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eightmakesonebraincell · 5 months ago

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THE WAY I COULDN'T FIT ALL YOUR TAGS INTO A SINGLE SCREENSHOT I'M GOING TO KITH YOU 🫵😭 AND NOT YOU LITERALLY PULLING AN ALLNIGHTER JUST TO FINISH IT ???? i'm simultaneously honoured and CONCERNED

the essence of youth is summers with you

genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 38.7k

c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, hella angst, mentions of alcohol, themes of sexuality and homophobia, arguments, implied toxicity (not the boys), miscommunication, kissing, m x m interactions

synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands– choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?

a/n: i owe the biggest thank you to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for making this fic possible and for all the support she's given me in the last three months. this fic has quickly become one that i hold dearly in my heart because of how healing it has been to write, so i hope this is also healing to read ♡

it’s the first day of summer when you move to namhae.

the houses and trees flicker past and eventually peter out into vaster fields, mudflats and stretches of beach as your father drives through the countryside from yeosu to namhae. you idly wonder if summer in namhae will be like what it is back in your hometown.

it isn’t very comfortable wedged between your parents in the middle seat of the mini-truck, especially when some of the roads become unpaved as you arrive closer to the village. but you’re wearing your cute, yellow sundress with bumble bees across the front pocket, which is your big-girl dress, so you can deal with the bumpiness a little longer without complaining. the truck sounds like it’s going to give out as it groans and sputters to a stop in front of what will be your new home.

tentatively, you hop out and look around. it’s a quaint beach house that rests along a modest coastal embankment. when you walk closer to the edge of the port, you see that there’s a stretch of sand that leads to the ocean, and a little further down the coast is another beach house– your new neighbours.

the rattle of your truck must have alerted them to your arrival, because they come out with warm smiles and even warmer greetings. they exchange handshakes and hugs with your parents, then the attention falls to you. there’s a boy who peers out from behind his mother’s legs as she compliments your dress, his round eyes brimming with curiosity at the sight of a potential playmate other than his sister. you cling onto the side of your mother’s dress and the adults share a laugh.

the boy’s mother gently nudges him forward. “go on, sweetie. say hi.”

with another nod of encouragement, the boy shuffles closer to you with an impish grin. you realise he’s shorter than you are. “hi, i’m san. i’m six years old and i like the sea!”

the grip you have on your mother’s dress loosens a little as you mumble shyly in return, “i’m y/n. i’m six and i like the sea too.”

his smile grows impossibly wider, and his eyes and remaining reservations disappear at your words. reaching out, he grabs your hand in a physical declaration of friendship. your other hand falls away from your mother’s dress.

“we’re going to go play at the beach,” he announces, because you’re his friend now and friends play together.

on your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.

“sannie!” you skid across the wooden floorboards of his living room in your sock-clad feet, startling his father who is sitting on the couch with a newspaper.

he peers at you from above his glasses with the smile that stays consistently warm, be it from him or his son. he chuckles, “hello, sweetheart, here to play with san again?”

you bow slightly in greeting and nod before you whiz off once more in the direction of san’s room. summer vacation has only just started and you and san have already spent seven summers together, but there are crabs to chase and waves to splash and sandcastles to build so there’s not a day to be wasted.

“choi san!” you holler again, thundering up to his door. you’re about to yank it open when san opens it from the opposite side, excitement already plastered across his face as he starts to yell your name too.

the moment he appears, you hurtle into his chest for a hug that ends up knocking you both off-balance. he stumbles backwards with you in his arms and rebounds off the edge of his bed, sending you both sprawling onto the floor in a fit of laughter. you’ve become familiar with the way his bedroom floor feels from these exact moments, and you’ve also become familiar with the way san’s arms feel around you from being wrapped up in his tight cuddles. you may love the sea, but you love being with san just a little more.

“do you have your bucket?” you ask, still tangled together on the floor in a mess of limbs and untamed hair.

san props himself up on an elbow and reaches behind you to reveal a large, plastic bucket. it’s purple with a white handle and it matches yours; blue with a white handle and still lying on its side from when you dropped it in favour of hugging san.

you sweep up your bucket with a cheeky grin, “race you to the beach!” using san’s chest as leverage to stand up, then pushing him onto his back again by his shoulders for good measure, you take off for the door.

“that’s cheating!” he yells after you.

you sprint with glee back through the living room, barely managing to brake in time to avoid running headfirst into his mother. you greet and farewell her in a single breath before you’re off again, forgoing your sandals when you hear the thundering of san’s footsteps and a warbled bye mum! bye dad! catching up behind you.

the pavement is hot under the bare soles of your feet but soon enough you leap off the sidewalk, bucket clattering in your hand, and the ground turns cool and soft as you run across the sinking sand. san jumps after you with a battlecry of his own and you scream when you feel him right on your tail. he catches up as you near the waves and with a final burst of energy, he grabs your hand and tugs you along with him.

your grip on your bucket is lost once more when you yelp and focus on keeping up instead– san’s only got an inch on you now but why is he so much faster than you? the wet sand starts to grow colder, salty water splashing everywhere the further you sprint. neither of you slow down– not that you could with san dragging you along right into the thick of the crashing waves as he whoops.

you dread the day san will actually be tall enough to pick you up and toss you into the water, but for now, you give him the satisfaction of pretending. you wait for him to bend down a little, then you kick the water right into his face. he splutters indignantly and blinks the sting away until he can see the wide smirk on your face. his tongue pokes his cheek as he gives you a scandalised smile, before he cocks his head and sniggers, “your turn.”

you take that as your cue to run. san dips his bucket into the water, scooping it up full to the brim, then starts chasing you with faux anger that makes you shriek in delight. you yell breathless apologies over your shoulder in between giggles but they all fall upon deaf ears as he continues streaking after you, bucket held high like a madman with an axe.

you end up slowing down because it’s hard to run through water, and you’re met with the icy downpour of water over your head. san laughs triumphantly when you look at him with the ferocity of a soaked kitten. you eye his bucket and weigh up the odds of snatching it out of his hands versus dunking him headfirst underwater through sheer force. realistically, you have no chances of doing either. plus, san knows you too well.

“use your own bucket, you loser,” he banters as he hides his. and yet, he walks back to retrieve your bucket for you before it’s swept out by the waves.

“are you cold?” san asks whilst passing it to you.

there’s vigour and liveliness thrumming through your every vein. “no,” you answer, “‘m not cold.” never with you.

he nods, “let me know if you do get cold, okay? i’ll grab you a jacket or something.”

“my house is literally next to yours. i can get one if i need to,” you chuckle.

“i know, but it’s the principle of it. just shut up and let me have my chivalrous moment.” san sits with the characteristic huffiness of a teenager who thinks he’s all grown up now that he’s in high school. but it’s not very convincing when he immediately starts to shovel sand into his bucket with the enthusiasm of a puppy.

“okay, thank you, sannie. i’ll let you know if i so much as shiver,” you dotingly appease him.

he nods diligently, then pats the sand next to him for you to sit down too. you join him in filling up the buckets with sand so that you two can make your thirty second attempt to build a five-tiered sandcastle pyramid. so far, you’ve only ever gotten to the third layer before it starts to crumble apart.

“what’s wrong?” you ask when san stops packing the sand into his bucket.

you realise he’s distracted by something in the distance and you follow his line of sight to find a lone surfer riding a wave in the horizon. san watches as the man’s body becomes an extension of the ocean– a dancing duet with the rolling waves as he stands steadily on his board with powerful elegance. when the board glides towards the shore, the man spreads his arms like an eagle’s wings and lets himself fall backwards into the sway of the water.

san is suddenly filled with yearning to learn of the sea’s choreography. he declares, “i want to become a surfer.”

“what happened to becoming a dancer?” you raise an eyebrow. because if there’s one thing that san loves just as much as the sea, then it’s dancing.

“becoming a dancer is still my dream. i meant surfing as an interest,” he breathes out. “just look at him. he looks so…free.”

you can see it in the way san’s eyes follow the surfer’s movements and sparkle with wonder– the moment he falls utterly and hopelessly in love. “then try it,” you encourage, “what’s stopping you?”

san tears his gaze away from the ocean to look at you instead. the same, loving gaze stays on his face. “nothing,” he proclaims with a growing smile. “absolutely nothing.”

san has all the summers in the world to surf. and you’ll be there with him for every single one.

you watch as san fixes his surfboard to the top of his black jeep– the last of his luggage to be loaded.

“i don’t get why you’re taking that with you. there’s probably nowhere to even surf in seoul.” you know you sound like a snobby six-year-old and not the eighteen-year-old that you are, but you don’t really care right now. not when san is leaving and you won’t be able to attend college together like you thought you would be.

tugging on the straps once more to check that they’re secure, he chuckles, “doesn’t hurt to take it just in case.” when he sees the forlorn look on your face he adds, “i’ll be back every summer, yeah?”

“it won’t be the same. who am i going to hang out with every day?” you grumble.

san laughs endearingly, “it’s only until i graduate.”

“or you find a job or a girlfriend and then you’ll stay in seoul forever.” you cross your arms defiantly as san steps closer and reaches out to ruffle your hair. where you had stopped growing at fifteen, san is still growing and he now towers almost half a head over you.

“just four years–no job, no girlfriend–and then i’ll be back. i promise.” he opens his arms a little, “now, do i get my goodbye hug or do i need to tickle it out of you instead?”

you huff before uncrossing your arms and sinking into his warm embrace. he folds you into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. closing your eyes, you memorise the feeling of his back muscles flexing under your hands while he gently rocks you side to side. you soak in his body heat that swaddles your entire being in safety and home. you breathe him in one last time when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the steady pulse that beats there.

“i’ll miss you,” you whisper, because you don’t trust your voice not to crack if you speak any louder.

san presses a soft kiss against your hairline and admits, “i’ll miss you more.”

you bite back the urge to respond with ‘then stay’, cherishing the moment for a little longer instead, before you step away so that he can say his goodbyes to his family. he hugs them one by one; his father, his sister, haneul, and lastly, his mother. she’s discreetly wiping at her tears and you have to look away so that you don’t start crying too. because if you start crying, everything will become blurry, and you can’t afford that when this is the last time you’ll see san until next summer.

you all gather around the driver’s window that’s rolled down to the very bottom when san is finally seated. seeing him buckle his seatbelt ready to leave overwhelms you with a sense of finality and your eyes well up before you can blink the hotness away. san stretches a hand out to thumb away your tears and makes a sad noise, “don’t cry, please? we can call whenever you want.”

you sniffle, “call me when you arrive?”

he nods with that dimpled smile you are already starting to miss. and then just like that, your best friend is gone. you stand outside his house for a stretch of time, even after the outline of his jeep has long since disappeared into the distance. it may be the last week of summer, but it feels like it’s the middle of winter today.

san’s eyes flick upwards to look in the rearview mirror, even though he hasn’t been able to see your reflection the last three times he’s looked. he had tried to appear as collected as he could to avoid making it any harder for you, but now he regrets not holding your hand a little longer; a little tighter. and if san tears up a little as he starts the four-hour drive up to seoul, then that’s between him, the car, and the playlist you made just for him.

you absentmindedly tug on a crease in your bed sheets as you laze on your bed, phone on speaker so you don’t have to hold it. “what was that?” you pull your device closer to your ear. “are you going somewhere?”

there it is again– the beeping sound of a car in reverse. the warning signal stops as san answers vaguely, “home.”

you jolt up into a sitting position, a growing sense of excitement making its way across your face as you dare to ask, “home?”

“yeah, home,” san confirms, and you can hear the smile in his voice this time. “i told you i’d see you soon, didn’t i?”

“i didn’t think you meant in five literal minutes,” you almost trip over your own feet in your hurry to slip some shoes on. “oh my god, is that why you said you couldn’t facetime me?”

you can hear his answer this time– not the scratchy voice that comes from your speaker, no– the smooth deepness of san’s voice close by. and there he is. after almost a year of freezing days, absent dimples and longing calls, choi san is finally back in namhae for the summer.

in quick succession, you notice three things. one, san has returned from seoul with triple the number of surfboards that he left with, strapped to the top of his black jeep. two, said man is now almost a whole head taller than you as he watches you with a smirk and disconnects your call. and three, he’s not alone.

if you think that san is tall, then the two guys that hop out of the jeep after him are even taller. one of them runs a veiny hand through his dark brown locks, which fall back down to softly frame his face. the other turns in your direction after closing his door and you realise you’ve seen him before– both of them, actually.

on top of your spontaneous calls with san, you facetime him every friday afternoon after your own classes have finished. he’s usually in one of the university’s dance studios because, as a dance major at kq university, the studio is basically his second home. san mentions his friends every now and then and they’ll appear behind him to say hello to you or you’ll be able to hear them in the background of the call.

quite frankly, the crusty quality of san’s front camera hardly does them justice because wow. they’re hot. and tall. they’re not letting you forget that fact when the three of them step away from the jeep and closer to where you and san’s family are waiting to welcome them.

san greets his parents with a hug before he gestures to his friends one by one, “yunho, mingi. the friends i was telling you about.”

yunho and mingi thank san’s parents for letting them stay the summer and apologise in advance for the inconvenience. but from the way they’re immediately told that their extended stay is more than welcome and that hopefully the drive down from seoul wasn’t too tiring, you know san’s parents have already adopted the two well-mannered boys as their own sons.

“hey, pipsqueak,” san sidles up to your side whilst his parents fuss over his friends.

you look at him, appalled by the sudden nickname, and even more so as you swat his hand away when he playfully ruffles your hair to tease, “looks like you’ve been busy doing everything but growing.”

“on second thoughts, maybe i don’t really miss you.”

san laughs, the tinkle of the sound like the crisp smell of the ocean during sunrise. he pulls you into him and that’s all it takes for you to melt in his embrace. despite your earlier quip, you’ve missed san terribly. it finally feels like namhae now that his familiar arms are around you again.

the rumble of san’s chest is soothing as he says, “well, i miss you. it’s good to be back home.”

you pull back a little to look up at him and god, he’s gotten so much taller. “it’s good to have you back home, choi san.”

the sound of approaching footsteps breaks your hug apart and you give the two boys a friendly smile as san roughly introduces your names, “but you all already know that, considering you guys basically see each other every week.”

“on top of the fact that san doesn’t shut up about you,” mingi jokes.

san punches him in the arm and mingi amends himself with a laugh, “namhae! he doesn’t shut up about namhae!”

yunho snorts, then offers you a small hug as he properly introduces himself. he leaves enough space between your bodies for the holy spirit to boogie when his arms encircle you, and you honestly find his courtesy extremely endearing.

“are you two also dance majors?” you ask.

“yeah, so we share some classes together,” yunho explains. “mingi and san are in the department of dance performance though, whereas i’m in choreo, so they have all their classes together and i only share the core ones with them.”

“good thing, too,” mingi joins the conversation and rests an arm around the other’s shoulder. “i’ve known him since high school and i was honestly starting to get a little sick of his face.”

he earns himself a jab to the side and he keels over with a dramatic groan. both san and yunho ignore him in favour of stepping back towards the jeep to unload their surfboards. you eye the boards with curiosity, recognising the white deck with the yellow and blue tail to be san’s. the design is simple, but san had used his own money to purchase it as his first transition board after the beginner-level mini malibu his parents had gifted him, so it’s his baby.

“are these all yours?” you question as san rests the tail of his board on the ground.

he shakes his head with a flustered laugh, “the guys brought theirs along too.”

mingi reaches for his board after yunho takes his and your jaw drops to the ground. “you all surf? wait, so you can surf in seoul?!”

“no, you were right. you can’t,” san chortles in embarrassment. “but there are a couple of indoor surfing places that we can go to.”

mingi hikes his surfboard against his hip, “doesn’t beat the real thing, though.”

“nope, which is exactly why we’re crashing. sorry, by the way–we probably should’ve asked you whether we could come,” yunho scratches the back of his neck.

you frown, “of course you can. it’s not like i’m the town head of namhae or anything.”

“but they know we spend our summers together,” san lightly bumps you with the side of his hip.

“oh,” you can feel heat creeping across your cheeks, so you force it away by jumping on the opportunity to tease, “you know what? mingi was right. you don’t shut up about me, do you.”

mingi hollers at the ammunition you have just given him for future use and even yunho slaps his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. it’s amusing to see san flustering so easily now that there’s a new dynamic of friendship between you and the other two boys, and san resorts to giving both of his friends’ asses a good-natured kick in the direction of the beach.

as they lumber off with their boards sniggering, san effortlessly hoists his own board up and sideways and beckons, “let’s go.”

“you know i can’t surf, san.”

he flicks your nose fondly with his free hand, “not to surf, silly. let’s go get our buckets.”

your eyes widen and you stand on your tiptoes with excitement, “buckets?”

“of course,” san waggles his eyebrows up and down with his dual dimples. “we’ve got some serious sandcastle-building to show off.”

half an hour later, all three surfboards are tossed to one side in the wet sand as you share the buckets for an intense showdown between the ‘namhae ninjas’ and the ‘highschool homies’. san had shot down your suggestion to alliterate your team name with the word ‘neighbours’, claiming it was an insult to the bestfriendshipness between you two, but hadn’t been able to come up with a much better alternative himself.

san holds his breath as you upturn another moulded bucket of sand onto the third tier of your sandcastle pyramid. with little surprise, the foundation starts to crumble and triggers a chain reaction that topples it all over. as always, some things just don’t change, even over time.

mingi laughs at your sandy ruins with an awful lot of audacity for someone who had watched yunho build most of their sandcastle, only to then add a little stick at the very top as a finishing touch. he grabs his phone from where he had left it on the safety of his discarded towel and holds up the front camera to take a photo of you all.

where there used to be two sandcastles between two friends, there are now two sandcastles between four. mingi snaps the photo, eternalising the moment. some things do change over time, and sometimes, change is just the beginning of a new chapter.

“which one do you think looks better?”

your mother takes a step back to scrutinise yunho’s pick. “this one,” she points, “the other colour palette clashes too much.”

san nods solemnly in agreement and mingi squints at his own choice from beside. with the seriousness of their expressions, one would think that they’re discussing investment properties. in reality, you’re watching your trio of friends and your mother earnestly matching and colour-coordinating the floral prints of your father’s flowy farming pants to their button-up shirts.

noticing the dubious frown on mingi’s face, your mother nonchalantly skims her fingertips over the pants he’s holding. “this is one of my favourites because it has little leaves on it,” she remarks, before dropping her voice to a whisper so that only mingi can hear her next words. “it matches your shirt. i think you’ll look the best in it.”

he immediately perks up and you can’t help but compare him to a sunflower that thrives the most under a loving hand. it’s incredibly cute and you can also tell that your mother feels the same, if not obvious from the way she has been giving him extra hugs and compliments all summer.

you rejoin the boys after you have all changed into your pants. it takes a lot of self control not to laugh when you see how seriously they are taking their get-up; rubber boots hiked up to their knees over their floral pants, and their straw hats secured snugly with the chin straps. even as disinterested as your father originally was when the trio had first arrived at the beginning of summer, he now lingers behind the sliding glass doors to watch you and san attempt to teach the tall boys how to plant rice seedlings in the paddy field.

yunho grabs a small, prepared bed of seedlings and turns to look at you cheekily. “want to be a rice friend and show me how to plant these?”

you level him with a stare that makes him chuckle and apologise, “sorry, i won’t say that a-grain.”

he looks awfully pleased with himself, so you turn on your heels in pretence to ditch him for mingi instead. you let out an involuntary yelp when yunho prevents your escape by quite literally manhandling you back next to him. he dares to up his charm by using his wide, sparkling eyes on you as he thrusts the seedlings into your hands, like a child waiting for you to open a bag of snacks– how could anybody say no?

you talk him through your demonstration, separating a small cluster of seedlings from the seedbed before transplanting it into the field. once he seems confident, you let him take over. it’s mesmerising to watch yunho’s hands as he deftly carries out each step– the way his long and slender fingers move with coordination and grace. despite it being his first time, he works skillfully like someone with years of experience. you’ve come to realise that yunho’s good at doing things that involve physicality, like dancing, surfing, and now farming.

“how did you start surfing?” you wonder.

yunho stills momentarily, before he separates another cluster of seedlings and runs his fingers through its green shoots. “i actually started surfing because mingi wanted to try,” his voice is fond. “it’s been four or five years now.”

“that’s really sweet of you.”

he ducks his head bashfully, then asks, “what about you? how come you don’t surf?”

“san roped me into his first few lessons, but i never got the hang of it so i stopped,” you reveal. “i prefer watching, anyway.”

“maybe you just didn’t have a good teacher. i could teach you one day?”

you don’t doubt that he would make a good teacher, but you would most definitely be a terrible student. the shirt and board shorts that leave very little to imagination when he’s soaked, and the water that drips from the ends of his hair down his jawline and neck are distracting enough as they are from a distance.

you chuckle, “you’re going to need a lot longer than just a few days to turn me into a surfer. you guys leave this weekend, don’t you?”

“that’s true,” he hums. “but there’s always next summer…if you’d like that?”

at his words, you suddenly don’t know where to look. the rosiness that starts to colour your cheeks makes a small part of you hope that there is an underlying hint of flirting in his question. before you can answer though, you’re interrupted by san peering over your shoulder to look at yunho’s progress. “of course you’re good at this too.”

you crane your neck to look around san, where you find mingi squatting and planting seedlings in the rows that are within arm’s reach.

“how’s he going?”

san glances back, “he’s, uh–well. he’s trying.”

“my hardest!” mingi yells across the field.

with a laugh, you stand up and slowly make your way towards him, leaving san and yunho to lay down the rules to see who can plant the most seedlings in the next half an hour. because apparently, everything needs to be a competition between them.

the seedlings that mingi has planted don’t look that bad, honestly. they’re a little lopsided, the spacing and height of each seedling a little inconsistent, but for his first time it really isn’t all too bad. you tell him such and squat down beside him. “here, let me show you.”

you gently remove one of the seedlings from the watery mud whilst talking, “they may just be plants, but they’re like people, too. if you treat them with love and care, you can see the same reflected in them.” you neaten the sides of the hole as you add, “you know, it’s kind of like how yunho loves and cares for you.”

having spent all summer with the pair, you notice all the times yunho subtly perks his head up to locate where the other boy is. all the times yunho brings him into conversation or back into the little huddle you’re all standing in. all the times yunho will wait for mingi to say what he wants or thinks before saying the same thing himself.

your fingers ease the seedling into the hole, then you fill it with soil and pat it down firmly to give the shoot the support it needs. “yunho told me he started surfing because you wanted to.”

at your words, mingi nods with a wistful smile; completely different from his characteristic cheerfulness. even the brightest of stars have moments where their twinkle dulls. “i was going through a rough time at home and i wanted something to distract myself…give myself a reason to get out of the house, even if just for a few hours,” he reveals. “sometimes, yunho and i skipped our morning classes and he would take me on long trips to the beach just so that we could surf.”

“i’m glad you had him to help you through that.”

“yeah, he’s helped me a lot,” mingi agrees. “he still does. sannie too.” as he talks, mingi attempts to plant another seedling the way you have shown him, and this time, it stands tall and proud amongst the other shoots beside the one you have planted.

“how are things at home now?” you ask.

he shrugs aloofly, an indirect answer that tells you everything you need to know. his gaze settles on the other half of your little summer quartet, who are now in heated debate over the winner of the planting competition. “both of them knew that i didn’t want to go back to my hometown over summer. that’s why san asked if we wanted to come here with him. thanks for letting us stay this summer, y/n. it’s meant a lot to me.”

your heart breaks a little at his words and you nudge him playfully, “stop treating me like i’m the head of namhae. there’ll always be a place here for the both of you.”

he lets out a laugh, a glimpse of his usual self. “we just know how much summers mean to you and san.”

“and meanings can always change for the better,” you counter with a smile.

mingi feels warm from the very inside. for a moment, only you and him exist in this bubble of comfort as you simply gaze at each other. and it doesn’t go unnoticed. yunho stretches his back with a satisfied exhale at san’s admittance of defeat before glancing at the two of you looking nice and cosy in the exact same corner of the paddy field you were working on half an hour ago.

“have you two just been sitting there this whole time?” yunho narrows his eyes as his words draw san’s attention.

“no?” you flimsily say, at the same time mingi confidently declares, “yes.”

the man beside you is back to his usual antics as he giddily fans the fire by gloating, “what are you going to do about it?”

yunho and san glance at each other and you start rising to your feet at the foreboding of danger. they nod.

that’s all the warning you get before they lunge in your direction. as dorky and harmless as the two of them look in their styled outfit of farming pants and straw hats, they are anything but that as yunho and san take frighteningly large steps through the rice paddy with their long legs. and just as your luck would have it, yunho is the one who is closest to you out of the two predators. you hardly think that it’s a fair chase between the tallest and the shortest.

“yun, we can talk this out like adults,” you try to distract him.

whilst you’re struggling for your life to pull your boots out of the squelching mud as fast as you can, yunho easily moves towards you with a devilish grin. you see his outstretched hands, covered in mud, and you decide right there and then that you’re not above begging.

“don’t come any closer! please, i’m sorry! i’m–” your pleads are cut off when he grabs you by the waist and hauls you over his shoulder.

for a brief second, you almost slip right over him face-first into the mud from the momentum and your life flashes before your eyes. but then yunho’s arms flex as he steadily grips your thighs and readjusts your weight, and you resign your fate to his shoulder and his pretty– but grubby– hands.

you twist your head to the side when a husky screech alerts you to victim number two and you find mingi at the mercy of san’s headlock. he rapidly taps the latter’s forearm, yelling mercy as you all burst out into laughter. very soon, the field turns into a playground of childish liveliness as all intentions of farming are tossed to the wind.

mingi was right in saying that summers mean a lot to you and san. but as you all chase and run away from one another around the muddy field, smearing loving handprints of dirt over each other’s faces and clothes, sounds of happiness loud enough that your parents can hear it from back inside the house, summer takes on a new meaning in the shape of you four.

in hindsight, it makes a lot of sense now why san’s parents had knocked on your door earlier this morning, entrusting you with the spare key to their house and waving goodbye as they drove away in their rented campervan. they had let you know that they would be going on a road trip along the coast this summer so that san and his friends could have the house to themselves.

you hadn’t thought much of it– just excitedly counted down the hours until the reunion of your little quartet. yunho had been texting you updates as he, san and mingi finally made the four-hour trip down to namhae now that they were on summer vacation. one of the last texts you had received had been a picture of mingi in the backseat, head lolling and mouth open in deep slumber, with the caption, ‘gonna need to wake sleeping beauty up soon XD we’ll be there in about twenty’.

this time, you had opted to wait for their arrival by sitting on the embankment outside your houses. your legs had dangled off the ledge as you looked out towards the beach, and at the telltale noise of their arrival, you had excitedly hopped up to your feet, only to be met with a sight that had your steps halting in fluster. and oh, this is why san’s parents had decided to yield the house. because this time, not only have the number of surfboards doubled, but so have the number of cars and boys that are suddenly in front of you.

as san turns off the ignition to his jeep, you’re dazedly swept up into a sandwich of hugs between yunho and mingi as they greet you eagerly. it’s good to see them again in the flesh instead of their measly five-inch-tall selves over facetime, and you’d be a little overwhelmed by their height on either side of you– having forgotten just how tall they really are– if your attention isn’t distracted by the opening doors of the banged-up ute behind san’s jeep.

either seoul has water that’s doped with something, or birds of a feather flock together, because each of the three boys that step out are equally as good-looking. you’d be lying if your heart didn’t skip a beat at the sight of them. you’re a simple girl with hormones weak for eye candy, after all.

yunho slings an arm around you and walks you a little closer as the new faces turn to look at you with friendly smiles. “this is y/n,” yunho introduces. “and these are our friends, jongho and yeosang.”

you notice that he skips over one of the boys, who starts to open his mouth in complaint, but then yunho continues on, “and this short one is hongjoong. we keep him as our mascot.”

hongjoong gives the taller his middle finger with practised ease and counters, “and we keep you as our tall circus freak.”

the way everyone snickers, yunho and hongjoong included, tells you that this is just about as average an interaction can be. after the boys properly greet themselves and pleasantries are exchanged with you, they decide to unload all their luggage so that they can rest for the afternoon. you walk over to the open boot of the black jeep, reaching for the last duffel and hoisting it into your hands.

before you can so much as take two steps, there’s a hand carefully taking the bag from yours. when you tilt your head up, it’s san’s kind eyes that are gazing back at you. “here, let me do it,” he casually tells you and then he walks towards the open doors of his house.

left with the outline of his back, you have a clear view of his shoulders flexing under his white shirt and you wonder when he started to fill out his clothes with muscle. you become conscious of the way you’re subtly ogling at your best friend, so you shake your head and walk over to the back of the ute instead where there are still a few bags left in the open bed.

there’s a small duffel that looks relatively light. as you drag it closer, you quickly realise it’s heavier than it looks. “what the hell is in this? weights?” you mutter to yourself.

there’s a giggle beside you, “sorry, that’s probably yeosang’s bag. he brings his supplements with him everywhere.”

it’s jongho this time, with his gummy smile and crescent eyes, who takes the bag handles out of your hands. he extends a brown paper bag out to you instead. “we can trade. this is much lighter.”

he easily picks up the bag of supplements and then reaches for a second bag to sling over his shoulder. for the amount of adorableness he exudes from his smile and laugh, the strength that he seems to have is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. as he walks away, there’s the crunch of approaching footsteps and you see that it’s the short boy, hongjoong. he’s only short relative to his friends, because when he comes to stand beside you he’s still easily taller than you.

“maybe you could help me hold this, too.” he’s holding his closed fist out, making it impossible to discern what’s in his hands.

“what is it?” you ask as you open your hand, palm upturned for him to drop whatever he is holding into yours.

except he simply uncurls his fingers and intertwines them with yours, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. a laugh erupts from your throat, only growing in volume when yeosang appears and interrupts by stepping between the two of you, forcing his friend to let go of your hand.

as yeosang grabs the last suitcase and closes the tailgate, he deadpans to the other, “san’s going to chop your hand off when he sees,” then he slings his free arm around hongjoong and ushers the both of you back into the house.

“it’s okay, i wouldn’t let san do that to you,” you reassure.

hongjoong smirks triumphantly at yeosang, only for you to wipe the expression off his face when you finish, “because that’d be animal abuse.”

“it’s been five minutes and you’ve already picked your side,” he laments dramatically, before nodding. “i see how you play. i like you.”

“it’s a shame i don’t,” you quip back immediately.

“fuck, did i just get rejected?”

yeosang shoves his friend through the doorway, “stop digging yourself a deeper hole.”

you all laugh as you shut the front door behind you to stop the cold of the air conditioner that san has turned on from escaping. you’re definitely starting to see the appeal hongjoong’s friends have in teasing him.

you take the bag of snacks still in your hand to the kitchen and you set it on the counter where san is drinking a glass of water. he’s watching the rest of the boys play ‘scissors, paper, rock’ over room allocations now that all their luggage has been piled up in the living room. he raises an arm and you easily slot yourself into his side and slide an arm around his waist. relaxing into the touch of his hand slowly rubbing up and down your arm, you also watch as the boys grow increasingly rowdy with each emerging winner.

you’ve had the fleeting thought before, but now that you’re seeing all the boys together, you realise just how attractive they all well and truly are. even san, you’re slowly starting to notice, does not lack in the face or body department.

“do you guys have a rule where you have to be attractive to be friends or something?” you ask, only half-jokingly. even though you had directed the question at san, it’s not him who answers you.

“aww, stop. you think we’re attractive?” of course hongjoong would be the one to overhear.

immediately, the feistiness in you appears. “yeah, and i’m wondering why they made an exception for you.”

he takes on the jest easily, “god, you’re obsessed with me.”

“you’re right, i’m a little crazy for dogs,” you shoot back, and you can feel the shake of san’s chuckles from next to you.

“good thing i’d bark for you, then.”

“what the fuck, guys?” mingi interrupts, “get a room.”

at that, san steps forward protectively and shoos his friends away, “hurry up and put your bags in the rooms so we can go surfing.”

yunho and yeosang take their bags towards the small guest room down the hall, whilst the remaining three head for san’s room. you turn to san incredulously, “you’re fitting four people in your room?”

he shakes his head, “of course not. i’m going to sleep in haneul’s room. she’s on a trip with her friends for most of the summer.”

“she can stay at mine when she comes back. until you guys have to go back to seoul,” you suggest.

“oh, that’s right. your parents are in yeosu now, aren’t they?”

you nod. you had told san a couple of weeks ago that your parents had moved back to your grandparent’s house for the meantime. they’re not sure how long they will be staying in your hometown for, but considering the deteriorating health of your grandparents and the fact that you are independent enough to take care of yourself, it’ll likely be for a while.

san doesn’t tell you, but that’s part of the reason why he has brought so many of his friends back this summer. he knows that you’re silently struggling to adjust– even if his parents take care of you like their own daughter– so he hopes that he and his friends can fill in some of the silence, even if just for the summer. he wishes it didn’t just have to be summer.

“do you need to change into something else before we go?” he asks you.

you look down at the t-shirt and shorts that you’re wearing. you don’t mind getting them wet, but you can’t say the same about your underclothes. “yeah, i’ll quickly go and change first.”

he nods and watches as you head towards the door to toe on your sandals. when you pull the door open, he gently calls after you, “it’s good to see you again, pipsqueak. i’ve missed you.”

you smile, “i’ve missed you more.”

even after the door closes behind you, san’s smile stays on his face. “i’ve missed you the most.”

no matter how many times you experience the thrill of getting tossed into the ocean, you still cannot fathom the fact that the once short, skinny boy who used to pretend to pick you up is now tall and strong enough to actually do it.

“you cheater!” you screech when you feel san’s arms snake around your waist from behind, lifting you up off your feet. “you said you’d give me a ten-second head start!”

his gleeful laugh rings in your ears as he ignores your flailing limbs and teases, “i did! your little legs are just too slow.”

you start to feel the coolness of waves splashing your ankles and toes the further san carries you out away from shore and your grip on his forearm tightens in anticipation. with a slight swing, he lets go of your waist and tosses you into the water. the next thing you know when you regain your balance and wipe the water from your face is the sound of san’s yelp as he disappears underwater. jongho grins from above, having leapt onto the older’s back, who in turn has crumpled under the unsuspecting weight.

san emerges with a hulk-like roar absolutely soaked to the bone, his black t-shirt clinging to his torso. the clear outlines of his chest and broad shoulders set off an unfamiliar skip in your heart yet again, and san lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his face– revealing his abs in all of their wonder– does the complete opposite of calming you down.

you're fucked. there's no way you're attracted to san like that. in the form of petty revenge, said man brings his hands down to slap the surface of the water, splashing it right in your face and jongho’s and…yeah, that flutter of butterflies is gone.

san is caught right in the middle of the crossfire as you and jongho splash him, drowning his figure in torrential rain. the sounds of his choked laughter draw the attention of everyone else too, who have no idea why san is the target but are more than willing to join in. but with the plethora of water being splashed and the chaos of hands coming from every possible direction, the three of you end up drowning under the attacks.

hongjoong quickly loses motivation when his arms grow tired from doggy-paddling the water and yunho and yeosang’s attempts also slow down. they snicker at the aftermath– your trio absolutely drenched– and then rapidly skitter away before any of you decide to retaliate in vengeance.

at their cowardice, san bites the bait and goes hollering after them, leaving you with the youngest of your group of friends. jongho beckons towards the shore with his head and you’re momentarily distracted by his wet bangs falling over his forehead and eyebrows.

“up for more surfing?” he grins at you. and if there’s one thing you’ve learnt over the summer, it’s that you would kill for jongho if he asked you with his gummy smile.

jongho is a surprisingly good surfer. as the only one in the group who grew up in seoul with limited exposure to the beach, you can hardly tell that he’s a relative beginner in comparison to the rest of the boys unless you were a surfer yourself.

once they had become their close-knit group and they realised that most of them had a shared love for surfing, they had colloquially formed their own little surfer’s club, knighting jongho as their honorary member. he learnt to surf in indoor centres, during the occasional beach road trips they would make and through the experienced guidance of his friends.

of all six surfboards they had brought to namhae, jongho’s softboard is the one that is the most ideal for you to learn with. true to his words, yunho had attempted to teach you how to surf but on his own board– a shortboard great for experienced surfers to catch steep and aggressive waves, but terribly hard for a beginner to control. jongho had offered his board and so under his and yunho’s careful hands, you had spent your summer practising on the beach before slowly transitioning into the water.

which is where you find yourself now, on your stomach as you slowly paddle out. jongho stands close by and waist-deep in the shallow waters of the spot that he has led you to where the waves are few and calm. just a couple of metres away, yeosang idly straddles his longboard as he watches in support.

“you remember how to push through the waves?” jongho checks and you nod, gripping the rails of the surfboard and straightening your arms to lift your torso upwards.

“yeah, hang on,” he says, moving closer. jongho rests his hand gently on the small of your back to steady your body and you have to focus on what he’s telling you instead of the feeling of his warm hand. he taps the sides of the board a few inches in front of where your grip currently is.

“hold it here, otherwise your centre of gravity is too far back,” he explains as you shift your hands forward. “the board might end up tipping backwards when you go through the wave.”

you retry the movement with the new positioning and jongho nods in satisfaction, removing his hand and stepping back again.

“there’s a wave coming in we could try,” yeosang suggests.

the slight swell of a forming wave starts to appear in the horizon. it doesn’t increase much in size the closer it gets, but as it reaches its peak height, the top breaks and turns into a whitewater wave. yeosang is out a little further and so he demonstrates how to push through first, lifting his torso above the break as his surfboard cuts through the wave.

“okay, ready? hold steady, steady,” jongho encourages, helping you time the movement, “and push up!”

you follow his call and straighten your arms to lift your upper body out of the wave’s trajectory, guiding the nose of your surfboard through at the same time that jongho dives under the wave. although your face still gets splashed with some water and your board trembles slightly in your grasp, you make it through the wave without tipping over.

“i did it!” you yell, shakily sliding yourself further up your board so that you can straddle it.

“you did it!” the boys respond excitedly.

jongho jumps up and down beside your board, prompting yeosang to slide into the water to join your side. you laugh brightly at the sense of achievement and at the sight of the two boys bobbing around you in a merry-go-round of exuberance.

“just a little more practice and you’ll be taking on the monster swells in no time,” yeosang declares. you know he’s exaggerating, but it makes pride bloom in your chest regardless.

somebody calls out your names and you all turn to look. it’s san standing near the waters, gesturing behind him as he yells, “we’re going to walk to the mart to get some ice cream. do you guys want to come?”

“yes!” you shout back, “wait for me!”

ungraciously tumbling off your surfboard in a hurry so that you can pull it back to shore, the boys chuckle at your eagerness. jongho grabs his board from out of your grasp so that he can carry it instead and the boys all trail behind you as you bound past san towards the pile of your belongings on the sand. while you sift through the heap for your sandals, your other hand subconsciously peels your clinging shirt away from your body. you feel the presence of someone coming up behind you and assuming it’s san, you straighten your back with a phone in your hand.

“san, you left your ph–” you start, except it’s yeosang, who bends down to pick up his towel and drapes it around you. it’s warm from the hours it’s spent in the sun and you can’t help the pleasant shiver that runs through your body. yeosang tugs it snugly over your shoulders and then takes the phone from your hand.

“here,” he tosses it to its owner, who falls into step behind you.

san nods his head in thanks and rummages under a towel where your sandals have been hiding before placing your shoes by your feet. “the ground’s pretty hot,” he says as he offers you his forearm to steady yourself with, patiently waiting for you to do up the buckles around your ankle.

“wait, i forgot my wallet,” you tell him once jongho and yeosang rejoin you after putting their surfboards away.

“don’t worry about it,” san reassures, “hongjoong’s buying.”

your ears perk up and he laughs because he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “yes, y/n. bleed him dry and order whatever you want."

"even a double–no, even a triple scoop?" you exclaim scandalously.

san's eyes drip adoration, "yes, even a triple scoop."

you run ahead with a cheer, blabbering jongho’s ear off about how if you get three different flavours and he also gets three different flavours, then you guys get to share six flavours, before yeosang joins in with excited chatter about how you guys can make it nine flavours if he does the same. you catch up with the rest of your friends and somehow, like a devilish cult, you all start to chant, “bleed hongjoong dry! bleed hongjoong dry!”

the oldest jokes that he only offered to pay for yours, not everybody’s, so mingi starts to tell you what he wants so that you can order in his stead, setting off a chain reaction as everyone else places their orders through you. they surround you, happy jostles and raucous snickers as you disappear in the middle of the group.

from behind, as san watches you grow closer and closer with his friends each summer, he can’t help but feel like he’s going to burst from affection and pride. he knows it will be a while until your parents move back to namhae, as is the same for himself until he graduates. but between his group of six– which will hopefully become the full eight next summer– and the group chat that you all made within hours of meeting each other, san is confident that you’ll never feel alone.

“if only wooyoung was here, then we’d have someone to grill the meat properly,” yeosang muses as he watches jongho flip and examine the packaging of the beef. “he’s the best cook out of us.”

“trust him to be a good cook, too,” you comment.

when you had first met yeosang, jongho and hongjoong, they had told you that there were two other friends who weren’t able to make it to namhae with the rest of them this summer. one of them was wooyoung, who naturally became part of the group after attending the same dance club as yunho, mingi and san. wooyoung had then been paired up with jongho during an inter-department project between the department of film & multimedia and the department of drama, growing close to the younger and by extension, to hongjoong, a senior in jongho’s drama society.

their other friend was seonghwa, they had told you; the oldest in their group and also in the year above like hongjoong. however, seonghwa attends a completely different university along with yeosang, the both of them undertaking a degree in education at seoul national university. they share some senior classes together, as yeosang had transferred from a law degree and had some of the credit prerequisites to jump ahead. and since yeosang is a close family friend of wooyoung’s, the three of them gradually became well-acquainted with each other.

it’s a running joke that you don’t need to remember how everybody knows each other– you just need to know that wooyoung is the common factor between them all, the person who decided that all of his friends should be friends with each other. so not only is wooyoung a social butterfly, seemingly charming and witty with good looks– should the boys’ track record stay true– but apparently he’s a good cook too. some people really just have it all.

“what else do we need?” jongho asks, haphazardly placing a few packets of the meat into the shopping cart he’s pushing.

“mingi said it would be good to make smores at the end of the night,” you answer.

last summer, during the final week that mingi, yunho and san were in namhae, you had all decided to have a barbeque feast and then spend the rest of the night huddled around a small campfire on the shores of the beach. it had been one of your favourite memories, simply basking in the peaceful buzz of summer and slowing your lives down just for one night to do nothing. you had suggested turning it into a tradition, and now that the final week of this summer has arrived, you’re all at one of the few grocery stores in namhae to stock up on food, snacks and drinks for the night.

“let’s see if they have marshmallows, then,” jongho makes a move to walk away.

hongjoong suddenly interrupts the conversation, appearing with an empty trolley in front of him. “get in,” he tells you.

yeosang helpfully points out, “that sounds like something a man with a tinted white van would say,” at the same time you question, “are we even allowed to do that?”

he beams, “i like to think that until somebody tells us we’re not allowed to do something, we are allowed to do it.”

“i can think of fifteen different reasons right now why that’s terrible life advice.”

the man simply nudges your side with the end of his trolley and you half-heartedly frown, “i’m really hoping this seonghwa friend is more responsible than you are, seeing as he’s older.”

“i hate to break it to you, but seonghwa’s worse,” jongho grimaces. “maturity ages backwards in this group, unfortunately.”

at jongho’s words, you turn to look for yunho, hoping that as the next oldest down the line he can talk some sense into hongjoong. only you’re met with the sight of the overgrown man pushing his own shopping cart with a very cramped but happy mingi sitting inside.

you sense defeat when hongjoong nudges you once more. “i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you mutter to yourself as he holds it steady for you to climb into. after all, you think, what’s life without breaking a few rules?

except nothing prepares you for the absolute madness that unfolds the moment your bottom touches the cold, metal gridding of the trolley. hongjoong quite literally revs the handlebar with engine sound effects, before charging through the aisle at full speed in an apparent race against yunho and his passenger princess. you hold on to for dear life, thinking that this will be over once you reach the end of the aisle. but both racers show no signs of stopping, instead drifting with sharp cornering into the next aisle as you screech. half of you is terrified, but the other half of you is starting to seek the thrill.

“faster, joong! faster!” you goad when you can see san standing at the end of the frozen section, waving an imaginary chequered flag.

both carts rattle past him in a close match, and as opposed as you were to the idea at first, you argue passionately against the honorary referee and the rival team over who won first place. even jongho and yeosang pick a side and claim that their eyes– from three aisles over– are as trustworthy as VAR playback.

it’s no surprise when the ruckus you’re all making gets a store manager sent your way. but by some saving grace, most likely the begrudging understanding that everyone has done this exact thing at one point or another growing up, the store does not kick you out. they let you finish shopping for the supplies you need, but not without the glares of the retail workers following you and your friends regardless of which aisle you try to duck and disappear behind.

with hushed giggles and not-so-subtle elbows in each other’s sides, your group hurriedly pays and places the multitude of plastic bags back into the trolley. san and jongho take one of the trolleys each and you all walk back to the cars to load the shopping. you would think that a scolding would deter any further misbehaviour, but when you all see the relatively empty parking lot, there’s only shared smiles of deviousness and glints of mischief.

if anyone were to look at the parking lot outside the grocery store that tuesday morning, they would see a group of seven friends, clad in an eyesore disarray of sweatpants, shorts, pajama tops and slippers, pushing each other around in shopping carts like bumper cars with shrieks of joy, circling around the dusty jeep and banged-up ute that has become an enabler of their connection and happiness.

you may all be doing the very things that your older selves will look back on with exasperated smiles and disapproving head shakes in ten years. but in the moment, you are unafraid; uncaring of what others think, because you have your friends by your side. and this, you think to yourself, is the essence of youth and summer.

you wish you were older. because being older means that you’ll have graduated, and being graduated means that you won’t have to fucking study for your fucking exams. you let out a groan and drop your head onto the table, making an audible thump when your forehead misses the thick textbooks and scattered notes, and hits the solid surface instead.

“hey, you need those brain cells,” someone gently chides. haneul stands at the doorway to your bedroom, watching your misery with a fond smile.

“can’t lose what i don’t have,” you mumble back.

“take a break,” she suggests. “do you want me to get you something from the bakery?”

haneul laughs when your head immediately turns to look at her, your left cheek pressed against the table by the cheeky smile that adorns your face. she chuckles again, “got it. i’ll be back.”

you absent-mindedly listen as the lock of your front door clicks shut and then let out a deep sigh at the silence that follows. it’s been a few hours since you first sat down and started studying but it feels like you’ve been reading the same sentence over and over again with no progress. pressing your forehead into the table again, you groan in frustration.

your ringtone goes off and your hand blindly fumbles around for your phone, sliding what you’re relatively sure is the answer button. “yeah?” you say into the receiver.

“someone’s a little grumpy today,” a teasing voice sounds.

“hwa?” you sit up instantly, looking at your phone properly.

it is him, not only blessing you with the deep richness of his voice but also the visual of him in a black tank top as he looks amusedly at the facetime you have answered. “are you still studying?” he asks.

you deflate a little, reminded of why you’ve been creating a crater in your table with your head for the past ten minutes. “mhm,” you hum affirmatively. “except nothing’s going into my brain anymore.”

“sounds like you need a break.”

“that’s exactly what haneul said,” you grumble, although you’re not entirely sure why you’re so opposed to their suggestions to stop studying.

“because we’re right,” he quirks his eyebrow. “what’s haneul doing at yours, anyway?”

“taking advantage of my netflix while i slave away to pass my exams. but she’s forgiven since she’s buying me snacks.”

“then take a break until she gets back and you finish eating. it’ll only be an hour, tops,” seonghwa convinces. “i’ll even set an alarm to let us know when time is up and i’ll keep you company when you study.”

you sag a little into your chair, shoulders relieving of their tension as you concede, which makes him smile sympathetically, “just a few more weeks to go until summer and then you’ll be free.”

“are you taking up summer school again?” you ask.

after san had added you and all the boys into a combined group chat, you had made friends with the two that you didn’t get to meet. you discovered seonghwa hadn’t been able to make the trip to namhae last year because he had chosen to take summer school instead. he had wanted to complete some of his degree requirements earlier in hopes of working part-time during his final year to gain practical experience. wooyoung, on the other hand, had had a portfolio due for his film class that required the majority of his summer if he wanted to complete it in time.

seonghwa grimaces at the memory, “no, not this time. it was a mistake, honestly. i burnt out so fast the first semester back that i didn’t even end up applying for any jobs.” he points a stern finger at you and warns, “don’t ever think about doing summer school.”

“trust me,” you laugh, “i have no intentions of ever doing that.”

you appreciate his advice regardless, because as immature as the other boys had made him out to be, seonghwa really does look out for all of you as the oldest of the group. and more often than not, you find yourself gravitating towards him when you need comfort or reassurance. “does that mean i’ll finally get to meet you?”

seonghwa nods, “woo as well.”

the screen of your phone suddenly splits to make room for an additional video as somebody joins the call. you hear his voice before his video even buffers. speak of the devil.

“oi! why are you all calling without me?” wooyoung complains.

contrary to the roll of your eyes, a smile makes its way across your face as you respond, “we’re literally calling from the group chat. no one’s leaving you out of anything.”

and as if his appearance is some sort of talisman, more of the boys start to join the call one by one. even hongjoong’s profile picture appears, camera off and on mute, wanting to feel included even if he’s in the middle of class. yunho and mingi pop up from behind wooyoung, so you’re guessing they’re busy practising in the studio. you wonder where san is.

someone asks you a question about how your exams are going, but you’re momentarily distracted by the buzzing notification of a text. “hang on,” you mumble, “let me just…reply to this.”

it’s one of your classmates, johnny, asking whether you’re home right now. you had accidentally slept through one of the review lectures earlier in the week and he had offered to give you a copy of his notes. from his text message, it appears he’s close by and able to drop them off now. you reply an affirmative and then click back into the video call, asking, “sorry, what were you saying?”

the drone of shared chatter about exams and the upcoming break fills the silence of your bedroom, like the fluttering breeze of a pleasant spring day. if they were not already so closely correlated to the warm, golden rays and salty spray of the summer ocean, your friends would be spring– the season of fresh air, blooming flowers and thriving vitality.

“someone looks happier. who are you talking to?” haneul emerges in your bedroom having come back from the bakery, holding a pastry box.

you didn’t even realise you were subconsciously smiling. “i’m facetiming the boys.”

she smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as she waggles her eyebrows suggestively and drags out her words, “i see. so who is it that you like? or is it all of them?”

“quit it!” you pretend to shove her. “want to say hi?” you turn the screen of your phone in her direction and there’s a chorus of obedient hi haneul’s as you turn up the volume.

she waves and peers at wooyoung’s video. “where’s the baby brat?”

from somewhere within the call, san yells out indignantly, “stop calling me that!” there’s a slight rustle as he walks closer to take the phone out of wooyoung’s grasp and when you peer to have a look, you can see that he’s sweaty and red-faced from finishing up a routine.

“you still respond to it, so,” haneul shrugs.

she disregards her brother’s continued complaints to drop the box onto your table along with a neatly-stapled stack of handwritten notes. “i bumped into johnny outside and he said this was for you,” she explains as you take it gratefully.

at the mention of a boy’s name, wooyoung shoves his nose towards his front camera. he rapidly asks, “who’s johnny? is he haneul’s boyfriend or what? why’s he giving you something?”

even hongjoong flicks a message into the group chat to ask, ‘who tf is jonny’.

you hold up the paper to show the boys and laugh, “he’s my classmate, guys. and he gave me notes because i missed the lecture.”

wooyoung frowns at your answer, clearly dissatisfied as he complains, “why is he giving you notes. and–what the fuck? did he hand write them? what a pretentious prick.”

you ignore him in favour of opening the pastry box to see what else haneul brought back for you. “how did you know i love these?” you exclaim.

she gives you that same, mischievous look from earlier and as she starts to exit your bedroom to leave you to your call and sweet treat, she vaguely answers, “how do you think?”

from over your phone, the others start to ask what you’ve got in the box, allowing a certain boy to easily slip unnoticed into the background. but it doesn’t take a detective to work out how– or perhaps you should say, who– told haneul about your recent cravings.

because if there’s one person who knows you the best, one person who takes notice of even the littlest of things, then it would be him.

hongjoong lightly slaps your thigh in retaliation as your laughter jostles his head that’s resting on your stomach, which only serves to make you laugh even harder. he lifts his head to grumble, “stop encouraging him, y/n. he’s going to think he’s actually funny or something.”

with a shaky exhale, you wipe a stray tear away, because you don’t think you’ve ever laughed this hard in your entire life. now that you see their whole group dynamic in action with the complete eight of them, it’s like watching a live sitcom.

wooyoung looks at him with a smug expression…then proceeds to yank the older’s sock right off his foot before throwing it into oblivion. hongjoong jolts up and dives for him and they immediately tussle about on the floor of san’s living room. amidst all of the commotion, san sneakily goes for seonghwa’s socks and you’re glad that you had peeled yours off the moment you had walked through the front door because suddenly everyone’s socks are a target.

the successful harvests that are tossed away are immediately snatched up by mingi, who hurls them under the table, behind the couch and on top of the television. you think you can see one dangling off the lights too, but you’re not about to snitch. jongho joins the corner you have taken refuge in and yeosang follows soon after, content to stay far away from the havoc that has quickly turned into wrestling. unfortunately, wooyoung is unable to let the three of you watch the world burn peacefully. he yells at the boys, who choose this to be the time to actually listen to him for once, and you’re all left scrabbling in different directions when they dive for you three.

it’s only the first day of summer and the second hour of officially meeting the boys as their full group of eight, but you can already tell that the next few months are going to be filled with absolute chaos and mayhem. and so the summer that marks san’s third visit back to namhae passes by quickly as you and the eight boys fall into an easy routine. hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. summer revolves around each other and there is never a moment spent apart.

you join the boys at dawn every day, clad in only a pair of shorts, a tank top and a light cardigan to shoulder because there’s still a slight nip of the early morning before the sun appears. you watch contentedly as they dance with the ocean on their surfboards– a duet of paddling out into the deeper waters and catching the breaks of the swells back towards shore.

the more you watch them surf, the more you start to realise just how much san has improved. you still recall the day san had fallen in love with the way the surfer used his own body and surfboard as an extension of the ocean, and you still have early memories of san’s lanky limbs flailing as he lost his balance over and over again, trying to replicate the same gracefulness. now, san is not just a dancer– he is the choreographer; the one who controls the ocean under his board.

as the early morning wears on, the serene crash of waves and intermittent squawk of the soaring seagulls are gradually interspersed with the boys’ rings of joy as they become more interested in pushing each other off their boards and splashing each other, rather than surfing itself. the strongest trio easily overpower everyone else and you shake your head fondly when the others don’t learn their lesson regardless of how many times they are suplexed underwater.

when the sun starts to wake up, they join you on the sandy shores, surfboards placed in a rough row so that you can all share them like seats. you lean against whoever is sitting beside you and watch the sunrise until your stomachs start to growl for attention.

greasy takeaway is always the foolproof solution. you share hearty burgers that are too tall to bite into and salty fries that are slathered in dipping sauce, sprawled out on the cool floorboards at san’s or yours, soaking in the refreshing coldness of the air conditioner on high without a care in the world for the electricity bill that is racking up.

afternoons are for the second round of the meal; bingsoo from the cafe, pastries from the nearby bakery or cheap ice cream from the mart. and after all the food, the best way to digest before you go out again at dusk to catch some of the waves is to take a nap.

the giant puppy pile of tangled limbs and human pillows is arguably your favourite part of the day. even if the ends of jongho’s hair tickles your nose and your arm goes a little numb from the way san hugs it and your neck feels cramped from resting on seonghwa’s shoulder, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

sometimes, when you’re all feeling rejuvenated, you’ll clamber into their three cars or happily pack yourselves into two and drive down the coast to one of the other beaches. the drive there is music blasting and scratchy singing at the top of your lungs with the windows rolled down, your flyaway hairs caressing the cheeks of the boys beside you. it’s rest stops to fill up on drinks and dessert– any excuse for more ice cream and a chance to make hongjoong’s wallet cry.

the trip back, on the other hand, is quiet, the designated drivers pressing softly on the pedals and turning with care so as not to jostle the sleeping passengers. you’re all exhausted and passed out against one another, faces pressed against a shoulder or the crown of someone’s head. slow music plays lowly in the background as the streetlights start to turn on like a warm greeting to welcome your group home.

and just as yeosang had once said, wooyoung is a good cook. dinner time becomes a bonding activity– as if every second of summer isn’t already a bonding moment– where you all experiment with different and increasingly complicated recipes. it usually ends up with him and seonghwa actually doing the cooking whilst everyone else eats the ingredients and tries not to accidentally stab someone with the knives, and dinner doesn’t usually actually become dinner until eight or nine o’clock.

but it doesn’t really matter when, half the time, the post-meal conversations turn into a slumber party after time slips away. if you retire early, you’ll sometimes be joined by haneul in your bedroom, who has stayed in namhae this summer. she’ll spill her workplace tea and you’ll gossip about your college peers late until the stars have long started to twinkle in the sky.

there are no scheduled bedtimes, no proper mealtimes, no time limits to complete things nor niggling guilt not to complete things– there is no formal routine. but when spontaneity and carefreeness become the everyday occurrence, that becomes the routine.

and as with any sort of routine comes the familiarity. familiarity finds itself in the way san sing-songs wake up, sleepyhead whenever you accidentally sleep in, and instead of shying under the covers at the sight of him in your bedroom, you whine for five more minutes. familiarity finds itself in the way yunho’s hands hover around the small of your back whenever you’re all walking to the mart for snacks and in the way wooyoung immediately reaches for the flavours he knows you like.

familiarity finds itself in the way you and hongjoong will bare puppy teeth at each other one moment then naturally use the other as a human pillow the next. it’s in the way jongho hides you when san tries to throw you into the water; the way mingi tucks your head into his shoulder when he spins you around in a hug; when seonghwa reminds you to reapply sunscreen whilst dotting the lotion along your cheeks and when yeosang quietly drapes you in his jackets after you get out of the water.

but the thing with familiarity, though, is that it’s easy for it to overshadow other things. rather than realising that there is a shift in dynamic or a change in heart, other growing feelings can be mistaken for familiarity instead. and you don’t understand this until you least expect it.

your hands fumble to catch the bottle of sunscreen that yunho has thrown in your direction before it ends up landing on yeosang’s face. he’s taking a nap on the towel next to you, disputing against everyone else’s remarks that he should take the opportunity to surf considering you’ve all made the two-hour trip to dadaepo beach.

you adjust the small umbrella that he brought along so that it covers his upper body, then uncap the bottle and lather the sunscreen over your arms and legs. it’s when you get to your back that you realise you won’t be able to reach all of your skin. san or seonghwa are usually around to help if you decide to forgo a cropped shirt over your bikini top, but they’re already running far along the shore and you can’t be troubled to yell out for one of them.

you’re starting to wonder whether you can get away with not applying sunscreen on your back if you just make sure you lie on it the whole time when hongjoong spots your plight in the form of a blank stare and squeezed lotion in the palm of your hand.

“your short arms can’t reach your back, can they?”

you imitate his laughter with an exaggerated tone, “who was it that needed my help yesterday putting sunscreen on his back?”

“maybe i just didn’t want you to feel too bad about yourself,” he shrugs and walks over to swipe the glob of sunscreen out of your hands. you roll your eyes, knowing fully well he’s incapable of taking care of you without pretending to cover it up with an insult.

“stop squirming,” he chides. the contrasting cold of the lotion and warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine and you try not to dwell on his gentle rubs for too long. he’s meticulous in making sure he doesn’t miss a spot, but he’s also careful and deliberate with his touch around the knotted strings of your top so that you don’t feel uncomfortable. hongjoong and the word ‘uncomfortable’ could never be in the same sentence though. but he doesn’t need to know that.

“there,” he pats your back twice like a mechanic would with the hood of a fucking car to signal that he’s finished his job and then callously walks away.

you decide to let him off the hook and settle down on your stomach to rest your eyes for a bit. yeosang knows what he’s doing, because the combined warmth of the sand beneath your towel and from the overhead rays makes you drowsy almost immediately.

you’re flicking your salt-crusted hair out of your face when a voice interrupts, “hi, i’m sorry to bother you.”

lifting your head up to look, you’re met with the sight of a girl around your age, timidly fiddling with the popsocket on her phone. you sit up and give her a polite smile, “that’s okay. can i help you?”

“um, i was just hoping to ask if he has a girlfriend?”

the boys are all scattered along the length of the beach, save for yeosang next to you, so you’re not entirely sure who the girl is referring to until you follow her finger. she’s pointing in the direction of hongjoong, who’s joined some of the others along the shore.

“the short one?” you clarify, smile fading a little as you shrug, “i’m not too sure, sorry.”

the girl shakes her head, “oh, no. i meant the boy on his left.”

choi san. you now fight to keep the smile on your face friendly when you reply, “not that i know of.”

the girl thanks you excitedly, walking off back to her group of friends who immediately huddle around her to hear your answer. you look away.

you don’t realise you’re staring at san until he turns in the distance and makes eye contact with you. his entire face lights up, eyes disappearing and shadowed dimples revealing themselves under the gleaming sun. wooyoung takes the opportunity whilst san is distracted to swing a handful of limp seaweed straight into san’s face and a laugh escapes you before you can hold it in. your best friend looks more betrayed by your laughter than by wooyoung’s antics.

the younger turns to look at you with pride and when he sees that you’re laughing, he blows you an exaggerated kiss and sends it flying in your direction with a teasing flurry of his hand. yunho charges in from out of absolutely nowhere and pretends to tackle the kiss mid-air, throwing the imaginary show of affection into the sand where hongjoong immediately joins in and stomps on it with his foot, before sending you a flying kiss of his own instead.

chaos ensues and both hongjoong and yunho run for their lives as wooyoung chases them with his deadly seaweed whip. he quickly realises that the taller of the two will be impossible to catch, so he locks in on the easier target and hongjoong screeches in fear.

you can’t help but shake your head adoringly as you continue to watch, eyes landing on san once more when the cat and mouse go tearing past him in a whirlwind of sand. san holds your gaze with a fond smile of his own and you have to remind yourself that it’s normal for the boys to have suitors.

you’re not dating san. you’re not dating hongjoong. you’re not dating any of the boys, and they’re certainly not yours. so then, why does it feel like they are? but most of all, why does your heart feel equally bitter at the thought of someone asking about any of the boys…not just your best friend?

the sight of the tube of aloe vera gel in the fridge– likely placed there by seonghwa– is a welcome sight. you had diligently reapplied sunscreen to your body with the boys’ constant reminders to reapply but you had carelessly forgotten about your face. you’re paying the price of your mistake now and the red skin across the apples of your cheeks and forehead is tight with a constant, dull throb.

grabbing the tube, you walk into the bathroom where hongjoong is currently blow-drying his hair, having callen dibs on the shower after the beach trip.

“hey, lil’ tomato,” he jests before he gets a good look at your face. “woah, that looks worse than it was an hour ago.”

you hum as you peer closer into the mirror, “this is probably the worst sunburn i’ve ever gotten before.”

hongjoong ruffles the back of his hair one last time under the dryer before unplugging it and setting it on the rack. he slips the tube of ointment out of your hands and then turns you by the shoulders to face him. that’s how you find yourself between hongjoong’s front and the porcelain sink, the edge of the countertop digging slightly into your lower back as you watch him squeeze a generous amount of aloe vera onto the tip of his finger.

he murmurs, “hold still.” with a light touch, he tilts your chin up so that he can see the angry skin of your face. the stark contrast between the characteristic roughness of his edges and the tenderness with which he applies the soothing gel on your face right now has you itching to tease him.

“admit it. you like taking care of me, don’t you.”

he rolls his eyes, “and you like being taken care of, don’t you. like when you needed your notes handwritten by johnny.”

ever since that one incident, the boys have never let you hear the end of it. they may not realise it themselves either, but really, they’re just trying to keep low tabs on this…classmate. even if the way they go about it reflects the emotional maturity of somebody half their actual age.

“i admit it’s nice to be taken care of. what about you, huh?” you challenge, poking his side testingly. “you like taking care of me, don’t you?”

you giggle when he squirms and you try it again to elicit another response, until he suddenly grabs your hand by the wrist.

“and so what if i do?” his words come out easily, but unlike the usual cockiness and flirtatiousness that he jokes around with, his tone is low and serious.

you don’t respond because you don’t know what to respond; you’re suddenly walking in uncharted territory– both in regards to his feelings and your own.

when his fingertips brush the area of your cheeks just below your under-eyes, you can’t help the instinctive flutter of your lashes. his eyes stare into yours and you swallow, noticing the way his gaze flickers down to follow the movement. there’s hunger in his pupils and longing in your chest. you don’t move away when he moves closer in.

your eyelids flutter closed once again, except this time in anticipation. his hands still cup your cheek and hold your wrist and when he brings his face down towards yours, you can feel the warmth of his body surrounding and intoxicating you. but as his nose starts to nudge the softness of your cheeks, hongjoong pulls away.

“sorry, i–this was a mistake. i shouldn’t be doing this,” he stutters. and just like that, the moment shatters.

“th–that’s okay,” you awkwardly smile. “this never happened.”

he nods without looking at you, “this never happened.”

you’re glad your face is sunburnt because you’re certain your face would be glowing from the embarrassment and shame you are overwhelmed with. hongjoong turns around before you can say anything else and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.

quickly, you lock the door and then stand there stunned into a stupor. because his…whatever the fuck that was, has given you startling clarity that he is right. you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be kissing him when you want san and your six other friends equally as much.

and most of all, it was foolish of you to assume that he actually wanted something more than friendship. if hongjoong, the most flirtatious of them all, doesn’t have any romantic interest in you– or at the very least enough to want to pursue something more– then what makes you think you have a chance with any of the boys? what makes you think that any of them– much less all of them– would want you in the same way that you have now realised you want them?

in a way, your heart feels more at ease now. knowing that your feelings for the boys will be unfruitful one way or another, it’s much easier to ignore the now obvious lurch in your heart whenever they pull you into an easy hug or tell you that you look pretty. it’s easier to repress the longing you have for them when they help you put on sunscreen or surround your house with mischief and laughter.

you can’t tell whether hongjoong is actively avoiding you or whether he is conveniently busy with the other boys, but you suppose time apart right now is good for the both of you. after all, time is supposed to heal everything. and so even as the end of summer approaches and the much anticipated night of the barbeque and campfire tradition arrives, you keep your distance from hongjoong and he keeps his. simply two friends coexisting within the larger group of friends; nothing more, nothing less.

you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.

dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.

someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them. as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.

“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”

his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends. “i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”

yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”

you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.

moving the game on, mingi asks seonghwa when he picks truth, “if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”

seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames. “i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”

there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from. it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”

seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him. “what about you, then?”

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”

a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves. haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”

you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts. “i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”

“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.

“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”

he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously. “if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”

there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way. “and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.

your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.

“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy–you make us happy.”

mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”

a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.

“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.

if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. instead, you tell him, “no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here.”

“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.

“you all have a home here,” you amend. because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.

you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different. life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.

“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire. he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision. “no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.

seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.

“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”

one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.

yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”

there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.

“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.

mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”

you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?

reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.

thank you for showing me what love feels like. you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.

taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.

and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment. from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.

you’ve known johnny since you started attending namhae’s provincial college. being from a relatively small cohort and the same degree no less, you share most of your classes together. there’ll be a few times throughout the month that you’ll find yourselves sitting in the seat beside each other and maybe once a semester that you’ll complete a group task together.

he’s easy enough to get along with, conversation sprinkled with terrible jokes and random puns that remind you of yunho’s silly humour. you know for a fact as well that they’re the same height too, which sort of makes you wonder whether being tall has something to do with the way their funny bone develops, considering mingi’s humour is just as questionable.

you and johnny aren’t exactly distant enough to only be classified as classmates, but you’re not exactly close either. so it’s a surprise when, after summer ends and it marks a new semester, johnny asks you out on a coffee date on the weekend. (except the more you think about it afterwards, the more your seemingly random interactions make sense. why he asks for your number even after the group project is over. why he offers to drop off handwritten notes for you. why he sometimes favours sitting with you as opposed to with his own friends.)

initially, you tell him that you’re not interested, any potential awkwardness dissipating the moment he dramatically wails that he’s been rejected, much like hongjoong had when you had first met him. but then a week later, johnny coolly slaps an envelope onto the surface of your lecture table and struts off without looking back. when you open it, you realise it’s a three-page handwritten essay detailing his pros and cons in an attempt to try and win you over.

it reminds you of wooyoung, when he had made a whole presentation on his laptop complete with photographic and videographic evidence to try and convince you that he was the best dancer out of himself, san, yunho and mingi. like your friend, johnny’s efforts are honestly a little too hilarious and a little too endearing to reject for a second time, and it’s not like johnny has done anything to suggest that he’s a creep or murderer. so you let him take you out on the date.

he chooses to go to the small, quaint cafe that’s about a fifteen-minute walk from campus. coincidentally, it’s the one that you and san used to frequent before he moved away to seoul. johnny tells you to try the chocolate hazelnut dacquoise slices, which you do even though you know you prefer the strawberry ones more. the sweet mouthful makes you think of san, always offering you the first bite of his chocolate dacquoise in hopes of converting you to the flavour.

johnny pays for your dessert and drink and you two end up sitting in the cafe long after your plates have been cleared and mugs emptied to their bottoms. it turns out he likes spending time at the beach just as much as you do and he tells you of his summer trip to the maldives for his casual modelling gig. you’re not entirely surprised to learn of his part-time endeavours, considering you’ve never seen him dressed in anything less than loafers, chino shorts and a neatly-pressed button-up shirt. plus, johnny is objectively very attractive with his strong brows, chiselled jawline and dark locks of hair.

he offers to walk you home after your date, shrugging off his white button-up and passing it to you when you exit the cafe. it’s still warm enough in the afternoon to not need the extra layer, but you’re reminded of yeosang’s quiet yet perceptive gestures and it makes you smile nonetheless.

the weekend leads to a second date, followed by more time spent together. he finds reasons to see you throughout the weeks– the sun’s out which means you two should take a walk along the beach; he fell asleep during yesterday’s lecture which means you two should study at the cafe; he has a basketball match on the weekend which means you two should practise shooting hoops together.

and when you’re not physically spending time together, johnny likes to facetime you just so that he can ‘see your pretty face’. the frequency with which he compliments you randomly throughout the call is almost on par with seonghwa, who always sweetly observes when you're wearing a new lip tint or different hairstyle.

johnny’s laugh, be it in person or over video call, never fails to make you laugh with him. it’s boisterous when he doubles over with laughter and his eyes disappear when he chuckles. you can’t help but see jongho’s own adorable giggles in him.

after several months of courting advances, johnny asks to make it official. you say yes, because you have fallen for him.

and so, like the dwindling campfire that had marked the end of summer, you snuff out the remains of the fire in your heart that has been burning for san, hongjoong and the six other boys, leaving the last of the embers to their fate. left alone, they will slowly die out, completely extinguishing the flames and leaving only ashen remnants behind…or the sparks will continue to fight unnoticed; until they rekindle and turn into an uncontainable inferno.

“with all due disrespect, his parents don’t fucking deserve to be parents,” wooyoung spits out.

yunho tucks the blotchy aftermath of mingi’s heartbreak a little tighter into the crook of his own neck, other hand softly tousling the ends of the younger’s hair. the boys have only just managed to settle mingi into one of the beds in their shared dorm rooms after he had shown up at the dance studio barely holding it together by his last thread.

“i don’t think any of us had high hopes for them, considering the things he’s told us about them over the last few years,” seonghwa sighs as he pulls the blanket over mingi’s shoulders.

“but for them to just fucking disown him like that? do they even realise how much it took for him to come clean about us?”

san gently pulls wooyoung away from the bed, lest he wake up the boy in question, and massages his clenched fist open. yeosang sidles up to the pair, “do you think we could go down to namhae a few days earlier this summer?”

“that actually might be possible,” san chews on his bottom lip and takes out his phone to text his parents. “it’ll be a nice surprise for y/n, too.”

“she’s in for a few surprises,” jongho comments before nudging the boy next to him. “hopefully you didn’t scare her off after what you did.”

hongjoong scratches the nape of his neck at the jab, “yeah, i hope i didn’t fuck things up for all of us.”

“you still haven’t talked it out with her?” san looks up from his phone.

hongjoong grimaces, “no, but how could i? she said to pretend that it didn’t happen.”

“and you just took her word for it? god, that’s literally the universal response anyone would automatically give in a situation that’s utterly and mortifyingly embarrassing,” wooyoung throws his arms up into the air. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she says no to us after all.”

“look, i’ll talk to her when we see her again. the semester’s nearly over, anyway.”

san nods, “my parents are fine with us going down a weekend earlier. and i agree with hongjoong on this one–it’s probably something they should talk about in person, not over the phone. let’s just hope we haven’t missed our timing with this.”

there’s only a few more weeks left until summer, minus one week now that they have decided to make the trip down to namhae earlier for mingi’s sake. and regardless of what your answer will be to the question that they’ll ask you– be it yes or no– it still won’t change the fact that everything will be okay once they get to namhae. because everything is okay as long as you are by their side.

there’s a man standing by your side, and it’s not one of them.

it’s strange to see you holding hands with someone that they don’t know. of course, it’s inevitable that you would have your own friends in namhae and from college, and of course it’s inevitable that you would have friends of both genders. but the way you have your fingers interlocked with his looks anything but platonic.

the boys are familiar with the way their own hands feel with yours nestled in theirs; from when you squeeze yourself between two of them and happily swing your intertwined hands back and forth; when a large wave threatens to topple you over and you instinctively reach for them for support; when you’re curled up against them and absentmindedly fiddling with their fingers whilst watching a cheesy summer romcom. but right now, their own hands feel unfamiliar– oddly empty and unable to make up its mind as to whether it wants to relax or tighten into a fist, even more so when you make eye contact with them standing outside san’s house and freeze.

you haven’t told the boys about johnny yet, only that you had news you wanted to tell them in person once they came for the summer. but now that they are here, standing right in front of you and your boyfriend, you suddenly feel a prick of guilt that you hadn’t given them a heads up of some kind.

you slip your hand out of johnny’s grasp under the guise of tidying your hair. if johnny notices, he doesn’t comment on it. instead, he asks, “you know them?” and settles his arm heavily over your shoulders. the action probably looks as territorial as it feels.

“yeah, they’re my closest friends,” you answer louder than you need to, because you feel like you have to defend them– or yourself. “san’s from namhae, too, and the others are from different provinces. they go to college together in seoul.”

“oh,” your boyfriend makes a noise, “it’s them.”

hongjoong feels awfully smug at that comment, because it means that you’ve talked about them before. he feels even more pleased when you slightly step out from under the man’s arm. but then your next words have his expression darkening again.

“i was going to officially introduce him to you guys on your first day…i just wasn’t expecting it to be today,” you gently place your hand on johnny’s forearm. “this is johnny, my boyfriend.”

immediately, the boys recognise his name– how could they forget, when the name has never once left their subconscious since the moment he was mentioned. a fleeting thought enters hongjoong’s mind. if he had not pulled away that night– if he had kissed you instead of being a coward– would it be him standing by your side as your boyfriend right now?

and hongjoong is not alone in his thoughts. wooyoung’s teeth grit together as he wonders how different things may have turned out if only the older or he himself had been bolder with their feelings. if only any of them had plucked up the courage to make the first move. because you dating any of them would automatically put their heart infinitely more at ease than the literal fucking stranger who is standing by your side.

you’re about to tell your boyfriend the names of the eight boys in front of you when he raises an eyebrow at you, “you didn’t tell me your friends were all guys.” his tone isn’t accusatory, per se, but it’s definitely not cordial, either. this side of johnny is completely new to you.

seeing the flustered look on your face irks wooyoung in every way possible so he interrupts, “and why does it matter to you?”

johnny levels him with a look for several seconds before smiling placatingly. “you’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” he dismisses.

immediately, there’s a palpable spike in tension. “sorry?” wooyoung scoffs.

san sets a firm hand on the back of wooyoung’s neck and you lowly murmur your boyfriend’s name– respectively scruffing the two men. you didn’t know what to expect introducing your friends and boyfriend to each other. but the start of what looks like it has the potential to turn into a fight was definitely not on the list.

in a lame attempt to change the topic, you comment, “you guys are here early this year.”

there’s a beat of silence that’s a split second longer than you deem comfortable and yunho clears his throat, “yeah…things ended up this way.”

the vague comment and pointed look in your boyfriend’s direction tells you that there’s more to it than they are letting you onto right now. you make a mental note to talk to them once johnny leaves…if he ends up leaving. but the heavy weight that is still draped around your shoulder shows no intention of removing itself.

even though your instinct is to run up to the boys and receive all the hugs you have missed, and their instinct is to pull you away from the unfamiliar man and back into the intimacy of their group, the arm around you is a stark reminder to everyone that you’re not single anymore– that there are now boundaries to respect. instead, your friends are left to shuffle awkwardly on the spot with wavering gazes as if they have caught you doing something they weren’t supposed to see.

“do you have classes today?” san dares to ask.

“not today. we were just…out,” you reply. on a date, it goes unsaid.

“well, we’re headed for the beach,” san hates the fact that he even has to ask his next sentence, “do you want to join us?��

looking at johnny, you hate the fact that your immediate answer isn’t to say yes. he glances at you and then answers on your behalf, “we’ll join. it’ll be nice for us to get to know each other, since it seems like we’ll be seeing each other often this summer.”

“not if you don’t show up,” wooyoung mutters under his breath, but he’s not really trying to be quiet about his disdain.

you fake a smile and push your boyfriend towards the entrance to your house. “we’ll get changed and then meet you guys down at the beach.” you don’t wait for an answer before shoving the front door open and shut again in quick succession behind you.

“wait here,” you tell johnny, “i’ll get you a spare pair of shorts,” then you disappear into your bedroom and let out a deep exhale, closing your eyes to clear your head.

you had spent the last few years embracing the changes in your relationship with san. every summer marked a change in your friendship group– a new chapter each year as you rewrote the group dynamics with additional people to love and be loved by.

this summer, like the others, also marks a change and beginning of a new chapter, but now you’re realising that not all chapters in a story will always be happy. instead, some chapters will mark the beginning of the complication.

it feels like an unusual mix between deja vu and an out-of-body experience as san straps the leash of his surfboard around his ankle. his gaze follows your form and he watches silently when you’re picked by the waist and tossed into the ocean. it looks all too familiar– except instead of him being the one who brings the laughter out of your squeals, it’s that annoyingly tall and irritatingly jacked dude that is your boyfriend.

san can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips as he peels his eyes away. if johnny makes you happy, then objectively, san wants nothing more for you. but he cannot help but feel that you are undeserving of anything less than the entire world; something he and his boys are willing to give to you. but life is all about timing and it seems like they’ve missed theirs.

he’s distracted by the sight of you and johnny in his peripheral vision, even as he paddles out into the deeper waters with yunho. the taller is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes repeatedly flickering back and forth between you and mingi. mingi needed this trip more than any of them combined, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of yunho’s stomach that’s telling him the appearance of your boyfriend is only just the beginning of a rocky summer.

regardless of their combined years of surfing experience, both yunho and san seem to continuously lose their balance on their boards today. and despite the saltiness of the sea water that flows into san’s mouth each time he falls– no longer the graceful choreographer of the sea– there’s a bitter taste on his tongue that he cannot get rid of no matter how many bottles of water he drinks over the rest of the day.

it follows him even when the sweet fragrance of fresh pastries and syrupy drinks permeates the air the moment he walks into the bakery you so adore after your group walks from the beach. san pulls the glass door open for you, wind chime tinkling softly overhead, and he has to resist the urge to let go of the door handle when your boyfriend also walks through without so much as a word or glance of gratitude.

before san walks up to the counter, he instinctively turns around to check your order before he adds it to his own like he has always done. “strawberry dacquoise and grapefruit ade?”

you’re about to nod when johnny steps into place beside you and asserts, “she likes the chocolate ones.”

san keeps his voice as even as he can and refutes, “no, y/n prefers the strawberry ones. i would know, considering we’ve been going to this cafe together since we were twelve.” he emphasises the last word, clearly telling the other that he is the one who has known you since you were young and therefore knows you the best out of anyone, boyfriend be damned.

not backing down, johnny turns to ask, “is that true, babe?”

you swallow uncomfortably, mouth suddenly dry. “i like both,” you evade.

but your lack of denial says more than enough and johnny’s frown deepens almost immediately. at his expression, you rush to amend, “i know you like the chocolate ones more. it makes me happy sharing them with you.”

“you should’ve told me,” johnny fusses. but opposed to disappointment at not having known your preference for strawberry, he seems more displeased at having discovered this fact through your male friend.

san notices how apologetic you start to feel and he absolutely despises how unfamiliar it looks on your face. if this is the type of boyfriend that he is giving you up to, then san is not prepared to let go of you at all.

“or maybe you should’ve noticed,” he shrugs nonchalantly in your boyfriend’s direction before smiling tenderly at you. “i’ll order your food. go find a seat with seong–”

johnny’s voice is heated when he interjects, “no, you won’t. i’ll pay for my girlfriend’s food.”

you’ve never heard him talk with this tone before, much less seen him act this way, but his words suddenly strike you with clarity and reasoning. with a relationship comes adherence to mutual boundaries and expectations, and although san is used to doting on you, the reality now is that johnny currently fulfills that role as your boyfriend.

“it’s alright, san. thank you,” you give your friend a soft smile. “johnny’s got it for me.”

san nods, defeated. your boyfriend gently nudges you in the direction of the tables, “go sit down. i’ll bring our order over when it’s ready.”

on edge, you walk to where some of the boys are already seated and slide in beside seonghwa, who has been watching the entire exchange silently. “y/n,” he starts.

you plaster on a smile, “it’s okay.”

seonghwa studies you carefully for a moment, then appears to make up his mind about something and returns your smile. except anybody can see that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “do you want to swap seats with me? that way you and johnny can sit on the same side.”

grateful for his thoughtfulness, you change seats and sit on his left just as wooyoung joins the table with an iced americano in his hand. he sets it down to drag a spare chair beside him, offhandedly commenting, “why are you even dating him? i don’t get what you see in him.”

he hisses when seonghwa kicks his shin from under the table, shaking his head, and you just give the younger a tight-lipped smile in response. you’re distracted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket. a quick glance downwards tells you that it’s a text from san.

sorry for putting you between your bf and i

you look up in surprise and find that he’s already gazing at you from where he’s waiting at the counter. his eyebrows knit together in apology and you shake your head, mouthing that it’s okay. san has always been the bigger person in any situation– with you, with friends and family, and even with people he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye with.

your phone buzzes again, twice in succession, but this time the notifications aren’t from him. it’s johnny.

what’s his problem, god wants to get into your pants or sth

your boyfriend continues to tap away at his phone, expression marred with poorly concealed irritation. but he doesn’t seem to be referring to your texting exchange with san– you don’t think he’s even noticed. instead, he’s still hooked on the ordering incident.

slipping the phone back into your pocket and pretending you have not noticed the messages yet, you simply wait for johnny to grab the tray with your pastries and drinks before he slides into the chair next to you. and for the first time since dating, you find yourself comparing your boyfriend not to san, but against him.

it feels like you have spent the last two months treading carefully on eggshells. there are days you spend with both johnny and the boys and it becomes clear to everyone pretty quickly that they’re not warming up to each other. despite your best efforts to bring them closer, there is unmistakable tension that underlies every interaction that they have and don’t have with one another.

then there are the days you spend with just your boyfriend. he doesn’t mention your friends and neither do you, but you notice the way his gaze flickers to your phone whenever it lights up with a notification. like a mutual taboo, he simply continues the conversation after a pause and you don’t point it out.

and then there are the rarer days that you spend with just the eight of your friends, like today– the ones that feel like the old summers that you have started to yearn. and yet, even with the familiar essence of the past, you start to notice them. the subtle differences.

it’s not obvious at first. the casual displays of affection that have extended beyond habitual touches and have just become who they are are still there. but there’s something about the attentiveness with which seonghwa dusts the powdered sugar off of yeosang’s cheeks when he’s eating. or in the naturalness with which wooyoung moulds himself into san’s side when they sit on the couch. something in the way mingi’s entire body relaxes whenever yunho gently thumbs the nape of his neck, and in the softening of hongjoong’s eyes when jongho speaks up in conversation.

maybe it’s because you find yourself no longer a part of their shared love, regardless of how platonic it may be between you and the boys. ultimately, it’s easier to notice things when you’re watching on as what feels like an outsider. and it makes sense that the dynamics of your friendship would change, considering how deeply embedded physical affection is within your group and the fact that you now have a boyfriend, but there’s something more to their interactions– you’re sure of it. you just can’t put your finger on what exactly.

it’s that thought that reminds you of yunho’s words when he and the rest of your friends had turned up a week before the start of summer. “what did you mean about things having ended up this way when you guys came down to namhae early?” you suddenly ask, eyes looking away from the television screen where the round of their game has just ended. “and wasn’t there something else you guys had wanted to tell me about?”

clearly not having expected your questions, yunho blinks as he formulates a response, “yeah, there is. just–maybe talk to mingi first. you’ll probably want to hear it directly from him.”

and hongjoong needs to talk to you first, too, yunho thinks to himself. except, he wonders whether there is even a point to it anymore.

your heart sinks at yunho’s words because you have a feeling it has to do with mingi’s parents. and his parents are never good news. right at that moment, mingi emerges through the doorway after his shower, a towel draped over his shoulders as he uses its ends to roughly dry his hair. he stops in his tracks when he notices you and yunho staring at him.

“i know i’m hot but you don’t have to make it that obvious,” he jokes.

you snort and shake your head, getting up to your feet and walking over to him as yunho watches knowingly. “come sit outside with me for a bit?” you ask mingi.

he agrees, pulling the towel off and tossing it onto the back of a chair to dry. you catch a whiff of san’s shampoo when he moves, the fragrance of cedarwood and bergamot that all the boys end up being scented with each summer filling your nose.

the two of you sit on the embankment just outside san’s house, legs dangling off the edge of the port. you can just barely toe the start of the sand but mingi easily shuffles his feet in it, drawing lazy patterns in your company. after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he nudges you gently albeit playfully, “did you want to ask me something?”

you chuckle at having been exposed and nudge him back in response. he never budges, torso bigger and more muscular than you can move, but it doesn’t stop you from trying and him from laughing endearingly.

“i asked yunho why you guys came down earlier this summer and he said to ask you,” you peer at him, treading carefully with your next words, “is everything okay?”

he takes a breath, exhaling long and slow. “i came out to my parents,” he reveals. “told them i’m bi and…they didn’t take it well.”

mingi doesn’t need to elaborate for you to understand that his parents didn’t just ‘not take it well’. you can only imagine the hell that broke loose. “oh, mingi,” you sigh, eyebrows knitting together with hurt.

“i also told them that i’m dati–”

the sound of the door opening and the call of your name stops mingi from finishing his sentence. it’s yunho with a ringing phone in his hand. “you might want to take this call,” he alerts you.

frowning, you make a stand to reach for your phone, asking, “who is it?”

he glances down awkwardly at the screen that is still on. “your boyfriend.”

you’re just about to slide the answer button when the call disconnects and you see that including the one that has just ended, you have four missed calls.

“oh, shit,” you can’t help the curse that slips out of your mouth. four missed calls is never a good sign from anybody, much less your boyfriend, who has also sent you several texts asking where you are.

seeing the darkening of your expression, yunho misses the girl whose biggest worry was the number of ice cream scoops to scam hongjoong out of. he misses the girl whose smile was brighter than the reflected sun on san’s surfboard. most of all, yunho misses the girl he has fallen in love with.

“y/n, i’m going to be honest with you,” he hesitates slightly. “i don’t think he’s the right one for you.”

you know that yunho’s looking out for you and his heart is in the right place, but it’s not what you want to– or need to hear right now. and perhaps, there’s an inkling of you that already knows. still, you try to keep your voice even when you reply, “i’d know if he’s not.”

you turn to mingi next and shoot him an apologetic look, “i’m sorry but i should probably call him back. we’ll talk later, yeah?”

mingi doesn’t know when later will be and neither do you. but he simply nods and lets you go, watching dejectedly as your form disappears back into your house at the same time san steps out of his. he had been carefully observing from the window the moment yunho had walked out with your incessantly ringing phone in his hand.

“guess he takes priority over us now,” mingi sighs.

san looks at him bittersweetly, “that’s what happens when you find somebody you love. like johnny is her priority, you are my priority and yunho’s. in fact, you’re the priority of five other people as well.” despite the fact that he is shorter, san still reaches up to flick mingi’s nose affectionately as he fondly states, “aren’t you lucky.”

mingi scrunches his nose in retaliation and san diverts the topic, “now come on, are you going to just stand back and let yunho win the game again?”

the younger grins, light returning to his eyes as he cheekily suggests, “you distract him while i cheat?”

“i’m right here,” yunho protests, but he’s shaking his head dotingly. together, he and mingi make their way back into the house, hands finding each other as they pass through the threshold.

san lingers behind and stares at the closed door of your house. for the longest time, you have been one of san’s priorities, if not the priority. over the last few years, the number of his priorities have steadily grown and you now share the top of the list in his heart with seven other boys. your happiness is san’s priority, as is the happiness of the others.

but what happens when interests start to conflict and your boyfriend– and by association, you– becomes a reason for unhappiness amongst the people he cares so dearly for? what happens if there comes a day where he must choose between his priorities and push somebody down the list, or worse…completely out of his heart?

you’re just as troubled when, half an hour after his missed calls and your subsequent response asking to meet up, you and johnny aimlessly wander the streets of the neighbourhood. the air is tense and despite the cry of cicadas, the silence from the lack of conversation is the only sound that you can hear. you can tell that he’s displeased by the fact that you had been with your friends, but you’re not exactly happy with him right now either.

you know an argument’s brewing– one that has been long coming, perhaps since the start of summer. you could have chosen to take the night to cool down, but it will eventually boil over one day, be it him or yourself. better to address it now than wait until it’s too late, and perhaps you can salvage it before it does boil over.

“why did you call me so many times?”

johnny knows you’re not only asking about tonight, and definitely not only about his phone calls. and yet, your tone is not accusatory, only genuinely curious and open to understanding his reasoning and emotions. solely because he feels guilt starting to prick his insides at your question does he make an attempt to reign in his childish jealousy that has reared its head so many times in the last two months.

“i didn’t know where you were,” he halfheartedly answers. “i thought something had happened.”

you both know it’s a lie– a pretty bad one at that. you had texted him just mere hours ago telling him that you would be at san’s. at his excuse, you raise an eyebrow.

“i don’t like the way they look at you,” johnny finally admits, partially showing his true colours. “especially san.”

you had guessed just as much and you can see why he might feel that way, but you want him to see where you’re coming from, too. “we grew up together, johnny. we’re each other’s best friend and he doesn’t like me like that.”

warm breath ghosting over your lips and then disappearing just as fast flits across your memory. “none of them do,” you emphasise. “and i’ve been transparent about hanging out with them when you’re not there, haven’t i? i literally texted you a few hours ago.”

he hesitates, “i was busy playing basketball with my friends. i missed your text and then you didn’t reply or answer my calls…” the way his voice drops off the more he talks is a good indicator that he knows the patheticness of his justification.

“and i was busy with my friends, too,” you reason. “you’re not glued to your phone, and neither am i.”

you continue when he stays silent, “you’re my boyfriend and i understand that it can make you feel uneasy when i hang out with so many guys, but you have to understand that they’re my friends, and my closest ones too. i would appreciate it if you give me more space when i’m with them, but i’ll also try to make sure i’m reachable on my phone so you have a piece of mind.”

you look at him and search his eyes for any indicators that he has more to say. from the way his jaw clenches subtly, you know that he’s disgruntled at best. but to your surprise he does not protest, instead nodding and walking you back to your house. you can’t tell whether the silence this time is slightly better or just as suffocating.

when you reach your front door, the lights are still on in the neighbouring house and you can hear the muted ruckus of laughter. as you unlock your door and pull it open, your boyfriend surprises you once more by calling out, “i love you.”

you learn a lot about a person simply from the things that they say, and sometimes–

“i know,” you reply gently, before shutting the door.

–you learn even more about a person simply from the things that they don’t say.

it’s two weeks after your conversation with johnny when he runs into some of the boys at one of the beachside cafes without your presence.

with autumn just around the corner, you’re spending the day transitioning the rice seedlings, now almost at the height of your thighs, from the wet paddies to the drier fields since your parents aren’t in namhae to do it. only mingi, yunho and jongho are helping you out; you had discovered the hard way last summer that letting all eight of them help you was, in fact, counterproductive when there were more plants being trampled on than safely moved.

and so while the four of you are working in the rice paddy, the remaining boys sit on the cafe terrace that overlooks the beach about a ten-minute drive from your and san’s houses. a hush suddenly falls over their conversation, elbows inconspicuously nudging one another and shoulders tensing when they spot your boyfriend making his way towards the cafe with a small group of his own friends.

a smirk graces johnny’s lips when his gaze falls upon the five of your friends, ignoring the courteous nod of acknowledgement that seonghwa attempts to make on their behalf and instead walking closer onto the cafe’s terrace. it’s not clearly audible, but it’s definitely direct enough for the boys to make out the words when johnny walks past and mutters, “fuckin’ pussies.”

wooyoung immediately reacts. “what the fuck did you just say?” he growls threateningly as seonghwa squeezes his thigh in anticipation of him standing up.

johnny pauses to look at them with faux innocence, “i wasn’t talking to you guys, but i guess if you’re offended–”

it’s hongjoong who rises to his feet first, chair screeching as it slides out from under his knees along the wooden deck. “you say one more fucking word,” he starts, eyes thunderous and fists turning white at his sides.

“and you’ll what,” johnny sneers, “run to my girlfriend crying? ask her to have a little talk with me?”

at the mention of you, both san and wooyoung join hongjoong on their feet. “watch what you say,” san looks at him dangerously. “don’t bring y/n into this.”

the commotion is starting to attract the attention of the staff and other customers in the cafe. seonghwa slowly stands, preparing to step in before it can escalate into something physical as yeosang grips the seat of his chair.

johnny steps closer and scoffs, “that’s bullshit. you guys can’t even take care of your own feelings so you have to hide behind my girlfriend like a bunch of pathetic losers. it makes no fucking sense for her to ask me to leave her alone when she’s with you guys.”

“and i bet it’s never fucking crossed your mind that maybe it’s an issue with something you’re doing–not us,” wooyoung reciprocates with his own bold step closer.

he’s suddenly jerked forward when johnny fists the front of his shirt and instantly everyone moves in towards the two. seonghwa wedges his arms against their chests to prevent wooyoung from getting dragged further forward, though the younger is fiercely standing his ground, teeth bared and eyes murderous. save for yeosang, who comes to stand protectively behind him, the remaining two boys are swept up into the beginnings of a scuffle as johnny’s friends step in as well.

“look at you, all riled up,” johnny goads, ignoring the hands that are trying to keep him subdued. “and she tells me that you don’t all want to fuck her?”

seonghwa inhales sharply as he attempts to overpower both wooyoung and hongjoong, who is now extremely determined to connect his fist with your boyfriend’s face. but to many of their infuriation, the fist doesn’t get a chance to hit its well-deserved target when there’s a firm shout over the commotion.

the cafe manager harshly warns, “we’re going to have to ask you all to leave the premises, otherwise we’re going to call the police.”

“wooyoung! hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses. “it’s not worth the trouble. stop!”

there are a few tense seconds of heaving chests and grinding jaws before johnny lets wooyoung go with a shove and hongjoong begrudgingly and slowly lowers his raised fist.

“you bitches got lucky this time,” johnny glowers. he beckons to his friends with a jerk of his head, still glaring at wooyoung, then kicks a chair out of his way as he leaves the cafe. in the wake of the confrontation, seonghwa turns to look at the manager and creases his eyebrows in apology, bowing multiple times to the other employees and customers too.

the manager nods wryly, “you and your friends are still going to have to leave.”

“we understand,” seonghwa replies, beginning to usher hongjoong and wooyoung towards the exit. “we’re truly sorry.”

as the five of them walk out, his eyes dart around anxiously in case your boyfriend and his friends are still lingering around. muscles taut and on edge, seonghwa makes a decision as the oldest. “let’s go home,” he declares, “we can wait there.”

they pile into the jeep wordlessly and san turns on the ignition, pulling out of the small car park and heading back to his. they’re only a few minutes away when wooyoung breaks the silence, “so who’s gonna tell y/n that her boyfriend’s a fucking asshole and that she needs to break up with his sorry ass?” he fumes. “because if no one’s going to do it, then i’m going to tell her the moment we get home.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa starts.

“no, don’t wooyoung me,” he snaps. “he’s a fucking pretentious dickhead and she needs to know that. i don’t even care if we don’t ever get to talk about that other thing with her anymore. all i care is that he never gets to show his face in front of her ever again.”

seonghwa rubs his temples in frustration. he argues, “look, i agree with you and i’m not saying we shouldn’t tell y/n. but we need to put our feelings aside and think about this rationally, otherwise we could end up hurting her.”

“i think she’s going to get hurt regardless of how we approach it,” hongjoong snarks as the other levels him with a look.

“the campfire night is only a few days away,” yeosang points out. “maybe we should wait until that’s over…you know how excited she and mingi get about it each year.”

hongjoong protests, “and wait for her to bring johnny along on the day? sorry, but not even seonghwa is going to be able to stop me from sucker-punching him to the ground.”

“surely she’s not going to bring him. it’s a day just for us,” yeosang frowns.

san feels their questioning gazes settling on him and he glances in the rearview mirror to confirm his hunch. “i don’t know, probably not?” he answers whilst shrugging, turning into the small street that leads to your house. “but honestly? i think we should wait until after that day to talk to her. i don’t see the point in ruining it for any more of us.”

seonghwa agrees and adds on, “and only one of us should have the conversation with her. san, you’re probably the best person out of us.”

san hums in agreement, slowly braking the car to a stop before he turns in his seat to look at the rest of them. “i’ll find a time to talk to her and in the meantime,” he looks at wooyoung and hongjoong gently, knowing how frustrated they must be feeling, “we wait.”

there’s only a few more days until the campfire– they only need to hold out for a little longer until then. what could possibly go wrong?

“are you sure it’s a good idea to leave hongjoong and y/n to get the snacks together?”

seonghwa tenderly thumbs yeosang’s lips from out of his teeth, where he has been biting the corner of his lips in worry, and answers, “he’s hopeless at buying all the other things and she knows what snacks we like the best.” seonghwa knows hongjoong’s way of being confrontational is stark and direct, but he also has faith in the other that he won’t prematurely bring up your boyfriend and risk hurting you with the conversation.

you make your way down the snack aisles of the grocery store with hongjoong and it feels both familiar and foreign. there are no shopping cart races or invisible finish flags this time– only the two of you and the baskets in his hands as he carries whatever you pluck off the shelves. it’s been a while since you’ve had time alone with hongjoong; not since the incident last summer.

looking down at the shopping baskets, you put another packet of banana crisps in before commenting, “let’s get some sweet things and then that should be enough for the ten of us.”

hongjoong cocks his head, “haneul’s coming?”

“...no,” you look at him carefully, “johnny is.”

“johnny? you’re joking.”

you frown at the sudden coldness in his tone, “he’s my boyfriend, hongjoong.” johnny had been strangely adamant about going today and you had also noticed he seemed to be irritated about something. so quite frankly, you weren’t about to tell him no.

“and he’s also an asshole, you know that? why are you even dating him?”

you know your boyfriend and your friends still aren’t on amicable terms, but you’re honestly getting tired of feeling like you have to justify yourself and your dating life. and considering you have just had a talk with johnny to try and make things better for everyone, you can’t help but feel like you are being pushed into a corner yet again.

“asshole or not, at least he’s honest about his feelings for me,” you retort pointedly.

“oh?” hongjoong scoffs in disbelief, “is that what this is about?”

you challenge him with a glare, “what do you think i’m implying?”

“so i’m the bad guy now? i thought you liked me. since when did you stoop so low as to throw yourself at any guy who makes a move on you?”

your jaw drops. “you know what? what the fuck is your problem?” you shove his chest in anger. “let’s not forget that you were the one who tried to kiss me first and you were the one who also stopped. yeah, i did like you, but at least i’m willing to admit it.”

you step in closer, breathing heavy as you continue heatedly, “what about you? what the fuck have you done that makes you think you have any right to say that my decisions are wrong.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, “you’re making a mistake dating him.”

“yeah, you would know something about mistakes,” you throw back sarcastically. “but then again, you were probably happy to pretend it never happened and forget about it.”

“don’t fucking put words into my mouth,” he warns.

“it seems to be the only way i can get you to talk about us. you have no issues giving me shit about my relationship with my boyfriend, but when it comes to our relationship it’s radio silence for a year.”

hongjoong at least has the decency to look guilty when he declares, “i was going to talk to you about it face to face.”

“whatever, hongjoong. it’s too late,” you brush him off.

you snatch the baskets out his hands and walk away, no longer concerned over what snacks the boys will have for the campfire later tonight. you just want to get away from hongjoong, so you do exactly that. you leave him alone in the aisle to stare at the view of your back walking further away from him. life is all about timing and hongjoong has long missed his.

hours later, mingi scans the room from where he’s perched on a stool at the kitchen island in your house. everyone is either lounging around, preparing the meat and cutlery or setting up the grill and table outside– everyone except for one.

“where’s hongjoong?” he asks nobody in particular. he doesn’t think he’s seen the other since they’ve all come back from the grocery store.

“he’s resting in my room,” san answers. “said he wasn’t feeling too well but he’ll join us later.”

you roll your eyes at the knives you’re counting out, opting to keep your mouth shut. what san doesn’t say either, though, is that he knows something is off– hongjoong was completely fine this morning and you were definitely in higher spirits.

there’s an abrupt knock at your front door and you put the cutlery down, saying, “i’ll get it.” you know it’s probably johnny so you don’t bother squinting through the peephole before pulling the door open and blinking, “you look nice today.”

your boyfriend has styled his hair so that it slicks back from his forehead, parted down the right side of his scalp. he’s dressed in his usual smart casual fit but has chosen to pair it with accessories to accentuate his collarbones and wrists. he shrugs, “wanted to look good.”

you lead him to the open kitchen and immediately, you notice the shift in the air. a few of the boys give a tight-lipped smile in acknowledgement, but the expressions on wooyoung and san, and even yeosang and seonghwa go blank or two shades darker. hongjoong’s uncharacteristic cold feet suddenly makes a lot of sense to san now.

“you invited johnny?” san’s question is eerily monotone. a blunt knife may not be able to cut through rope, but with continuous abrasion and chafing, even the thickest of ropes will eventually sever.

your voice is not entirely friendly when you reply, “yes, san. i invited my boyfriend.”

“and why the fuck did you do that?”

san’s swearing has you reeling in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by pent-up stress and anger that has been lingering for weeks and exacerbated by your argument with hongjoong mere hours ago. your entire body starts to heat up when san continues to criticise, “we’ve put up with him for long enough, don’t you think? it’s one thing for you to date him of all people, but it’s another thing to bring him to this.”

you laugh bitingly, no longer concerned about trying to deal with this maturely. all you can think about is how san is hurting you and how you want to hurt him back too. “so you can bring whoever the fuck you want each year, but i can’t bring my own boyfriend?” you retort.

the silence is deafening. nobody moves as they try to process the words that have just been thrown at them. yunho’s eyes are wide with confusion more than hurt at how quickly this argument has escalated, and he slowly raises his arms out in front of him, “okay, i think we all need to–”

“whoever the fuck–are we just ‘whoever’ to you?” wooyoung harshly interrupts. “we’ve been trying to look out for you and this is what we fucking get in return?”

you know that you won’t be able to take your words back after you say them, but they slip out anyway as you counter, “i didn’t ask any of you to look out for me.”

yunho’s arms fall limply to his sides and seonghwa looks away. wooyoung’s words are resigned and stony when he stares at you dead in the eye and says, “you know, y/n. we needed this trip this summer…more than anything. but thanks for ruining it for all of us.” then he brushes past your shoulder and slams the front door on his way out.

one by one, the boys follow him out of your house– first yeosang, then seonghwa, neither of them able to look you in the eye. when yunho and jongho hesitantly walk past you as well, they give you a small, apologetic wince.

mingi still stands in the room. he has been quiet throughout the entire argument but his eyes tell a story of a million words. he’s filled with hurt and sorrow if not obvious by the wetness that starts to well in his eyes. “i guess you were just saying it when you told me i have a home here with you in namhae,” he chokes out.

your own eyes grow hot as you shake your head, “mingi, that’s not–”

but he leaves before you can say anything else. turning back towards the interior of your house– now looking far too spacious and vast without one of your friends occupying every available surface– you are left alone with just san and johnny. the heat of the fight is quickly slipping away, instead rushing all towards your eyes, and you call out san’s name. what for, you don’t know, but your cry is timid and desperate.

as much as it pains san to make a decision, mingi needs him– his boys need him, and they are his priority now. right there and then, san discovers for himself his final answer when it comes to choosing between love and friendship. he walks out of your house, turning his back on you.

you jolt awake feeling disorientated. your head feels clouded, eyes blurry from swelling and you’re still in the clothes from last night that you don’t recall falling asleep in. reaching for your phone, you wonder whether it has already ticked past noon for you to have woken up on your own, except you find that its dead. you roll over with a groan and plug your phone into its charger, then haul yourself upwards.

you rinse the stale taste out of your mouth before walking out to the living room and immediately, you’re hit with the memories and intense emotions of last night. there are packets of raw meat still unopened and bottles of soju still littering the table that you hadn’t tidied up. in the aftermath of the argument, you had told johnny to give you some space and to go home. you had then gone straight to your bedroom, covering yourself with the blankets in an attempt to hide yourself from the world and cried out your sorrows until you exhausted yourself to sleep.

you let out a long and heavy sigh, soul still exhausted to the very core, so you turn back towards your bedroom. you’ll clean everything up when you’re feeling a little more confident to face the consequences of last night. sitting on the edge of your bed, you reach for your phone. there are a few texts from johnny that you scroll past when something else catches your eye.

it’s a text from jongho, timestamped for 1:17 am. you and the boys rarely have a reason to message each other individually, preferring to use the group chat since there are no secrets shared. although, you suppose, none of you will be using the group chat for a while…

you tap on jongho’s notification. instantly, your heart drops all the way to the bottom of your stomach and past it. you think your heart is down in the fucking ground, because–

hey, wasn’t sure if you’d want to know or not but i think we’re going back to seoul in the morning

the numbers in the corner of your phone tell you that it’s already eleven thirty, and that’s when you hear it– the noise that had woken you up earlier. the distinct slam of a car boot closing shut. you jolt up to your feet, panic coursing through your veins as blood rushes to your ears and drowns out all rational thoughts. you forgo any shoes and throw your front door open to run outside, uncaring of the grit that digs painfully into the soles of your feet.

a brief flash of relief flickers across jongho’s face at your appearance but you miss it in your frenzy to make sense of what you are seeing. all three of their cars are parked in a line, their surfboards already strapped and secured to the car hoods or in the bed of the ute. the last of their luggage and duffel bags are being loaded and san is locking his front door.

every summer, the boys wait until the last possible second to leave, to the point where you have to forcibly push them towards their cars with fond laughter. it’s only thursday today and summer doesn’t end for another three days, and yet–

“you guys are leaving?” you ask apprehensively.

nobody answers you immediately. the only sound that punctuates the silence is the forceful slam of a door as wooyoung enters the car. hongjoong accidentally makes eye contact with you and his eyes narrow before he opens the door to his ute and also disappears.

jongho clears his throat awkwardly, “yeah, we’re heading back early.”

“oh…” you’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to react to this situation. “drive safe.”

like a parallel of last night, the boys enter their respective cars one by one, jongho giving you a subtle wave. guilt stifles you for the things you have said to the boys and you’re also consumed by hurt from the things they have said to you. but you know for certain that you cannot just let this friendship fall through the cracks like this.

as san makes his way to his jeep, which is parked at the front of the line as the lead driver, you watch carefully for any sign that things are still salvageable for your friendship. a smile, a glance, a nod– anything. but he simply pulls his jeep door open like you are invisible.

you hesitantly ask him, “i’ll see you next summer?”

san is expressionless but he may as well be glaring at you when he replies, “don’t count on it,” and for the second time of your life, he turns his back on you.

as san buckles his seatbelt in, trying his goddamn hardest to pretend he doesn’t see the tears now beginning to fall from your eyes, he tells himself that you’ve made your decision and he’s made his. he has chosen his priorities and will give you up, and yet, still he hopes that one day you’ll realise you deserve better and break up with johnny. san hopes that you’ll come across somebody more than better, even if it cannot be him.

before yunho also gets into the jeep, he pauses in front of you. he fists the sides of his pants to stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears away. instead, he consoles, “i think we all just need a little bit of time, yeah?”

you nod numbly at his words. you’re forced to take several steps back out of the way after yunho also shuts his door closed and the engines hum to life in succession. unable to do anything, you can only watch helplessly as san’s jeep starts to pull away and the other two cars also follow.

“they’re finally leaving, huh.”

there’s only one person who would have amusement laced into those words. refusing to turn around in your state, you exhale shakily, “not now, johnny.”

“you honestly need better friends. everyone has a stick up their ass in that group,” he comments.

“i said not now,” you warn again, blinking the rest of your tears away when you feel anger creeping up in its stead.

“i should’ve just punched them when i had the chance to.”

you whip around to face him and yell, absolutely appalled, “johnny!”

“what?” he scowls. “they were the ones who started it.”

you grow deathly still. “started what?” you interrogate, and when he doesn’t let up, you step in closer. “johnny?”

“look, i ran into some of them the other day. that little fucker–wooyoung? he was basically asking to be punched. he’s lucky i let him off the hook,” he sneers.

you’ve known wooyoung longer than you have known johnny and you honestly find your boyfriend’s recount hard to believe. yes, wooyoung is hot-headed and rash, but he never reacts unless he has been provoked. or in other cases, his loved ones have been provoked.

“don’t you fucking dare call my friends fuckers,” you growl. is this who your boyfriend truly is? is this the person who your friends have been able to see through all this time?

“are you fucking serious right now?” johnny spits in your face, “you’re defending them? you always take their fucking side even though i’m your boyfriend.”

you spit right back, “and you know what? that was my biggest mistake. i should have never made you my boyfriend.”

johnny’s expression drops entirely. “are you breaking up with me right now?”

“yes, i am.” you confirm. “we’re over.”

you turn on your heel and for once, you are glad that he has shown up at your house, because it means you are a mere ten feet away from shutting your now-ex out of your life. you fumble with the door, vision rapidly blurring, then walk through and close it behind you. slowly, you lean back against the door. with nothing grounding you anymore, the tears escape your eyes once more and you don’t bother trying to hold back your cries.

all too fast, everything has come to a full circle of hurt. johnny turned his back on your friends, your friends turned their backs on you, and you have now turned your back on johnny. your chest shudders and heaves at the realisation, wondering where it all went wrong.

you want to seek out one of the boys for comfort– seonghwa or san– but you only end up dropping to your hands and knees, head dizzy from how hard you begin to sob, when you realise that that’s no longer an option. you all need time apart, both yourself and the boys. you know. but it’s much easier for them because they are going back to seoul together as their group of eight. they still have each other to lean on for comfort, whereas you are left behind to nurse your own wounds by yourself.

in the quiet of your house with the end of summer approaching in namhae, for the first time since meeting san, you are truly alone. it no longer feels like the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring. instead, it’s you against the world…and the eight of them.

haneul takes all but one look at you before she’s making herself comfortable on your couch, tugging a cushion into her lap and patting the space beside her with a commanding air of authority. her expression tells you that there’s no room for argument, so you sink into the couch next to her.

the bewilderment must be obvious on your face when she asks you to spill what happened with san, because she simply reveals, “san messaged the family chat when he arrived back in seoul. and we all know he would give up surfing before voluntarily leaving namhae early.”

you slouch in on yourself, “we fought.”

as surprising as it is to hear, since she’s never seen you and san argue before, haneul had an inkling that that was the case after her little brother’s vague reasons. she probes, “about what?”

you tell her about everything. how you started dating johnny, how the boys came early for the summer and how you tried to get them on friendly terms. how your friends were constantly telling you to break up with him and how your boyfriend was always unhappy about you spending time with them. you tell her about the near-kiss with hongjoong last summer and the confrontation you had with him this summer. the argument you had with all the boys and the break up with johnny. everything.

haneul’s quiet for a while as she tries to piece together your story and her own thoughts. “did they ever tell you why they were so against you dating him?” she finally questions.

you shake your head and she asks, “then did you try talking to them about it?”

you slowly shake your head again, slightly ashamed by your own answer. you had been so focused on finding fault in the different ways the boys could have expressed their disapproval regarding your boyfriend that you didn’t think of the multiple opportunities you had to work out why those opinions existed in the first place.

“what do you think of it all, then? obviously, you would have broken up with johnny for a reason–or did the criticism from the boys just become too much?

fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you look down at your lap. “he was a decent guy…up until summer and the boys came over. that’s when he started acting differently and,” you pause, trying to find a nicer phrase before giving up and settling on, “became an asshole.”

she nods, waiting as you elaborate, “he became more overbearing and possessive, especially when i was hanging out with them when he wasn’t present. and he was just always so pissed. he was dead serious about getting into a physical fight with wooyoung. and we both know that none of the boys would ever start a fight for no reason, much less a fistfight, so johnny had to be the instigator.”

the way that you are solely picking out the faults of your ex does not go unnoticed by haneul. “y/n,” she stares at you seriously. “are you upset about your break up, or your argument with the boys?”

her question stuns you because it’s quite obviously both, but she stops your reflexive response with the instruction, “think about it before you answer me.”

you close your mouth and look at your lap again to actually process your own thoughts and feelings. what are you thinking and feeling? johnny…you had sort of known already that he would not be a constant in your life for much longer. from the moment you had started comparing him against the other boys, it was already the beginning of the end.

but san and the others? they are and have been the sun to your solar system for years; your providers of vitality, warmth and summer who you cannot live without. there’s a constant, gravitational pull that keeps you all together, except the balance has now been thrown off entirely. you realise what the answer was all along and you quietly admit, “the argument.”

she places a hand over yours, comfortingly stroking your knuckles as she sympathises, “i think so too.”

promptly, you feel your eyes pricking with the sting of tears and in a moment of fragile vulnerability, you plead to haneul in a shaky voice, “what am i going to do without them?”

“come here,” she whispers.

she pulls you into her, your body immediately going slack in her embrace. you cling onto her like a lifeline, afraid that you are going to drown in your cries of anguish. you don’t know how long you stay buried in her chest grieving for the friendships you have lost, but your neck and back are sore with stiffness by the time you calm down. still, she doesn’t let go of you– not until you make the first move to pull away.

haneul continues to stroke your hair, soft shushing noises as she rocks you back and forth with her. when your shuddering breaths have resided and steadied out, she breaks the silence softly, “y/n, i think there’s more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you’ve lost your closest friends.”

your throat is scratchy when you mumble, “what do you mean?”

“i can’t tell you because that’s something that you’re going to have to work out for yourself. but after you figure out your own feelings, talk to them. communication is the first step to solving any problem, and i think you’ve realised just how much miscommunication could have been avoided leading up to the argument.”

you know she’s right, but your chest shrivels up on itself in fear. “what if they don’t answer my messages or calls? what if they really don’t come back next summer?” what if they hate me forever?

haneul rests her cheek on the crown of her head, “if they take a step back, then why don’t you take two steps forward?”

her words slowly sink in and when they do, you inch out of her embrace. haneul cannot help the smile that adorns her own face in tandem with the one that starts to peek out along your lips. your face is still red and blotchy but there is now a ray of emerging hope as your voice trails off, “you mean…”

“yes, y/n,” haneul nods. you feel goosebumps spreading across your body when she affirms your thoughts.

“go to seoul and talk to them.”

summer passes and autumn comes. the days grow shorter as the nights become longer and the weeks blur into a haze of monochrome darkness. the leaves and flowers fall off the trees, nature gradually stagnating and waning into nonexistence, much like the groupchat you share with the boys that has remained untouched since summer.

in a feverish state of resolution the very same day you had cried in haneul’s arms, you had booked an express bus trip that would take you directly from namhae to seoul. yet, despite telling yourself every weekend that you’ll make the trip, the ticket remains unused. whenever you see your last message to san– a meek question asking if he had arrived back in seoul fine– that continues to stay unread, your courage crumples and you reschedule the date for the following weekend.

the cycle repeats itself well into autumn. that is, until he breaks it.

you’ve spent the last few days thinking about this very moment. there are only a few minutes left until midnight, which will mark the end of jongho’s birthday. you’re unable to count the number of times you have opened his chat, typed out a message, then exited without actually sending it.

currently, the text cursor in jongho’s chat blinks back at you like your own indecisiveness wavering back and forth between messaging him and not. the minute ticks over once more– it’s now or never. you let your thumbs skim across the surface of your phone before you can contemplate any further. it’s a simple message; only reading two lines.

happy birthday jongho how have you been?

really, you mean ‘how have you all been?’ because you cannot care about one of them without also caring about the others.

you lock the screen and toss your phone to the side, pretending you don’t care whether he replies or not, as if your phone is capable of sensing anxiousness and will sabotage his incoming messages– that is, if any come at all. but jongho’s last messages to you had been the ones alerting you that he and the boys would be leaving namhae prematurely. surely an indicator that this friendship isn’t entirely lost.

the lecture slides on your laptop may as well be written in a foreign language as you restlessly eye your phone, wondering if he has seen your messages. you know it will be fruitless to continue studying, so you steel yourself for disappointment and reach for your phone. to your surprise, there’s a reply waiting for you.

thanks y/n, i’ve been good

it’s simple and only five words, but that in itself speaks volumes to your relationship. your heart skips a beat when the messages in his chat shift upwards once more as a new text comes in like an afterthought.

i miss you

really, jongho means ‘we all miss you’ because you can be angry at someone, feel hurt by them, yet still love them all the same.

his confession stuns you frozen, your fingers hovering in place over your keyboard. it fills you with longing for more and hope for what may come, but also fear for what could happen. jongho has taken a small step to meet you halfway and you are absolutely terrified of messing things up once more. with your heart pounding in your chest, you carefully type out your next message, send it and then hold your breath.

can we call?

your fingers repetitively trace the rim of your phone case back and forth as you wait for a reply. there’s a rising swell of panic that continues to grow when nothing comes and you even exit and reopen the app. what you don’t know is that jongho almost trips onto his face in his hurry to untangle his legs from out of his blanket so that he can lock himself in the bathroom to call you without waking the others.

the phone nearly falls out of your grasp when the screen suddenly lights up not with a message but a call. you let it ring for a few seconds to gather your own composure before sliding the button to nervously answer, “hello?”

“hello?” comes jongho’s reply.

your voices overlap as you both simultaneously talk, “can you hear me–” “hi–yes, can you hear me?”

“yeah, i can hear you too, hi,” you breathe out, face breaking out into a smile.

the exchange has jongho letting out a giggle and the sound immediately releases all the tension that has built up in your body. your eyes start to mist over as you let out your own bashful laughter, because it is so much more than just missing the sound of jongho’s happiness. you’re reminded of crashing waves and windswept fringes; heavy surfboards and helping hands– the summer days when everything was happier and simpler. how did everything end up the way it has?

“thank you for replying to my message, jongho,” your voice is unsteady.

he must hear the way your throat threatens to close in on itself, because his voice is warm-hearted when he tells you, “no, thank you for reaching out first.” and as much as he finds it difficult to express himself, his next words spill out easily. “sorry i didn’t do it first…it must have been hard for you all this time.”

and just like that, so comes the first of many owed apologies. it doesn’t matter that you have to be awake in five hours to make it to your first lecture, nor that you don’t have a perfected script for all the things you want to apologise for. and it doesn’t matter that jongho is starting to feel cold sitting on the bathroom floor, nor that he can’t hold you like he wants to do. what does matter is that you’re both talking again.

as the night grows older, the conversation eventually flows away from raw confessions of your hearts to familiar topics of your mundane lives. it feels like the normal phone calls you used to have with the boys, except this time it’s only with jongho.

“what about you? have you been busy?”

you nod, even though he can’t see you over the call, “i’m trying to keep up with classes but it’s hard with all the assignments due soon.”

“yeah, i have another huge film project and it’s taking up all of my time, too,” he exhales, then tentatively asks, “what about…how’re things with johnny?”

it’s strangely exciting to clarify, “we actually broke up a few months ago.”

you can hear jongho’s sharp inhale even from over the phone. the conspiratorial tone of his voice painfully reminds you of wooyoung’s nosiness as jongho asks, “please tell me you broke up with him and not the other way round.”

“yes, i broke up with him,” you chuckle. “he talked shit about you guys the moment you all left, so i dumped him.”

“he deserved it,” he gleefully states.

“only i get to mess with my friends…literally.”

the joke is at the expense of yourself, but it feels uplifting to be able to start laughing about it now that you have started making amends, even if it is only with one person so far. knowing you have somebody on your side makes all the difference in the world.

“it’s actually sort of funny you say that,” jongho muses over the phone. “remember that truth or dare question? the one about choosing between love and friendship?”

you hum in affirmation, “san and i picked love.”

“and look at you, picking us over johnny,” he teases.

huffily, you banter, “picked you guys even though you all left me.”

there’s the tinkle of laughter from over the receiver, but it’s cut short by a faint knock. you hear jongho murmuring to somebody before his voice becomes audible again, “hey, sorry, i need to go now. someone needs to use the bathroom.”

you resist the urge to ask why he’s even there in the first place, but you just tell him that it’s okay, considering how late the time is anyway.

“i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow,” you affirm. the wide smile on your face makes your cheeks ache as you grip the phone to your ear and wait for him to hang up. you hear the sound of rustling as he stands up and turns the doorknob, then there’s a voice in the background asking, “is that y/n?”

but before you can try to discern who the voice belongs to, the call ends. you don’t let the slight disappointment dampen your spirits though and you fall back to lie on top of your bed. jongho’s last words to you have made you feel like a giddy teenager– tomorrow feels too far away.

but his words before his last words also make you feel like a teenager. only it’s not giddiness but the uncertainty and confusion that comes with adolescence as you try to navigate and understand your own feelings about something. in the face of the situation, had you truly chosen friendship over love contrary to your own expectations?

it makes sense at first to think that’s what has happened, but you’re suddenly reminded of haneul’s words– that there is more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you have lost your closest friends, and that you need to figure out your own feelings before talking to the boys. if you have stood by your own values and chosen love over friendship, then that means…the heartbreak that you feel is grief not for lost friendship, but loss of your first loves– because you are in love with all of them.

that spark of feelings that had remained for the boys had never become fully extinguished. when you agreed to date johnny, perhaps it was only because he had reminded you of them and you had mistaken the flutters in your stomach for romantic attraction to him. and so, left unattended, that very spark has now flourished into a wildfire that can no longer be controlled, neither can it be contained– it’s time for you to talk to them.

you pick up your phone again and send out a message, this time with no hesitation. it reads, ‘i need your help’.

and the reply is immediate.

anything you need

it’s the first day of winter when you arrive in seoul.

you get off the express bus at the terminal with both hands empty and only the bag on your back; you don’t plan on staying for long so you didn’t bring much with you. immediately, your breath fogs up in the frigid air and you nestle more snugly into the warmth of your coat. there’s a reasonable crowd of people at the terminal, so you crane your neck in search of jongho’s familiar tuft of brown hair, who had offered to pick you up knowing that this was your first time travelling up to seoul.

the last text he had sent told you that he had arrived and was waiting for you at terminal six. as you make your way closer, eyes squinting to discern whether you are seeing things correctly, you think you’re able to make out jongho’s side profile leaning against a brick wall.

except, he’s not alone. your footsteps start to falter because seonghwa is also there. ironically, he’s the one who spots you from afar. he pushes himself away from the wall and turns his body towards you as jongho questions whether he has spotted you.

ever since the night he had overheard the younger on a phone call with you, seonghwa has been aching to make things right with you again. he had been afraid that you would want nothing to do with them anymore and that you would slip away from their fingers just like that. but here you are in seoul, just a mere distance away from him.

seonghwa’s eyes start to water and your expression crumples almost immediately with his when he opens his arms with an offer of an embrace. his feet rush to close the distance when you throw yourself into his chest, the cashmere of his coat rubbing softly against your cheek.

“i’m sorry, hwa” you murmur.

“i know,” he whispers, stroking the back of your head, “me too.”

jongho silently watches with a small smile and allows you both to have your moment of reconciliation with each other. as you breathe in the comfortingly familiar scent of seonghwa’s cologne, you gesture for the other to come closer so that you can pull him into a group hug. and here, surrounded by both of them, despite there being several other things you want to say– poems of apologies and ballads of confessions– for now, this is more than enough.

seonghwa is the first to pull away suddenly as if he has been electrocuted. “hang on, are you and johnny still…” he trails off.

despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, you’re touched by his thoughtfulness to maintain respectful boundaries. “don’t worry, we broke up,” you reassure him, then you jokingly turn to jongho with an incredulous look. “you told him i was coming up to seoul, but didn’t tell him that johnny’s my ex now?”

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “that wasn’t in my place to reveal. plus, seonghwa was the one who looked over my shoulder and saw your text asking for my help.”

said man pretends to walk away innocently. you and jongho laugh, trailing after him towards the carpark as you ask, “what was he doing in your dorm anyway?”

“he crashed for the night. our dorm’s close to his workplace.”

when you reach their parked car, seonghwa tugs the passenger door open, but instead of hopping in he gestures for you to go first. you indulge in his chivalry with a chuckle, even more so when he places a hand along the top of the door frame in case you bump into it.

“thanks, hwa,” you say sweetly, shuffling in further when he scoots in after you and leaves jongho alone to sit at the front of the car.

“great, not even ten minutes of making up with each other and i’ve already become the third wheel,” jongho grumbles as he turns the ignition on.

despite the huffiness in his voice, jongho’s heart sings with happiness to see you and seonghwa already getting along like normal. he is willing to be the third wheel– even the ninth wheel– if it means that you and his boys can shine together every day. but for that to happen, it all rests on how the next hour unfolds.

“ready to go?” jongho asks, eyeing you from the rearview mirror.

are you? are you ready to talk to all of the boys at the same time? seonghwa gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and jongho nods at you reassuringly from the front; you’re not going into this alone anymore. you nod, “i’m ready.”

the drive takes less than thirty minutes and before you know it, you’re standing right outside the door to jongho’s shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. jongho swipes and unlocks the door with his access card, however makes no move to push the door open. the fact that neither of the boys say anything to rush you spurs you on with enough determination to enter the dorm. the volume of their chatter increases immediately without the barrier of the door, and you take slow, hesitant steps along the short hallway towards the direction of the sound.

you appreciate when jongho takes the lead to subtly show you where to go but it still feels like you are intruding– which, you technically are, considering two out of three people who live here don’t know that you’re in the dorm right now. rounding the corner of the hallway, you discover that it leads straight to the living room where all of the boys currently are. so it’s fucking awkward when the sight of you emerging completely kills the conversation and a collective hush settles over the room.

you have to fight everything within you not to turn on your heel and just flee, because nothing has prepared you for their initial reaction. you hate the fact that you cannot tell whether the shocked expressions on yunho and yeosang’s faces are ones of delight or displeasure. you hate the way that wooyoung and hongjoong’s bodies tense and become guarded, ready to tell you to leave their dorm. but more than anything, you hate the way that san and mingi cannot even look at you.

“holy shit,” yunho whispers.

that’s enough to set off the others and hongjoong angrily questions, “what the fuck is she doing here?”

wooyoung looks at jongho, “is this why you told everyone to come over?”

you defend, “i was the one who asked jongho for help.”

“i wasn’t talking to you–”

you cut wooyoung off, contrary to your next words, “can you just shut the fuck up for once? i’m not here to start another fight. just–hear me out, please. i’ll leave as soon as i say what i need to.”

he glares at you and everybody holds their breath as they steel themselves for another full-blown argument. but wooyoung does as you ask and folds his arms angrily. nobody speaks, waiting for you to talk as you finally put your bag down and sit a safe distance away.

you close your eyes and take a breath to compose yourself. you refuse to let yourself cry this time. you’ve done plenty of that in the last few months and you have finally come to terms with your own feelings. “i…i’m sorry,” you start.

somebody scoffs, but you ignore it and let the words from your heart take over. “i’m sorry for being such an asshole over the summer–for letting my ex get in between us and for ignoring all the times you told me he wasn’t a good guy. i shouldn’t have assumed that you were all okay with me bringing him along whenever we hung out and i should have asked before inviting him to the campfire. that was something special for us and it was selfish of me to do that.

“in particular, i’m sorry for how that night went down. i know it doesn’t excuse what i did, but i had an argument with hongjoong earlier that day and i was feeling strung tight. i wish i had handled the situation better when i felt confronted about bringing johnny along, and i acknowledge that the words i said can’t be taken back, even if i didn’t mean them.”

nobody needs reminding of the words that you are referring to, because it has sat just as heavily in their hearts as it has your own. the sight of mingi ducking his head down even further has your heart clenching painfully.

even if he isn’t looking, you apologise to him directly, “mingi, i’m sorry we never got to finish our talk. i know that you were going through a hard time and that that trip was meant to be something healing for you–for all of you. namhae was meant to be an escape, but it probably didn’t feel that way…because of me. i mean it when i say you’ll always have a home in namhae and i hope that one day, you’ll be able to trust me on that. in fact, i hope that you all know that namhae is not the same without either one of you boys.”

you hesitate, because not even jongho knows about what you’re going to say next. you avert your gaze to focus on the carpet just in front of you so that you don’t have to see their expressions. “it’s taken this fight–almost losing all of you–and breaking up with my ex to realise just how stupid and blind i am to my own feelings. i always thought i would be happy with just being friends…but you are all so, so much more to me than just friends and ‘whoever’. i think i’m in love with all of you and i know it’s unconventional, but…i guess love has no limits.

“but i’m also going to be honest. i’m still hurt by the things some of you said or did. it hurt that some of you criticised my decisions without thinking about how that might have made me feel. and i know it wasn’t your intention to, but i felt like i was being backed into a corner multiple times when you kept repeating the same things over and over again about my ex without any real constructiveness to your words.

“i don’t expect you to apologise right now, nor accept my apology, and i don’t expect any of you to respond to my confession. i want you all to have enough time to work out your own feelings…if you want to. if you find it in your heart to forgive me and if you want to apologise, pursue friendship again or…maybe something more, then come to namhae and tell me in person.”

there’s half a year left until summer, and as much as things can change in six months, you also hope that this gives you and the boys time to work out what you all truly want from one another– be it friendship or love. nobody moves or says anything, trying to process everything you have said so you decide to leave them to it, having done your part. you make a move to stand and sling your bag onto your back.

“you’re leaving already? where are you going?” yeosang abruptly asks, standing as well.

“back to namhae,” you explain. “i booked a return ticket for the same day.”

san frowns and for the first time since you arrived, he looks at you. “you came all the way here…just to talk to us for half an hour?”

you give him a bittersweet smile, “that’s how important this is to me–how important you all are to me.”

he looks away, unable to hold your gaze. you turn to jongho to ask if he is still happy to drop you back off at the terminal, who nods and begins to pull on his puffer jacket.

“wait,” yeosang calls out. he skitters off down the corridor, socked feet pattering against the floor as he grabs something from his bedroom and hurries back in front of you. “here.”

he has a thick scarf that he holds out for you to take, but as you start to reach for it, he changes his mind. you hold your breath as yeosang carefully reaches over your head to drape the scarf around you. with tender hands, he wraps it around your neck before securing it with a knot. he continues to fiddle with the ends of the scarf and you’re starting to wonder why he is hesitating when he looks at you shyly and mumbles something under his breath. before you can make a noise of confusion, he darts off once again back into his room. seonghwa cannot help but smile fondly, because even if he is unable to hear what the other said either, he knows what yeosang means purely by his actions.

you’re accompanied out of the door by jongho minutes later, carrying a plastic bag of snacks and drinks from their dorm that seonghwa has rushed to put together for you to have on your way back. when you’re in the car, you also find a pair of black gloves in the pocket of your coat. you have no idea who put it there, but the sentiment of one of the boys trying to ensure you are not cold is enough to fill your entire body with warmth.

you may have arrived in seoul with both hands empty and only the bag on your back, but you leave seoul with their quiet acts of apologies and forgiveness on your hands, neck, and in the plastic bag sitting on your lap as your bus pulls away back to namhae.

a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also stay the same. it all balances on the peak of the fulcrum, waiting to teeter either way as summer arrives.

you’ve kept in touch with jongho and seonghwa, so you haven’t been left in the dark anxiously wondering whether they will be returning to namhae or not. but even with their arrival, the uncertainty remains as to which way the scale has– or will tip.

so you don’t walk out to greet them when you hear the resounding slam of shutting doors and the low hum of exchanged conversation, because you don't know whether the other boys want to see you or not. plus, there’s something embarrassing about seeing them for the first time after apologising, much less confessing to them without any certainty as to their feelings, and much much less to eight people at once. you’re doing a pretty good job at hiding and pretending you are completely oblivious to their arrival in namhae.

that is, until mingi knocks on your door. mingi feels like he’s fourteen again, knocking on yunho’s door and crossing his fingers hoping to god that it’s his friend who opens it and not his parents, because mingi feels embarrassed asking them every day if yunho can come out to play. this time, though, mingi’s nervous because it’s you and he’s nervous because six months is a long time where feelings can change. he hopes that yours are still the same.

you’re greeted by a shock of platinum white hair when you open your door and you realise it’s mingi with freshly bleached hair. it looks good– a little too good– and you have to force yourself to peel your eyes away. except your eyes travel down involuntarily to the contrasting black of his tank top, which is at least two sizes too large and dips down dangerously to reveal the shadows of his chest. you’re down bad, and it’s only been ten seconds since you’ve laid eyes on him since seoul.

mingi is looking at you amusedly when you finally lock eyes with him and he seems to stand a little straighter with confidence. he beckons with a gentle tilt of his head, “come surf with us?”

the casualness of his invite throws you off and you wonder if you’ve somehow missed the memo that he’s forgiven you. “you’re all okay with me coming?” you blink confusedly.

“the others can speak for themselves,” he puts it plainly, but then smiles, “i want you to come, though. it’s not the same without you. plus,” his voice mellows out earnestly, “someone’s gotta welcome me home, don’t you think?”

home. home is where the heart is, and for mingi, regardless of the arguments and fights, his heart will always be with the boys and you. because in anger, hurt and love, there is always forgiveness, and mingi has forgiven you.

shyly, you return his smile, “i’ll go get changed, then?”

“is that an invite inside?” mingi leans against the doorframe with faux coyness that manages to make the rounds of your cheeks heat up. you shove him back lightly with a laugh, trying to ignore the firmness of his chest under your touch.

he grins boyishly, utterly pleased with himself, but steps back so you can close the door. “take your time,” he reassures. “i’ll wait for you.”

and he does, just so that you don’t have to walk alone to join the rest of the group. even after you have thrown on a swimsuit and slathered yourself with sunscreen as best as you can, mingi is still outside and yunho has also joined him– you know because you can hear them talking as you search for your house keys in the hallway.

“what if it’s too late?” yunho asks.

“you don’t know that, not until you try,” mingi replies. “here, a kiss for good luck.”

you have no idea what the context for this conversation is, but it suddenly strikes you that apart from mingi, you’ve never discussed sexual orientation with the boys. you may have asked them to consider you romantically, but you can’t say for sure if they even like girls. from what you know, none of them have dated before, and now you’re suddenly wondering whether any of the boys are dating within the group. mingi and yunho are certainly a possibility.

but regardless, you realise this is probably not something you should be discovering by overhearing a conversation, so you deliberately drop your keys to alert them of your presence and wait a couple more seconds before you open your front door.

for the second time of the day, you’re absolutely floored. yunho has dyed his hair an ash grey and it falls over his forehead and down the nape of his neck in messy locks. there must have been a fucking enticing buy-one-get-one-free deal, because he’s also wearing a black tank top much like mingi’s, except his is form-fitting and putting every damned muscle of his upper body on glorified display.

not that you’re complaining. but it’s also very distracting when you’re trying to focus on what mingi is saying as you all make your way down the beach towards the shore, their surfboards hiked against their hips.

“you guys go ahead, i think jongho’s calling for me,” mingi suddenly announces before darting off.

you’re left alone with yunho, and from the back of jongho’s head who most definitely doesn’t even know you three have joined the group, mingi’s plan to slip away has succeeded.

“um,” yunho hesitantly starts, “do you want to try paddling out on my board? i’ll stay close.”

the last time you had attempted anything on his shortboard, you had flipped over and swallowed several mouthfuls of salt water. although you’re not particularly keen on repeating the experience, some things don’t need to be spelt out– the reason for his offer. only one foot is needed to push a bicycle into motion, but two feet are needed to keep it in motion. so you nod and let him drag his surfboard towards the shallow waters for you.

as you trail beside him, seonghwa and jongho greet you enthusiastically on their own boards out in the horizon. yeosang waves too from further down the shore and you lose some of the tension in your shoulders when you know that the intention behind his scarf was not misinterpreted. only san and wooyoung do not directly acknowledge your presence, but unbeknownst to you, the younger is carefully observing your interactions with the others.

“here,” yunho says, garnering your attention.

he holds the surfboard steady in the water, waiting for you to lie on top. his hands stay even after you gingerly shift and balance your weight onto your front. with his guidance, you slowly paddle out past the rush of whitewater waves. yunho is barely waist-deep in the water so he easily manoeuvres you and the board as you try to recall the familiar motion of paddling against incoming swells. but both of you know that you’re not really trying to paddle and he’s not really watching for mistakes.

eventually, you languidly let the waters caress your body as you still, letting the slight waves gently rock your surfboard. one of yunho’s arms have shifted over your back to support the opposite side of the surfboard and your body tingles whenever his forearm brushes over you. his other hand rests near your own, your fingers grazing together whenever the board dances over a swell.

it is within the serenity and solitude of the ocean, and the warmth and proximity of each other’s presence that the conversation happens. yunho apologises and you forgive. it occurs as simply as that, because actions speak louder than words and you have already shared a library of novels with your bodies.

from afar, wooyoung’s internal debate continues to teeter on its fulcrum as he watches the moment you share with yunho. wooyoung may be fast to talk, but he is also keen to observe. he sees the glow of relief and happiness returning to the faces of the boys. what he said to you summers ago still stands true– you make the boys happy and it’s obvious they make you happy too. and all wooyoung has ever wanted is to protect the smile of his loved ones, including you.

the radiance of the smile you give when yunho pretends to flip your surfboard over reminds wooyoung of his failure to do just that. in his blindness for the others, he had sacrificed your smile. the scale teeters over the fulcrum and he follows the momentum of his heart to wade out into the waters where you two still are, his apology ready to spill out.

and so you discover that a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also change in one day. with each relationship that stitches back together, rips now reinforced and sturdier than before, namhae almost feels the same again– summer almost feels the same again. you may still have the two hardest conversations left to be resolved, but if more time is what they need, then you are willing to wait for san and–

yunho and wooyoung scramble to steady your surfboard before you actually tip over when you suddenly move to kneel, head whipping around to confirm your fears. you hadn’t initially noticed as the boys had been scattered, intermittently ducking back into the house, but your heart sinks as you count the number of heads again. you’re unable to fight off the dread in your voice when you dare to ask, “where’s hongjoong?”

yunho’s eyes don’t meet yours and wooyoung’s mouth thins out tightly before he cautiously answers you, “he didn’t come.”

san likes to think that he’s patient. ever since he was young, his father had made sure to raise him to wait. wait for elders to eat before picking up his own chopsticks; wait for others to walk through the door before he enters; wait for others to choose their preference before he picks his. and san likes to think that he has diligently applied this principle to his relationships too. wait to understand someone before criticising; wait for his own anger to subside before talking; wait to reflect on his own wrongs before expecting an apology.

but right now, san is impatient. he catches glimpses of the sweet messages you send jongho and seonghwa and the joyous cackles you share with wooyoung when you prank yeosang. he notices the way yunho and mingi are attached to your hips, and san wants all of that and more. he wants to tell you he’s forgiven you and that he’s sorry too; he wants to cup your cheeks and thumb away the phantom tears he caused; he wants to love you.

but his body is acting as if it’s an entirely separate entity from his heart. he’s unable to approach you, even as he watches everyone else do what he wants to and it frustrates him to no end. and it’s as if the gods themselves also became impatient with his pathetic attempts– or lack thereof– because they drop the perfect opportunity right in front of him.

a quick look at his phone tells san that he’s been tossing on the couch for the last two hours. sleep fails to take over, so he hauls himself up and pads softly towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. he stares out of the window above the sink, where he can just see the stretch of beach towards the right. the moon shines brightly tonight and the rays decorate the sand and sea foam with dreamy tranquillity.

there’s a quiet rustle above the stillness of the night. when san turns around, his heart immediately clenches at the sight. you’re sleepily rubbing the bleariness out of your eye as you shuffle your way into the kitchen. there’s a stray tuft of hair that san wants to reach out and smooth down for you, but he opts to grip his glass of water tighter.

you startle, not having expected someone to be awake and most definitely not san. you had stayed over late into the night watching a movie marathon with the boys, and despite your protests, they had convinced you to crash in haneul’s room. tension doesn’t exist between you and the boys anymore, only awkwardness with san and…avoidance with hongjoong.

“couldn’t sleep?” you murmur, voice unguarded and still thick with sleep.

san shakes his head, “you?”

“got thirsty,” you explain, grabbing a glass from under the counter.

he hums at your answer and then it grows silent again. it’s only after you drowsily blink at him that he realises why you’re not making a move to get water– he’s still standing in front of the sink. san starts to step out of the way but thinks better of it. reaching out to grab your glass, he fills it up with water and then returns it to you.

“thanks, sannie.”

it doesn’t register in your head that the nickname has slipped out. for him, though, it echoes and ricochets in the very caverns of his ribcage. hesitantly, he mutters, “you’re welcome, pipsqueak.”

it tugs a smile out of your lips. “haven’t heard that in a while,” you muse. “kind of miss it.”

and i miss you. san is impatient, and he finally decides that he cannot take it anymore. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers. “i know how badly i hurt you.”

the haze in your eyes immediately fades away at his words and he takes it as a good sign to continue. “i’ll be honest. i hated that the person next to you as your boyfriend wasn’t one of us–wasn’t me, because it didn’t look like he was making you happy at all. and that day you were out working in the field? some of us actually ran into johnny.”

you acknowledge sadly, “seonghwa told me what happened. i’m sorry he was like that.”

“that’s not on you to apologise,” san refutes. “i was the one who asked the boys to keep it from you until we could properly talk after the campfire night, but along with everything that had led up to that point, all my frustrations accumulated without even realising it.”

“i guess that makes the two of us, then. there were arguments you and i both weren’t aware of, and we ended up being the last straw for each other,” you chuckle wryly.

his voice wavers, “i’m meant to be the one person who is always there for you, but i made it feel like you were pitted against the eight of us instead and i’m so sorry for doing that. it should never have been me against you, nor us boys against you. it should have been all nine of us against the problem.”

you can’t help but take the opportunity to tease lightly, “are you calling my ex the problem?”

“exactly that,” he deadpans. “we all did.”

you nod, “thank you for trying to let me know, even when i didn’t listen.”

“no, i’m sorry we didn’t explain ourselves more clearly–or earlier.”

“but you have now, and i understand,” you reassure.

he nods gratefully before hesitating, “there’s something else behind all this that i can’t tell you yet, not without the others here. but when things are…okay with hongjoong again, that’s when we’ll tell you.”

something about his promise tells you that it has to do with the other part of the conversation everyone has been skirting around so far– your confession. faint memories of the interactions observed between the boys last summer and the brief exchange you overheard between yunho and mingi flicker across your mind.

perhaps you should steel yourself for rejection. you don’t dwell on it, though. this may have been the first time your friendship with san had been so close to shattering, but you know that it will take more than the entire universe to completely break you apart; you still trust him– because before it was the nine of you, it was you and san against the world.

“then are we okay now?” you ask, needing the confirmation.

“yeah,” he smiles breathlessly, “more than okay.”

the caverns of san’s dimples– the ones you love so much– shyly peek out to greet you in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in from the window. he reaches out silently and you understand immediately. you intertwine your fingers together.

san wants to ask you to go to bed with him. not to do anything sexual, but to simply hold you against his chest; trace the curve of your nose; wake up to your sleepy smile in the morning. but he can’t, not yet. not until you’ve worked things out with hongjoong, and not until you’ve had a talk together– all nine of you.

he settles for tugging you in the direction of haneul’s bedroom, hand never letting go of yours as he softly ushers, “let me tuck you back into bed.”

and so fifteen years after your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer still takes the form of a sweet, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.

your instinctive reaction is to shut the door in hongjoong’s face.

when seonghwa had texted you asking you to open your front door, you had been expecting said man for obvious reasons. so when you pull the door open and see kim fucking hongjoong at your doorstep in fucking namhae instead, of course you slam the door shut. because why the fuck is he here?

“oh shit,” you curse, when it registers in your brain.

hongjoong is here and you’ve just shut the door in his face. if you had even an ounce of collectedness in you, you would realise that the boys’ initial and very much candid reaction of shock to seeing you randomly show up at their dorm in seoul is suddenly very relatable. you yank the door open again.

“sure, why don’t you just go ahead and punch me in the fucking face too,” hongjoong scowls.

immediately, you furrow your eyebrows, “well, if you’re offering…”

“oh, fuck off,” he raises his middle finger at you.

you raise both middle fingers in retaliation, “yeah, back into my house that you’re standing in front of.”

“for god’s sake–kim hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses in exasperation, head poking out of san’s door as he eavesdrops to make sure this exact thing doesn’t happen. “you’re here to apologise!”

hongjoong appears rightfully berated, then he looks at anything but you as he huffs, “can i come in?”

“depends,” you cross your arms defiantly. “are you going to try and kick me out?”

despite the prickliness of the conversation, it almost feels right in a sense. as if there’s no real heat behind your words and you two are back to the easy banter you used to have– before your near-kiss with him. this time, though, seonghwa hisses your name in frustration.

“geez! okay!” you fluster as you step back and open the door wider, letting hongjoong in and away from the prying ears of the older.

you sit tentatively on your couch and he mirrors you, scratching the back of his neck as he perches himself on the edge. it’s awkward and tense when it becomes apparent to the both of you that you’re alone. “i didn’t think you would come,” you break the silence.

he hums softly, “me neither.”

you don’t know how to respond so you don’t, allowing the quiet to settle over your living room once more. eventually, hongjong opens his mouth quietly, “i was–am ashamed of myself.”

you’ve been there before– on the other side of the conversation as the one doing the apologising. you know how difficult it is to be honest about your own emotions, particularly the negative ones, so you wait patiently for him to find the right words.

“i’ve been ashamed ever since the night i tried to kiss you. i was a coward and i did nothing to change it. i only ended up hurting you and i’ve regretted it every single day. i think about why i didn’t talk to you afterwards, why i said those things about you and your ex…why i didn’t just kiss you.”

you can’t help but inhale sharply at his confession, because that can only mean one thing.

hongjoong gathers the courage to look at you as he admits, “i did like you. i still do. but i was an idiot and thought that i was doing the best thing for everybody. i shouldn’t have made that choice for you nor tried to have a say in your love life. i was jealous and i know now how toxic i was being, which is why i was so stubborn about not coming to namhae because i didn’t think my apology would be good enough. so i’m sorry for all the things i said and did, but i’m also sorry that it took me this long to talk to you.”

he looks so uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he timidly asks, “will you forgive me?”

there’s not a moment of hesitation before you’re closing the gap between the two of you on the couch so that you can wrap your arms around him. and in a rare display of vulnerability, he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. you comfort, “i forgive you. there are a lot of things i’m ashamed of doing too. but we all make mistakes and that’s what helps us to grow.”

“you still like me?” he mumbles into your neck.

you laugh at the ticklish feeling, “very much so, hongjoong.” because in forgiveness there is love, and you have years of owed love to show the boys.

only when your sides become cramped and your necks become stiff do you finally pull away from each other. as you make eye contact with him though, you’re suddenly reminded of his confession. you know that you will need to have another talk with hongjoong about it, and you still don’t know where the other boys stand in terms of pursuing something romantic with you, but that will be for later. right now, you are content and at peace– the nine of you against the world once more.

“let’s go find the rest of the boys?” you ask.

he grins, holding a hand out to pull you up with him as he answers, “let’s go.”

just as hongjoong puts on his shoes by the doorway, he distractedly questions, “why are these here?”

you frown and follow his line of sight, settling on the top of the cabinet in your hallway where a pair of gloves sit– the ones you had discovered in your coat on your way back to namhae. “you know who they belong to?”

“yeah,” he nods, absentmindedly touching them before walking out the door. “i bought them last year, but they were too big so i gave them to san.”

it was san who hid them in your coat.

you numbly follow his steps outside where the boys have gathered in waiting and are sitting side by side on the embankment, facing the ocean. they are simply living in the moment, basking in the golden rays of sunlight and the warm touch of the person by their side– an arm around a waist; a head on a shoulder. you almost don’t want to disturb them, but you know the seven of them are not complete. not without hongjoong, and not without you.

and as your gaze meets san who smiles at the both of you, his chest swelling with relief, pride and love, you realise that san had bared his heart out to you long before you even knew.

once you fall back into routine with them, it starts to become obvious. the way the boys naturally gravitate towards one another with doting gazes and lingering touches; the casual use of a pet name or flirtatious joke; the shifts in dynamic you had noticed before that seem to extend beyond friendship. it starts to make sense when you realise that that’s exactly the reason– no longer are their relationships purely based on platonic love, but romantic love.

it’s why yunho knocks his forehead against mingi’s just to see him smile, and why san pretends to grumble when wooyoung kisses his cheeks, only to give the younger a proper kiss mere seconds later. it’s why jongho never lets yeosang carry his own surfboard even if he’s just as strong, and it’s why seonghwa and hongjoong like to disappear into the shower together.

but the longer you mull over these interactions for, the more you realise that they don’t seem to be simply ‘paired off’. you notice how jongho refuses to be cuddled but will nestle against seonghwa when he’s tired, and how yunho and yeosang seek out each other’s company before bedtime. you notice how wooyoung squeezes hongjoong’s ass underwater to make him yelp, and how san and mingi are content to just sit together on their surfboards on the sand.

rather than a question of who is with who, it becomes a question of who isn’t with who, and this time, you also find yourself mixed into the equation. but it confuses you whenever they treat you the same and you find yourself holding back despite your feelings, because it’s much harder to tell what kind of love they’re giving you when you yourself yearn for the intimate type.

san notices the change in your demeanour, as small as it may be, and decides it’s time for the talk. so here the nine of you sit on the beach that stretches in front of your houses. the sand is still warm from the sun even as it starts to dip towards the horizon of the sea. yeosang’s jacket lays over your bare legs and a slight breeze tugs delicately at your clothes.

“okay, so who’s telling her?” yunho elbows wooyoung as soon as the words leave the latter’s lips.

“what? how else are we meant to start the conversation?” wooyoung complains before mocking, “the reason i have gathered you all here today–”

rolling your eyes, you cut to the chase, “are you all dating each other?”

wooyoung chokes on his own words and everybody else looks at you with wide eyes.

“how’d you know?” yeosang startles.

seonghwa agrees, “i didn’t think we were that obvious,” but when you simply raise an eyebrow in response, he’s quick to amend, “okay, maybe we were.”

san eyes the others to see if anyone wants to step in and lead the conversation, but when nobody does, he speaks up to explain, “we’ve been dating each other for just over a year now–so before last summer. it took a bit of time to work everything out, establish boundaries and communicate what we wanted from one another, but we’re happy like this.”

“once our relationship had settled down a little, that’s when i came out to my parents,” mingi adds, “which didn’t go down well. we wanted to tell you last summer too, but…other things happened and it all fell through before we could talk about it.”

yeosang meekly scratches the back of his neck as he says, “it’s long overdue, but we’re telling you now.”

the chuckle that comes out of you is light and carefree. “i’m happy for you guys,” you affirm sincerely. “i don’t think there’s anybody else who is more perfect for you guys than each other.”

you truly do. you’re thankful that they have one another and you finally understand how hard it must’ve been for san during your argument to pick a side. his boys were and are his priority and you cannot fault him for putting them first. but then you’re reminded of hongjoong and his confession. are the others aware of his feelings?

said man has the audacity to frown at you in confusion. “why does it sound like you’re just wishing us well?”

“am i not allowed to do that as your friend?” you mirror his expression.

“god,” hongjoong exhales. “do you think we’re telling you this just to reject you?”

“of all people to say that–rub it in my face, why don’t you,” you grumble.

he starts to grasp the situation as he looks at the rest of the boys, “wait, did nobody fucking confess to her apart from me?”

the explosion of responses to his question is immediate.

“you confessed–” “–i thought we agreed to confess together–” “–trust you to cut in line! that’s not fair!”

your eyes dart wildly from side to side, unsure of who to focus on as they all start to passionately talk over one another. at one point, someone tries to chuck a handful of sand in hongjoong’s direction, but it scatters innocuously before it can even get close.

“hold the fuck up,” you yell over the commotion. “confess what?”

“how did you figure out that we’re in a polyamorous relationship but not that the feelings extend to you as well?” yeosang judges you.

“i didn’t want to project my own feelings and misconstrue anything. plus, none of you have actually mentioned liking or dating girls before, so i just…”

“assumed we didn’t have feelings for you,” seonghwa concludes as you laugh awkwardly.

wooyoung deadpans, “we may have wanted to punch your ex in the face for his shitty-ass personality because we were your friends, but we were also jealous as fuck.”

“all of you?” you ask in disbelief.

“all of us. some of us were just better at hiding it,” mingi looks pointedly at the boy sitting on his left.

“you’re one to talk about hiding your feelings,” hongjoong counters before turning to you to expose, “mingi wouldn’t shut up about you after he met you.”

mingi immediately shoves him backwards into the sand.

“look,” jongho cuts in, “what we’re trying to say is that we’ve all liked you for a while now, and if you still feel the same way about us, then we’d like to take our relationship with you to the next step.”

how many times have you wanted this moment– for all of them to return your confession. but now that it’s actually becoming a reality, it’s honestly a little daunting. “you’re all serious about this?”

a lot will change over the next year. most of you will join hongjoong and seonghwa as postgraduates and start full-time work. san will move back to namhae, but whether the others will follow or stay in seoul is unknown. there are a lot of uncertainties regarding the future and the relationship will only work if everyone is serious about making it work.

yunho answers on everyone’s behalf, “we’re very serious.”

you take a moment to look at all of them one by one, only to find the same promise within their gazes– that even if things become difficult, they want to face it with you by their side.

it feels right when san is the one to officially ask the question, “y/n, will you be our girlfriend?”

like san once said, it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, and you’ve been blessed with not only one, but eight of these people. between friendship and love, you already know from experience what you will decide– so you make your choice.

“i forgot, are hongjoong and wooyoung coming down this weekend?” san pokes his head in through the doorway.

you eye him from the mirror, face void of expression to reply, “don’t count on it.”

san’s pout is immediate and you laugh, shuffling over to console your boyfriend from where you had been getting ready in your shared bathroom. he grumbles, “you’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?” but he can’t hide the way his lips pull upwards the moment you press a chaste kiss against his cheek in apology.

“hongjoong said that there were a couple of delays with filming, so he and wooyoung can’t step away just yet. but they’ll come back next saturday if they can wrap things up by then.”

as you talk, san takes the halter straps out of your grasp so that he can help secure your top around your neck. “it’s so hard to align everyone’s schedules together. i miss the long holiday breaks we got in college,” you absently complain, body relaxing under the ministrations of san’s hands as he gently squeezes the nape of your neck.

“me too, love,” another voice joins the conversation. seonghwa walks up to tenderly ruffle san’s hair and nuzzles your temple with his nose. “but we have to work hard to pay off this house and to spoil you with whatever you want.”

seonghwa has grown out his hair and has kept it long since, and you love running your fingers through his silken waves before he goes to work every morning. he always looks so soft and cosy with his round glasses and fluffy sweaters that you know his school kids adore just as much as you do. but right now, his face bare of makeup and hair pulled back into a messy updo, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts to show off his upper build, he looks the complete opposite of what you’re used to seeing and you feel your stomach doing flips in response.

you lean into both of their touches as you giggle, “we could have bought a smaller house. nobody sleeps in their own bedroom anyway.”

“well can you really blame us for being madly in love,” seonghwa grins, stealing a kiss from you that only serves to elicit more giggling.

“that’s true. your beds are always warmer than mine,” you agree.

“exactly. now come on, are you ready to go?”

the three of you walk downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the boys are waiting around in various mismatches of shirts, tank tops or only shorts. after two weeks of attempting to keep everybody’s clothes separate once you’d all moved in together, they had simply given up and made their wardrobes communal.

as you drop a spare bottle of sunscreen into your tote bag, a pair of arms snake themselves around your waist. you turn around, sweet smile ready to greet whoever it is. your jaw drops, “wooyoung?”

his eyes sparkle with mischief, even more so when your eyes grow even wider at the sight of hongjoong perched on the edge of the couch in the background and you exclaim, “hongjoong? i thought you two weren’t coming until next week?”

wooyoung takes the opportunity of your dazed compliance to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “we caught up with the schedule,” he exclaims happily. “you should’ve seen hongjoong though. director kim made sure to work us hard.”

you playfully wriggle yourself out of the vice-like hug you’re in to bound over to the older, who automatically opens his arms to welcome you. you slot easily between his legs and his hands rub the sides of your back fondly as he looks up to ask, “did you miss me?”

forgoing an answer, you lean down to kiss him. wooyoung immediately complains, “why didn’t i get a kiss?” so san pulls him in for one to appease him. you’d never be able to leave the house otherwise, because then everyone would start demanding your kisses. and considering that it has been a few long months since you last had quality time with all eight of them at the same time, there would be too many wanted kisses to count.

one thing you had all agreed on prior to buying a house in namhae was to ensure it had a beach front, just like your and san’s old home. so it doesn’t take long to carry your surfboards– save for you; the boys like it when you use theirs– and towels down to the shore.

you close your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and subtle feeling of ocean spray on your skin. it’s a bittersweet emotion, knowing that it’s already the last day of summer, but only today have the nine of you been able to align your schedules this year. it makes you appreciate these fleeting moments of rest though, and you learn to find rest in each other too.

some of the boys start slipping off their tops, dropping them onto the sand to keep them dry as they surf. you’ve found that the greatest perk of dating them is that you’re allowed to openly and unashamedly ogle at them. the rigid shadows of their muscles reveal the discipline and hard work they put into maintaining their bodies despite their busy jobs.

san had also been monitoring his protein intake leading up to his recent dance showcase, so it’s very hard to look at the expanse of his broad chest and prominent dip of abs down his hips without feeling a rush of heat in your lower stomach. if the boys know that you offer to help them reapply sunscreen just to get a little handsy with them, then nobody says anything. (they offer to help you reapply your sunscreen as well.)

you’re content to just lie down on your towel and watch the boys, yeosang in his usual place by your side as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder and traces the names of his lovers onto the skin of your stomach. mingi starts dragging his surfboard into the water, but when wooyoung attempts to push him in instead– and fails miserably– all thoughts of surfing are quickly forgotten. it becomes an absolute shitshow when hongjoong gets mistaken for the culprit and mingi picks him up.

“it wasn’t me!” the older shrieks, but mingi has no ears for reasoning and prepares to drop him into the water. unwilling to go down by himself, hongjoong grips mingi’s neck at the last second and successfully drags him underwater with his weight. as wooyoung runs away absolutely delighted by the outcome, his trajectory unfortunately runs into jongho, who cuts off his cackles with a giggle, a simple shove sideways and a resultant splash.

not even bystanders can catch a break, and seonghwa screams for mercy as san and yunho suddenly grab his arms and legs. they sway him from side to side before letting him go with the momentum of the last swing to fling him into the ocean. everyone erupts into a united clamour of glee at the dunking of the eldest and you find yourself shaking your head at their unchanging antics.

you don’t think you can ever get tired of watching their radiant smiles of happiness and shared touches of sun-kissed skin, nor can you ever get tired of hearing their tinkling chimes of laughter and rowdy shouts of mischief. you may all grow older and there may not be as much time or luxury to simply bask in the joys of summer any longer; these golden hours that you are living in right now may forever remain as your sole memories when you reflect back on the essence of your youth.

on this day– the last day of summer in namhae– you find that summer takes the form of shared ice cream with sticky kisses, long showers with warm touches, and hushed pillow talk with synchronous heartbeats. but it doesn’t matter to you, not anymore.

the seasons will change and the years will pass, but so long as you are with your boys, every day will be summer.

#TAKING BREAKS WHILST READING LIKE YOU'RE STUDYING ASKJFHDSLKGJSH #what can i say this fic should be added to the english curriculum or sth 😌💅#get a job or a choi san oh i will defs go for the latter option #where do i sign up #HONESTLY SIMPING FOR HONGJOONG'S RIZZ IS SO REAL LIKE THE MAN'S GOT GAME #he can say one (1) line to flirt with me and i'd be folding fr fr 😫🙏#MINGI YES MINGI SUNFLOWER SUPREMACY RAHHH #HE'S SO CUTE HE'D LITERALLY PERK UP AS A SUNFLOWER WHENEVER ANYONE SMILES AT HIM #yeahh it was hard to balance out all of the different characters and flesh them all out equally #but i still hope his personality was developed enough for his motives and interactions with reader to be reasonable #YES YES THE POSSESSIVE TERMS /your/ boys and /his/ boys RAHHHH YES YOU ALL BELONG TO EACH OTHER 😍#hwa and jongho were honestly <3333 the way they made amends so easily <3333 :')))#aND THEN YOU CASUALLY CURSING OUT JOHNNY HAHAHA #but yeSSSS thank you for noticing that she's namedropping all the boys WHILST on the date with johnny #THE SAN BEING PATIENT EXAMPLES WAS ONE OF MY FAVE PARTS TO WRITE BECAUSE IT'S LITERALLY HIM IRL #HE'S SO GREEN FLAG I LUB HIM SO MUCH #THE LIL QUARTET DURING THE FIRST SUMMER JUST MAKING SANDCASTLES WILL HAVE SUCH A SOFT SPOT IN MY HEART 🥹#U ARE NOT THE PRINCESS HERE AHAHHAHA I'M DYING #yeah how dare johnny walk through the door that san's holding open for y/n tHE AUDACITY OF THE MANS ?????#thank you so much for your long reblog i had so much fun reading through all your reactions XD #i appreciate the time you took to comment on all these things #ily ily ily <33333

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violetrainbow412-blog · 5 months ago

Text

From hate to love… or something like that

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 15.7k (sorrrryyyy)

warnings: arranged marriage, hate-to-love, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking alcohol, mommy issues, daddy issues, mentions of sex without love, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), porn with plot (but something cheap, tbh) and I probably forgot something but I think that makes it clear that this shit is not for minors, so MINORS DNI :)

A/N: I started this since the second season premiere started so if you find any canon-like scenes I completely promise it wasn't intentional. I also want to make it clear that you are responsible for what you read and if you don't like something please just let it go, that would be very kind of you!

And this doesn't make me team green at all, I'm a defender of the rightful queen to the death… it's just that her brother is too sexy to ignore 🫦

Enjoy!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @barcelonaloverf1life @ilovequeen978

FIRST ACT: HATE

Finding a wife for Prince Aegon II was probably one of the most difficult tasks Alicent Hightower had to face.

The engagement with his sister Helaena had been broken after a more tempting offer for the princess, which would get them a permanent alliance with the Lannister house that they couldn’t refuse. Viserys himself had agreed to accept and the queen consort had no choice but to give her little daughter in marriage to a blonde lord. The problem was that her son was left without a fiancée.

Aemond didn't worry her, after all he was growing up quite quickly and she knew that he was more inclined to become a warrior than to fulfill his marital responsibilities. But Aegon, however, was a lost cause.

It was no secret that Alicent had always felt disappointed in her eldest son. He was careless, lazy, and a hopeless alcoholic, qualities that couldn’t be celebrated at all. Now that her beloved father had returned, the queen didn’t hesitate to consult him on the matter, hoping that the man had a solution for the problem that afflicted her, and together they analyzed what was the best option to unite the king's first-born son. Especially after, years ago, Rhaenyra and Daemon got married and moved to Dragonstone indefinitely.

“It must be someone we completely trust, someone who cannot dare to hurt us because they know that their blood is linked to ours.”

The Arryns were loyal to the future queen Rhaenyra and some of the houses south of Vale were too. The Westerlands was the richest section of the Seven Kingdoms and was already secured, so it seemed prudent to the king's hand to go for the next widest section: The Reach. The most formidable options within this area were the Hightower and the Tyrell. Obviously taking the first option would be a waste since the members of that house would support Aegon without complaint due to their kinship, so the decision was made with the direct heir of Highgarden.

King Viserys agreed to the idea without putting up many obstacles, since poppy milk clouded his judgment most of the time and also the affairs of his first son had never interested him much.

The union was sealed as soon as the deal was offered to Lyonel Tyrell, who was extremely happy to be able to assure his family a future with said marriage. It was thus that he gave you, his only daughter, to Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

And the second the boy saw you, he absolutely hated you.

He had come to the idea (very unpleasant, by the way) of marrying his younger sister and now that his mother was forcing him to marry a complete stranger, he couldn't be angrier. In a short time he would turn twenty and it seemed pathetic to him that at that point he would have to offer shows like those before the kingdom. Because the wedding wasn’t simple, of course, but thousands and thousands of guests were present at the banquet that Alicent forced the king to prepare, claiming by saying that he had done the same for Princess Rhaenyra's wedding.

“It is a pleasure to finally see each other, your grace. They have told me a lot about you”

You had said those precise words the first time you had met, when his mother organized a walk so that you could 'get to know each other better', although supervised by her own eyes that were behind you, making sure that her son didn’t commit any indecency. But no matter how sweetly you smiled and spoke them, Aegon could sense that you were lying.

There was hatred in your eyes and a clear resentment towards the life from which you were torn, as if it weren’t an honor to have the opportunity to marry the prince of the seven kingdoms. Your hypocritical words represented an insult to the boy and that is why he decided from the first moment that he would hate you deeply.

With your mere existence you would have deprived him of his freedom, his entertainment, his youth. He would be tied to you for future occasions, he would have to take you to all the events, secure your food, your clothes. share the same roof and pretend to be nice to you in the eyes of others. And, besides, he could have thought of a lot of candidates better than you, physically speaking. Your beauty was quite ordinary for his taste, as if he were looking at any painting; cheap and repetitive.

“I regret to admit that I am not so fortunate, Lady Tyrell. But I am happy for the union of our houses” he lied, in the same way that you had done.

And it was obvious that this didn’t go unnoticed by you, that you had the same critical eye as your recent fiancé but that you sought to maintain composure in the presence of your future mother-in-law.

On the wedding day Aegon had a good time only because he was able to drown himself in monumental quantities of liquor and because he was able to eat as much as he wanted of the exquisite banquet. He didn't even pay a bit of attention to how you looked in the wedding dress that the royal seamstresses had been in charge of making in record time, because when the time came he flattered you superficially and then ignored the matter. The ceremony kiss was the first you shared, and it was so fleeting and awkward that the prince felt disappointed. On the wedding night he was so drunk that he didn't even look at you.

You knew that the unfortunate day would come when you would have to carnally please the young man and the simple thought of being defiled in this way caused you terror and nausea in equal parts.

It was a stranger whom you had married, of whom the only thing you knew was his noble title and name.

In the days following your marriage, unfortunately or fortunately, Aegon didn’t even speak to you. You didn't have to share a room, so it was easier for him to completely ignore you while he went about his ways.

You had to admit that the only good thing about having taken this trip was the beautiful landscapes that King's Landing offered you. Your room had a direct view of Blackwater Bay and you spent several days looking out the window at the beautiful sea. Sometimes you could watch Prince Aemond ride his dragon, and honestly, the size of the beast scared you a little. You hadn't had the chance to observe Aegon in Sunfyre yet but if he was as impressive as Vhagar, then he would be quite a sight.

A week passed, then another and another where you were nothing more than a guest in the palace. You didn't talk to anyone, you ate dinner alone, you barely saw the outside of the castle. Sometimes you went to the Sept, pretending to pray, but really just killing the endless boring hours of the day. You were somewhat lucky if you found Helaena, the most sensible and calm within the royal family, because you had pleasant conversations with her. When you met the queen it was a little more difficult, because she asked you endless questions in which you had to fake the answers. How could you be fulfilling your parenting responsibilities if the capricious prince wouldn't deign to lay a finger on you?

After a month, Alicent seemed to take matters into her own hands and forced her eldest son to take you to sleep in the same room as him. However, Aegon seemed to want to blame you for something you hadn't chosen. He never spoke to you and every time you went to bed, he would stand with his back to you as far away as possible. And as if that weren’t enough, he had explicitly ordered his guards not to allow you to leave the room unless it was in his company. It was his way of punishing you, of getting even for the complaints of his mother and grandfather regarding his lack of interest in marriage.

“My mother wants us to attend a dinner tonight” you were so unaccustomed to hearing his voice addressing you that it took you a second to process what he was telling you “I will talk to the maids to bring you a suitable dress.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn't want to go to that dinner, nor did you want to be with him, or wear one of those tight, annoying dresses. Aegon, noticing your silence, deigned to look at you and in your eyes he could see the aversion you felt for him. It was something difficult to mask and he had seen it on so many faces that it was nothing new.

“As you wish, prince.”

A bitter laugh came from your husband's throat.

“Don't be a hypocrite, for God's sake. I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Save appearances for guests, not in the chambers."

You wouldn’t have had the courage to admit out loud what his majesty had said, but you didn’t dare to contradict him either. You had to play the role of a self-sacrificing and suitable wife for the man if you wanted to keep your honor, but above all your head.

You tried, with all your might, to see some quality in Aegon that you liked so that you could treat him in a better way, which always resulted in something useless. Perhaps if he had been nicer to you, you could have known how to forgive his faults, but even that wasn’t granted to you.

The dinner was mostly family-oriented, with the guest of honor being from House Baratheon whose purpose was to discuss some political matters with the king and queen. Due to his health, Viserys didn’t usually leave his room more than necessary, however, that night the occasion warranted it.

“Lady Tyrell, how is your stay in King's Landing?”

The king had a reputation for being gentle with his guests and was the first person to ask you a personal question, so the smile you showed him was genuine.

“Very pleasant, your grace. The servants treat me as well as possible and I must admit that the views from my room are beautiful. Your dragon is impressive, Prince Aemond, by the way.”

The boy, who wasn't all that expressive, just looked at you for a moment and tilted his head down slightly.

“I'm glad you like it, princess.”

"And my son? How is our Aegon treating you?”

That question was more complicated to answer, since it required expressing a lie. Everyone present focused their attention on you, except your husband who had been staring into nothingness for a long time.

“Very well, my king. He’s a good husband and I am happy to have been able to unite our houses.”

The aforementioned snorted, incredulous at what you were saying at the table, and took a long drink from his glass of wine.

“And I hope very soon you can give us strong and beautiful heirs.”

Although that was intended as a compliment, you felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on you again.

“I wish the same. It will be an honor to serve the crown and bear the progeny of a house as formidable as yours."

The queen was pleased with your answer and for a moment felt sorry for you. She knew her son well, so deep down she knew that it wasn’t a gift from the gods to be married to him. The rest of the table looked at you curiously, wondering if you were serious, trying to be ironic, or just trying to play the good girl role.

Aegon, as expected, became intoxicated during dinner and when Queen Alicent announced that she was going to retire to sleep you thought it prudent to do the same. Your husband, however, had other wishes.

“Stay here,” he asked, his voice serious.

When he was drunk he looked you up and down, probably evaluating how worth it would be to decide to strip you naked and fuck you once and for all. Your body in the dress you were wearing looked better with a few drinks on him.

“I think it would be best to retire, my husband. This way you can stay with the men to chat and… drink”

“But I want you to stay here to keep me company,” he insisted, holding your wrist tightly “Or don't you want to please your prince?”

It wasn’t a loving request, but one for control. He wanted to have you there only to demonstrate his power over you, without paying attention to you or talking; only as an ornament.

“Aegon, enough,” Alicent interrupted, observing the scene that had begun to unfold. “Daughter, let's go to sleep. “I will accompany you”

“Fine, do whatever you want,” he spat contemptuously, abruptly releasing the wrist that was holding you. There was hatred in his eyes, but also pride.

The queen said goodbye to everyone present and then offered you her hand to take you away from there. You spent most of the way in silence, walking through the long, wide corridors of the fortress followed only by the faithful footsteps of Ser Criston Cole.

“You must be patient with him” he began to say “He is a particular man and sometimes… difficult, but I know that with your docile character you will be able to deal with his temperament.”

What did she know about your character? She didn't know you at all.

“So it shall be, Queen Alicent.”

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We both come from the same lands to endure the difficult task of accompanying a monarch. But it is our duty to carry it out with all the honor and temper worthy of our homes. Of course, I can trust that as a woman you will be able to help him fulfill another of the most important marital commitments, such as having children, to maintain the lineage and blood. For a virgin like you, Aegon may be rough, but... patience and resilience are among the best virtues. A woman in royalty must endure these things to give the best to the people.”

You had never wanted to be a princess. And just when you thought the queen was showing you compassion, you realized that she was only looking out for her interests and those of her family.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind"

She smiled and immediately left a kiss on your forehead, which could have been taken as a maternal kiss but which you didn't like at all. The longer you can postpone suffering, the better. If Aegon didn't even want to look at you, it was perfect.

That night, as soon as you touched the mattress and the silk sheets that decorated it, you began to cry until you fell asleep.

SECOND ACT: CONTROL

Time passed again and although the punishment of not leaving your room was not revoked, you found multiple activities with which to entertain yourself in the prince's absence. You filled your mornings and afternoons with reading, writing, knitting and embroidering. The nights were even more boring because most of the time your husband wasn't there either.

Rumors that you hadn’t yet consummated the marriage had spread through the halls of the palace and soon the smallfolk would murmur too. After all, the people couldn’t entertain themselves with anything more than the gossip and the plays that were going on in the poor neighborhoods, making fun of royal affairs.

You no longer even had the energy to deny those accusations and Aegon had given you the perfect opportunity by throwing you out of his room and refusing to leave the four walls of yours: if you didn't leave there, there was no way anyone would question you. And since you didn't have family inside the Keep, you didn't have any visitors either.

One night, however, your husband surprised you by entering your room. It had been days since you two had seen each other and his staggering around the room warned you that he was drunk again. You often wondered how he resisted drinking so much and the long-term effects it would have on his health, but right now your mind could only focus on the fear of what he might want in that state.

“Good night, dear,” he drawled, sounding as sarcastic as possible.

You were in your nightgown and you were carrying in your hand an old book that you had been reading and that you threw on the nightstand as soon as you saw him approaching you. You didn't have time to say or do anything else when he had already approached you in giant steps to grab you by the back of your neck and start kissing you. He was abrupt, careless, with his mouth smelling of wine and tasting even worse. You wanted to cry from helplessness.

“It's what everyone wants, isn't it?” he murmured, separating himself from you, but still holding you by the hair at the back of your neck. “A marriage arranged in a couple of days to form alliances. And that's it, my life was ruined thanks to my father wanting your stupid castle to expand his domain."

The truth is that couldn't be further from the truth. Viserys’s ambition had never been that, as he had been so little involved in the process that he simply didn’t care who his children were or were not married to. Except for Rhaenyra, of course.

Aegon continued:

"I didn’t want this. I didn't want to marry you, or anyone..."

“And you think I do?” you confronted him.

You were tired of the insult, the humiliation and him ignoring you as if you were worthless; even if that was what a husband did. And the most likely thing was that your words would be forgotten due to alcohol or that they would put an end to the wait for your suffering to begin and Aegon decided to take you once and for all.

“You have nothing to lose, prince,” you continued. “You get drunk as much as you want, you run away from your responsibilities and walk everywhere when I have to stay locked up here all day just because you want me to. I have to endure the suspicious looks of everyone because I still don't have an heir in the womb while you go and fuck your whores."

“I'm the prince and I fuck whoever I want, did you hear me?” he hissed. The grip on your hair had already begun to become painful and a few tears slipped down your cheeks “And I stop fucking whoever I want too. I'm not going to please anyone by getting you pregnant. There they will see if they come and force me to put my cock in you”

“Do you doubt that, your grace?” you exclaimed bitterly “Doubts that will force us to conceive?”

“So that's what you want? Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to go home. That is what I want. But my father used me as a bargaining chip and that's why I can't do anything."

“I'm sorry it was like that. If I had chosen my wife, I would surely have chosen someone prettier and more educated than you, but I can't do much either."

Once again, the man pushed you until your lips joined his and the same discomfort settled in you. He didn't kiss you with love, but with fury and violence to the point that you had to push him away when he bit you so hard that a trickle of blood began to come out of your lower lip. Aegon was also stained by it and with an acidic smile he ran the tip of his tongue all over his mouth to remove any traces.

Looking at you he didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry either. He just seemed fed up.

Everyone knew, or suspected, that the prince was very capable of taking sexual advantage of any woman. He had done it before with maids and prostitutes and had slept peacefully throughout that time. However, there was something about you that encouraged him not to. He didn't even think it was something about you specifically but about the situation, because he wanted to do the opposite of what he was ordered: if everyone ordered him to take you to have an heir, it automatically became an unpleasant act and at the same time that he refused.

He was hurt, not because of you but because of years and years of abuse and neglect. He didn't really know you at all, he only knew what you represented.

You were just the unlucky one who had married him.

"I hate you. I hate that you are my wife and you are not worthy of me even touching you” he snapped with disdain. You were still fighting to keep the tears inside your eyes and his vision had also blurred slightly “I wish I had never met you.”

“The feeling is mutual, your grace,” you expressed, your voice breaking. If it was an offense to the crown, you wouldn't even care anymore and if he killed you right there you wouldn't regret it too much either.

Aegon looked at you one last time before staggering back out the door without another word, closing it behind him with a loud gesture and leaving you alone in the room. The reality that you had escaped, once again, from being raped by the man fell on you like a bucket of cold water and your knees weakened until you fell to the floor.

You were hurt, tired, and defeated by the stress of the situation and the fear that had washed over you the entire time. Luckily he was gone, otherwise you didn't know if you would have endured what he had to do to you. It was better to have him busy in a brothel than to have to endure him in your bed.

You wished you could talk to someone and cry on a loved one’s shoulder, only to realize a second later that that was impossible. Aegon was your new family, now you belonged to the Targaryens and you would have to do as they wished.

Anger completely overwhelmed you to the point where you stood up from your seat and began throwing pieces of glassware all over the room, in a violent outburst at what had just happened and the way you felt. None of the guards outside your door dared to come in to check on you and soon enough you fell back to the ground, exhausted from the effort.

As you cried, perhaps for the umpteenth time since you had been married, you thought about how you would never be able to love Prince Aegon. Not even if you tried.

THIRD ACT: PAIN

After months, the inevitable arrived. The truth was that the first time you felt sorrow and anger, but the following times it became more tolerable. Not because it was better, but because you began to get used to it. Aegon didn't change his attitude towards you one bit. You indeed spent more time together, although that didn’t mean that you got along better or that you had begun to have more sympathy for each other.

The only advantage was that you had started to be friends with some people in the palace. Your sister-in-law, to begin with, as well as some of the maids who were in charge of looking after you, as they turned out to be your only company during those days. Those distractions were more than enough for you, considering the situation you were in, and they kept you sane as time went by.

Almost like a punishment from heaven, it seemed that you weren’t pregnant yet, since your biological processes seemed to continue working to the letter. That meant that, unfortunately, you would have to keep trying; when Aegon was lost enough to forget who you were and you had to stand still as a statue to let him loom over you.

You often liked to imagine what your life would have been like if you had stayed in Highgarden. Nobody knew it yet, but there you had found your first love and although it never went beyond a few kisses, you treasured the memory with particular affection. You had always wanted to marry a sweet man who loved and respected you, who would give you your place as a wife and adore you day and night; someone with whom you could feel protected, cared for, but above all happy. You thought, naively, that that boy you had met and who was nothing more than a commoner could have given you that life, but all those possibilities were nothing more than fantasies in which you tried to lock yourself in to feel less miserable with your unpleasant reality.

One night Helaena had invited you to a modest dinner in her company that you couldn't refuse, since none of your husbands were present and some time with friends could clear your mind. You didn't even know where the prince was, although it was expected that he was spending some time in the town with his friends.

“Sometimes I feel sad about our situation,” said the blonde. You were in the privacy of her chambers, not even with the maids present, so confessions like that were allowed “But I am happy that you are my friend, something that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.”

“I'm glad to talk to you too,” you smiled sincerely. “You're the best thing I've found around here.”

“My brothers aren't that bad, they're just… well, we've had a hard life. And that's why they behave like that."

“I think there is no justification for being a…” idiot, you wanted to say, but you had to remember that you were in the presence of the princess, “a person who is rude to others. But I guess that happens with royalty, right? They do what they want without consequences”

"I guess so. Kings, princes, the heirs, lords, dukes…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laughed bitterly “It's probably a masculine quality.”

You never thought your sister-in-law would have that kind of humor and to be honest, most of the time she was a comic relief for the situations you two were going through. Sometimes her prophecies scared you, especially the way she phrased them, but you wanted to think that her premonitions would never affect you directly.

When you finally got tired of chatting and the food was finished, you decided to return to your room, so you could have a peaceful night's rest. It was raining outside and thunder echoed in the distance, making the atmosphere slightly gloomy, but at the same time cooling every corner of King's landing.

The novelty of your position was no longer important enough to require you to be escorted by guards twenty-four hours a day, so you were able to slowly walk through all the corridors that led to your sanctuary. It was modest but cute, although not on the level of Aegon’s.

A man was guarding the door and you bowed your head to him to let you pass, which he did without any opposition. Once inside you got rid of your shoes and unbuttoned your corset, not caring that the room was almost in darkness; only the moonlight illuminated from the window. You took a few steps forward and squealed when you discovered that there was another person in the room, sitting at the small table with a drink in his hand. You would have started screaming for help if you hadn't noticed that said intruder had silver hair falling like a curtain over his face.

"Your grace?" you asked cautiously.

It isn’t usual for Aegon to drink in your room, as he preferred other places with more interesting company, and when you didn’t receive an answer you approached slowly. You thought that at best he had simply fallen asleep and at worst he would be dead.

At first his long, wavy hair covered your view of his face, but when he noticed your presence he raised his head and then you could see him. His features became clearer as lightning illuminated him from the outside and for a second you were horrified.

His cheek was red and a trickle of blood was dripping from his nose, however, what surprised you the most was seeing his eyes completely swollen.

“For the seven, I… I'll go call a maester”

“Don't even think about it,” he exclaimed hoarsely, seeing that you were already rushing towards the door.

Your husband didn't sound like his usual angry tone, but rather he seemed... hurt.

You thought for a second about what the appropriate reaction to the situation was. You couldn't leave the room because, in addition to the guards murmuring, it would be impolite to leave him in that state; also, where would you go? If you ignored him, he would probably take it as an insult and he had already made it clear that he didn't want to see someone who could take care of those injuries.

You hated him, it was true, but you weren't an insensitive monster either.

"Who did this to you?"

Aegon was surprised by how soft, even kind, your question sounded and the intoxication gave him some courage to answer.

“My mother and my grandfather. Mostly my mother, my grandfather rather dedicated his efforts to reminding me how useless I am”

You didn't know what to say. You never believed that the queen would be capable of hitting one of her sons like that. You didn't believe it from any mother, actually.

With some trepidation you took one of the chairs and placed it in front of him, expecting him to immediately push you away or ask you to get out of his sight. However, the prince didn't seem to have enough energy to do any of those things.

He had a lost look on his face and tears began to run down his face.

“Nothing… nothing I do pleases her. Neither to her, nor to my grandfather. All the time they are pressuring me, demanding me, yelling at me. Apparently Otto still hopes that my father will name me king, but I've never wanted that. They blame me for drinking all the time and how do they expect them not to? My father cares so little about me and my mother hates me. All his life he has hated me. She does it, my brothers… and so do you. My own wife hates me. Everyone… everyone who knows me does it”

You were silent for a moment.

There were mixed feelings inside you, because you couldn't forget the mistreatment that the man had given you during those months, nor the way he used you for his pleasure. He was right when he said you hated him. However, there was a compassionate part of you, deep down, that felt sorry for the man's state.

“And sometimes I just want to be dead. I just wish all the shit would go away and drowning in alcohol and dying would take away Alicent's problem and allow her to focus her attention on something better”

His gaze lifted and he looked at you with crystallized eyes.

“Maybe you should poison me one day. So your suffering would also end”

“Your highness, I cannot do that”

“But would you like it? Do you hate me enough to wish me dead?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly.

"Liar. You lie like everyone else. You want me dead”

You knew that saying something negative at that moment, in the state he was in, could result in him making some incoherence that you would be blamed for the next morning. So it was best to act cautiously.

“I don't think anyone wants that”

“My mother does. My father, Rhaenyra does it, and so does her stupid new husband…”

“Your grace…” you interrupted him harshly. Listening to him sink into his self-indulgence was too much to bear “You better go to sleep, don't you think? Now you're not thinking clearly, you'll feel better in the morning."

But Aegon seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to anything you had to say to him.

“I guess I just wish someone wouldn't completely detest my existence, you know?”

Aegon had done terrible things to you, of course, but seeing him at that moment made you wonder if all of this was the product of poor parenting and psychological abuse that had been perpetuated for twenty long years. You couldn't say your father loved you, not after what he had done, but at least he hadn't constantly hurt you as the man in front of you had. You knew better than anyone that hate had to be healed with empathy and for a brief moment you felt soft for him.

Once Aegon was a small child, without sins, without accumulated hatred, without evil... and apparently that frightened child hadn’t been completely buried, because it was him who cried inconsolably and saw death as a viable alternative to end that suffering. However, there is no redemption without guilt, right? You don't get to heaven without first repenting.

You stayed silent for a long time, listening to him sob, and when you gathered the courage you spoke:

“Prince, can I be honest with you?”

You had spoken in a low and benevolent voice, while you slid from your chair until you were kneeling in front of him. The boy didn't even want to take advantage of that position for a sexual act, he was simply too tired and drained to think. You placed your hands on his knees and seeing that he nodded, you continued:

“You say you wish someone wouldn't hate you, but have you ever made an effort to do so? Or have you even wondered why people feel that way about you?”

“It's something natural for them”

“I didn't feel it,” you said, honestly. You hated the idea of getting married out of obligation, but if he had been different from the beginning maybe your feelings for him would be too “And you made me feel it. With your contempt, your humiliations, your punishments…”

“If everyone thinks you're a monster, what's the point of contradicting them?”

“And then you prefer to agree with them?”

You were probably taking too many liberties with the prince, but you would never have a chance to talk to him like that again. He was vulnerable and therefore less defensive than normal.

“Every person is responsible for their actions,” you continued. “You can't change how the queen or king feels about you, but you can choose to offer something better to others. If it’s your desire that people not hate you, that won’t happen overnight just because you tell it to. It takes time, effort and above all it requires kindness. If you live regretting the concept that people have of you, without doing anything to change it, then you will live a lifetime of dissatisfaction. If you seriously want someone to feel happy about your existence then pursue that goal, don’t expect it to be granted to you as a divine work.”

A deeper cry began to well up from the man and you almost thought he would lean down for your hug. Still, he didn't.

“I don't know how to be someone else. I have always been this”

“Not always, that's for sure. Water that stagnates rots and becomes a swamp. The one that runs, on the other hand, becomes a river and flows into the ocean.”

You raised the handkerchief you always carried and, in an act of kindness that was also intended to be an offering of peace, you gently wiped the tears and dried blood from his face. Aegon squirmed as he had never experienced that kind of care.

“You just have to ask yourself: what do you choose to be?”

For an endless moment he watched you. His judgment was clouded by drunkenness, but he wondered if he wasn't hallucinating and you were simply the voice of his conscience telling him something he had never wanted to accept.

It was easier to blame others for his mistakes, to justify himself by saying that everything about him was his mother's fault and that if he behaved the way he did it was only a defense mechanism. Aegon had never thought about how his treatment of women was a direct consequence of Alicent's upbringing: if his own mother had hurt him, why wouldn't other women do the same to him? And since he was convinced that they were all going to do it, he preferred to turn them into objects that he could use for his benefit.

He was so drunk and so exhausted from all the crying he had shed that he simply pushed your hand away from his face and stood up from the chair, without saying a word. You, now standing, saw him begin to undress and the first thing you thought was that he would seek to heal his sorrows by having sex with you. However, he only got rid of the essentials and then lay on his stomach on the bed. Without any choice, you took off your clothes for the day, put on a nightgown and also lay down on the mattress to sleep.

You were sure that the next day Aegon wouldn’t remember anything and you weighed the possibility of the whole story repeating itself, in an endless and painful loop for the two of you. And if you were right, it would be a shame if you had to live like this for the rest of your days.

FOURTH ACT: REDEMPTION

“Do you know where Meryna is?” you asked one of the maids who had come in to change your bedding.

“No, your grace”

“I'm starting to get hungry and she still hasn't brought my breakfast,” you exclaimed sadly.

You had woken up a while ago and had gotten dressed to go for a walk after eating, to see if this would cheer you up a little. It had been a few days since Aegon had opened up in the privacy of your room and after that you had barely seen him, much less spoken to him. You believed that everything was due to a matter of pride or even shame for what you had witnessed and you simply didn’t give it importance, because you knew that eventually he would approach you again. You just had to wait for him to want to do it.

Almost as if by summons, the black-haired girl appeared through the door, looking agitated and embarrassed by the delay. Furthermore, she came empty-handed.

"Princess…"

“Didn't you bring breakfast?” you asked, still sounding cordial but slightly surprised.

“I'm very sorry, it's just that Prince Aegon asked me to bring the food to the royal dining room. He is waiting for you there, he told me to come and get you.”

He hadn’t mentioned requiring your presence for any breakfast and, according to you, there were no guests in the palace to accompany. The two women noticed your dismay and Meryna stood waiting for a response.

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, your grace”

"Good. Then tell him I'll be there in a moment."

You only took a few minutes to change your dress, one more suitable for being in the presence of the prince and in case there was a guest you didn't know about. There were no guards at your door so you were able to walk to the dining room by yourself and were surprised to see that only your husband was at the table. He had an expression that you interpreted as a mix of impatience and nerves.

“Oh, you finally arrived. Sit down. You, bring the princess something to drink,” he ordered a maid. He used to call you that in the presence of guests, but it was rare for him to have that courtesy when alone.

“Are we waiting for someone?”

"No. I just thought you might want to have breakfast together.”

You were already sitting next to him, and for a second you watched him with a frown. Had he hit his head somewhere or why was he acting so strange?

“Do you prefer juice or wine, your highness?

"Juice"

“And bring her some strawberries,” Aegon exclaimed.

There was something about the situation that scared you, because you imagined that he wouldn't be treating you so kindly without wanting something in return. But you were already his wife and he did whatever he wanted with you, what more could he want from you?

You looked him up and down, as if searching for some sign, but he looked completely normal. He was wearing one of those full black robes he was used to, with a golden chain with emeralds decorating the hem of his neck and a belt accentuating his figure. The dark circles in his eyes were pronounced, as always, but the look was not that of someone angry; you would even say that he looked somewhat passive, even sleepy.

While you were thinking about all that, you remembered the last conversation you had had with him. You feared that madness had finally exploded in your husband and the food you were about to eat was poisoned, as he had suggested at the time. Perhaps out of courtesy he was waiting for you to take the first bite and, trying to control the trembling in your hands, you took a portion of the cold cuts on your plate to put it in your mouth. Luckily the food didn't taste different and after seeing that the man ate it with the utmost calmness, you assumed that it didn't contain any poison either.

There was freshly baked bread, jam, some cheeses, the aforementioned cold cuts, a variety of fruits, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs and chives, as well as some stuffed buns for dessert. It was a mini banquet and as you ate it you couldn't help but wonder why this show of kindness was due.

Aegon didn't seem to have any intention of talking and you didn't try to force him, not wanting to either. The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, one you had not experienced since your wedding day until now, and it was a very different but strangely pleasant feeling.

It was just a couple sharing breakfast time, but for two people who come from such a broken home it felt like a totally new experience.

You continued in silence until most of the things served were finished, leaving only what wasn’t to your palate's liking or that your body was simply no longer able to ingest.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

“Clear this table, we won't eat anymore,” he said to the maid, nonchalantly pointing to the leftovers you had left. Then he looked at you “Satisfied?”

"I am. Everything was delicious”

“I want us to do the same tomorrow. I will send a maid for you, so get ready soon,” he said decisively.

Then he got up from his chair, stretched a little, and left the room without saying anything else to you.

You didn't see your husband the rest of the day, but the next morning he kept his promise without fail. Although the breakfast menu was different the routine was the same and again it made you wonder what the reason for it was.

The next day he also requested your presence for breakfast and you concluded that he intended to make it a habit. For the rest of the morning you were supposed to dedicate yourself to your activities, but after a week of following that routine Aegon informed you that he had other plans for you.

“I want you to come with me for a walk.”

"To the exterior?"

"Yeah. I have training with Ser Criston but I don't wish to attend, so you will be my excuse. I'll tell him that the princess wanted to go for a walk and that I couldn't let her go alone."

He was telling you that lie almost like a childish prank and you would swear he was about to smile.

“Huh, okay. If you want it, we will”

You were still confused by his actions, because in all the time you had been there it was the first time he treated you decently. You didn't know if he was still drinking in large quantities, but at least when he went to sleep he no longer reeked of liquor in the same way. And all that week he hadn't forced you to have sex with him.

What had motivated the prince to change his way of behaving towards you?

"Do you want to go to the beach? I will order a couple of horses to be saddled for us” he exclaimed when you had already left the dining room.

You couldn't refuse to go to the bay, because in your entire life you had never seen the ocean and your curiosity was greater than any other feeling. Besides, you loved horses, and being with them might even make you feel better.

Aegon did as he told you and soon enough you were in the stable. He had ordered a beautiful white mare for you, with a silver mane the color of your husband's hair and a formidable build.

You approached to pet the animal, carefully, and tensed completely when you felt another body behind yours. Until that moment you hadn't realized how warm your husband was.

“She's pretty, right?”

His voice sounded at your ear level, as he had also reached out to touch Frostfire’s hair.

"She is"

“I guess you know how to ride,” he muttered under his breath and you let out an offended sigh.

“Of course I do. Highgarden is the heart of the chivalry of the seven kingdoms”

After saying that you turned your head just a little and met his gaze, indigo eyes with hints of lilac looking at you carefully. You could feel his breath against yours and at that closeness your cheeks had already turned red involuntarily.

He separated from you and then went to choose his horse, a black thoroughbred with beautiful braids, to get on it and ask the guards to open the door for you. You almost managed to sneak away, but Ser Criston stopped the two of you just before you could do so, claiming that he had a scheduled practice with the prince.

“I'm taking my wife to Blackwater, she hasn't had a chance to visit since her arrival.”

“But your grace, your father…”

“We will continue with training later, Ser Criston,” he said firmly.

“Will you go to Blackwater without an escort?”

“I will”

"That's impossible"

“Don't worry, I don't want to be accompanied. Just rest for now.”

“But you are the prince.”

"Exactly. I am the prince and I want my orders to be respected."

The boy was a smug son of a bitch when he put his mind to it, just like now. The man had no choice but to obey the words and then the two of you were able to leave. You could get there on foot, but Aegon had felt like riding and had wanted an alternative to quickly escape if something went wrong.

You walked along a path that still belonged to the Red Keep grounds, so there was no great danger of being attacked along the way, and you soon reached the bay. It was even more beautiful up close and as soon as you got off the mare you forgot any courtesy towards your husband, as you rushed towards the shore to watch the waves crash. Your pumps and dress were soaked when the water reached your calves, but it didn't bother you too much because you were happy for the reason.

“Have you never been to the ocean?”

“I'm afraid not, your grace. There was never any business that required me to be on the coast of The Reach and I have always lived surrounded by hills and forests. I had seen some rivers, but…”

Before you could continue your story you staggered because of a wave and to avoid falling you tried to hold on to whatever was within reach, which turned out to be the man next to you. He supported you from the elbows with his strong arms.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. For the first time in your presence, he had laughed “But we should get away from the shore. I wouldn't want to take you back to the castle all soaked”

You heeded the boy's advice and, still leaning on him, walked towards the sand. The sky was slightly cloudy, so the weather was perfect for walking around without any discomfort.

“I've never visited Highgarden, is it as impressive as rumored?” he asked, as he began to walk in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

Although you never believed that the prince would be interested in such things, you began to talk to him about your hometown with particular emotion. You told him about his surroundings, about the castle and you also told in greater detail the gardens that once belonged to you and were full of golden roses, as was the emblem of your house.

You were surprised by how attentive the boy was to everything you had to say to him and for the first time since your arrival, you didn't feel like a stranger in your own skin. Talking about your home was like remembering a part of yourself, as if you were showing him your insides through stories of the beautiful hills where you had ridden so many times.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” he concluded. The sea breeze had already ruffled both of your hair and he took advantage of this to brush a strand out of your face “Someday I should go visit it”

“Yes, maybe you would like that” you exclaimed smiling. You had come too far and it was time to walk back, towards where you had left Frostfire and Moonshadow tied up “Your grace, may I ask you a question?”

"Yeah"

You opened your mouth to ask him why he was doing all that and why he had suddenly started showing so much interest in you. You wanted to know the reason for his unexpected kindness and his abstinence from activities that weren’t very pleasant for you. But before you could speak, you took a moment to observe him. His skin looked paler in the light outside and his silver hair waved in the wind, however, what caught your attention the most was the serene expression on his face.

Although you couldn't say that you knew Aegon, the time you had lived together had shown you that his personality was extremely challenging. If you pointed out that he was being nicer to you and questioned him about it, he would most likely revert to his old behavior towards you simply on a whim. So no, you couldn't ask him about anything or you'd ruin the minuscule part of a good relationship you had managed to build.

“I was thinking... Do you think we can one day bring golden roses to the royal gardens? Green and gold are part of your emblem too and that would beautify the place. I could take care of them, if you want.”

“That's a good idea,” he exclaimed happily. You had already turned around to return and you calculated that it must be after noon “I will order them to be brought in as soon as possible, in the hope that the hot weather at King's landing will not ruin them”

“I hope not,” you said, although a little less enthusiastic than before.

You had been lost in thought after the appearance of that question that you did not verbalize and suddenly Aegon feared that he had made some mistake. You walked a few meters in silence, until this state was unbearable for his majesty and he stopped you by holding your shoulders. You were about to ask what had happened when he pulled you against his lips, stealing your breath. It was still a rough kiss, but this time less desperate than before. His hands went down to your waist and held you to his body until there wasn’t even a centimeter of distance left, with your belly touching the heat of his stomach.

“Still no signs that you are pregnant?”

You thought that, perhaps, your answer was in that question and that the only thing the man wanted was to convince you to hurry up the matter of producing an heir.

“I'm sorry to say no. It's very unfortunate."

“We'll have to keep trying,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to downplay the matter “Mother insists on it.”

“Has your mother always been like this to you?”

"What are you talking about?"

“It's just… she seems to have everything under control all the time.”

You couldn't be further from the truth and rather than describing it that way Aegon would have said that she was controlling. She wanted to have things under control, but she couldn't and as an example was the eldest prince himself, whom she had never been able to persuade to behave the way he did.

“Well, she is the queen. I guess that's how she must be” he exclaimed without much encouragement. He was still holding you by the waist and was surprised by how intimate that position was. “But we better get back, they must be wondering where we are”

“Maybe they even think I ran away, taking advantage of the fact that you weren't there to watch me,” you joked.

"Would you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Run away”

You looked at the man, incredulous, because it was stupid to think that if you were planning to run away you would just tell him like that. That was the characteristic of it, that it was surprising and hidden.

“Why would I do, your grace?”

“Maybe because I'm a bad husband,” he said quietly. You weren't understanding the game Aegon was playing and it was driving you crazy.

“I wouldn't dare do it. I have nowhere to go and I know I couldn't even get through the doors without your majesty noticing,” you replied.

The prince didn’t want pragmatic reasons like that, but rather his question was more aimed at whether it was your will to abandon him.

Against all odds a couple of raindrops began to fall and very soon a storm had already brewed over your head. It was useless to run, but you did it anyway and Aegon held your hand to prevent either of you from falling due to a trip. Somewhere along the way you lost one of your pumps and at this you began to laugh and he, infected by your joy, did the same. It amused you greatly to think of the face the queen would make when she saw you enter the castle, with her eldest son soaked from head to toe and your clothing incomplete. But you also laughed from the joy of feeling so alive in that moment. You felt like a girl playing in the rain and despite the coldness of the falling water, you felt a certain warmth traveling from the tips of your fingers to your chest.

Although he was sure that you were an excellent rider, your husband insisted on taking you on his own horse to avoid any accidents and you agreed without complaint. His body sheltered you all the way to the Red Keep and once there, under the roof, he helped you down from the chair with extreme care. You didn't think he was that strong until you felt him grab your waist and place you on the floor effortlessly.

“Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you, or you will catch a cold,” he said, putting on your back a cloak he had found hanging on one of the walls.

There was the hint of a smile on his face and seeing him behave like this towards you made you feel weird. You almost felt like he was trying to be affectionate with you, even though he wasn't quite succeeding.

“You should do the same,” you exclaimed softly.

Motivated by the kind moment you had shared, you reached out to brush away the wet hair that had stuck to his face and he shivered at your touch. It was the first time you touched him that way, out of conviction and with care.

“Your majesty, Lord Hand is looking for you. He says he needs to talk to you urgently."

“My grandfather,” he sighed at you, as if wanting to apologize for the words the guard behind you had just said.

He gave the man Moonshadow's reins and then explained that someone had to go get the horse you had left in the bay, so you assumed your presence there was no longer necessary. You were about to leave when he stopped you, grabbing your arm somewhat roughly and looking at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher.

“I'll go to your room tonight,” he informed.

You felt a little disappointed by the reality of having to share a bed with him, after so long without having done so, but you were grateful that he was at least warning you.

You nodded your goodbyes and he did the same, forming an unspoken agreement. You thought maybe that was why he had been polite to you, so he could get back under your bed sheets. But there was no point in doing it, he wasn't courting you to win your hand, but you were already his wife and he had made it very clear that he could do with you whatever he wanted.

Still a little confused, you were escorted to your bedroom, where you hoped that a tub with hot water and essences would be enough to appease all those doubts that were growing in you.

FIFTH ACT: LOVE

At some point Aegon would get tired of all this, you were sure. But while that moment arrived, you were thoroughly enjoying all kinds of attention you received from your husband. He kept his promise to bring golden roses for the gardens and although the queen wasn’t very happy, in the end they adorned some of the busiest sections of the place. You took that as an act of good faith, so you thought that maybe the thought of repaying him for some of the decency he was showing you wouldn't kill you.

There wasn’t a single breakfast that you skipped, except when the prince was required for political matters or had to travel. You were too proud to admit that you had begun to genuinely enjoy his company, as you still had some distrust due to how temperamental the man was. It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, as the young man still had some outbursts that made you fear him and reminded you that this was who you were really talking to.

His drinking habits hadn’t changed much, since although he was able to handle it during the first week after that period, it was inevitable that he would go back to his old ways and drink an entire jug of wine in a couple of minutes. With sex it was the same, because he continued to fuck you without signs of care and regularly when he was lost in drink. It amused you to think that perhaps that was the reason why you still didn't carry a child in your womb; that he was too drunk when you tried to be of any use.

However, as your relationship strengthened you could notice slight (you almost swore they were imaginary) changes when having sex. He was no longer as rough towards your body as before and tried to thrust into you a little slower, as if he wanted to lengthen the moment and not just unload into you and sleep like a baby after that. Maybe it was just that the drink made him lethargic, but he had even started seeking your lips in the middle of the act or kissing everything within reach of the skin on your neck. You didn't intend to spend much time analyzing his behavior because for you it already represented a victory that he had stopped hurting you after every time you had sex and, honestly, you didn't want to inquire about it. Once again you thought it was more prudent not to question the prince and simply let him continue behaving that way.

Until one night, things looked different for you.

When you heard your husband open the door, quite late at night, and saw him approach your bed, you knew that the same dynamic of nighttime visits would take place. Aegon, already hard as a rock, would kiss you a few times, undress, order you to undress, and then position on top of you to satisfy himself. Needless to say, under the confidence that being in the dark gave you and your husband's lack of interest, you looked away or concentrated on something else while your martyrdom was carried out. He would finish, lie naked next to you, and then sleep soundly with no memory the next morning of what had happened.

Aegon called your name, just to check that you were awake or otherwise wake you up, and you were surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. He wasn't slurring his words like usual.

"Your grace?" you called back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him.

He did what was expected and as soon as he was far enough away, he started kissing you. You must have known something was wrong from that first moment, when he grabbed your cheek with his wide hand and offered you the most passionate kiss you had ever had. It is reiterated that Aegon was always somewhat careless in intimacy, but this first contact hadn’t felt as impatient as others, but rather was something more careful and planned.

Only one other man had kissed you like that in your life and although the feeling brewing in your chest must have been pleasant, the truth was that it wasn't. You had endured too much abuse from the white-haired man so your body didn't know how to react otherwise. That's why when he continued kissing you for longer than usual and then laid you down meekly, you couldn't do anything but tense uncomfortably.

You were only in your nightgown so there wasn't much difficulty in sliding the straps to the side, almost exposing your tits. Suddenly Aegon lowered his kisses to your neck, where his stubble scratched your skin. Knowing that he would be busy in that area, you turned your head away to focus your gaze on a tapestry on the wall. However, you got a surprise when you felt the prince move away from you and then a bigger one when he took your face between his fingers, placing his index finger and thumb on each of your cheeks to force you to look at him. At first you thought there was anger in his eyes, but after looking at them for a second more you concluded that the feeling was more like that of someone insulted. And why? you asked yourself. What had you done that had offended the prince?

“Why are you looking away?”

His question had a certain aggressive tone, but, at the same time, he sounded hurt. With that you confirmed that he wasn’t drunk or that, if he was, he had drunk just enough to make him feel slightly dizzy. You couldn't tell the way your eyes looked at him, but Aegon interpreted your expression as one of disdain.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his own whirlwind of feelings inside him, one that was driving him crazy and causing him to look you up and down while still holding you. He’d never been like this on another night, so you were at the mercy of knowing how good or bad that would turn out.

Suddenly he seemed upset, you would even say disgusted, and surprisingly stood up from his position. The cold air hit you where he had been before and you sat on the bed to watch him, completely confused by the way he was behaving.

"What's going on…?"

“You don't want this,” he spoke firmly. It was obvious that you didn't want to and you wondered how he had barely realized it. “Not like that… I… no. Not this way"

His babbling confused you even more and when you saw him walk away with exaggerated steps until he left through the door, you couldn't help but feel totally amazed.

What was the reason for what your husband had just done?

The feeling of being abandoned was more hopeless than having him fuck you would have been, and for a moment you even felt ashamed. Maybe he didn't like you anymore or he would just go and cure his frustration in the bed of a woman you didn't know.

He had watched you very strangely and the whole scene wasn't like him. You even pinched yourself just to check that it wasn't some strange dream, getting a moan of pain in response to your question. You thought that perhaps you were acting impulsively, but barely a minute later you put on a green robe over your nightgown and headed towards the door, still not knowing exactly what you were going to do.

“Where are you going, your grace?” the guard on duty asked, putting his voluptuous body in your way.

“Prince Aegon, do you know where he went?”

“In that direction, your majesty. But I'm afraid I must recommend that you return to your room, it is dangerous to walk around the palace at this time."

“But I wish to see my husband,” you said firmly.

The man let out a sigh and then slid to the side of the hallway, leaving you a clear path. Even so, when you started walking you felt his footsteps following you because he probably wanted to make sure that something didn't happen to you. You walked for a while, but you knew it was useless when all you found were locked doors that you couldn't knock on and that you couldn't open either. If Aegon was in any of those rooms, you wouldn't know it. Defeated, you returned to your room and, as expected, found it empty again.

The next morning there wasn’t a single word about that event, but it was present in your mind throughout the day. You had already lived with him enough to realize that something was bothering him, however, upon noticing that he was less talkative during your usual breakfast, you decided to give him time.

You were about to leave the table when he stopped you, asking you to take your seat again and looking at you seriously.

“I have to travel for a couple of weeks,” he informed you. You were surprised to hear that he almost sounded sad “The king is required on some business and since my father can no longer travel, I will have to do it.”

“I hope the entire journey is favorable and the visit profitable, your grace,” you exclaimed cordially. However, your husband didn’t seem pleased with it.

One of his hands slid to hold yours, with a strength that surprised you. There was urgency in his grip, like he needed to hold on to something.

“Is that all you have to say?”

A couple of wrinkles appeared on your brow, as you clearly weren't understanding what he expected of you. Accompanying him would be reckless and you didn't know if he wanted you to keep him there at King's landing.

During those last months something had changed in the man's face, because those eyes surrounded by purple marks no longer saw you with the same aversion as the first time. And it disheartened Aegon that his attempts to please you were yielding no apparent fruit. He was giving you time, effort, and being kind to you like you had said was necessary, but he still couldn't help but feel that you still considered him a stranger.

He had been patient because he thought that, as time went by, you would begin to seek him out or not shy away from his touch. Aegon cared a lot about the physical, so every time he sneaked into your room he did so with the hope that you would welcome him with open arms and give yourself to him willingly. Countless nights he waited in his own room for you to show up to keep him warm and love him throughout the night. But it never happened and a part of him couldn't blame you either.

However, he was already tired of it. He wanted to make it clear to you that he not only wanted to give, but also receive. But forcing you to do anything would ruin everything; you had to want it.

“Have I said something that offended you, prince?”

“I just thought you would say you were going to miss me”

A laugh echoed in your throat at those words and for a second Aegon felt hurt, like you were mocking you. He was going to let go of your hand and walk away, insulted, but you squeezed his hand harder as a sign that you didn't want him to do that.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I just didn't think that if I harbored feelings of that kind they would be of interest to your majesty."

“Do you miss me when you don't see me?” he asked now, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you “Or are you glad to have me away?”

You didn't know what those direct questions were about, because you didn't expect that a man like him would be plagued by uncertainty about knowing the answers.

“Not at all. I will always be willing to be with you whenever you want.”

“And you want to be with me?” he insisted.

“I think that what I want is not important”

“But I'm trying to make it so. I thought I was making it clear enough,”

He was angry, but not for the reasons you might think. It frustrated him that he was trying hard to improve and that your eyes continued to see him like that first time. Too many people were already observing him like that and he thought that, perhaps, since you were the most recent to do it, you could also be the first in whom he could manage to modify it.

You, however, were still too confused by his signs. Sometimes his attitude didn’t coincide with the intentions he had, since antipathy was often the only emotion with which he allowed himself to express and feel, accustomed to what he received during all his years of life.

All those months of effort were a direct product of the talk you had had with him, of that moment of weakness in which, instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you had stayed with him. Aegon was aware that the treatment towards you was sometimes inhumane and he couldn’t explain how despite this you had wiped away his tears with such care, expressing nothing more than an act of integrity. Sometimes he even just imposed things on you to see if he could push you to the limit and he was surprised to see that you endured everything with honor and decency. You were good, something he could never be.

He didn't want to hear anything more and then let go of your hand, feeling rejected again.

"Majesty…"

"It's getting late. I have to go feed Sunfyre so he can endure the trip.”

“Will you travel by dragon?”

“How else would a Targaryen do it?” expressed obviously.

You were silent for a moment and then he stood up, ready to fulfill his obligations. In the afternoon he had already left, without emotional goodbyes or anything like that.

You had those weeks alone to reflect on everything that had been happening. You firmly believed that a cruel and evil person would always be that way, even if they hid it, because humans can’t change from one day to the next. Still, you had to allow Aegon the courtesy of admitting that he wasn't being a complete jerk lately.

You tried to think of any unpleasant moments with him during that week and although you found a couple, you realized that they had all been because of minor arguments or simply that one of the two of you had woken up in a bad mood. The hatred for the boy had been so ingrained in you that now it was difficult to decipher how much of it was due to things that were really happening and how much of it was a resentment carried from the past, at the beginning of that harmful relationship that existed between you.

He was no longer a mean man to you, he just sometimes had those logical slips for anyone who has never been taught to love. He didn't know how to care for you, how to talk to you, or even how to touch you properly. He had always existed alone and could still be seen reflected in his incessant desire for you to be the one to look for him, in his longing to know that you would miss him during his absence and in wanting you to look forward to his return. He wanted you to pay attention to him. He needed it.

One fine afternoon the vision of Sunfyre finally appeared in the bright blue of the sky, with you watching from the huge window of your room. He looked majestic, flying deftly and confidently with the rider above him grinning from ear to ear. Aegon had once confessed to you that he loved to fly on his dragon and he spoke about it with a devotion that completely touched you.

You thought about going to look for him, grateful that he had returned, but you were afraid that your presence would bother him or, in that case, that there would be murmurs about you. You didn't want to seem like a desperate wife so you thought it would be best to look for him at dinner time and in case he wanted to see you before, you stayed in your room all afternoon.

Once night fell, you put on one of your prettiest dresses and went to the royal dining room hoping to find him there, but it was in vain. Luckily one of the cooks had seen him and he told you that he was in his room, since he had ordered that something to eat and drink be brought there.

Determined, you made your way there and took a moment before entering. You hoped that the time away from King's landing had not hardened your lover's character, because it would be a shame to waste what you had built for some time and have to start over, or not do it at all, which would be even worse. Since there were no guards at the door, you were able to push the wood without any hindrance and then you saw it.

Aegon was sitting near the fireplace, his back to the entrance and leaning against a table that had a jug that you assumed was full (or not so full anymore) of wine. When he heard your footsteps he turned slightly and when he saw you, he kept a serene expression on his face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed quietly.

“The maids informed me that you were here” you explained and he nodded.

You noticed that he no longer wore his black doublet with the Targaryen emblem, he only kept the breeches of the same color and a mint-colored linen shirt that left part of his chest exposed. His white hair had some natural curls that fell delicately over her shoulders.

“Yeah. I don't feel like seeing my parents.”

“I understand” you assumed that if he hadn't wanted to see you he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, so you approached him. Undecided whether you should greet him with a kiss or just stay to the side, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned a little to look at him “How was the trip?”

“It was good,” he responded with reluctance. “But my body feels completely crushed”

“Hm. It shows” you whispered, amused. The tension in his body was palpable and that's why you began to massage him, pressing hard just where he needed it. Aegon, feeling your skilled hands doing this, let out a satisfied grunt and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Doing that wasn’t something you had planned when you went there, it had only happened out of the heat of the moment and the reality that your husband's body was taking its toll on him for the hours he had spent riding his dragon.

With each passing second Aegon's burden felt lighter and lighter, wondering where you had learned those movements and how your hands were strong enough to exert the right pressure.

"Feel better?" you asked kindly and he nodded immediately, eyes still closed.

Suddenly one of your hands slid lower, towards his chest, to caress him. This time your fingers were light as feathers, sending an electrical current up and down the man's spine under your touch. No whore had ever touched him like that, with that force and at the same time so delicately.

But it was clear that you were not a whore. You were his wife.

“Come here,” he said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist and pulling you directly into his lap.

It was extremely painful to admit that he had missed you. He was physically frustrated because he hadn't dared to take any other woman in your absence. It had been a long time since he had frequented pleasure houses, since his appetite was awakened only by being with you.

What the hell had you done to him?

“The cook told me that you ordered some food, but I only see wine around here. Have you already eaten anything?”

“Mhmm,” he said absently. Your legs dangled to the side and one of his hands came up to your face, brushing your loose hair away from it. The other one surrounded you until it planted itself firmly on your belly. “Still no signs of anything?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The maesters can’t say with certainty… I am sorry”

“What if you are sterile?” the mere possibility of it made you nervous and you wondered what your fate would be if that was the case. Aegon didn't look so worried “What a disappointment for Alicent.”

You didn't know how to take that, because on the one hand it could be that your husband was amused by the irony of the matter and on the other hand it was that he would never have wanted to have children with you. For a moment you thought that the tranquility of the environment had been fragmented by this, but it turned out that the man couldn't care less. He was completely focused on your lips, almost as if hypnotized.

“I trust that is not the case, your grace. Just… it was a streak of bad luck.”

“I guess so,” he murmured nonchalantly. He was still watching your mouth when you spoke “But now I don’t care much about that.”

He carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you closer to shorten the distance, giving you an eager kiss that took your breath away. The hand that was on your waist pulled you closer to his body, leaving practically no separation between you and him. You could feel the desperation on his lips and in his touch, like he was eager to make you his. And at the same time, he was kissing you like he had never done before: it was sweet, yearning, passionate. You felt like he really wanted you.

He separated from you so you could breathe and, as best he could, he maneuvered to lift your body until he placed you on the table, where it was easier for him to place himself in the space between your legs. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck and wrapped one of your legs around his body.

“I longed for you. These weeks” you finally confessed. You heard him, and felt him, breathe more erratically at this because your words had fallen on him with the force of an axe.

From there, Aegon acted solely driven by the feeling of knowing that you had wanted to see him as much as he had wanted to see you.

His entire body leaned over you to kiss you, with the same urgency as at the beginning. While he did that he grabbed you by the lower back, pulling you until your body collided with his crotch which, if it wasn't already hard, wouldn't take long.

His kisses were clumsy due to urgency and after a while he moved away from your mouth to descend to your neck. Sometimes he left a kiss or two, at most, but this time he seemed to want to take his time. His tongue ran all over your skin, freshly washed, and he spread caresses without restraint. Every place the dragon's lips touched lit up with fire and his hips grinding against you weren't doing much for the blush on your cheeks. Inevitably you began to sigh from so many stimuli, right at the level of his ear, which only motivated him to continue.

As best he could he pulled the laces on the back of your dress and it didn't take long to get rid of the restraints. He slid one of your sleeves over your shoulder to begin kissing that section, the same way he had done with your neck. An indiscreet moan escaped you as your husband bit into your soft flesh and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“You're mine, right?” he sighed brokenly. You had tilted your head back to give him more space and he took the opportunity to lower the entire torso of your dress. “Only mine…”

With the same devotion he took care of your breasts and you couldn't do anything but continue alternating between sighs and some muffled moans. You could feel how he longed for you, eager to be able to kiss every inch of your skin even if it took him the entire night. Suddenly your body had become a temple, an object worthy of worship. The prince continued to distribute kisses that each time descended towards your belly, until with one hand he violently threw everything that was on the table and you ended up lying completely on it. Then he walked away.

You were about to ask what had happened when he took care of taking off your ballerina flats and throwing them somewhere far away in the room, only to stretch your leg up to the height of his torso to start kissing it. No one, not even him, had ever done that to you, so it was natural for you to be dismayed. His kisses moved quickly up your thigh and once he did that, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The skirt of your dress blocked your view and when you tried to get up something made you scream. Aegon had bitten into the tender flesh of your thighs, quite close to your crotch and with more force than he had hit your shoulder. You could only imagine his face when he carefully licked the mark he had surely left on you, once again making your chest exhale a moan.

What he did next and the sensation it caused, you could never have even imagined. That mouth, which most of the time was used for ironic puns and sloppy kisses, was now taking expert care of all of your pussy. Aegon was devouring you completely, touching just where it was necessary to make you squirm on the table. He wasn't careful at all; it was a touch hungry and extremely dirty.

You wanted to hold on as much as you could to keep yourself attached to reality, but it was difficult with your husband eating you like that. One of his arms wrapped around your leg and placed it over his shoulder, probably to give him better access. You had never moaned like that in his presence and it only made him harder and harder beneath the tight fabric of his breeches.

The pleasure was barely getting to your head when he stopped and a dissatisfied grunt escaped you shamelessly. Aegon laughed unabashedly at this, pleased at the control he had gained over you, and then went up again to kiss you hungrily. You couldn't do anything but welcome his salty lips and you moaned against him as he leaned against your body and you could feel his crotch, not knowing if it was your own wetness or his that was present.

He held you from behind and, without stopping kissing you, carried you until he placed you on the bed. You considered it somewhat unfair that your husband already had you trembling beneath him and still hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing, but your complaints were silenced when he hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head and took off his breeches in record time. In the same way, he pulled your dress towards your legs so that a second later it ended up on the floor, along with everything else.

He knelt down on the mattress and spread your legs roughly, lining himself up with your entrance. He began to rub the tip of his member up and down your already wet center and that did nothing but drive you crazy again.

When a delicate, pleading, «please» escaped your swollen lips, Aegon knew it was more stimulating to have you begging for him than to worry about only satisfying himself.

He played with you for a while longer, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of his delicate, pretty wife vibrating from having him close, until he finally plunged into you. For the first time there was enough wetness in you that the stroke felt satisfying rather than painful and both of you let out a delicious moan.

He set the pace, slow at first, but after a while his movements became more desperate. He wanted to get to the core of you, he wanted to fill you completely so you knew that only he could make you feel that way. When his body began to ache he leaned towards you, resting each of his arms on the side of your head and looking directly at you. You had stopped looking away from him, now you were looking at him with your mouth open with pleasure, your eyes watery and your pupils dilated on your completely flushed cheeks.

“Aegon,” you sobbed pathetically, clouded by everything you were experiencing and proving that it wasn't long before you reached your orgasm.

You had never called him by his name. You always referred to him as «your grace», «prince» or «husband», at best. So hearing his name come out of your lips like that, under those circumstances, was too much for him to bear.

Knowing that he couldn't last much longer, one of his hands moved down to rest his thumb on your clit and once there he began to make erratic circles. You closed your eyes, completely seized by pleasure and a couple more thrusts were enough to make you lose the battle. Hearing your whimpers, combined with the way your walls squeezed him, was enough to make him cum too. With trembling legs you felt the warm liquid filling you and, for the first time, it was comforting.

When Aegon plopped down next to you, you immediately missed his body warmth. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath that the orgasm had taken from you. You could clearly feel your heartbeat bouncing off your bare chest and the stinging sensation coming from your crotch and running through your entire body was something you could get used to. Your hair had stuck to your face from the sweat and not to mention your lips, which you felt were burning from your husband's attention.

Aegon had already had many orgasms in his life so this time he decided to turn his gaze a little to see you enjoying yours. The mere idea that he was responsible for your condition made him completely shake.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. You thought he had heard wrong because of the rush, but from the way he was smiling at you, you highly doubted it. “Just like that”

“Like what?”

“Freshly fucked. Well fucked” he corrected himself.

A laugh bubbled up from within you and you blushed even more, if that was possible, perhaps from the nerves and elation of what had just happened. The man stood up a little from his seat and leaned down to kiss you, although this time he did it with a calm and affection that you never thought you would see in him. It was just that he couldn't deny it anymore; from that moment on he would become an open book for you, where you could see all his feelings, desires and fears.

“I don't know why you're doing this,” you suddenly murmured and Aegon pulled away enough to look at you “And I don't know why you've been acting like this these past few months. But I like it. I think it's a good time for you to know."

“You said I could choose who I am,” he said meekly. One of his hands grabbed your chin and stole another fleeting kiss from you. “I haven't forgotten, every word is present in my head. It's just... sometimes it's hard. And I thought I would have a better chance with you, even with the things I did to you when we got married”

You smiled at him and were happy to know that the change in his behavior was because of the talk you once had with him. If he continued like this, ignoring the demons inside him and trying to be better, then your marriage had a chance to become more than just a condemnation.

Driven by the pleasant feeling growing in your chest you reached out towards him to reward him with a kiss. The man's breath hitched when you pushed him to the side and reversed roles, now you being the one pampering him while he was lying down. There was a playful glint in your husband's eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you know this is the first time you kissed me?” he exhaled softly.

You couldn't believe that was possible and for a few seconds you tried to remember so you could contradict him. But every time you remembered you realized that it was always him who initiated the contact to which you only responded, so, effectively, it was the first kiss you gave him out of conviction.

Maybe it was an omen that something good was coming.

Still happy with how everything had turned out, you snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest while he hugged you and threw a sheet over your bodies. You planted a hand on his bare skin and began drumming your fingers, alternating with small circles made with the greatest delicacy.

You were silent for a long time, you even thought that your husband had fallen asleep until you heard him speak again:

“It's also the first time I'm doing this.”

“Are you talking about sex, your grace?”

“No, I'm talking about cuddling,” he confessed softly, his hand caressing your back the same way you did with him, “And don't call me your majesty anymore. I am Aegon. Or my prince, at any rate. But my is important”

With the affection worthy of a wife, you raised your head to place a kiss on his cheek and assured him that from now on you would call him that in the privacy of your chambers.

Suddenly, after another moment of silence, Aegon pulled you close to him as if afraid you were going to suddenly evaporate. Intending to calm his fears, you climbed until you were on top of his body, hiding your head in his neck so that the distance became minimal.

There was silence for another couple of minutes.

“Do you think I can ever be forgiven?”

Apparently the atmosphere of the moment had managed to soften the boy's heart.

“We can all be absolved, Aegon.”

"And you?"

"Me what?"

“Do you think you can ever love me?” you were quiet for a second, thinking about your response. Then, he added “Or could you at least try? It would be a nice detail for me. No one has ever done it before.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood with a false word you decided to kiss his neck gently and that was enough of an answer for him. He would have to trust in your goodwill and that he could continue to restrain his impulses to keep this newly discovered gem that was his wife. With some luck you could even be that person he prayed for so much all his life, one with whom he could feel safe.

The slowing of the man's breathing revealed to you that he had already fallen asleep and you discovered that it seemed not so bad to find yourself in that position, sheltered by your lover's arms.

Under that scenario, the idea of eventually loving Prince Aegon Targaryen no longer sounded so far-fetched.

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