it. I should probably stitch it up too so it can properly heal.”

The boy nods in agreement, biting down on his tongue to hold in the pained groan that was threatening to slip out. He watches you gracefully stand up and dust off your pants before heading towards the bathroom, probably where your first aid kit is stored.

As you exit the living room, you feel your head turning around to glance at Jisung.

It completely takes you aback, the way his head hangs low as he runs his hand through his hair. Even as you enter the tiny bathroom, you can't help but stare at the handsome boy. His calmness throughout the night was what surprised you the most, but it seems like he wasn't as chill about the situation as he let on.

Opening the small cabinet above your sink, your hand reaches for the medium-sized red box with a white cross on it. It was a first aid kit you bought over three months ago during a sale at your local drug store. At least it would be of some use.

When you return, immediately, you notice how droopy his eyes have become. He looks up at you sporting a weak grin and your heart breaks at the sight. It's almost as if you could feel the pain he is going through, despite his best efforts to hide it.

Bringing the cotton pad stained with alcohol, you mutter a quick apology before you start dabbing it on his stomach. At first, you don't hear anything. A sigh of relief almost escapes your lips.

“Ouch—” he suddenly winces, digging his fingernails into his palm to numb the pain. Less than two seconds later, an apology leaves your lips in a soft murmur as you concentrate on disinfecting the area on his abdomen.

“D-Don't,” he whispers, giving you a side-eyed smile, “don't apologize...you've done n-nothing wrong.”

Once you're done cleaning out the wound, Jisung groans in relief, wiping off the sweat from his forehead. You take the time to look at him again, inspecting all the blemishes on his skin, the beauty mark on his cheek, and the sharp curve of his jaw.

And it truly startles you, just how attractive he is.

The realization hits you—you've got a handsome stranger sprawled across your couch. Your face heats up when his eyes suddenly lock with yours.

When Jisung notices you carefully checking him out from the side, his lips stretch into a sly smirk. He caught you staring. However, when he sees your head whip to the side, eyes widening in both embarrassment and bewilderment, he feels the nagging guilt tug at his heart.

So to break the ice, Jisung decides that now truly is the best time to ask you for yet another favor. Blinking, he musters his most sympathy-inducing expression and mutters, “Do you think I could stay at your place for a while?”

And if you thought that he couldn't surprise you anymore, you were wrong.

With Jisung, one never knew.

❖ ❖ ❖

The sounds of your rusty showerhead can be heard all over the apartment, pelting drops of water banging against the glass panel. Groaning, you try to block out the sounds by pressing your pillow over your head, creating another barrier between you and the shower.

It has been exactly two weeks since Jisung appeared in your apartment, and other than the undeniable presence of another person in your living space, you seemed to be adjusting quite well.

As for Jisung, he has managed to make himself at home.

“Y/N!” a loud screech echoes throughout your apartment, making you almost jump out of your skin. An annoyed grumble leaves your parted lips. Perhaps he is feeling too much at home.

“Yeah?”

You suppose Jisung doesn't hear the slight edge to your voice, because in the following second, he's yelling his request over the shower. “Could you please bring me a towel?”

Although a little bit disgruntled over the noise, he has managed to relay his wishes to you, who, unfortunately, were the one who had to get out of your soft bed and search for some fresh towels.

“Asshole,” you mutter softly, mindful of the fact that he is only two drywalls away.

Yet it seems like, despite his rather infuriating tendencies, Jisung has managed to worm himself into your heart. Yeah, you undeniably have a soft spot for the young man, even if he's a constant pain in the ass.

“Jisung.” You carefully knock on the wooden door. After receiving only silence, you shout, “I'm coming in, okay?”

A rattling noise can be heard, likely the sound of all your bottled products falling off the shelf, courtesy of Jisung's sharp elbows. A groan leaves your lips once you realize that you will be the one who has to clean the mess.

Clutching the frothy towel, you push the door open, blinking at the moist fog that impairs your vision. Suddenly, a pair of deep brown eyes materialize right in front of your face, making you yelp in surprise. But right before you can open your mouth to chastise him, a large grin breaks out across his face.

“Thanks, darling. You're a lifesaver.”

It's only then that you notice how his wet hair clings to his forehead. Your cheeks heat up at the sight, and you can't help but let your gaze drop down, watching the clear droplets of water cascade down his chest.

Jisung smirks when he realizes what distracted you, “my eyes are up here, Y/N.”

You almost want to smack yourself for letting him catch you staring. Breathing in, you grumble, “Here you go,” before shoving the towel into his chest, slamming the door in his face, and running off to your room.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Jisung—” you whine from your comfortable spot on the couch, gripping onto a mug of hot chocolate that you managed to cook up from some expired chocolate you found at the back of your cupboard. It is truly wonderful how little you need to make a good hot chocolate.

You can hear something tumble down, landing on the floor with a thud. You glare towards the kitchen—Jisung better not be breaking your house down.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” you cry, frustration evident in your tone. Your chocolate was slowly cooling down and the television screen had the pause button on for over ten minutes.

“Just give me a second,” Jisung pleads, “Rome wasn't built in a day, you know?”

You almost facepalm at his stupid argument. “You aren't erecting the Colosseum from the ground, dimwit. You're microwaving a bag of popcorn for God's sake.”

Jisung goes silent for a second before you hear him yelp. “Sorry. It's just that...it's been quite a while since I used one of these. And they used to look a lot different back in the day…”

The last sentence is something you aren't sure was meant for you to hear. Back in the day? What could he possibly mean by that? However, once he returns, seemingly unscathed with a bowl of only slightly burned kernels, you shrug it off.

It was probably nothing, right?

❖ ❖ ❖

“Fuck, I'm late,” you curse, running around your living room trying to gather all your things. Your backpack, water bottle, keys...oh shit, your laptop is still charging!

Running into your bedroom, you collide with the still very sleepy Jisung, who looks like he will fall asleep at any given moment.

“Oh, are you okay, darling?” The crash must have shaken him into a more aware state as his arms immediately secure themselves around your waist. He steadies you against his chest before yawning. “What's the rush for?”

Scoffing inwardly, you pull away from his disgustingly toned body. How did this loser manage to get ripped, you wonder.

Suddenly, you remember why you were running in the first place. You slip past him, ignoring his bewildered gaze as you grumble. “Not all of us can sleep around all day. I have an 8 am class today.”

Pulling out your laptop from the wall, you shove it inside your backpack. “Aren't you going to eat breakfast?”

Jisung clearly seems shocked by the fact that you’re leaving your house without eating anything. “Nope. Don't have the time.”

A pout appears on his lips as he watches you slowly depart, exhaustion clearly visible on your face. He tries to recall a day where you actually went to sleep before three o'clock in the morning, but as terrifying as it appears, he can't remember a single one.

❖ ❖ ❖

The apartment seems eerily empty without you.

That's an observation Jisung made long ago. It's one he made when he accidentally called your name while reading something funny in a book, forgetting that you weren't there. The sudden urge to share something with you overwhelmed him so much that when he realized that you weren't there to witness it, his heart started to feel empty.

Loneliness has filled him ever since.

You have done so much for him. From patching up his injuries to letting him stay at your place, even though he was a complete stranger. In the past days, you have shown him nothing but kindness and compassion, allowing him to see just how big your heart was.

And maybe...maybe it was time for him to help you out too.

He looks around, glancing at the pile of clothes on the floor, the crumpled-up blanket on the couch, the dishes in the sink…

There's a lot of work to do here, but Jisung decides that it is all worth it. You are worth putting all the effort in. At least, that's what he thinks.

With a clear goal in mind, he grabs a pair of yellow, rubbery gloves from underneath the sink and pulls them over his hands. He gazes over the piles of plates stacked on top of each other in the sink with a grimace, but then he remembers how tired and lifeless your eyes were this morning.

Squirting some dish soap onto the sponge, he starts scrubbing the dishes clean.

After dealing with the mess in the sink, Jisung heads over to the living room. Slowly, one by one, he begins to pick up all your discarded clothing from the floor, separating it into two piles. One for clean clothes and one for laundry.

Minutes later, it doesn't even feel like a chore anymore.

He dumps the dirty clothes into your hamper, proceeding to fold the rest into neat little squares that he delicately places on your bed. Glancing over at your desk, he notices a printed document neatly splayed on the polished wood. The title of it seems somewhat familiar.

Wait a minute…

It was your research paper. A research paper that you spent the entire evening on. The one that took you over a week to gather all the needed materials. And also, what terrifies him the most, it was the paper you said was due today.

Shit.

Jisung glances at the clock hanging above your door, the gears spinning inside his head. If he were to run all the way to your campus, he could make it, right?

With no time to lose, he snatches the paper from your desk and runs to the door. His shoelaces are untied, flapping in the air as he sprints down the sidewalk. He has to bring the paper on time.

Trying his best to recall the shortest way to the campus, Jisung reminisces his old memories from this street. The neighbors who always greeted him when he passed by, how he used to play in the nearby park and feed the stray cats...everything that led up to that one night.

The night that changed everything.

The pain, the screams, the flowers that scattered across the asphalt...everything was coming back to him.

No… this wasn't the time.

Jisung tried his best to shake off the nauseating feeling creeping down his spine, instead, focusing on his current goal.

Right—bringing you your paper.

After a few sharp turns, Jisung finds himself on the college campus.

A wave of emotion crashes over him when he sees all the students running around from one building to another, eating their lunch under the large trees that provide shelter from the sun, and clutching cups of hot coffee from the cafe nearby…

It all overwhelms him to the point of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

This was supposed to be me too, he realizes bitterly. I was supposed to be one of these students.

It's almost as if all the pent-up anger and frustration just swells up inside of him and bursts, no longer able to contain itself within his fragile heart. He can almost feel the fragments of his heart piercing through his insides.

Out of nowhere, a group of students passes by. He's about to yell out a “watch out”, but something stops him. A throbbing pain spreads throughout his body, lighting every inch of his skin on fire, and allowing a yelp to run past his lips. Panicking, he looks around to see if anyone heard, but to his utter terror, he can't find them anywhere.

Correction—he can't find them anywhere around him. The students are no longer passing by, they are going through him, almost as if phasing through his body.

Not almost...they were phasing through his form.

The prickling pain settles in his guts, one akin to a thousand tiny needles piercing him all at once, and the moment the last student finally emerges on the other side, he sighs in relief.

Now, a much harder quest awaited him. He had to find the professor's office so that he could deliver your papers on time.

Taking a deep breath, he blends with the crowd of sleep-deprived students and makes his way to the main building.

As he's running down the hallway, a familiar sense of grief washes over him. These very halls of the town college were supposed to house him for four years too. Inside this old building, he was going to build his future…

“Forget it, Jisung,” he mutters under his breath, “the past is in the past.”

Looking down at the slightly crumpled piece of paper, Jisung scans the top corner of the page.

“Aha,” he whispers, “Professor Kang.”

Luckily, he could remember in which teacher’s lounge she resided. When he was in his final year of high school, the professor used to give lectures about her subject, hoping to get more students to apply for college. He remembered her kind, brown eyes, the ones that always smiled at him when his hand excitedly shot up in the back of the room to ask another question.

Once he arrives in front of the large, double doors, he carefully raises his hand curled into a fist, but before he can begin knocking, someone hastily bursts through the doorway, nearly slamming the door in his face.

“Woah,” he just barely manages to jump back, evading the dark oak. Yet despite the rather unpleasant experience, he is now left with the door wide open, allowing him easier access to the room.

So without a moment of hesitation, Jisung slips inside the room. The smell of orange blossoms greets him, courtesy of the Yankee candle that someone, probably professor Kang, took the liberty to light. Faster than lightning, Jisung finds her desk and drops the paper on top of it.

And just like the wind, he's gone…

❖ ❖ ❖

“Please hand over your papers if you haven't yet,” professor Kang hollers over the racket, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. As much as she understands why you're all so noisy—after all, lunch break starts in five minutes—her patience is running thin. She hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks and all the ruckus is bringing back her headache.

Bending over your desk, you reach into your backpack to pull out your paper. Your fingers relentlessly search through the pocket, pushing away all the school books and random scraps of paper. Your research paper, however, is nowhere to be found.

A feeling of dread washes over you. Just then, you remember something. The image of your paper laying on your desk is still fresh in your mind, and then it hits you...you left it at home.

Tears well up in your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside your chest as you try to recall what repercussions you would face. And you realize they would not be pretty…

All the hard work you put into that paper, all the effort that went into it. Gone. It would all go out the window.

Ignoring Jeongin's question about eating lunch together, you sprint to the door hoping to catch professor Kang before she exits the classroom.

You almost trip in the process, but in the last second, you manage to regain your balance.

“Professor Kang!” you cry, panting as you finally reach her by the door. Your clothes are disheveled and your shoelaces are untied, but you ignore that for now.

“About the paper, I wanted to ask if—”

“Oh, don't worry, sweetie,” she interjects, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I got your paper right here with me.”

To your utter bewilderment, she waves the paper in front of your face, and your eyes widen when you realize that it is yours, indeed.

But...how?

When she spots the puzzlement on your face, she laughs. “Oh, Y/N! You left it on my desk this morning, remember?”

The gears are spinning inside your head. Forcing yourself to laugh it off and nod, you zip up your bag and say goodbye to her, and head to the cafeteria.

That's when it hits you. Jisung. He's the only one who could've done it. No one else has access to your apartment, not to mention the only one who knows you've been stressing out about this paper for days. He must have realized you left the paper at home and ran to your school to deliver it to Professor Kang's desk.

A large grin appears on your face. That idiot truly saved your ass. You would be in a lot of trouble if you hadn't handed in the paper today.

On your way back home, you pass by the local pizza shop and a lightbulb suddenly lights up in your head: as a thank you gift, you can bring him back some pizza!

Jisung's stomach is the equivalent of a bottomless pit. That guy could eat three ramens, two whole burgers and still have room for dessert. One of the biggest setbacks of having an unexpected roommate was your food bill nearly tripling.

The first week, you almost yelled at him for finishing the four cups of pudding that were in your fridge in less than two hours. Now, you felt quite guilty for putting him through hell (also known as your wrath) for simply craving some sugar.

That's why you decide to splurge—buying three large pizzas for the two of you to share.

“I'm home,” you greet from the doorway, panting after having run up the stairs so the pizza wouldn't get cold. When a startling silence welcomes you, a frown appears on your lips. Usually, Jisung would've been at the door already, taking off your coat and welcoming you with a hug.

“Jisung?” you call as you tip-toe into the living room. Your lips stretch into a knowing smile when you see the boy lying down on your couch, eyes shut and soft snores escaping his lips.

There is no doubt—he is fast asleep.

As you slowly make your way closer to him, careful not to wake him, you can't help but coo at his current state. Jisung looks nothing short of adorable with his bunched-up cheeks and a little bit of drool trickling down his chin; he reminds you of a squirrel.

A rowdy, yet lovable squirrel.

“Hey…Ji,” you whisper, tracing your palm against his cheek. Smoothing down the soft flesh with your thumb, you run to the closet to grab a blanket you can cover him with.

That's when you finally get the chance to properly look around, and your eyes widen when a startling occurrence comes to your attention.

Did he clean the entire apartment?

After carefully placing the fuzzy throw over his resting body, you take a seat on the floor next to the couch. Threading your fingers through his hair, you whisper, “you really saved my ass there, Ji. Bringing my paper to school. I'm really grateful, you know.”

A soft sigh escapes his lips, and you move your fingers upwards to gently massage his scalp.

“Thank you for cleaning the apartment too. It was a big mess before I left this morning but you cleaned it up, didn't you?”

You stay there for a few more minutes before you start setting the table. You don't want to wake him, so you decide to let him rest for now. Grabbing yourself a slice of pizza, you begin munching it down, mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

You don't even notice Jisung opening his eyes from his spot behind the couch, looking at you from under his lashes with a fond smile.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Can you pass me the milk?” you shout over the loud noises from the construction right behind your building. A yelp sounds from behind the fridge, and you turn around just in time to see Jisung juggling your favorite bowl in his hands.

You shoot him a glare, “careful there, buddy. That's my Lilo & Stitch bowl, you better not drop it.”

Jisung laughs in bewilderment, a sound you've truly come to love in the past few weeks. “Lilo and Stitch? Seriously? How long have you had this bowl for? Fifteen years?”

You grumble; he's not that far from the truth. The bowl was given to you when you were still a child by your great grandmother. It's a memento you've cherished for your entire life and something you've kept around ever since she passed away.

Jisung notices the slight shift in mood. He can sense the harrowing thoughts infiltrate your mind one by one as they push away your cheerful spirit and settle inside of you.

Immediately, he walks up to you, pressing his warm hand against your back and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“Here you go,” he hands you the bowl with milk. His hand grazes over yours as he reaches for the cereal.

Strawberry cini minis—your favorite.

As he tips the box above the milk, ready to dump some into your bowl, he notices you looking at him intently.

“What?” he questions, feeling queasy from your intense gaze. You glare at him for a few more seconds before bursting into laughter, thoroughly enjoying the fact that you finally caught him off guard.

“N-Nothing,” the word barely comes out of your mouth as you're too busy holding in the fit of laughter, “it's just that you're the first person I've ever met who pours in the milk before the cereal.”

“Hey!” his ears turn pink, “I'm sure there are other people who pour in the milk first.”

The pointed look you give him sends chills down his spine.

“Okay,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, “maybe not.”

❖ ❖ ❖

“You look hideous,” you grumble pointedly when Jisung finally comes out of the changing room, a cheap hoodie three sizes too big draping over his frame and tight sweatpants covering his legs.

Jisung pulls a face, but after looking in the mirror, he realizes that you're right.

“Look, we can get you a nice outfit somewhere else, okay?”

Huffing out a dramatic sigh, Jisung whines, “But where? Nothing I try on seems to fit me. I'm starting to think I just don't look good in clothes.”

You almost bark out a laugh, catching on to what he's trying to convey. Yes, he had a nice body—something you get to see first hand whenever he stumbles out of a bathroom shirtless, looking for his t-shirt, but you won't let him get to you again.

After he changes back into his (yours, actually) clothes, you drag him out of the store and head to another place. One you deemed would have a nicer selection.

“Here, I think this size should fit you better.”

He gladly accepts the articles of clothing you shove in his hands, pulling the curtain in the stall. Meanwhile, you take a seat on the small, wooden bench, curious how he will look in the things you chose for him.

And as always, the universe has proven you have impeccable taste.

The curtain slowly peels, revealing Jisung, who is nervously treading from place to place, rubbing at the back of his neck. Uncertainty hazes his eyes, but at this moment, you can barely recognize him.

From the boy who appeared in your house all roughed up, to a handsome young man, clad in jeans and a simple, white t-shirt.

You can't believe how much the outfit affects you, and the heat rises to your cheeks as you take in the sight. The form-fitting shirt sits deliciously tight around his torso and arms, further emphasizing his toned body. The light wash jeans have a couple of rips on the knees, allowing slivers of his tan skin to peek through the stiff material.

One thing's for sure—he does clean up nicely.

Heat rises to your face as you look away, not wanting him to see you embarrassed again. Jisung knows the power he possesses—he is far too cocky for his own good and you figured he would never shut up about it if he knew how attracted you were to him.

“Do I really look that bad?” the question startles you from your distracted state, brow shooting up. Does he think he looks bad? Is he joking—

However, when you turn around to look at him, you can't help but notice how out of place he seems. The way his head hangs low and his fingers clutch onto his jeans—he almost seems like an entirely new person.

Out goes the confident and cocky guy who sometimes walks around shirtless in your apartment and in comes the shy, introverted boy who more than anything else, values your opinion and always puts your comfort before his.

It's truly startling to see those two flip sides of a coin merge into one, creating a masterpiece of a guy that Jisung is. And more than anything, you want him to realize his worth.

“No,” your hand comes to rest at his shoulder, making him slowly lift his gaze until his chocolate orbs are looking straight into yours. With as much confidence as you can muster, you continue, “you look really good, Jisung. How do you feel in it?”

“Uhm… it's actually kind of nice,” he muses, smoothing down the creases of his shirt. “The material is really soft and comfortable. I'm just—”

You stare at him intently, waiting for him to continue. A nervous smile play on his lips. “I'm just not sure if these kinds of clothes suit me. I'm not really a gym rat,” he chuckles, tugging on the tight sleeves.

You quirk your brow. “You're not a gym rat? Really?” you almost feel like bursting into laughter. Dropping your gaze to his arms you scoff. “Yeah… definitely not a gym rat.”

“Oh,” the word comes from his mouth in an airy breath. “You mean these guns?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jisung cringes internally. Why did he always have to make such a fool out of himself? Well, at least he had managed to humor you—the burst of laughter you fall into is a symphony for his ears. He supposes he's grateful for his high school years where he used to spend hours at the gym, believing that it was the only time he could get ripped.

“Let's get going, you dork.”

Shoving him back inside the stall, you pull the curtain before taking a seat on the bench. Pulling out your phone, you notice it's already past two, and your gut was telling you that neither you nor Jisung were going to last without food much longer.

Once he emerges from the small stall with the small heap of clothes in his arms, you head to the cash register. With a swipe of your card, you purchase the items and hand his the small paper bag.

“C'mon. Let's get something to eat.”

Upon arrival at the overcrowded food court, Jisung gasps in awe. When you turn your head to him, raising a brow, he shrugs. “Hey, it's been ages since I've been here. This mall changed a lot.”

Was he from here? Your brows furrow at the though; this wasn't the first time he hinted at knowing this place. Nonetheless, you already knew that asking him personal questions would get you nowhere. For God's sake—it was like talking to a brick wall!

You end up ordering some chicken nuggets and a smoothie. Jisung, on the other hand, opts for a cheeseburger. Well… three, actually. Wincing at the thought of your drained bank account, you swipe your card on the terminal.

“I'll take it,” he grips the tray before you, walking towards an empty table in a secluded corner at the back. It's a lot less noisy here.

Dipping your nugget in the sauce, your eyes wander off, landing on the boy in front of you. A chuckle escapes your parted lips as you watch him wolf down the burger in three bites.

“This is really good!” Jisung grins, practically inhaling the second burger with how fast he was eating. During your silent observation, you manage to notice a particular detail.

He stores his food in his cheeks.

Oh fuck, he's so damn cute, he almost looks like a squirrel. Your heart swells up at the realization that he has so much in common with the adorable rodent. With how mesmerized you are, you don't notice Jisung's gaze landing on you.

A small smirk plays on his lips—you were watching him.

Suddenly, he stands up to his full height, bending his torso over the table until his face is right in front of yours. His lips stretch into a large grin as he watches the heat rise to your cheeks, looking at you like you held the entire Milky way in your eyes.

You feel bashful under his intense gaze, unable to properly deal with your emotions and simultaneously handle his cocky smile. Biting down at your lower lip, your eyes slowly close in anticipation, gripping at the soft material of your hoodie. You aren't sure what makes you react that way, but before you can properly dwell on it, you feel something touch your cheek.

Jisung watches your eyes close with amusement, giddy at the fact that he managed to elicit such a reaction from you. His deep brown orbs fixate on your face, taking in all your pretty features before his thumb brushes off the sliver of sauce that stains your cheek.

“You got a lil' something there, darling.”

Your eyes instantly open, an inaudible gasp leaving your parted lips. You stare at Jisung for a couple more seconds, blinking a few times, before your eyes dart sideways.

A heavy silence falls between you.

You're too flustered to speak, meanwhile, Jisung, who is currently sipping ice tea from his jumbo-sized paper cup, flashes you a toothy grin. Rolling your eyes, you slowly get up and grab your tray.

“We should probably head back home.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, placing his hand on your lower back and gently guiding you to the exit. “Let's go home.”

❖ ❖ ❖

“Done!” you softly mutter under your breath, sliding your finished bagels into a paper bag. You haven't been really enjoying the food in your canteen for the past few days so you decided to make your own. And you have to admit—your homemade bagels look a thousand times better than the mystery meatloaf your school offers to the poor, hungry students.

Upon smelling the toasted bagels, Jisung materializes right behind you, placing his hands on your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Your heartbeat quickens when you hear his raspy voice whisper in your ear.

“These look so good. What's the occasion?”

His hand slowly reaches for one of the bangles, but you promptly slap it, wrapping the bagels before he can eat them.

“Hey—” he whines playfully, pinching your side. “What was that for?”

A pout appears on your lips as you chastise him. “This is my lunch today. The food's been terrible this week so I decided to make something myself.”

“I see. Are you sure you can't spare a little something for me?” He juts out his lower lip in an attempt to make you change your mind. However, the anticipation of hunger overrides his cuteness and you manage to hastily decline.

“Sorry, Ji. I'll need all the energy I can get today. I have two evening classes so I'll need to stay awake.”

Jisung grumbles something about how you're practically starving him (while he's eating some of your cereal straight from the box), before waddling away, the fuzzy blanket that's draped around his shoulders dragging across the floor.

You bite your tongue in exasperation before angrily shouting, “Jisung! Get my blanket off the damn floor!”

Rushing back to your room to grab your books, you dump everything into your backpack. You even fill up your water bottle—having the time to do so for the first time in months—before walking out the door.

“Goodbye, Jisung!” you shout over the sound of the washing machine, smiling softly at the fact that Jisung is already helping out so early in the morning.

“Bye, Y/N. Enjoy your day!”

Unbeknownst to you, the brown, paper bag lies forgotten on your kitchen counter.

❖ ❖ ❖

You sigh bitterly, dropping your backpack on the soft, green grass before you lower yourself until your back is pressed flush against the stale, oak tree on campus grounds.

The loud grumble of your stomach makes you drop your head in your hands, gripping at the roots of your hair in frustration.

How could you have forgotten something so important? Again. Are you really that forgetful?

From the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin and Jeongin walking up to you, both sipping cups of boba from the new boba place that just opened two weeks ago.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jeongin waves, the straw never leaving his mouth. “Mind if we take a seat?”

You nod in agreement, moving your backpack so that there's more space for them to sit. A loud grumble of your stomach makes the heat rise up to your cheeks.

“Quite the whale coming out of your stomach,” Seungmin quips, pointing at your lower belly with a toothy grin. Jeongin joins in on the laughter too, a teasing smile appearing on his lips.

“S-Shut up!” you cry, hiding your face in embarrassment as you instinctively cover your abdomen. “I forgot my lunch at home, okay!”

As the two of them continue to laugh at you, you notice a quick movement materializing from the corner of your eye. Once the person finally comes into view, you break out into a large grin.

“Jisung!” you yell at your friend, waving at him frantically before getting up and breaking into a sprint.

As the distance between you and him shrinks, Jeongin's eyes are blown out wide.

His hands start trembling at the mention of the familiar name. Chills run down his spine as he watches you run, eyes helplessly searching for him.

He finds nothing.

All the memories of that day—the worst day of his life—start slowly trickling back into his mind, drowning him in the dread and agony he went through exactly ten years ago. His hands start clenching into fists, gripping at the emerald green grass and pulling it out of the soil.

Both him and Seungmin are watching you intently, but neither of them are able to spot this “Jisung” you're speaking of.

“What are you doing here, Ji?” you whisper into the boy's chest when the two of you finally collide, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace. Sighing at the soft scent of your washing detergent, you bury your nose into his neck.

With just his presence alone, he has managed to lull you into a state of bliss.

Jisung rubs comforting circles on your back with his right hand before he pulls something from behind his back. A sudden silence hangs over you, your brows furrow for a second before you squeal in awe, realizing what he was holding.

“You brought my lunch!”

You look up at Jisung, giving him the widest smile you can possibly muster. Overwhelmed by your exhilaration, he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. He's happy to see you so joyful—your smile has the ability to light up his entire universe and simultaneously bring him to his knees. Something he realized when he saw you flash him a grin for the first time.

Till this day, Jisung remembers the twinkle in your eyes—the ones that carry entire galaxies in them—when he says something remotely funny. It's the way your eyes lighten up and look at him with such fondness and admiration—it's a deadly combination that makes him weak in the knees.

Jisung knows he's weak for you. Utterly weak.

“C'mon, we can share!” you wiggle your brows, suggestively waving the small paper bag in front of you. Jisung's eyes lighten up as he recalls how good they smelled in the morning.

“Yes, please!”

As the two of you walk away with your arms linked, you fail to notice how pale Jeongin has gone and how incredulously Seungmin is looking at you. With a quick turn of his head, Jisung searches for the people you were sitting with prior to his arrival. Curiosity gets the better of him—he truly wants to know who your friends are.

However, once his eyes land on the two guys who are currently standing up from the ground, one of them patting the other on the back, a wave of nausea washes over him, chilling him to the bone.

No… it can't be.

He almost refuses to believe it at first, but when his eyes focus on the sharp, fox-like features of your friend, it feels like someone punched him in the stomach. With his eyes blown wide, he starts connecting the dots, one by one.

It really is him.

Other than the massive growth spurt over the past ten years (his shoulders have broadened unbelievably, he notes), he looks exactly the same, down to the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the black beanie he always wore.

“Are you okay there, Ji? You're not hungry anymore?”

Your voice pulls him out of his trance, and shaking his head, he gives you a forced smile.

“I'm fine, just got a bit distracted. Let's go over there.” He points at a secluded area behind the gazebo, suggesting that you two sit on the bench.

“Sure.”

❖ ❖ ❖

The smell of lasagna wafts through the air as you paddle down the hall leading to your living room, careful not to trip on anything that could possibly be in the way (like Jisung's dirty laundry). There's a makeshift blindfold tied around your eyes, causing all your other senses to heighten.

“Careful! There's a sock at three o'clock!” Jisung warns, his hands that are securely wrapped around your waist gently guiding you to evade the garment on the floor.

You sigh, placing your palms gingerly over his. You could feel his breath lingering on your neck, making you shiver. “Jisung, what am I even doing? Running around my apartment blindfolded…”

A childish whine leaves his lips. “C'mon, darling. Lighten up! I promise you it's nothing bad—it's just a little surprise. That's all.”

Although still a bit skeptical, you nod, threading your fingers with his as he walks you into what you assume is the kitchen, judging by the fact that the lovely smell has intensified.

“What's this?” You sniff, surprised at how good the food smells. “You ordered takeout?”

A brief chuckle escapes his lips at the implication. Unbeknownst to you, he has no idea how to order food from those apps on your phone. He doesn't even have a phone in the first place!

Instead of replying, Jisung's hands reach for the back of your head, fingers working to untie the knot that keeps the blindfold secured around your face.

“Surprise!” he yells in your ear, throwing his hands in the air for a dramatic effect. You let out a surprised gasp, eyes widening at the scene before you.

“Jisung!” The shock still hasn’t worn off as you take a few steps forward, gently placing your hand on the fresh table cloth lying on your table and examining his handiwork. “I-I can’t believe this!”

While you were working on your assignment in your room, Jisung cleaned the entire place up, changing the table cloth and setting the table. There were long candles placed between the plates that he set up, just like in a fancy restaurant. On top of that, a large bouquet of daisies stood in the center, completing the entire picture.

“It's…” You rack your brain, desperately trying to find the right words, but failing. “It's really beautiful.”

Discreetly wiping off the moisture under your eyes, you turn around to face him, pulling him into a bone-shattering hug.

He gently pats your back before placing his palm against your cheek and motioning for you to look him in the eye. “Thank you. I hope you'll enjoy what I've planned for you today.”

Leading you to the table, he pulls out your chair and places his hand on your lower back to guide you to sit down. The heat rises to your cheeks at the action, one usually associated with couples, as you slowly take a seat, breathing in to calm your racing heart.

Pulling on oven mitts, Jisung turns off the oven and pulls out the lasagna. Your mouth waters upon seeing the finished product of his hard work. He catches you lovingly staring at the food and flashes a grin.

“Here you go.” He cuts out identical pieces of the dish and places them on both your plates. A soft “thanks” leaves your lips as you watch him run back into the kitchen, grabbing some matches to light the candles.

“There we go.” He calls out cheerfully once all is ready, taking a seat opposite to you. Rubbing your hands together, you smile appreciatively before digging in.

The burst of flavor on your tongue is something you truly aren't ready for. Eyes widening in surprise, you open your mouth to speak. “This is really good.”

Although muffled by the food you are chewing, Jisung understands and chuckles at the sight. “Thanks. I found a really cool recipe online and changed it up a bit. I'm glad you like it.”

And it truly hits you then—just how much Jisung has done for you. His presence has become somewhat of a constant in your boring, ordinary life. An unpredictable force that came barging through the window like a warm gust of wind, changing all your days for the better.

Over the time that he has spent with you, he always came rushing whenever you needed help. He had cheered you up during the times you were at your lowest, allowing you to cry your heart out while rubbing comforting circles on your back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He cooked, he cleaned, he even brought you things to your college whenever you forgot them—like your assignment or your lunch. As horrible as they sometimes were, his cheesy jokes always managed to put a smile on your face—something you have come to love.

After swallowing the last piece of your lasagna, you were about to get up to wash the dishes. However, Jisung places his palm over yours, stopping you from doing so. “It's okay. I'll do the dishes later. I still have something planned for today, remember?”

The twinkle in your eye manages to set your heart onfire, a large smile decorating your lips as you follow him to the couch. Your eyes widen at the setup of the coffee table; a couple scented candles are placed across the surface, there's a massive bowl of ice cream, and in the middle sits the star of the evening.

A beautifully decorated fruit cake.

You let that sink in for a moment—Jisung baked you a cake.

A stunning one at that.

Ever since that baking fiasco in grade 7, you've known first hand how hard it is to bake and decorate such a nice cake. And to know he went through all the trouble—it makes you really emotional.

“Thank you, Ji. I absolutely love it!” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your head in his chest.

Jisung's eyes widen, a crimson hue painting his cheeks as he pats your head affectionately, a goofy smile appearing on his lips. “I'm glad you like it.”

After that, he rests his hand on your back, pointing at the couch. There, spread across your fluffy throw blanket, lays a selection of DVDs, ranging from rom-coms to popular horrors. You sigh at the sight; it has been quite some time since you saw those, having opted for purchasing a Netflix subscription years ago.

“I borrowed these from your neighbors. They said we can return them anytime next week.”

Gazing from one end of the couch to the other, you look at all your possible choices before a title catches your gaze. Gently hovering your hand above the plastic case, you lower it to grab the movie, flipping it to the other side so that you can read the description.

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “Look—it's a ghost story. That should be fun since it's almost Halloween.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jisung, who is standing right behind you, pales, all the color draining from his cheeks. “A-A ghost one?”

You curiously glance his way, immediately noticing his unrest. Upon seeing the frown etched onto his face, you raise a brow.

“I take it that you're not really one for horrors.”

When he doesn't reply, you place down the DVD. “It's okay—I get scared quite easily too. We can watch something—”

“—No.”

Slightly amused, you look at him, chuckling at his rushed response. “You sure? I'm really okay with—”

He places his hand gently over yours. “It's fine. I want to watch this.” You look at him incredulously, but he gives you such a cheeky grin that you can't help but give in. Sitting comfortably on the couch, Jisung puts the DVD into the player and plops into the empty spot right next to you, grabbing a knife and cutting off two slices of cake.

After placing the delicious treat on a plate, he hands it to you, making one for himself too.

Curiously tapping the spoon on the edge of the table, you press play before digging into the cake and shoving the spoon in your mouth. A groan leaves your lips.

“Jisung! This is so good!” You gush, excitedly taking another piece. Next to you, Jisung sits cross-legged, quietly observing you with a fond smile. His eyes crinkle when he sees how much you're enjoying his treat. A familiar feeling spreads throughout his body and he feels warm and fuzzy from the inside.

“I'm glad you like it.”

Selecting the language options, the two of you recline back in your seats, eyes focusing on the TV.

❖ ❖ ❖

“I wasn't scared at all! I swear!” Jisung tries to convince you as he's gathering all the plates, about to carry them to the sink. You snicker. “Yeah sure, Ji. I totally believe you.”

A pout appears on his face as he juts out his lower lip, feigning hurt. “I really wasn't!”

“AAAAAA. Heeelp, Y/N. I'm so scared!” You yell in a high pitch, trying to imitate his voice.

A mild blush covers his cheeks, and Jisung can't help but realize he may or may not have screamed something like that at one point. But it's not like he could help it—cinematography has progressed a lot in the past years, and he wasn't used to all the flashy effects.

“It's okay,” you pat his back, pinching his soft cheek before grabbing one of the plates and beginning to wash it. “I was pretty scared too.”

The crease in his brow disappears, but he still looks a bit distressed. Puffing out his cheeks, he joins you in front of the sink and starts washing the dishes too.

The two of you work in relative silence—each of you too lost in thought to lead a proper conversation. But even though no words are exchanged, a familiar ease hangs in the air, the atmosphere between you very pleasant—like two people who have known each other long enough to communicate without words.

Even though your fingers struggle to grip the plates properly, you still manage to clean them at a moderate pace. And as soon as you're done with washing it, Jisung is there to take it from you and dry it with a fluffy towel.

“Thanks for helping me out with the dishes.”

His body tenses for a second, before he regains his composure and continues drying. “Yeah. It's no problem, really.”

You glance up at him from underneath your lashes, admiring his sharp features as he focuses on the task at hand. Your heartbeat starts racing as you notice, one by one, the little quirks and subtle things that he does.

The way his eyes stay sharp and focused—there's something truly magical about that. The little scrunch of his nose when he stands on his tippy toes to reach the top shelf. The way his Adam's apple bobs and his strong arms gripping onto the plates.

Everything about him suddenly seems so enchanting you can't take your eyes off him.

They say love makes you blind. Well, that may be true, but for you… it was different.

It made you foolish. Stupid. Crazy, even. Like something straight out of a fairytale. Who would've thought that you, out of all people, would be the one to fall for a guy who just appeared at your place, asking to stay. His skin was littered with bruises, and he refused to go to the hospital, despite his serious injuries. He was a guy you knew nothing about.

Yet it seems like once again, fate has found a way to bring you two together, tying your heartstrings and forming a special bond between two virtual strangers.

Ever since you found him lying on your couch, your world was quite literally flipped upside down. Jisung came in like the wind, unpredictable and wild, throwing things out of place like a hurricane—in this case, those things were your own feelings—and wreaking havoc in your heart.

Yet despite that, this miracle of a person has managed to establish himself as a solid part of your life. It didn't take long for you to realize how happy you suddenly became when he was around, how the mood shifted whenever he entered the room and how a smile instantly appeared on your face. He's always there for you, something you never thought you'd be able to confidently say about someone.

He has become your anchor. Someone you can rely on when things aren't going well. Someone who isn't afraid to put your needs before his when needed. Someone who knows exactly when to tell you to stop if you're pulling another all-nighter or neglecting yourself in any way, shape, or form.

And you decide to tell him exactly that.

“Jisung,” you whisper, keeping your eyes trained in front of you. Said boy hums, not looking up from his work as the tip of his tongue darts out in concentration.

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath. This was a lot more stressful than you anticipated, you realized. “I—” the words get lost on your tongue just as you're about to ask. Swallowing the ball of spit that formed in your throat, you continue.

“I'm really grateful for having you in my life. I know we don't know each other for too long, but spending time with you has become one of my favourite things. Whenever I'm with you, I feel like all my problems disappear. Like everything's going to be okay…”

You trail off with a solemn tone, keeping your eyes down as you feel all these overwhelming emotions take over you.

Suddenly, you hear the room go quiet. Blinking away the confusion, you notice that the sink isn't running anymore, the corners of your eye catching Jisung's palm closing the faucet. You nervously grip onto your shirt, closing your eyes and allowing the demons to whisper in your ear once again.

You shouldn't have told him. He doesn't care. Nobody ever does...

“Darling…”

A familiar voice shakes you from your thoughts, preventing you from sinking any lower. It's a sweet melody calling out to you and pulling you out from the trench you were currently falling through.

As your gaze slowly rises, you notice a pair of intense, brown eyes looking at you, carefully studying your face.

Shying away in embarrassment, you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. The serious expression on his face worries you slightly—his usually cheeky demeanor gone and instead replaced with a fierce gaze as his lids flutter.

In a flash, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, pushing you against the counter. Your eyes widen in surprise, hands immediately gripping onto the sleeves of his shirt to anchor yourself. You feel his hands snake around your neck, gently cupping your cheek as he pulls you closer to him, until there's no space between you.

A few seconds pass before he lets go, detaching his lips from yours with a smile. His eyes twinkle, gleefully watching you fluster before he finally speaks up.

“I like you too, you know. I have for a while, actually…”

With another press of his soft, kissable lips, you close your eyes in bliss.

❖ ❖ ❖

Jisung is scared. Shivers are running down his spine as his breath heaves; he looks down at his arms to try and understand what's going on with him. He's utterly terrified as his sharp gaze manages to quite literally pierce through his hand.

Except, there's no longer a hand for him to look at.

He's dissolving.

The chilling truth sinks in as he comes to a realization of what's going on. Perhaps he has been testing his luck for far too long, dancing on the edge of what was deemed appropriate for someone like him. But he thought that it could be different… that you could be the person for him. One that would bring him back from this misery he was about to fall back into.

Your soft snores echo through the apartment, a painful reminder of today's events that he would never want to forget. The sweet smile on your lips, how your eyes glossed. He thought that he had finally found peace amongst the thorns of the afterlife.

But it seems like fate had other plans, granting him the sweet taste of love before cruelly ripping it away, leaving his shattered heart behind.

Why is it always like that for him? Ever since he was young, he knew he wasn't particularly lucky. As a child, he wished he could get his hand on the infamous Felix Felicis potion for years. It was a ridiculous and naive wish—he is now aware of that—but thinking back, it would really come in handy.

A sharp ache flutters through his hand as he gasps at the sight of his appendage. From the wrist down, it's all gone. His heart clenches when he realizes what that means, pain ebbing through his entire body at the mere thought.

He can't.

He really doesn't want to, but unfortunately, fate doesn't listen to what one wants. Instead, it does its own thing, intertwining, separating or melding the lives of millions of people, all according to its own ways.

Fate isn't something he can escape, and sadly, Han Jisung is very much aware of that fact.

He won't dare go against such a powerful entity. At least not when the stakes are so high…

Ignoring the pricking pain in his left hand, he grabs a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling a quick goodbye note. Tears are streaming down his face; droplets of salty water dripping onto the paper as they create small blotches of smeared ink.

But Jisung can't afford to even remotely care, his left hand is slowly dissolving and it's only a matter of time until his entire body disappears. He has overstayed his welcome.

A choked sob leaves his lips, one full of hurt and anger, as he hurriedly jots down his last words of love, encouragement, and apologies. For the last time, he takes a look around the apartment—the one that housed him for the past few months—and wipes his tears off his face.

And just like the wind, he's gone.

Except this time, he has no plans of ever returning again...

❖ ❖ ❖

You're freaking out. It's the only thing you've been doing for the past few hours, other than frantically running around your apartment, calling for him like a maniac. But despite your best efforts, you haven't been able to find him. Fresh tears start rolling down your cheeks as you open the folded piece of paper, re-reading its contents for the 100th time.

But even if you read it a million more times, you still won't understand the reasoning behind his actions.

What does he mean by I really can't stay any longer, it isn't physically possible anymore. The words seem like they aren't even his to begin with. They're rushed, serious, and full of apologies, and it almost feels like Jisung was going through a great deal of pain while writing them.

The splotches on the paper indicate that he was also crying, something you find especially heartbreaking, and it only serves to make you sob louder.

You can't believe he's gone, especially after what happened yesterday. The entire evening was full of laughter, half-lidded gazes, and sweet words that the two of you exchanged. It was the day you finally confessed your feelings, something that took a lot of effort and courage on your part.

You thought your life was finally coming together. Relief washed over you when you ultimately thought that you found someone that was going to stay by your side. That wasn't going to leave you behind like everyone else did.

Despite your best efforts to deny it, it seems like you were wrong.

❖ ❖ ❖

It is raining again, the dark clouds painting the sky a murky grey as they release a waterfall of droplets onto the city, but you can barely feel the water touch your skin.

You're running, running down the sidewalk with no plan in mind—only a feeling of desperation. Puddles of water are sloshing under your feet as you sprint straight through them, anger and betrayal mixing inside your head.

You don't know what to do, quite frankly; you don't even know how to feel.

A few minutes ago, you bumped into Minho, your landlord, as you were running down the stairs. The handsome man gave you a wide smile, greeting you as he slowly took in your state.

Disheveled, messy clothes; tears running down your face; red eyes… Yeah, you probably weren't looking your best right now.

A frown took over his face when he caught sight of the tears spilling from your eyes. “Y/N? Is everything alright?”

You choked on a sob, shaking your head in denial. “N-No, h-he's gone…”

He watched in fear as you almost broke down in the hallway, hands clutching onto your arms as you tried to lull yourself into a state where you could think normally.

“Who's gone?” Minho inquired, brows furrowing. His arm slowly wrapped around your shaking shoulders, guiding you towards his apartment. Perhaps he could offer you a cup of warm tea to help you calm down.

Taking a deep breath, you whispered, “Jisung.”

You never saw the color drain from someone's face as fast as now.

Minho's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, his arm immediately letting go of you as he took a step back. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, a pained expression appearing on his face.

“J-Jisung?”

His voice was strained, the single word pronounced in a quiet stutter. You almost had to crane your neck to even hear what he was saying. The shift in his expression scared you, though.

His eyes darted sideways, as if he was expecting someone to appear out of nowhere and startle him. Glancing down, you noticed his hands were shaking, something that very much reminded you of the way he reacted to a joke you made when you first moved in.

“I-I… I h-have to g-go,” he mumbled before dashing down the staircase and leaving you behind.

Frankly, it wasn't even the worst reaction you got.

After Mr. Lee left you standing in the hallway, you asked a couple more people if they knew where Jisung could've gone, and to your utter surprise, most of them replied that they had no idea who you were talking about.

That bit was what startled you the most—they had seen you and Jisung hang out multiple times. You even greeted them as you passed by, indulging in a little small talk for God's sake.

How could they have not known?

It isn't until you reach the local internet cafe, stepping inside and shedding your coat. You wipe off the tears from your face before walking up to the main barista, Hyunjin.

Everyone knows that Hyunjin is the main gossip girl in town. If you need some information, be it the latest buzz about celebrities, or who asked whom out from your college, Hyunjin is your guy.

Walking up to him, you try to smooth out the hem of your shirt so you don't look like you just rolled out of bed. Hyunjin greets you with a friendly smile and a familiar 'sup as he finishes up a caramel latte.

“How have you been?” he mouths, spraying a generous dollop of whipped cream on top of the beverage. You give him a broken smile, exhaustion peeking through the mask you're trying to put on, and his face immediately shifts.

“Are you alright? You don't really look too well," says Hyunjin. "No offence!” he adds hastily.

A sigh leaves your lips. “Yeah… I've been better, honestly. It's just that my friend is gone and I don't know what to do or how to find him…”

At this point, you're exhausted enough to plop down into the cushioned seat near the cash register to watch Hyunjin work. You always found his presence calming.

Said boy glances at you, curiosity glimmering in his eyes as he wipes down the counter. “And who is this mysterious person you're looking for, if I may ask?”

“Jisung… his name is Jisung.”

For a moment, everything goes so silent you could hear a pin drop. Hyunjin halts all his movements, dropping the plastic cup he was holding and letting it fall to the ground.

He pierces you with his eyes, his gaze no longer friendly and cheerful. Instead, you see pain, agony, and anger. Anger that has now apparently been redirected towards you.

The stare he gives you chills you to the bones. His sharp eyes glare daggers into you before he sighs, massaging his temples. “I don't know what you're playing at, Y/N, but I suggest you stop whatever little game you're onto.”

Your eyes widen. Game? What game? This is perhaps the most perplexed you've been in a long time. And that was saying a lot given you lived with a stranger for months.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, furrowing your brows. You extend your hand forward, intending to place your palm over his in a friendly gesture. But he rips his hand away before you even get close.

You feel a bit offended by the action, hurt that he's going this far to avoid you.

“H-Hyunjin? Is everything al—”

“—Y/N!” He cuts you off, not even allowing you to finish your sentence. His eyes are sharp, piercing through you judgmentally. “I know you're not from here, but you should know by now that you don't bring up Jisung here. Ever.”

Your eyes widen as you take a step back from him. You 're scared. This reaction was by far the worst one you've received. You're afraid that you're missing something… something crucial. It's a piece of information that everybody in town knows, you assume.

Except for you…

“H-Hyunjin?” you call after the boy, hoping to find some answers, but he gives you one last glare before walking off, disappearing behind the ‘staff only’ door.

The overwhelming urge to start sobbing consumes you from the inside. You're puzzled, baffled, confused. Everything starts blurring, and for a second, you think that he may just be a figment of your imagination. That there never really was a Jisung—he was just someone who came to be in your head.

No. It can't be true… you remembered him clearly. His nose… lips… smile. The twinkle in his eyes. The taste of his lips. Everything was there, there's no way you could've imagined this all… right?

Right.

Your hands dig into your pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper that was neatly folded into a tiny square. You're sure of it—Jisung is real!

Suddenly, your eyes dart, catching sight of the computers lining one of the walls.

Computers. Internet. Technology. Bingo—online archives! Whatever part of the story you were missing, you could just look up! Shivers run down your spine in anticipation as you're about to make your way to one of the devices, but a chilling call of your name stops you.

“Y/N.” Hyunjin's jaw is set in anger, something you notice once you turn around to follow the voice. “I think it would be best if you...if you went home.”

Embarrassment settles deep within your core. His eyes—laced with fury—are something you would never expect to be on the receiving end of. Humiliation boils in your veins as you excuse yourself, tears crystalizing at the corners of your eyes. Wordlessly, you run out the door, a clear goal in mind.

Home… you wanted to go home.

❖ ❖ ❖

The blue light from your laptop screen illuminates your face as you hunch over the table, squinting your eyes to read the tiny text.

For the past two hours, you've been searching the internet for anything—just a sliver of information on Jisung.

To say that you're confused would be an understatement. You're baffled, perplexed… bewildered. It feels like there's this big secret going on around town and nobody thought about filling you in. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, nothing at all.

Your brows furrow, a large crease appearing in your forehead, as you notice something that catches your eye. You bite down on your lip nervously as you realize that it contains all your key phrases; Han Jisung and your town's name.

Your blood runs cold as you read the headline, freezing in your spot for a second. This… this can't be true, can it?

In your chest, you feel your heartbeat stall as you nervously move your mouse and click on the article. It's from ten years ago, you notice.

It takes a while for the page to load, these few seconds allowing you to ponder upon what you saw. Did you read it correctly? Will there be some sort of continuation that will allow you to make more sense of the headline? Could this be another person they're talking about?

The article finally loads, and when you see the words, black on white, you feel like your heart stops in your chest.

18 year old Han Jisung crushed to death on Park Avenue construction site:

The denial comes almost immediately. For a full minute, you shut your eyes and try to convince yourself that you read wrong. It just can't be possible! That's what you tell yourself. However, after taking a deep breath and opening your eyes, you scroll down to read the article, and this time, you know it's true. Tears well up in your eyes as you gloss over the words.

❝ The beloved town resident was found dead under a construction pillar on October 31th at 10:40 PM by 9-year-old Yang Jeongin, a boy with whom the late teen used to play. The paramedics described the scene as “brutal” and “gory”, adding that there hadn't been any hope for the boy to survive.

“When we arrived at the scene, he was still alive. Crushed under the weight of the pillar and likely in a lot of pain, but breathing. But everything from his torso down was buried under the collapsed beam and unfortunately, we couldn't save him. When he stopped breathing, we were all relieved—the pain must've been excruciating.” said local firefighter, Seo Changbin.

Our sources tell us that the boy was picking flowers before the metal beam collapsed over him. These accounts are supported by the fact that when he was found, an array of hand-picked flowers was scattered around his body. In his right hand, he was clutching onto a cluster of chrysanthemums. ❞

Your heart clenches at the irony. Chrysanthemums. An almost-laugh escapes your lips but your voice cracks midway as a choked sob wracks your throat.

In his last seconds before death, he was holding onto flowers that represent love, happiness, and longevity. It's almost too cruel, you think. Like the higher power did not only think such a brutal death was not enough, but also had a flair for dramatics.

Scrolling down, you notice they've attached a photo of him, and you almost break down after seeing the familiar face. He looks exactly the same as you remember him; bunched up cheeks, goofy smile, and the familiar twinkle in his eyes that gave him that laid back, mischievous look. If you weren't sitting, your knees would definitely buckle under the weight of your body. He doesn't look a day older than nineteen.

Way too young to have passed away...

By now, the tears are fully streaming down your face, dripping onto your white t-shirt. You try wiping them off but it's no use—fresh ones replace them in no time.

You're taken aback to the point you start questioning everything. This article managed to throw off your entire life here, making you question what was real and what was just a figment of your imagination.

Was Jisung really ever here with you? How could he—he's dead for God's sake! With a solemn glance, you confirm your suspicions. Ten years have passed since his death. The anniversary was actually quite recently—it was the day you met him for the first time...

As the clock strikes ten, eleven, twelve… you sit by the table, weeping as you recall all your shared memories. The fuzzy blanket weighs down on your shoulders heavily, as a constant reminder of his warm and comforting presence.

“I… I'll miss y-you, Jisung.”

❖ ❖ ❖

The wind is light and breezy, sweeping through the empty streets as you make your way down the street. It's fall again, almost a year later, and the leaves have turned a pretty orange hue, crunching under your boots.

In your hands, you gingerly hold a small bouquet of chrysanthemums and a plain, white candle.

A sad smile appears on your lips as the gate of your town's cemetery starts materializing in the distance, long black beams cutting through the fog.

Along the main road, you see multiple carved out pumpkins lining the entrances of each house. A fleeting thought crosses your mind, one where you and Jisung spend Halloween together, carving out pumpkins and going trick-or-treating in ridiculous costumes. And as soon as it comes by, you shove the idea to the very back of your head, not wanting to think about all the what-if's.

You have come for one thing and one thing only.

When you arrive at the entrance, the old man gives you a once over before letting you in. After your third visit, he had managed to remember you and always let you in without asking further questions.

You give him a quick smile before quickening your pace and walking towards your destination.

The gravestone is cut out of a darker shade of granite than the ones surrounding it. Although a bit smaller in size, anyone can tell it's a lot newer—the edges are still sharp despite the light signs of wear.

In memory of Han Jisung

A loving son, friend and brother

September 14th XXXX — October 31th XXXX

No matter how many times you read it, you'd always end up sobbing uncontrollably. Today is no different.

You place the bouquet of carefully picked chrysanthemums on the grave, taking a step back to absorb the painful setting. Like usual, there's another bouquet there already, matching yours almost to the T. You used to wonder who this person was, but after some time, you learned to let it go.

They obviously come here secretly for a reason. You assume they knew Jisung personally from his teens, likely a friend or family member.

It's then that you remember the small candle weighing down your pocket. With a quiet sigh, you light it with a match and gently set it on top of the stone. Another tear rolls down your cheeks as you say what's on your mind.

“I really miss you, Jisung. I'm not sure under which circumstances we met, and whether you were even alive, but I miss you. I'll come back again next week, I promise. Halloween should be over then—” a choked sob escapes your lips. “A-And it'll be time f-for Christmas. Don't worry, I'll bring you a present!”

A sudden blow of the wind blows out the candle, allowing the suffocating darkness to envelop you as a whole.

With a sigh, your hand extends towards the grave, in a sort of desperate plea, before you walk away.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of twinkling eyes is watching you, a gentle smile on their lips...

a/n: thank you guys for reading!! i hope you enjoyed :>. please let me know your thoughts, i worked really hard on this :). it's a bit different for me - i'm not really good with mystery and this whole anticipation and buildup stuff but i tried my best!! thank you to both xie and gyu <3 lots of love and stay safe

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kjmsupremacist · 3 years ago

Text

baby, you’re my angel (chan/felix)

Chapter 10 | prev next mlist

Characters: Felix, Chan, the rest of skz

Genre: college au, romance, fluff, smut, angst

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: swearing, age gap, daddy kink, overstimulation, choking, ruined orgasm

Rating: Explicit

Length: 8k

just a friendly reminder that i dont condone age gap in real life, this is just fiction, im just having fun, etc :)

As soon as his fingers remember how to move again, Felix jams the call button with his thumb, packing completely forgotten. He paces in the very small open space between three large boxes and his bed, waiting for Rachel to pick up.

“I didn’t mean call right away,” Rachel says when she picks up, sounding confused. “Are you done packing?”

“No,” Felix says quickly. “Dude, what’s going on, what is it?”

“Woah, why are you freaking out?” Rachel asks. He hears rustling; maybe bedcovers, he thinks. She must be in her room.

“You said you needed to tell me something,” Felix says. “So what is it?”

“Calm down, it’s nothing bad, I promise,” Rachel replies.

“I get to decide if I’m gonna be calm or not, once you fucking tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay, alright,” Rachel says. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, sit down.”

Felix drops to the floor where he’s standing. “Okay.”

“Alright. So, I’ve kind of been in contact with Chan, like, this whole month. And we, ah, we’ve actually become friends, I think. He reached out initially just to say, like, ‘I get it if you don’t want to hear from me, but if you’d like to talk, just know I’m here.’ And I was like, you know, yeah I’d like to talk, kind of going into it intending to yell at him a little.” Rachel sounds amused at herself, and faintly embarrassed. “But I stopped being upset pretty quick. I got to know him a little better, and he’s actually—he’s really great, Felix.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Felix asks flatly.

“He misses you, Lix. He really misses you. And… I don’t know. Maybe I was too quick to judge. I mean, I don’t regret it, I think the break was incredibly necessary. I just—it really wasn’t any of my business. I get that. It’s only that you’re—you’re my baby brother, you know? Always will be. But Felix,” she continues, “I think he’s really good for you. I mean, not that you need my blessing for anything, but—you have it.”

“So,” Felix says slowly. “What… what are you saying?”

“I wanted to ask you ahead of time,” she says. “I asked Chan to come to your graduation, but only if you okayed it first. He wants to come, and he wants to talk to you.”

“Holy fucking shit, Rachel, you can’t just send me the most ominous text message in the world if it’s something like this,” Felix says, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “I thought someone died or some shit, or someone found out about—I mean, Jesus.”

“Sorry,” she says quickly.

“But you’re—I mean, you’re okay with this? You think it’ll be okay?” Felix asks.

“Yeah, Felix, I do,” she says quietly. “I told you, after graduation you can do whatever you want. And besides, I know how hard you’ve tried this last month. You did really well on your finals, and Jisung told me you’ve, you know, been working to stay in it, to not let it bring your life to a stop, and—it’s weird to say, maybe, but I’m proud of you.”

“Jisung was spying on me?” Felix gasps.

“No,” Rachel says, laughing. “He actually called me to cuss me out for being mean to you. Which was kind of deserved, I’ll admit. He literally opened the call with, ‘Hey, did you know that despite everything Felt is being really brave but also he’s kind of fucking miserable? Are you gonna take some responsibility for that?’ He’s a good friend.”

Felix laughs softly. “Yeah, he is.”

“So, graduation,” Rachel says. “Can I tell Chan yes?”

Felix grows somber. “Does he… I mean does he even want me anymore? After everything?” he asks. “I almost ruined his life, I almost cost him everything.”

“Lix,” Rachel says gently. “You are worth that to him. I know that now. He really, really likes you, and it’s not just because you’re younger and easy to control or whatever it was I was worried about before. He just likes you. Is it okay if he comes?”

“Yes,” Felix whispers. “Yes, I’d really like that.”

“Okay.” He can hear Rachel’s smile. “I’ll let him know. Now go finish packing, okay? We’re going straight home after the ceremony to finish setting up the party.”

Felix had honestly forgotten his parents had offered to host his friends and their families for a post-graduation celebration. He’d forgotten Chan had been invited months ago, had forgotten a lot of normal proceedings in the insanity and the grief. “Right,” he says, clambering to his feet. “Packing. Party. Yeah. I’m on it.”

Rachel laughs. “See you tomorrow, soon-to-be grad,” she says. “Hey. I love you.”

For some reason, it’s this that makes Felix tear up. “Love you too,” he says quickly, hoping she can’t hear the change in his voice. “See you tomorrow. Bye.”

He sets his phone down and looks around his disheveled room. Somehow, though, packing suddenly doesn’t seem so hard after all.

☼ ☼ ☼

Felix hurries down the little walkway, past the signs for the first few letters of the alphabet, to where the twenty-odd other “Lees” are already standing, trying to figure out their order. He ducks into place in between an Emily and a Genevieve, popping his head out once he’s checked his order number against theirs to see if he can find his friends. Seungmin, a little further up the line in the cluster of those with the surname Kim, is also leaning out, and waves when he sees him. Felix waves back, grinning, nearly dislodging his cap in the process.

Jisung and Hyunjin are even closer to the start, too far for Felix to see them. He checks his phone absently. A text from Rachel: We’re on our way! A text from Jisung, a few minutes ago: Where are you? Oops. And a text from Chan: Congratulations, Felix. I can’t wait to see you. Felix’s heart leaps into his throat.

He’s about to go to reply, but then he’s ushered forward by a professor he doesn’t recognize. The procession is about to begin.

Felix keeps his eyes on the student in front of him, walking in slow, measured steps, hoping he doesn’t trip. They process down the lane, around the corner, and onto the lawn, where rows and rows of empty chairs are waiting in front of a huge, covered stage. Felix files into his row, looking for his name on one of the chairs in the middle, and stands in front of it, waiting for the rest of his class to trudge into place behind him. While he waits, he scans the crowd.

Picking out his family is easy; Olivia’s hair is bright pink. Rachel is beside her. They’re holding a small sign that says, “WE’RE SO PROUD OF YOU, FELIX!” along with a few of the stupidest baby pictures Felix thinks he’s ever seen of himself. His parents are on Olivia’s other side. His mom catches his eye and gives him a tiny wave. He waves back shyly, then flicks his gaze to the other person sitting next to Rachel.

Chan’s dyed his hair a dirty blonde; he’s straightened and gelled it for the occasion. Felix realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen him in a suit. His breath comes faster. He’s so handsome, even from this far away. Tentatively, Felix waves at him, just the barest twitch of his hand, half-hoping Chan doesn’t even see.

But he sees, and his face breaks out into a huge smile as he waves back. Felix hopes his makeup hides his blush, quickly snapping his head forward again. He does see Rachel laughing before he turns away.

Their university president gets up on stage. “Welcome to the convocation of the Class of 2022,” she says, and then motions for them to sit.

Felix hardly pays attention through any of the speeches. He’s not even thinking about Chan most of the time, honestly; he’s worrying about walking across the stage. He hopes it goes smoothly, though knowing himself, he’ll probably find a way to mess it up. He tries his best to hide a rueful smile as their dean of students steps up to finally start reading off names.

Felix cheers himself hoarse for his friends, whooping when Hyunjin does a little twirl-and-bow combo before receiving his diploma. Yeji follows immediately afterwards with a scathing impression, sending laughter racing through the crowd of students.

“Are we sure they’re not siblings?” one of the girls next to Felix asks quietly.

“If they are, they’re very good at lying,” Felix replies without looking away from the stage, earning himself some scattered giggles.

Jisung and Seungmin are much more civilized in their walks across the stage, though Jisung does blow a kiss to his family before he descends the steps for his picture. And then Felix’s row is told to stand and get into place. Felix steps carefully, not sure what to do with his hands. He looks up and sees his own face flash by on the big screen by the stage.

His name is called, and he lets his legs carry him up the steps and onstage. He glances out at the crowd and realizes people are cheering. Sometimes, he forgets that he’s something of a celebrity, that his classmates watch his TikToks and listen to his music. He bows shallowly, giving everyone a wave, and then stops in front of the president. She hands him his diploma with a smile, offering her other hand to shake. He accepts them both somewhat clumsily.

“Congratulations,” she says quietly.

“Thank you,” Felix manages.

He descends the steps without looking up, following the walkway to the picture tent. He smiles, feeling a little dizzy. The flash goes off, but he hardly sees it. He all but floats back to his seat, turning his diploma in its case over and over in his hands.

He’s a college graduate, he realizes. He has a degree in music and music theory, and he’s done with school. Sitting now, he flips open the cover on his diploma. The paper is rich and thick, the script swirled and nearly illegible. And there is his name, printed in the center. It feels unreal.

The rest of the ceremony blurs by, and suddenly it’s over, suddenly Felix finds himself throwing his cap into the sky, standing, waiting for the crowd to thin so he can get to his family.

His father gets to him first, crushing him in a hug, his mother at his side. Felix hugs them back, kissing his mom on the cheek, and then turns to accept Rachel’s hug, and then wrestle Olivia into giving him one, too.

He releases Olivia and turns to Chan and realizes he’s shaking. The lawn is alive with conversation, but all of it falls away when he meets Chan’s eyes.

“Chan,” he says softly, and Chan wraps him up in a hug, warm and fierce and right.

“We’ll talk later,” Chan promises, whispering in his ear. “But I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.”

“Chan,” Felix repeats, voice wavering. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Chan says softly. “I missed you, too.” Chan lets go, nudging Felix back towards his family. “Want me to take a picture of you guys?” he asks.

“Oh, please!” His mother hands off her phone and manhandles her children into place.

At least a hundred photos and many more congratulations later, Felix leads his family back to his room so they can help him move out. His parents brought both cars, and Chan also drove himself, so between the three they manage to fit all of Felix’s belongings.

“You have the directions to our house?” Felix’s mother asks Chan for the fifth time. “You won’t get lost?”

Chan laughs kindly. “I’ll be just fine, Mrs. Lee,” he replies. “Don’t worry.”

Felix’s mom tsks at him. “Oh, please just call me Eommeoni, all of Felix’s friends do.” Felix has to press his lips together so he doesn’t scream, delighted and flustered at the same time.

Felix slides into the backseat of his mother’s car with Olivia; Rachel is in the front, ready to help navigate. His mother starts the engine, then pauses, catching Felix’s eye in the rearview mirror. “You ready to say goodbye to your school?” she asks sympathetically.

Felix looks out the window, up at the dorm he’s gotten used to calling home. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think I am.”

“Aw, are you gonna cry?” Olivia teases, and Felix fights the urge to punch her. He knows Rachel can tell exactly what he’s thinking, because she bursts out laughing. After a moment, Felix does, too.

The ride home is brief and easy. Within twenty minutes, they’ve pulled into their garage, and Felix’s family has set up a sort of fire line to get all of Felix’s stuff inside. Most of the boxes will live in the garage until Felix finds an apartment, but a few he trucks upstairs to his room. His suitcases are full of dirty clothes; he shoves those in the laundry room to deal with later.

Felix’s friends arrive shortly afterwards, their families piling out of their cars, armed heavily with food and gifts. They help set up in the kitchen, the counters completely covered by an array of snacks and Felix’s mother’s cooking. Felix’s dad hands out plates, and they inch through the makeshift buffet, piling their plates high, and then move to the living room.

Felix sits in a row with his friends, squished on their sectional between Jisung and Hyunjin. Rachel and Olivia take a loveseat; Chan drops into an armchair across the room as the rest of the guests begin to filter in.

“So, how do you guys feel, being grads?” Jisung’s dad asks them.

“Relieved,” Jisung says.

“Terrified,” Hyunjin answers at the same time.

The adults laugh sympathetically. “You’ll be fine!” Seungmin’s mom says. “You’re all very smart. If you can get through university, you can do anything.”

Felix hopes she’s right.

After a couple of servings of food, and a slice of the biggest cake Felix has ever seen in his life (“We got it custom made,” Rachel tells him, grinning), everyone begins to mingle, spreading out across the house. Felix catches Chan’s eye and nods for him to follow him upstairs.

He leads them to his room, sitting down on his mattress and waiting for Chan to close the door. Chan leans against it once it’s shut, looking around Felix’s room.

“Sit,” Felix says, gesturing to the spot beside him. “Please.”

Chan peels himself off the door and crosses the room to him, sitting down next to him on his bed. It hits Felix then, the subtle tenderness of it. Here they are, in Felix’s childhood bedroom. Chan gets to see all of him now, where Felix has lived, and where the love Felix has for him has lived, too.

They both take a breath at the same time, and then let it out through laughter. “Go ahead,” Chan says.

“No, you first,” Felix insists. “I don’t… I don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Okay.” Chan is silent for a moment, running his hands over the patterns on Felix’s duvet cover. “I… I learned a lot, this last month, I think.” He looks up. “You changed my life, do you know that?” Felix blinks back at him, nervous. “Even though… even though I was, uh, devastated that we couldn’t see each other, I was still… somehow happier than I was before. Being alone, it was easier. My life is moving forward again. That’s because of you. And… and it could continue moving forward, with or without you, you know? But I’d, um.” He pauses. “I’d really like it if it was with you, anyway.”

Felix trembles. “Yeah, I—I get that, like I knew I could move on, without you. I could, but—but I don’t want to because I don’t think we have to. Because—” His breath catches in his throat. “Because I meant it on the phone that day. I love you. And that’s kind of, um, that’s kind of all there is to say, for me. I love you.”

Chan leans in. “I didn’t say it back then because I knew it would just make everything worse. I—I already felt so bad about everything, and I knew it wouldn’t help. That’s why I didn’t say it. But Felix—” His hands are so close to Felix’s hands. Their pinkies brush. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you for quite awhile, I think. I just didn’t know what to do about it.”

Felix hesitates for a split second, then grabs Chan’s stupid face and kisses him. After he gets over the shock, Chan kisses him back, hands on Felix’s wrists, laughing into his mouth and Felix is laughing too, and crying a little but that’s okay, because Chan loves him and nothing else matters.

“I love you,” Chan repeats quietly when they break apart to catch their breath.

Felix looks up at him. “I still don’t think it’s wise to tell my parents just yet,” he says.

“Yeah.” Chan worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, then looks up at Felix again. “Are you sure?” he asks softly. “I mean, about this. About me. Because I don’t—it’s not your fault that my life went the way it has. I don’t want to steal your youth just because I—just because I want mine back.”

Felix shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s what you’re doing,” he says. “I liked you before I knew about everything. I know you’re worried,” he adds. “But I’m not a child, Chan. I know what I want. Please allow me to make my own choices. As long as you’re okay with it, then so am I.”

Chan smiles wryly. “You sure it’s not gonna fuck you up?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “I’m sure.”

Chan nods, tension dissipating from his shoulders. “Okay,” he agrees. “And—about your parents, you do whatever you feel comfortable with. I’ll follow you.”

Felix nods. “I definitely don’t want to keep it a secret forever,” he agrees. “And I think… I think they might be okay with it. If you could get Rachel to like you, then I’m sure they’ll come around. It might take a little convincing, but I think we can do it.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, nodding.

They’re quiet for a moment, hands resting side by side on Felix’s bed, arms just barely touching. Felix rests his head on Chan’s shoulder; Chan pulls him closer, squeezing his opposite bicep.

“I missed you,” Felix says. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up.”

Chan laughs quietly. “We sure do.”

“My parents are pretty busy,” Felix says. “Can you help me apartment hunt so I can move out faster?”

“Sure, baby,” Chan says.

“Because I’m not staying here,” Felix continues. “I don’t know how Rachel does it.”

“She’ll move out when Olivia’s done with school, probably,” Chan says. “She’s like me. Eldest sibling instincts never die.”

Felix snorts. “Is that would you’d call this whole mess?”

“Yeah,” Chan says. He kisses Felix’s temple. “But, hey. It’s not a mess anymore.”

“That’s true.” Felix sighs, turning his face to nestle into Chan’s chest. Chan opens his body up to him, holding him close and rubbing his back. “It’s good to touch you again,” he mumbles, muffled by Chan’s shirt.

Chan laughs, rumbling deep against Felix’s skull. “You too.”

“I like the suit, by the way,” Felix says. “But I think you look better in your tank tops.”

“I do have nice arms, it’s true,” Chan muses and Felix snickers.

“Yeah, we’ll put them to good use later,” he replies, stretching his head up so he can lay a row of kisses down the column of Chan’s throat.

“Oh, let’s be careful,” Chan says, gently prying him away. “Or I’m going to end up fucking you in your childhood bedroom and I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“No?” Felix teases, but he sits back anyway. He looks Chan over for a second, then gets to his feet. “Alright, let’s head back before people get suspicious.” He offers Chan his hand; Chan takes it with a smile.

When they get back downstairs, Jisung forces them to take a picture together so they can share it with their fans. Chan’s discarded his jacket somewhere and loosened his tie; so has Felix. They take a series of photos, which ends in Felix nearly pushing Chan off the couch.

Felix uploads them to his Instagram later that night. He called me old, he captions it. Likes and comments flood in instantly; Felix reads them as he’s getting ready for bed.

So funny hahaha

congrats Felix!!!

told u guys they’re still talking, duh

spoiler for a new song please!!

It’s good to see you two together again ^^

Felix smiles at the last one. Yeah, he thinks, swiping through the photos again. It’s good to see us together again.

☼ ☼ ☼

“Hurry, Felix! You’re gonna be late!”

“Gimme a sec!” Felix shouts back at his mother, practically ransacking his room trying to find his phone. He finally notices it under a pile of dirty laundry, and snatches up his wallet before hurling himself out the door and down the stairs.

“It’ll only take us like fifteen minutes to get to the first place,” Chan says as he stands, pushing in the chair. “Thank you for the tea, Eommeoni,” he says, nodding to Felix’s mother. “We’ll make it in time, don’t worry.”

“Sorry,” Felix says breathlessly. “Couldn’t find my phone.”

“You know, if you’d clean your room, it would be easier to find,” Felix’s mother says lightly.

“Yeah, I know,” Felix mutters. “See you later.”

“Good luck!” she replies, waving as they head down the hall.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Felix says to Chan once they’re outside.

“I said I’d help you,” Chan replies. “Besides, now I have an excuse to see you, one on one.”

“Yes, I suppose there’s the pleasure of my company to consider,” Felix says with a little hand flourish. Chan laughs.

“How’s everything?” Chan asks as he pulls out of their driveway.

“Good,” Felix says honestly. “I’m mostly doing nothing, which is kind of nice after going to school my whole life.”

“Your TikToks are doing well,” Chan notes. “Didn’t you hit a milestone recently?”

“Yeah, 50k,” Felix says.

“That’s pretty big,” Chan says.

“Right, and how many followers do you have again? Oh yeah, nearly a million.” Felix rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“A lot of them are because of you,” Chan points out.

“Mm-hm,” Felix hums pertly, giggling when Chan pokes him. He’d poke back if Chan weren’t driving. He settles for sticking his tongue out instead.

“We’re going to be there in about five minutes, by the way,” Chan says, pointing at his phone, which is displaying Google Maps. “First of many apartments, so take videos.”

“Yup,” Felix says, straightening in his seat and peering around as Chan exits the highway.

The tours take the rest of the morning. They pause for lunch, finding a cute little cafe. A group of girls come up to them as they’re finishing up, shyly asking for a photo.

“Sure,” Chan says, glancing at Felix to make sure he’s on board.

Felix leans back, sure they’re here for Chan, but one of the girls notices and shakes her head. “No, please get in the picture, if you don’t mind?” she says.

“He keeps forgetting he’s famous now,” Chan says, grinning.

“I was your fan first,” the girl tells Felix.

“Oh.” Felix is pretty sure he’s blushing. “Um, thank you for liking my work.”

“So cute,” one of the other girls giggles. “Okay, everybody smile!”

They say goodbye and scurry away, leaving a slightly impatient waiter to hand them their check—which Chan snatches up before Felix has a chance to protest.

“Graduation present,” Chan says when Felix tries to argue. “One of many.”

“Yeah?” Felix asks quietly. “What else do you have for me?”

“I may or may not have lied about how many tours you had today,” Chan says, grinning. “We have one more after this, yes, but then I thought maybe we could go back to mine for a little before I take you home.”

“Oh!” Fire sparks in Felix’s belly. “Oh. Yes, I’d like that.”

“I thought you might,” Chan replies. “So let’s get to this last appointment, yes?”

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

The last tour seems to take much longer, but finally Felix finds himself in Chan’s car again. They both learned their lesson—no touching, definitely no kissing, just in case—but it doesn’t mean Felix doesn’t want to, isn’t itching to reach over and unzip Chan’s pants and blow him right then and there or whatever else his brain can think up. It’s been almost two months now since the last time they fucked, what with all the chaos of everything, and Felix has understandably gotten a little impatient.

“What did you think?” Chan asks.

“Huh?” Felix says, trying to wrestle his brain out of a horny stupor.

“The apartments,” Chan says. “Any of them look good?”

Felix thinks for a second. “Yeah, I actually really liked the second one? And the one we saw right before lunch.”

“The second one didn’t have in-unit laundry,” Chan reminds him. “It was in the basement.”

“Is that so bad?” Felix asks.

“It’ll seem like it when you have to drag all your underwear downstairs and wash it in front of strangers,” Chan says.

“Oh, like in college?” Felix replies.

Chan laughs. “Point taken. But you’re, like, a real adult now. You should have in-unit laundry. Especially since you can afford it.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing, the second one was cheaper,” Felix muses.

“Yeah, because it didn’t have in-unit laundry and the kitchen was the size of a broom closet,” Chan says.

Felix gives him a sly look. “I mean, I could always come to yours for my laundry.”

“Yeah, because that’s so convenient.” Chan rolls his eyes. “The other one was a little bit more. If it’s your favorite, I think just go for it.”

“What was your favorite?” Felix asks.

“That one,” Chan replies, grinning mischievously. “It was nice! It had a pretty living room, and the kitchen was really good. And it had a flat-floored shower instead of a tub one. And it had in-unit laundry.”

“And it’s the closest one to you,” Felix adds softly.

“That, too,” Chan admits, smiling. “But I think it’s objectively the best, even if it’s a little more pricey. You’ll get a good paycheck. You’ll be able to afford it.”

Felix sighs. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he says. “I’ll show my parents the videos and make my decision tonight.”

“I’ll help you move,” Chan offers as he turns onto his street. “If you want.”

“Of course I do,” Felix says. “Thank you.”

They pull into Chan’s garage. “How much is your apartment?” Felix asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Way above your pay grade, angel,” Chan says kindly. “Maybe in five years. Or ten.”

Or I could just move in with you, Felix wants to say. He doesn’t. There’s time for that conversation later. Besides, Rachel’s sentiments do still ring true. Felix needs to figure out who he is on his own before he can commit to anybody. Dating Chan is one thing; living together is another entirely. It can wait. For the first time since all of this started, Felix doesn’t feel like he’s running out of time.

Felix follows Chan into a familiar elevator lobby, then down a familiar hallway. He doesn’t know why he expected things to look different. He supposes it’s because everything feels different now; he and Chan love each other now; there’s more here than there was before.

But the walls are the same. Chan’s key gets stuck in the second lock the same way. The afternoon sunlight warms his kitchen the same way, spills out into the hallway the same way.

Only two things, actually, are different. While Chan bumbles off to the kitchen to get them some water, Felix wanders into the living room. On the bookcase near the window sit two pictures in black frames. One, the picture Felix accidentally found that night a couple months ago of Chan and Sana at their wedding. And two, a picture of Chan and Felix, laughing at the camera in Chan’s studio.

Felix walks up to them, studying the photos. Chan looks happy in both of them. It’s a different kind of happiness, but it’s there, real and palpable. Here, in the sunny warmth of Chan’s apartment; here, in the room where Felix started loving Chan all those months ago, it almost seems silly, all the worry and all the grief. Of course Chan loves him. How could he not have seen it?

“There you are.” Felix turns, and sees Chan walking towards him, glasses of water in hand. He offers one to Felix, who takes it without even looking at it. “What?” Chan asks, giving Felix a bemused smile when he just continues to look at him.

“I love you,” Felix says.

Chan beams at him, eyes nearly disappearing behind his cheeks in his joy. “Love you too,” he says. He nods at the glass in Felix’s hand. “Drink some water, baby.”

Felix complies without thinking, then asks, “I mean, yeah, hydration, but why?”

“So you don’t feel crappy when I’m fucking you,” Chan says, like it’s obvious.

“Oh.” Felix had almost forgotten why they were here. He takes another sip of water, then sets the glass down on the coffee table. “Okay, I’m hydrated. What are you waiting for?”

Chan laughs, setting his glass down beside Felix’s and extending a hand.

Felix all but falls into Chan’s arms, grinning, and kisses him before Chan even has a chance to react. It’s been so long since they kissed, really kissed, and Felix’s body feels like it’s burning with everything he wants.

Chan’s hand is on his jaw; his other arm is wrapped around his waist, holding him close. Felix’s hands flutter over Chan’s body, down his neck and shoulders to his back. Chan chases his lips, making a soft satisfied noise when Felix lets his jaw drop open.

Finally, they break apart. Felix feels like he’s melting—he’s not sure he’d be able to stay upright if Chan let go. But he has nothing to worry about. Chan’s right here.

“Hi,” Chan whispers breathlessly. “I missed this.”

“Me, too,” Felix whispers back, pressing closer, squirming a little. His cock brushes up against the muscle of Chan’s thigh, and he realizes he’s grown hard in his shorts. “Missed you.” He looks up at Chan through his eyelashes. “Daddy.”

Chan’s eyes darken. He presses his knee between Felix’s legs; clearly, he can feel it, too. Felix gasps at the contact, the sudden friction. He splays a hand against the center of Chan’s chest to steady himself. It doesn’t help much. He rolls his hips up, almost unconsciously; Chan dips his head, pressing his lips to the spot on Felix’s neck where his pulse is jumping, fast and hot. Felix curls his fingers around one of Chan’s biceps and tips his head back.

Felix tries now, hazily, to remember the last time he did anything remotely sexual, and realizes with a shock that it was that last weekend with Chan before everything blew up. After that, he was too depressed and then too busy to even think about it. So he supposes it’s not surprising that it’s taken so little to wind him up. He thinks maybe he should be embarrassed, but there’s no use for embarrassment here. He grinds against Chan’s thigh, whimpering softly, as Chan trails kisses lower until he reaches Felix’s t-shirt. He grabs at the hem, pulling it up and off Felix’s body.

“Let go, baby,” Chan murmurs, shaking his arm. “So I can get this off you.”

“Sorry,” Felix stutters, unlocking his fingers so Chan can pull the shirt off his arms. He tosses it on the couch and pulls Felix close again.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. His voice is warm and indulgent; underneath it, a swift current of lust that turns his tone rough around the edges. “I like it when you’re desperate for me, when you forget everything else.” He leans down, tipping Felix back so he can close his mouth around one of his nipples.

Felix moans, overwhelmed. This position makes it a little harder for him to move, but he does anyway, too focused on chasing an orgasm to worry about much else. “Daddy,” he pants, trying to hear his own thoughts over the arousal roaring in his ears, the rush of blood that’s turning his skin a deep red. Chan only hums, flicking his tongue back and forth.

Felix’s underwear are sticky with precome. It should feel gross, but it only turns him on more, that he’s already this messy and all Chan’s done is kiss him. He feels weak; he thinks he’s shaking, but he can’t really tell, can’t pause to take stock. Chan switches to his other nipple, pausing in between to suck a faint hickey low on Felix’s sternum where no one will see. He presses his leg up to meet the roll of Felix’s hips, humming in response when Felix cries out.

“Chan,” Felix manages. “Ch-chan, it’s so—I’m—I can’t—” The feeling in his stomach is so consuming, he’s dizzy from it. He doesn’t think he’s been this close, this fast, and he’s not sure if his body can handle it.

“Gonna come?” Chan asks. “Just from this?” He’s not mocking, more surprised, but Felix flushes a darker red anyway. “So desperate, baby.”

“Mm-hm, mm-hm.” Felix can only agree, trembling as he pushes to go faster, chasing his release. “Close, ‘m close.”

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me, baby?” Chan reaches between their bodies and closes his hand around Felix’s cock, stroking him through his shorts.

Felix shudders, gasping, thrusting up into Chan’s fist as he comes, wet and dirty, in his shorts. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, eyes wide as shocks of pleasure run through his body. “Fuck, Chan.” He holds onto one of Chan’s shoulders, not sure if he can trust his legs not to buckle underneath him.

Chan noses at his neck, pressing a few soft kisses there before pulling away. “So good,” he says quietly. Felix can only try to catch his breath. Chan tugs his soiled shorts and underwear off, coaxing Felix to step out of them. “Let’s throw these in the wash so you can wear ‘em home, and then we’ll continue, yeah?”

Felix nods mutely, following him on shaky legs out of the living room. Chan throws the laundry in, starting it quickly and then taking Felix by the hand and leading him into his bedroom.

His room looks the same as it always has; organized mess, hastily made bed, notebooks lying open on his desk. Chan half-tosses Felix onto his bed, and Felix lets himself be manhandled, too distracted to fight it, smiling lazily when Chan climbs on top of him.

“How do you want me?” he asks, nearly slurring. The soft light filtering in through Chan’s thin curtains, along with his soft, curly hair, creates a halo effect around his head. Chan, his Chan.

“Like this,” Chan says, sitting back on his heels and rearranging Felix’s legs. “I want to see you.”

“Okay,” Felix whispers. He reaches out weakly. “I want to see you, too,” he says, brushing his fingertips against the hem of Chan’s tank top. “This should all come off.”

Chan laughs. “I suppose it’s only fair,” he agrees.

He tugs his clothes off, methodically and efficiently. Felix sits back and watches his skin be revealed: the strong line of his shoulders, his chest, the way his body tapers into his waist and then back out again at the swell of his thighs. I could stare at him forever, Felix thinks, roving his eyes all over, hungry.

Chan finds the lube while he’s up and about, settling back between Felix’s legs and finally meeting his gaze. “What?” he asks with a tiny smile.

Felix shakes his head. “You,” he replies simply.

Chan huffs out laughter, leaning down to kiss Felix’s stomach as he pops open the lube. “You get this look sometimes,” he says. “It’s very… fond.”

“Well,” Felix says, trying to keep his breathing even as Chan travels lower, “I do adore you.”

Chan looks up at him. “Oh yeah? Sure it’s not just because I’m about to fuck you?”

Felix laughs. “It doesn’t hurt,” he teases.

“Hmm,” Chan replies. He presses a lube-slick finger against Felix’s entrance, which Felix takes as retribution. Fair enough, he thinks as his body reacts, shivering against the cold.

Chan sinks his finger all the way in, taking his time but never stopping, until he’s buried knuckle-deep. Felix takes deep breaths, focusing on Chan’s lips against his inner thigh instead so his body will adjust.

“That’s it,” Chan murmurs into his skin. “So tight, baby, just relax. There you go.”

“Daddy,” Felix whimpers. He’s not sure what he means to say—thank you, maybe, or please. Chan curls his finger a little just to stretch him. It hurts, but the ache is dull, quickly becoming eclipsed by the dark pulse of desire. It’s no surprise. Chan is good at what he does, keeping Felix’s brain occupied with his lips while he begins to pump his finger, shallowly at first, then deeper and harder once he has more room.

It’s many long minutes before he adds a second finger, but at least the glide is still easy. Chan’s knuckles do not catch as he moves them in and out, steady and dutiful. Felix lets himself get lost in it, moaning when Chan finds his prostate.

“I think I like this part the best,” Chan says quietly. “When you stop fighting it and let yourself fall apart a little. You always look so pretty.”

“I don’t fight you,” Felix protests. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

“Mm,” Chan agrees, “not on purpose.” He curls his fingers, grinning when Felix convulses. “Look at you,” he says softly. “Look. You’re so wet already, baby, and you just came.”

Felix wants to argue, but his brain can’t focus on it for long, too busy drowning in pleasure to mind. Instead, he looks down to his stomach and sees that Chan isn’t lying—there’s a small pool of sticky precome gathering underneath the head of his cock. “So?” he manages. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Chan gives him an amused look. “You caught me,” he says, almost lazily. “Ready for three?”

“Yes,” Felix says immediately. He’s ready for Chan’s cock is really what, but he’ll settle for another finger for now. Mostly, he just wants more; always more, with Chan.

Chan slows down again; there’s more of a stretch with this finger. Felix lets him. The sun is still high enough in the sky; they have plenty of time before Felix’s parents get suspicious.

Chan brings his other hand to Felix’s cock, stroking languidly. Felix can’t help the noises that bubble up out of his throat, losing himself to Chan’s hands. He forgets that there’s still more to come after this, forgets that it doesn’t end here, and only realizes when he’s already so close he can almost taste it.

“Daddy,” he gasps. “Stop, stop, I’m gonna come if you don’t.”

“I can make you come again,” Chan points out. He keeps pumping his fingers in and out—four at this point—steady and practiced, hitting Felix’s prostate every time. “Why not?”

“Too much,” Felix protests, though he kind of likes the idea. “I’ll die.”

Chan laughs, but he relents, pulling his fingers out and releasing Felix’s cock. He sits back on his heels, squeezing some lube into his palm.

But it’s too late. Even though Chan isn’t touching Felix anymore, the sight of Chan’s cock sitting half-hard against his thigh makes hot arousal flood Felix’s body, and before he can think to try and stop it, he’s coming. It’s weaker than Felix is used to; come drips pathetically down the side of his cock as his body twitches in shock. He whines, grabbing a fistful of the sheets beneath him, unable to do anything but let it happen to him.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Chan says, only half-sincere. “Should’ve stopped the first time. Ruined it.”

Felix grits his teeth and shakes his head. Somehow, he’s even more turned on now than he was just a minute ago. It’s something about how useless and dumb he felt, coming like that without being touched. “You’ll make me come again,” he says. “You said you could.”

Chan lines himself up with Felix’s hole. “I will,” he promises, and then sinks in.

Felix’s eyes roll back as Chan bottoms out. He knew he missed him, but he’d forgotten it was this good. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps weakly. “Chan, oh my god.”

Chan laughs, low and dark. “I haven’t even done anything yet, baby,” he teases.

The patronization just turns Felix on more. “Missed your cock,” he says earnestly. “Missed you, daddy, come here.”

Chan leans over him, bringing a hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. “Right here, angel,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Felix’s. Felix melts underneath him, trying to kiss back as best he can, even though his brain feels like putty and his body is already so overwhelmed that he hardly has any command over it anymore.

Chan rolls his hips fluidly, kissing Felix until he’s breathless and then moving down to his jaw and neck. One of Felix’s hands finds Chan’s hair; the other clings to his wrist. Chan flashes a glance up and then guides his thumb into Felix’s mouth. Felix lets out a muffled moan around it, trying to take him deeper. Chan feels it and switches to his index and middle finger instead to give Felix more to work with. Felix takes his fingers as deep as he can go, gagging mostly for show.

“So filthy, baby,” Chan murmurs. “So perfect.” Felix hollows his cheeks around his fingers in response, tears welling up in his eyes from everything. Faintly, he realizes that they can do this whenever they want as soon as Felix is done moving. There won’t be any more sneaking around or waiting for weekends. Felix can come over anytime, or else bring Chan to his. His joy at this revelation is consuming.

Chan has picked up the pace now, thrusting harder, hips snapping with tireless accuracy. Felix is already getting hard again; though he has a feeling it’ll take him a little while before he can come, he doesn’t doubt that Chan will make it happen.

Chan removes his fingers from Felix’s mouth, wiping them on the sheets, and then grabs Felix’s hips with both hands, shifting the angle so he can get even deeper, holding Felix in place so nothing can spare him from the full force of his every movement. A tear spills over Felix’s waterline, and then he’s crying, sobs hiccuping out all staccato from the way Chan’s fucking him.

“You okay, angel?” Chan asks, voice gentle. “Wanna give me a color?”

“Green,” Felix rushes out. “’S just so good, don’t fucking stop, please.”

“Okay, baby,” Chan soothes. “I’ve got you. I always do.”

This only makes Felix cry harder, of course. “Daddy,” he slurs.

“Feel so good around me,” Chan adds. “Close already, baby, gonna make me come.” Felix isn’t surprised—Chan must have been on edge, too—but he makes a disappointed noise. “Sorry,” Chan laughs. “I’ll still make you come, don’t worry. And now we’ll be able to do this whenever you want.”

Felix nods clumsily, wrapping his fingers around one of Chan’s wrists, trying to hold onto something as Chan, somehow, speeds up. Chan moans quietly, and goosebumps break out across Felix’s skin, along with sweet sparks of arousal.

“Gonna come, daddy?” Felix asks. “Gonna come for me?”

“Fuck, Felix, you’re so—” Felix doesn’t get to hear what—Chan interrupts himself with another moan as he slows, cock pulsing inside Felix as he comes, hot and wet. Felix shudders through moans, already feeling so full, but Chan’s still coming.

After a few moments, he pulls out with a groan. Felix clenches around air, but it’s not use—he’s too full and his hole is too stretched, and Chan’s release drips out regardless. Chan brushes his hair out of his eyes and presses a finger to his entrance, tracing the line of come and scooping it back up and into Felix’s hole. He adds a second finger, then a third, and the room fills with the sound of obscene wet noises as he begins to finger Felix, almost as fast and rough as he’d just been fucking him.

When Chan wraps a hand around Felix’s cock, Felix wails, the combined sensations crashing over him, dragging him down into swirling, frenzied desire. “Chan,” he hears himself panting, though he isn’t sure if he’s saying it or just imagining it. “Chan, please, too much, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Color?” Chan asks calmly, voice a little patchy from exhaustion.

“Green,” Felix sobs, and Chan doesn’t stop, just jerks Felix off swiftly as he continues to fuck him with his fingers, wet and messy and so good.

Felix arches off the bed, too tired and too overwhelmed to try and control his body. His body feels like a live wire, humming with arousal and desperation. Chan presses his thumb into the slit of the head of Felix’s cock, and Felix all but screams, spasming around Chan’s fingers as he comes for a third time that night, shooting up his chest, some of it almost hitting him in the face as his hips jerk up into Chan’s fist.

He’s panting as he comes down from it, sweaty and sore. “Oh fuck,” he mumbles, bringing a hand to his face and covering his eyes. His breathing is unsteady; it comes out wavering and uneven.

Chan’s hands are at his jaw, his waist; his lips are on his cheeks where his tears have only just begun to dry. “So beautiful,” Chan praises him. “Did so well.”

“Chan,” Felix stutters, uncovering his eyes and forcing them open, trying to focus on the face just centimeters from his own. “I love you,” he says, and surprises himself by following it with a giggle.

Chan laughs, giving him a quick peck. “I love you, too, baby,” he replies. He slides a hand between the sheet and Felix’s back. “We should clean up before you pass out.”

Felix groans. “Just let me pass out,” he complains, but he lets Chan maneuver him into the bathroom, leaning on the wall for support as Chan starts the water.

Ten minutes later, Felix is dozing on clean sheets while Chan goes to throw his clothes in the dryer. He’ll have to go home soon, put this daydream behind him. But it’ll be one of the last times it feels that way. Soon, it won’t be a daydream; soon, they won’t be living in a bubble of fantasy. Soon, this will just be their lives.

Chan comes back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. “Dryer should be done in about forty-five minutes,” he says.

Felix cracks an eye open. “You trying to get rid of me that quickly?”

Chan gives him a look as he approaches the bed. “No, dummy,” he says. “But it is nearly four. Your parents will expect you home soon.”

“Ugh,” Felix replies, closing his eye again as he feels the bed dip under the weight of Chan’s knee.

Chan bends over him, cuddling close even though he’s still standing, slotting his chin over the point of Felix’s shoulder. He kisses Felix’s cheek, and Felix extracts his arms so he can wrap them around Chan, turning his head a little so he can see him.

“‘M never letter you go again,” he says. “You’re stuck with me. This is it.” He squeezes to prove his point.

Chan laughs, kissing him again, on the cheek, on the temple, straining to reach the tip of his nose. “Yeah?” he says warmly. “I think I can live with that.”

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